The next hour wasn't easy, but Justin felt it was necessary. He owed Alistair nothing less than the truth, and he had to let the chips fall where they may.

Alistair didn't react as Justin filled the gaps in his knowledge, recounting his previous life on Earth—modern technology, the lack of magic, the absence of gods actively shaping reality. It was clear that all of this came as quite a shock to Alistair, especially the revelation that Valdrik himself was an Earther who had been on Eyrth for two decades.

Justin had to amend his Gentleman's Agreement to extend the time to four hours, just to be on the safe side. He was grateful that his skill upgrade from the Entrepreneur class allowed such flexibility.

After a long period of contemplation, Alistair shook his head slowly.

"I don't have any words," he finally said. "Of all the things you could have told me... I would never have expected that. Though in retrospect, it makes perfect sense. When I asked you where you were from that day on the road... your strange clothing... none of it connected at the time."

"The Paladins are trained to find Earthers, right?" Justin asked. "Or was Valdrik lying about that?"

"It's a form of truth," Alistair admitted, his voice careful. "We wouldn't hunt you down and kill you, as he claimed. It's more nuanced than that, but I understand why some Earthers might believe that's our only purpose."

"Care to explain that?"

Alistair sighed. "The Templars know Earthers are dangerous and wish to keep tabs on them. Many, like Valdrik, can become quite dangerous indeed. I don't know everything about it. I'm only a Level 25 Paladin, after all, and I mainly carry out the orders of the High Priest. But from what I understand, it's our duty to monitor Earthers where we can, and only then escalate if they become too dangerous."

"How do you determine if someone is dangerous?" Justin asked.

Alistair surveyed him coolly with his blue eyes. "If they threaten the balance of things. If they threaten the Church or society at large."

"That definition seems to cover a lot of ground."

"Yes, that's true. I don't know much about your world, other than some basic information supplied by the order as part of my training and what you have just told me. But I know enough to understand that you come from a completely different place. Eyrth is ruled by gods. They may not physically walk among us, but they are very real. Something you should be well aware of, given your short time with that demon goddess, Ashralok." He suppressed a shudder. "Lad, you are beyond lucky to have survived that encounter. I don't know anything about her or the gods and goddesses of other worlds, but Fire is commonly associated with the Nether, where Morvath and Nyriss abide. To know that you walked its profane halls and came out apparently unsullied by them..."

Alistair shook his head. It was a matter Justin had somewhat glossed over in his previous review, but the idea was almost an affront to his sense of morality.

"You asked what's dangerous about Earthers," Alistair continued. "It's the fact that you did something like that and recounted it as if it were just another adventure or Vault. If you had died there, Justin, your core would have been bound there for eternity."

Justin swallowed. It was a sobering reminder that he was playing with forces far beyond his knowledge. Though he had been here only a few months, gigantic blunders still posed a major risk. Just thinking of how close he had come to dying multiple times in that dimension made him go cold.

"And yet," Alistair continued, "I remain convinced that there is something different about you. Maybe it's your Prismatic Core, but the Creator often has a larger role for Earthers. Perhaps because they are from another world, He takes a keen interest in them. It makes sense that He would, since historically they have been the ones to muck about in His creation."

"All humans in the Aetherion are descended from Earthers, if what I learned in Zanthera is true," Justin said.

"Maybe so," Alistair allowed. "Dangerous questions, those."

"Dangerous, how?"

Alistair's expression grew guarded. "The Church of Light prefers to be the one with the answers. They've built their entire theology around being the sole interpreters of divine will. So if you seek your own truths, especially about the nature of creation itself... well, that might not go well for you. Knowledge that contradicts established doctrine has a way of making people... uncomfortable."

It was an unusual statement for a Paladin to make. While it didn't quite amount to declaring his religion a farce, perhaps everything Alistair had experienced had liberalized his views. Justin studied Alistair's face, noting the conflict there. There seemed to be a tension between duty and doubt.

"You don't sound entirely convinced yourself," Justin observed.

Alistair was quiet for a long moment. "A Paladin's faith should be unshakeable. But I've seen too much to blindly agree with everything. It is not a Paladin's place to question, but to execute the orders of his faith. That is our form of worship. The High Priest speaks of divine mandate yet sends us to hunt down people like you in secret, when it serves the Church's agenda. As I mentioned before, this was not my personal responsibility, but I know Templars whose sole purpose is to find people like you. The Church preaches about light and truth, yet it shouldn't come as any surprise that the battlefield is not only in the minds and hearts of sapient beings but also in the shadows themselves. And if anyone comes along to threaten that order—anyone with a different set of beliefs, such as Earthers—it would be all too easy for people to lose faith. And when people lose faith... chaos reigns."

"This might be a delicate question," Justin said. "But I've always wondered: why does it seem like the gods have retreated? I know at least one of them is real; I saw her with my own eyes. She was bound in the Nether by these Founders. Could the same thing have happened to other gods?"

