Nights after the first sermon, Sendarra Civilian District, Old Square.
Rielian sat inside the small shack by the square, quietly gazing outside through a gap in the tattered cloth curtain.
Night had fallen deep.
The tall tower obscured most of the White Lady's moonlight, yet the square was not as dim as it had been in previous days; instead, it was brightly lit.
The dried-up fountain pool had been cleaned and refilled with fresh water.
The poet's statue was also cleaned, with a brazier placed at its feet, its orange-red flames flickering incessantly.
This flame was warm and silent, yet it attracted more attention than on any previous day.
The number of Queldorei gathered in the square tonight far exceeded his expectations.
Initially, there were fewer than a hundred, all members of the mutual aid group he had organized.
Then, residents from nearby, mutated individuals drawn by the light, and desperate refugees—they first observed from afar, then gradually approached, and finally decided to stay there permanently.
Of course, those mutated individuals who were drawn in were all cured by Liriel.
Now, nearly a thousand Queldorei had gathered here.
During the day, they prayed in silence; at night, they sat around the brazier.
Some recorded every word of the Saintess's sermons, pondering their deep meaning day and night;
Others spent their days imitating the Saintess's words and actions, as if they contained the great will of the divine.
Rielian even noticed that several elderly magic apprentices were carving magic crystals into the shape of the divine emblem, beginning to attempt to research the essence of divine magic.
He initially thought this was an overstep, but the Saintess merely shook her head gently and smiled: "My Lord is a benevolent Lord; His power exists to benefit all living beings."
This made Rielian's heart grow even more apprehensive—what kind of deity was this they had newly come to believe in!
On the edge of the crowd, many volunteer caregivers who had converted to Obsidian's faith set up stoves, providing food for the Queldorei gathered there.
According to them, this was practicing the Lord's path, becoming a backing for the weak.
Tattered cloths and mats dragged from abandoned shacks were spread on the ground, simple yet already showing the rudimentary form of a "shelter."
It wasn't just the square that changed; the Queldorei's changes were also visible to the naked eye.
Those who initially only sought to survive now began to discuss what constituted "God's will" or the profound meaning of a particular prayer.
Even several young Queldorei who had once loudly called for an assault on the noble district had fallen silent, quietly lighting braziers and sitting in the evening, awaiting the Saintess's next sermon.
The noble district had not yet issued any announcements, nor had it sent rangers or mages to interfere.
But Rielian could feel that the gazes from that side were tensely watching here, secretly observing every move in this place.
He lowered the curtain, preparing to continue his work.
As more and more Queldorei gathered in the shelter, the work of material allocation and distribution became increasingly heavy.
If the Saintess hadn't always miraculously produced supplies, they would have collapsed long ago.
The wind blew in through the window cracks, carrying a faint arcane aura, but Rielian no longer longed for them.
He turned to light the simple oil lamp.
As sparks just leaped up, a faint sound of footsteps came from behind him. He subtly raised an eyebrow, not turning around, knowing who had arrived just by the sound of the steps.
She stopped not far behind him.
"You didn't preach tonight." Rielian finally spoke, his tone calm, yet with a hint of inexplicable disappointment.
"I'm waiting for a more suitable time." Liriel's voice was not loud, carrying a familiar gentleness and firmness, "Sindaiseth said it is not suitable to preach tonight."
Rielian didn't turn around, just nodded.
A brief silence permeated the small shack.
Outside the shack, the crowd was still conversing in low voices.
But as the night deepened, their voices gradually sank into the flickering of the flames and occasional coughs.
"Do you regret it?" Rielian suddenly asked.
Liriel didn't answer immediately.
He saw her walk closer and gently sit on the chair opposite him.
"Regret what?" the Saintess asked, tilting her head slightly.
Rielian sighed: "You see, the Queldorei have only learned to take—either from nature, or from magic, or from each other."
His gaze fell on the flickering oil lamp flame, "And you came here at great risk, only to give. To save us, this group of—well, citizens."
"I am also a Queldorei." Liriel replied with a smile, a clear understanding in her expression, "Moreover, all of this is my Lord's will."
"He saved me, so I must carry out His will to save more people."
Rielian looked at the Saintess in the candlelight, her holy radiance momentarily causing him to lose himself.
It wasn't until Liriel gently waved her hand in front of him that he suddenly snapped back to reality, his face flushed, and he quickly picked up their previous conversation: "What I really wanted to ask—was your own thoughts."
She neither confirmed nor denied, merely saying softly: "Whichever it is, I am willing."
Silence returned to the room.
Rielian found himself unable to focus on the documents, because he knew he still had words in his chest but didn't know how to express them.
"Give me a little more time." Liriel suddenly said.
Rielian looked up again.
"Time will make them believe; time will also make you believe." Her voice was calm yet carried an undeniable power, "You are accustomed to disappointment; it's time you got used to the sight of hope."
Rielian didn't answer, merely lowered his head somewhat disappointedly, pretending to flip through the reports on the table.
Another period of silence.
Until Liriel spoke again, breaking the quiet: "He's here."
Rielian was slightly taken aback: "Who?"
"The one you know."
When Rielian saw Sindaiseth's stern face appear at the doorway, he knew he should leave.
He made a clumsy excuse about patrolling and hurriedly left the small room, somewhat flustered.
As the tattered cloth curtain fell again, the shadows cast by the candlelight flickered wildly on the wall, and the entire room fell into complete silence.
Liriel sat quietly, not moving a muscle.
When all outsiders had left, the façade of humanity in her eyes gradually faded, leaving only pure, indifferent divinity.
Sindaiseth took off his dew-laden cloak and leaned against the wall.
"The nobles' patience seems to be running out." The Dracthyr Scale Leader got straight to the point, his voice deep, "Their probing has become more frantic these past few days. How are things on your end? Do you still need time?"
Liriel nodded slightly: "I believe we can now proceed to the next step of the plan."
"Very good." Sindaiseth was clearly pleased with this news, his tone even rising a few notes, "I have had the scout in the noble district send your image back. I will ensure that when the time comes, it will be a team to capture you, not assassins."
"Understood." Liriel's emotions were completely flat, as if she wasn't discussing her own life and death.
"Once in the noble district, proceed as planned." Sindaiseth continued, "I cannot provide much more assistance. But with your identity, approaching the target should not be difficult."
"The difficult part is the final step—the Queldorei do not have a tradition of public execution, but I will do my best to assist then."
Liriel nodded again, responding concisely: "Understood."
Sindaiseth stared at her for a few seconds, then turned and left.
The flickering firelight cast a warm reflection in her eyes, yet it failed to impart any warmth.
She stood up, walked to the corner, and threw the already prepared cloak over her shoulders.
The tattered cloth curtain swayed gently again, and the small room returned to silence.
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