Zoran stared down at the group, his head held high, and spoke in a nasally, wheezing drone. "Who are these rabble? How dare they bring this undead filth to pollute my town?" His voice spiked by several octaves on the final word, causing the heavy fat on his cheeks to jiggle nauseatingly with the exertion.
From the corner of his eye, Adrien noticed Vuković's jaw harden at the casual declaration. The Reverend had just claimed absolute ownership of Ashfall Town, and the slight did not go unnoticed.
Marko quickly stepped forward to defuse the tension. "Reverend, they are here to report the successful completion of—"
"I do not care!" Zoran barked, cutting him off instantly. "Why is the corpse of an undead monstrosity brought here to defile my streets? This bunch of plebeians must be punished. Yes, a public example should be made of these blasphemers."
Adrien felt a sudden, violent urge to draw his gun and shoot the clergyman. Nobody spoke to him with such condescending arrogance, especially not someone with such a profoundly punchable face. Taking a slow, deep breath, he forced his anger down. A cold calculation replaced his rage as a new plan began to form, a way to handle the Reverend without any unnecessary hassle.
Adrien was not the only one bristling under the insults. The other players were young, hot-blooded, and deeply irritated by Zoran's haughty tone, his dismissive attitude, and his overly dramatic arrival. The only reason the Reverend was still breathing was his status as an essential NPC. Even so, the players' patience was rapidly wearing thin.
Adrien stepped into the open. "Excuse me, are you the great Reverend Zoran?"
Zoran sneered down his nose. "How dare you address me, you dim-witted, peasant—"
"I simply cannot believe my eyes," Adrien interrupted smoothly, refusing to give him the floor. "To think that I am finally allowed to gaze upon the holiest of the holy. The true hero of this town. The most reverend, pious, and righteous soul, who serves as a guiding lighthouse in this cold, dark wasteland."
The surrounding players stared at Adrien, their expressions a mix of confusion and disgust. Vera, however, immediately caught on to the strategy. Adrien was ruthlessly exploiting the fatal flaw shared by all narcissists. Judging by the sudden, self-satisfied shift in the Vicar's expression, the blatant flattery was working perfectly.
"We have heard so much about you, Your Lordship. The people from Ironsworth all the way to Ebonysworth constantly sing praises of your absolute valour and righteousness," Vera chimed in seamlessly. She placed a hand over her heart, her face a mask of pure devotion. "The Holiest of Holy, the Messiah of the innocent, the ultimate bulwark against evil, and the true Holy Son of the Golden Hand."
Zoran cleared his throat into his fist, coughing weakly to hide the sudden flush of colour rising to his cheeks. His hostile posture softened slightly as he spoke.
"Is that so? Well... what exactly happened here? Where did you encounter all this filth? I find it hard to believe that people of your pedigree would just casually collect such things."
"Your Lordship, a horrible tragedy befell the village of Ironsworth," Adrien explained, lowering his head to feign deep sorrow. "We were initially dispatched just to investigate, but what we uncovered was far more horrifying than we could have ever imagined. The entire settlement was under a brutal siege by these terrifying, unnatural creatures."
Adrien glanced down at the driver of the oxen cart. The poor man was now prostrating face-down on the cold ground, trembling in absolute terror of Zoran's unpredictable wrath.
"Even innocent children were not safe from their dastardly clutches," Adrien continued, his voice dripping with theatrical despair. "Children, whom the holy scriptures explicitly declare as sacred, pure, and cherished, were ruthlessly captured and devoured by this filth."
Vera stepped forward to seamlessly pick up the narrative thread. "In our darkest moment, we asked ourselves: what would our grand protector, the great Reverend Zoran, do in this terrifying situation?" She paused for dramatic effect. "He would stand righteously against the encroaching darkness! Inspired by that thought, we, the faithful followers of the Church of the Golden Hand, found the courage to fight back. We drew strength from our glorious idol and drove the filth away."
Vera turned to the rest of the players, winking quickly, and they joined Adrien and Vera, eagerly showering the Vicar with flattery. Zoran's chest puffed out as he barely managed to contain his giddiness.
Adrien took a final step forward, dropping to one knee with practised humility. "We know that we are merely poor plebeians who have barely managed to qualify for baptism. We are entirely unworthy to even stand in the presence of a legendary hero like you. However, may we humbly request your divine aid in purifying the evil taint that those foul creatures left behind in Ironsworth?"
Thoroughly intoxicated by the endless praise, Zoran waved a dismissive, grandiose hand. "Of course! It is my sacred, unyielding duty to protect my flock with my own two hands. Rest assured, I shall personally travel to the village and cleanse every trace of that filth from the land."