"I cannot say for certain. Perhaps the gods have retreated because the Godswar revealed that mortals and gods cannot coexist. All I know is that in the current age, they are silent. The most cynical among us might argue that they have abandoned us, acknowledging their own mistakes. Good men suffer while the wicked prosper; this has been true for as long as we have recorded history. Then there are the Earthers, whose beliefs often create ripples that have, in the past, sparked revolutions." Alistair rubbed his temples. "These are the questions that keep me awake at night."

Lila, who had been unusually quiet during the exchange, finally spoke up. "So what happens now? I know you won't be able to share anything, but are you still willing to work with Justin, even knowing all this?"

"Yes," Alistair said without hesitation. "My oath is to protect the innocent and uphold justice. Justin has done nothing but good since arriving here. If anything, the order should be grateful you're on our side." He paused, then looked directly at Justin. "But I need you to understand something. Your progress has been remarkable. That comes with power and, yes, responsibility. I've seen good men fall into darkness with even less power. Men like Gareth Everett, who was once my sworn brother at Mont Elea."

"Yeah," Justin said. "What's the story there?"

Alistair shrugged. "Nothing I care to recount. But even good men can be tempted to turn to the God of Death for the right price. It's not always about raw power or greed. Sometimes, it's because you realize that there is something in your life you value more than the Creator and His will. If such an idol exists, Morvath need only leverage that to win your core."

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Justin felt a chill. For a man like him, who had no ties or loyalty to the Creator or any of the gods, he wondered if there was something that might cause him to start following Morvath, as Count Valdrik had. There was still so much he didn't understand.

"I have no plans to do that," Justin said. "I try to do the right thing. Not because of any gods watching over me, but simply because I feel awful if I do the wrong thing."

Alistair nodded. "The Creator's nature is written on all of our cores. Do good deeds, and we nourish that nature, which brings us joy. But if we starve it... eventually, the Spark of Life becomes sullied and seeks to shine with a negative sort of light, casting darkness upon your core and infusing our every decision. Every choice matters, Mr. Talemaker. I have been pleased with the way you have conducted yourself. Not perfectly, mind you, but worthily."

"I could say the same for you."

"Good," Alistair said. "Then we understand each other. Now, let's focus on the task at hand. We have a conspiracy to unravel and women to protect. The philosophical questions can wait."

As if to punctuate his words, a commotion erupted from the common room below—raised voices and the scrape of chairs across wooden floors.

All three of them froze.

"That doesn't sound good," Lila muttered, already moving toward the door.

Justin clasped his Cane of the Drake before following the others out.

They rushed downstairs to find the common room in disarray. Two overturned chairs lay scattered near the hearth, and three rough-looking men had cornered Zira, Rita, and Ilsa against the back wall.

But they weren't defenseless. Tamsin stood protectively in front of the younger women, her weathered hands clenched into fists despite being badly outmatched.

"Leave them be," Tamsin said firmly, though her voice trembled. "They've done nothing to you."

The largest of the men, his face flushed with drink and annoyance, sneered down at her. "Mind your own business, hag. We're not interested in dried-up old crones like you anyway." His meaty hand reached past her toward Zira. "We want the pretty ones."

Rita cowered behind Zira, who stood rigid as a statue, her dark eyes flashing with barely contained fury. Ilsa, meanwhile, observed the scene with an almost detached curiosity, as if watching a play rather than living through it.

The moment Justin, Lila, and Alistair descended the stairs, the atmosphere shifted dramatically. The men's confident postures wilted as they took in the newcomers—particularly Alistair, whose hand rested casually on his sword hilt, and Justin, whose expensive clothing and purposeful stride marked him as someone not to be trifled with.

"What seems to be the problem here?" Justin asked, his voice deceptively mild. But there was ice beneath the courtesy, and his grip tightened on his cane.

"No problem at all, sir," the largest man stammered, suddenly much less confident. "Just... having a friendly chat. We didn't realize these ladies..." He cleared his throat nervously. "Were under your protection."

"Friendly?" Justin's tone grew sharper. The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees. "Calling a woman defending others a 'hag' doesn't sound particularly friendly to me."

The man's face went pale. "I... we didn't mean nothing by it, sir. Just tavern talk, you understand."

"I understand perfectly," Justin said, taking a step forward. The man actually flinched when Justin tapped his cane on the floor a little harder than necessary. "And what I understand is that you're going to leave. Now. And if I hear you've bothered anyone in this establishment again..."

He left the threat hanging, unfinished but unmistakable.

The three men exchanged glances. Without another word, they made a hasty retreat toward the door, muttering apologies and excuses as they fled into the late morning streets of Belmora.

Justin watched them go, then turned to Tamsin first. "Are you hurt?"

She straightened her shoulders, trying to regain her dignity. "I'm fine. Just doing what needed doing." There was a quiet pride in her voice, mixed with embarrassment at having needed rescue.

"You did well," Justin said sincerely. "That took courage."

Tamsin's weathered face softened slightly at the acknowledgment before she turned to check on the other women.

Zira stepped forward, her composure intact but her voice tight with controlled emotion. "We're all fine. Thank you." She paused, seeming to gather herself. "Actually, I'm glad you're here. I've made inquiries about passage to Sunspire. It will cost forty silvers."

