Chapter 193
Chapter 193
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 193
Chapter Title: Foster Bond 2
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King Manja-Zadek of Btuma had personally granted the Heavenly Lord of the Blue Turban Cult a building—an old theater site that offered a clear view down from the royal palace. It was a place where the cult's movements could be monitored at all times, with the Heavenly Lord's Pavilion constructed right there.
Even Azadin, who wasn't well-versed in Btuma's politics, could tell what the king had in mind when granting the building.
But whatever the reason, on the surface, it meant the Blue Turban Cult had been officially recognized by the Btuma Kingdom. It was an immense favor they couldn't possibly refuse.
"Hmm, why didn't I know about this?"
Azadin marveled at the Heavenly Lord's Pavilion, visible even from afar. There was no way the Herald Clan wouldn't have known about the rise of a new religion like this.
Next to the old theater site stood an eight-story wooden pagoda, and the path leading to it was filled with people wearing blue turbans.
"The Blue Turban Cult has grown rapidly lately, so it must have been hard for the Herald Clan to keep track of every detail."
"I suppose. They cure malaria, after all. No wonder they've expanded so quickly."
"......"
Giswah felt a pang of bewilderment at Azadin's words.
Azadin was the very person who had approached Grimsrone's body and witnessed the miracle of the bow and club taking residence within it.
That miracle was equal to—or greater than—the Heavenly Lord's own. If the truth came out, plenty of people might support Azadin if he tried to seize the Blue Turban Cult.
Yet Azadin seemed utterly skeptical of the cult.
'The miracle's executor doesn't believe it himself. What an odd affair.'
As Giswah sensed, Azadin indeed had no faith in the Blue Turban Cult.
'After what happened in the Adiroph Barony, only a fool would believe in them. Giswah was saved by their elixir, though, so he still clings to the faith.'
To Azadin, the cult's leader, the Heavenly Lord, was a typical Btuman.
Btumans brimmed with pride over the vast wealth they'd amassed through commerce and mining, yet they harbored deep-seated inferiority complexes and persecution complexes, feeling alienated from the general sensibilities of Whibresians.
Btuma had gold mines aplenty and sugarcane that thrived, but rampant endemic diseases meant that no amount of money could change the fact that Whibresians saw it as a remote backwater, a frontier, an exotic otherland.
Among the Eight Kingdoms, Btuma's environment was the most bizarrely detached. Thus, its nobles and wealthy felt resentment and rage toward the people of the other kingdoms despite their riches—and the incident in the Adiroph Barony had laid that hostility bare.
'In the end, this religion has it all backward.'
Religion was originally meant to convey teachings. But once it gathered followers, power emerged, and power concentrated—leading people for whom power itself became the goal.
The Blue Turban Cult was a religion created precisely to seize that power. Its doctrines were shallow, its expansion aggressively unchecked.
Yet those saved from fever had already surrendered emotionally to the cult, treating those flimsy teachings as sacred writ.
'If they're going to engrave those teachings as gospel, they might as well live by them for real. But these guys don't even follow their own precept to live righteously—fat chance they'll listen if I say a word. Better just meet the Heavenly Lord and secure their cooperation for Btuma's defense. Arguing with Giswah here is pointless.'
Azadin headed toward the Heavenly Lord's Pavilion.
*********
The pavilion had been hastily built from wood, essentially just pillars and stairs forming a tower.
But Btumans had a style of architecture with sturdy pillars and fabric walls instead—and with colorful cloths artfully arranged to decorate, divide spaces, and add flair, it didn't feel like a slapdash job.
'Architecture suited to a hot country. Cool and nice.'
Azadin stopped before the antechamber for his audience with the Heavenly Lord.
"Master Giswah. Welcome. And this is...?"
"Ah, a guest who's joining me to meet the Heavenly Lord."
"Then please unpack your belongings first and change into the clothes we've prepared."
"And remove your helmet as well."
Azadin complied with their requests and took off his helmet.
Those who saw the scars on his face and his damaged eyes let out an "Ah" of surprise.
"A-are you all right?"
"We had no idea your eyes were impaired. B-but our canon forbids bringing any weapons or even a cane into the Heavenly Lord's presence..."
They panicked, assuming Azadin was blind. Apparently, even a blind man's staff was prohibited before the Heavenly Lord.
"No need to worry. I'm used to it by now. I'll follow the procedures."
Azadin comforted the flustered attendants and changed into the clothes they'd provided.
It wasn't just disarming—they were making him change outfits entirely, likely out of concern for assassination attempts on the Heavenly Lord.
'Strict security. But I always wanted to try Btuma garb. I expected the disarming anyway.'
Azadin set aside his weapons and donned the Btuman clothes.
Btuma attire wrapped the body in layers of cloth, leaving Azadin feeling practically naked.