"Such magnanimity, such boundless grace!" Adrien exclaimed, his voice practically dripping with theatrical reverence, as he pressed a hand to his chest and gazed up at the carriage with wide, awestruck eyes. "To witness this with my own eyes... surely, this is the divine hand of the Golden Hand guiding our paths. Praise be, and long live the Grand Vicar, Reverend Zoran!"
Zoran puffed out his chest so hard it looked as if he might simply decouple from gravity and float away into the grey sky.
Vera subtly nudged Adrien with her elbow, her voice dropping to a harsh, razor-thin whisper. "Oi, cut it out, this is crossing into deeply disturbing territory."
"Such brave, exceptionally pious souls are a rare comfort in these dark times," Zoran droned, his tone thoroughly softened by the sycophancy. He offered a slow, magnanimous nod. "You deserve a fitting reward."
The moment the words left the Vicar's mouth, a sleek, neon-blue interface flashed directly in front of Adrien's eyes.
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Vicar Zoran: Respectful
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Adrien didn't miss a beat, as he immediately dropped his shoulders, twisting his expression into one of tragic, pitiable unworthiness. "But Your Lordship... are simple peasants like us truly worthy of such divine blessings?"
"Don't be impudent," Marko interjected. The Guild Master stepped forward, playing his part seamlessly with a sharp, measured sternness. "Stop acting like an insecure child. If Reverend Zoran wishes to bestow his grace upon you, you accept it with open hands."
Zoran's heavy cheeks jiggled as he wobbled his head in agreement, "Yes, yes, precisely. Speak, child, and I shall grant you a boon."
Instead of Adrien, Vera stepped forward this time, her face a perfect mask of impoverished despair. "Your Lordship, we are but poor wanderers. We lack the coin and the means to undergo Holy Baptism to formally dedicate our lives to the glorious path of the Golden Hand."
Zoran went quiet for a moment, his greedy, slitted eyes narrowing as he calculated the cost. "Baptism? Well, yes, that can certainly be arranged, but the tithe for the ritual is—"
Before he could finish the sentence, Adrien and Vera cut him off in a perfectly synchronised chorus of praise, "What a saintly philanthropist! A truly magnanimous soul who stands by the destitute!" Adrien cried out."Strengthening our very spirits by granting us our true path, without a thought for material wealth!" Vera chimed in.
The other players caught on and swarmed the carriage, aggressively showering the Vicar with extravagant compliments, each trying to outdo the last.
Up on the steps, Vuković's lip twitched. A moment ago, the butler had been violently furious at the Vicar's casual attempt to claim the Baroness's town, but watching the scene unfold below, watching this ragtag group of adventurers utterly swindle the notoriously greedy clergyman into waiving a massive baptism fee, brought a grim, amused smirk to his face.
Vuković decided to drive the nail into the coffin, "I have long heard tales of the Vicar's legendary charity," Vuković called out, his deep voice carrying over the chatter. "But seeing it first-hand warms this old soldier's heart. I will make sure to personally inform the Baroness of your incredible generosity toward these poor, unfortunate souls. Arranging a high-tier Baptism out of the pure goodness of your heart? You truly are a shining beacon for us all."
Before Zoran could even attempt to walk back his implied promise, Vuković barked an order down to the players, "Well? Don't just stand there! Thank the Holy Son and follow his procession to the Church immediately. His Lordship's schedule is incredibly demanding; do not keep him waiting."
Adrien offered a deeply grateful nod, bowing low as he and the rest of the players fell in line behind the gilded rickshaw.
As the grotesque carriage began to grind forward, Adrien couldn't help the small, triumphant thrill in his chest. Not only had he successfully bypassed an exorbitant progression fee, but a new skill notification was already blinking in the corner of his user interface.
FireStarter jogged up beside him, clapping a heavy hand onto Adrien's shoulder, "Brother," he whispered, his eyes wide with genuine awe. "That was fucking masterful."
Adrien visibly gagged, his stomach churning. "Don't remind me," he muttered back, keeping his eyes locked onto the dirt. "Just thinking about what I just said makes me want to throw up."
He glanced up at the fat, jiggling back of the Vicar. Just looking at the man filled him with a profound sense of nausea, but Adrien knew exactly how to play this game. To survive and secure his goals, he had simply channelled the same behaviour he had spent a lifetime witnessing back in the real world, specifically, the shameless sycophants who used to fawn over his grandfather.