Justin's Insightful Gaze caught the micro-expression that flickered across Ilsa's face—a barely suppressed smirk that spoke volumes. The fare to Sunspire was nowhere near forty silvers. It was fifteen or twenty at most.

Zira was testing him, seeing if he would call her out or simply pay the inflated price.

Without missing a beat, Justin reached into his coin purse and counted out fifty silvers. "This should be enough to help you find your feet once you arrive," he said, pressing the coins into her hands. "I wish you the best of luck."

For the first time since he had met her, Zira's stony facade cracked. Her dark eyes widened, and something that might have been genuine gratitude softened her angular features. And a flash of guilt for trying to play him.

"I... thank you," she said quietly. "I won't forget this kindness."

Ilsa's reaction was far more telling. A flash of anger—or perhaps jealousy—crossed her face before she quickly masked it with studied indifference. Justin filed that away for future consideration. Ilsa was definitely going to be a problem.

As Lila moved to comfort Rita, who was still shaken from the encounter, Justin approached Ilsa directly. "Have you given any more thought to what you would like to do next?"

Ilsa's expression shifted into what could best be described as calculating charm. "As I mentioned, I'm good with books. Numbers, ledgers, keeping track of debts and payments. Back in Cresthaven, I could remember every bet placed in a given night, every payout, every marker. Sharp memory for details." She tapped her temple with one scarred knuckle. "If you're planning to run a business, you'll need someone who can manage the finances."

Justin nodded thoughtfully, though internally he made a mental note to never let this woman anywhere near his books. There was something predatory in the way she spoke about handling money, and trust was not a commodity he was prepared to spend on her just yet.

"First things first," he said aloud. "We need to establish a base of operations. A proper location where we can—"

"Actually," Rinna's cheerful voice interrupted as she burst through the inn's front door, practically bouncing with excitement, "I've been scouting locations all morning! I've found three potential spaces and already spoken with the landlords through my connections in Mudside."

"Mudside again?" Tamsin said, shaking her head. "I keep telling you, decent folk with coin won't venture into that part of town. You'll be limiting your customer base right from the start."

"True," Rinna conceded, "but it does have advantages. Rent is cheap, the guilds largely ignore that area, and..." she glanced meaningfully toward the Aurelian Tower, "certain powerful families prefer to conduct their business elsewhere."

"Like the Floating Market," Lila said sarcastically.

"Yes," Rinna said. "I think that surprised everyone. I'm not saying they aren't in Mudside at all; it's probably the best place to avoid trouble from the big families. That said, the gangs there are not any easier to deal with, but there you have it."

Tamsin's expression shifted. "Ah. Well, when you put it that way, staying out of the Aurelians' shadow does have merit. Better to start small and safe than grand and dead. Still don't like it, though."

Justin considered this. Establishing a physical presence in Belmora made sense. They needed a place to plan, meet contacts, and conduct any business ventures they ultimately decided to pursue. The truth was, a business might not even be necessary if their primary goal was to take down Valdrik. However, having a cash flow would open up options and provide valuable experience, allowing him to unlock more benefits of his class. He certainly had the bankroll for it, and cheaper rent would give them more time to set things up properly without draining their finances. After yesterday's events, maintaining a low profile was definitely the prudent choice.

"Renting a store space sounds like a good project for the day," he decided. "Something that ideally has lodging built in. Let's go see what you've found, Rinna. If we can secure a decent location, we can start putting down real roots."

She smiled happily, practically glowing with enthusiasm. "Excellent! Let's get started. The first one is actually right on the river. A very convenient spot for foot traffic and deliveries. I think you'll like it."

"Are we coming along too?" Tamsin asked, glancing between Rita and Ilsa with the protective air of a mother hen gathering her chicks.

Rita scuttled closer to her side, while Ilsa simply watched with that same calculating expression, as if mentally cataloging every word for future use.

"Of course," Justin replied. "I value any insights you three can offer. Fresh eyes and practical experience could save us from making costly mistakes."

"Very well," Tamsin said with a satisfied nod. "Off we go, girls!"

She had a natural way of corralling them, even Ilsa, who typically bristled at any hint of authority. Justin noted that it would be much more convenient to deal with Tamsin directly rather than coordinating with all three separately. Even Ilsa, who clearly didn't appreciate being grouped with the others or managed like a wayward child, didn't voice any complaints. There was something about Tamsin's matter-of-fact maternal authority that seemed to cut through even Ilsa's prickly defenses.

As the group began to gather their belongings and prepare to venture out into Belmora once more, Justin noticed Ilsa watching him with that calculating look again—the same expression a card shark might wear while deciding whether to call or fold. Whatever game she was playing, he needed to stay several steps ahead of her. Ideally, she would make a costly mistake that would allow him to dismiss her, but he wasn't willing to do that without first consulting Lila and Alistair. It would harm morale if he could sack someone without giving them a chance to prove themselves.

The day was nearing noon, but at least now they had a plan.

And perhaps, if they were lucky, they might even find a place to call home.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.