'Cool, sure. But... this feels like wandering around buck naked. Shouldn't have agreed to wear it.'
The thrill of experiencing Btuma culture was overshadowed by the shame of parading near-nude in public. Once changed, the guide arrived to teach him etiquette.
"Now, you mustn't look directly at the Heavenly Lord. Allow me to teach you the rites according to Blue Turban Canon."
"What are you talking about?"
"There are ceremonial procedures—please follow them. First, bow your head and recite the hymn of praise to the Heavenly Lord. Only lift your gaze when permitted."
'Even fussier than the Eight King Gods who carry the blood of the Yaegas God Race. Trying to assert authority? Overkill.'
Azadin saw through the Heavenly Lord's intent to bolster his prestige with needless rituals but what could he do? He had no choice but to comply.
Azadin ran through the rehearsal as instructed and was finally granted an audience.
"Blue Turban Cult master Giswah and his friend Adan pay respects to the Heavenly Lord."
"Raise your heads."
Azadin lifted his head at the sound of the Heavenly Lord's voice.
In truth, he'd seen the Heavenly Lord even before raising his head. Azadin's sight didn't rely on his fleshly eyes. Prostrated as he was, he'd lifted his gaze to observe.
But the Heavenly Lord sat behind a finely crafted nasam veil, visible only as a vague shadow.
One thing was clear: considering his daughter Gimela was now a grown woman, he was quite advanced in years—yet his voice had an androgynous quality, sometimes boyish, sometimes girlish.
"Well, well, who is this? Giswah? I sent you to Korasar on dispatch—why have you returned? Your mission shouldn't be complete yet. Or has something happened? Has all of Korasar already pledged to the Way of the Blue Heavens?"
"Heavenly Lord. I have witnessed a miracle."
"A miracle?"
"Yes. While proclaiming doctrine and providing relief in the Adiroph Barony on Korasar's border to spread your Way, those who took the elixir suddenly turned into Nether kin, rampaging and harming those around them."
"Ah, I see."
Laughter still tinged the Heavenly Lord's voice.
Whether the rampage in Adiroph Barony was the Heavenly Lord's will or the rogue action of Btuman cultists who despised Korasar, he seemed utterly indifferent to the disaster.
Casual about the loss of life from the start. Azadin took an instant dislike to him.
"So this is the Herald Clansman who came with you?"
"Pardon?"
"I've heard the story already. He purified Grimsrone's rampaging kin and stole the divine relic, they say."
"N-no. Stole? Grimsrone chose him himself. The relic resides in his arsenal, aiding him directly."
Giswah blurted it out in shock at the Heavenly Lord's words. But the Heavenly Lord had no intention of listening.
"Nonsense. Giswah, he's a Herald Clansman. A soulless blasphemer."
Azadin let out a scoff at the Heavenly Lord calling him a soulless blasphemer.
The term was a slur coined by Yaegas God Race worshippers who couldn't comprehend the Herald Clansmen's audacity in slaying the gods' own children.
It ill befitted the leader of a upstart religion—who showed no reverence or basic courtesy to the Yaegas God Race—to use that slur.
"Oh dear, Heavenly Lord. I've come in peace, at least. No need to be so hostile."
"You call disrupting our Blue Turban doctrine with false miracles 'peace'?"
"I'll apologize for that much, then. Truth be told, Giswah was the one claiming the miracle—I never did."
"Hmph."
The Heavenly Lord rang a small bell, and the surrounding curtains parted as cultists armed with spears flooded in.
Azadin, unarmed and near-naked, sighed and raised his hands.
"Surrendering?"
"No."
The moment Azadin spoke, screams erupted from behind.
"Argh!"
"S-stop it!"
But Grimsrone's club cleaved through the crowd and flew into Azadin's hand. A wooden serpent-like thing slithered across the ground and coiled around his waist.
Grimsrone's bow and club had come to Azadin of their own accord.
'I knew it. These weapons return to the thrower after striking—so if the owner wills it, they'll fly back on their own.'
Azadin was well aware of the Grimsrone club's property: it would return to him with just a thought. That's why he'd accepted disarming and donning Btuman robes without resistance.
But to onlookers, weapons that returned after being thrown looked divine—and now it seemed as if they'd chosen Azadin as their master.
"......"
"Huh?"
"That's... the master's club."
"No way..."
The Blue Turban cultists who witnessed it were stunned.
Most had once been Grimsrone's kin, so they knew that club wasn't just a cult master's symbol—it held Grimsrone's very essence.
"A miracle! It's a miracle!"
Even in this moment, Giswah defended Azadin, shouting "miracle" repeatedly.
'Cut it out, you idiot. I just want their cooperation for Btuma's defense. I'm not after the leader's seat. The more you do this, the worse it gets for me.'
Azadin had made Giswah swear several times before entering, but it seemed all for naught.