Chapter 19: Chapter 19: Silver Tongue

Chapter 19: Silver Tongue

Inside Veythral, the Cathedral of Light sat high on the mountain at the heart of the city. In one of its many towers, a light-flooded chamber stretched wide, its floor marked by a great glowing circle of runes. At its center sat Miza on a single wooden stool, small against the vastness of the room.

Before her, with tall windows blazing behind them, sat three figures in pure white robes trimmed with gold. Yet the young Cryptscribe had eyes only for one of them—Liora Veyth, the [Holy Saint]. Her long silver hair fell like silk, and her piercing yet gentle eyes fixed on Miza as though looking straight into her soul.

“So, you are the young Cryptscribe who escalated the Asara Bank account check from Tiara,” said the man on Liora’s left.

The man on her right spoke as soon as the other finished. “Tell us, what caught your eye? Why did you escalate it?”

The first man leaned forward. “What was your belief, your intention? Did you want a promotion?”

The other pressed again. “You are only one month into your duties as Cryptscribe. Did you want to make a name for yourself? Do you know the name Doomsday?”

They continued in turns, their voices steady and sharp. “We need utmost care in this matter. There are restricted reports already swirling, and your escalation came at a very curious time. Now speak the truth.”

Both men raised their arms, and the circle beneath Miza began to glow.

She closed her eyes. She had lived her whole life within the Church, and she had no fear of divine judgment. She had acted with her best belief. Yet some fear still crept in. The presence of the Holy Saint herself made her throat dry. Why was she here? What had brought the Holy Saint to sit in judgment with inquisitors, and why with her, Miza, in this room?

The circle activated fully. Warm light rose in streams, wrapping around Miza and slowly seeping into her body. Her thoughts dimmed to nothing, and then they refilled, shaped by the compulsion of the magic. Words rose unbidden to her lips, and she answered.

“Yes, I am the young Cryptscribe who escalated the report. My name is Miza Veyth. I am a child of Veyth, raised in the orphanage of the Ecclesia Regnum here in Veythral. Like every orphan raised by the Church I carry the holy name of the city.”

One of the inquisitors gave a small nod, while the Saint did not move at all.

“Go ahead,” the man urged.

“At first it was routine,” Miza said, her voice steady though the light around her pressed harder. “But the dormant status of the account caught my eye.”

The words spilled out of her as though they were not her own. With every sentence, her mana drained away, leaving her weaker and weaker. Still, she did not stop.

“When I checked the account in full—at least the parts our informant from Tiara had sent—I saw how truly strange it was. The account was dormant for five hundred and thirty years, eight months. It was accessed with a Soulbound Guildmaster Certification. Other information was locked as high-classified, so the Tiara branch could not view it. And the name tied to the account… Doomsday.” She swallowed. “It gave me a sense of foreboding. It felt wrong.”

An inquisitor’s voice cut in. “So, was your intent truly because you believed this matter needed to be escalated? Or did you see a chance for promotion and use it for your own advantage?”

“It was my true belief,” Miza answered, her body trembling as more of her mana drained into the circle. “Something was odd about it. It needed further investigation.”

Another voice followed quickly. “Did anyone tell you to investigate this report in particular?”

“No,” she whispered, her head bowing under the light. “No one told me.”

And then, for the first time, the crystal-clear voice of the Holy Saint filled the chamber. “Do you know what Doomsday means?”

Miza’s lips moved before she could stop herself. “It is the last day mentioned in our holy scripture. The judgment day, when the gods finally descend to Pangrea and wipe out the land of the unbelievers.”

The two inquisitors both murmured.

And Miza’s vision began to blur. She had lost too much mana, her body felt drained to the bone, yet the light around her pressed on. It forced every answer from her lips, even as the strain pushed her body toward a dangerous limit.

“That is… partly wrong, young Cryptscribe,” the Holy Saint said, her silver eyes never leaving Miza. “But it is enough. Release her. We can see her intent clearly. She will be part of our investigation team. She has given us one of the first true leads.”

The light circle dimmed at once. Miza slumped forward on the stool, her chest heaving, every breath shaky as if pulled through broken glass. Her mana was nearly gone, her limbs trembling. Yet she forced herself upright, because the Saint’s words rang in her ears.

Part of the investigation team… a lead… Doomsday.

☽⛧☾

Lily had agreed to meet Veyth later in his office, and after that she turned back to the rest of the nobles in the Salon, taking the seat she had occupied earlier. Pages moved between the tables, filling cups and bringing fresh wine. The room was lively, and she quickly realized she had become the attraction of the day. Every face seemed turned toward her, every voice sought her attention, and every question circled around where she was from and how she had ended up in Tiara.

She chuckled lightly, as if she had expected it. A faint tilt of her head, a knowing smile, and her emerald eyes glinting in the soft light of the chandeliers. “Well, since you ask, I will tell you. But please do not expect too much. A merchant’s road is often more dust than gold.”

That was enough to make a few of them lean closer, smiling at her words.

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One older lady said, “Nonsense, Lady Greenwood. The road you have walked has brought you here, among us. There must be stories.”

Lily nodded politely. “There are, yes. Some of them I still wonder about myself.”

She let her gaze sweep the table and then began, her voice calm and clear. “I come from the elven lands far in the east. I grew up with the sight of vast cities hidden among the trees, their towers carved into the wood and their streets running along branches that were thicker than houses. The canopy stretched so high that the sunlight reached us only in golden shafts, and the air always smelled of resin and blooming flowers. There are no marble plazas there, no stone towers. It is all grown, not built. And it feels alive.”

There were nods around the table and a few small gasps of interest. Lily smiled faintly, pleased. “But I was not content to stay there. I wanted to see what lay beyond the forests, and so I traveled west. My first journey took me through the Dragon Maw Mountains, which mark the border between our lands and the human realms. I remember how the peaks were covered in snow even in summer. At night, the cold was so sharp I thought my bones would freeze, but in the morning, I found herbs that only grow in those heights, where the air is so thin you can hardly breathe. Later, I learned the humans pay dearly for those herbs, so I realized quickly that traveling can be both dangerous and profitable.”

A man with a neatly trimmed beard raised his glass. “And did you travel alone, Lady Greenwood? Or with companions?”

“Alone, most of the time,” Lily answered smoothly. “I found companions here and there, when the road demanded it. A caravan here, a mercenary there. But I always liked to choose my own pace. A merchant must be free, after all. You never know when opportunity will appear, and it is best not to be slowed by others when it does.”

This earned her a few approving murmurs. She sipped her wine and let the silence stretch just enough before she continued.

“After my adventure in the Dragon Maw Mountains, I went south. There I found the human kingdoms, each with their own taste and character. In one, the markets overflowed with silks and spices. In another, they cared only for weapons—can you believe that? The whole economy revolved around them. And in yet another, the nobles spent fortunes on wines and perfumes. I made myself useful wherever I could. I traded rare woods from the east for steel, then steel for silks, and silks for herbs. The road connects everything if you have the eye to see it.”

A younger noblewoman leaned forward eagerly. “Did you face bandits? Monsters? Surely it was not all smooth?”

Lily chuckled softly. “Of course not. Once, in the borderlands, I wandered too close to the old ruins near the mountains. I believe they are called the lost ruins of Runa. That whole place is crawling with high-level beasts, and I should have known better at the time. Naturally, a pair of [Dire Manticores] caught my trail. Their wings blackened the moonlight as they circled above me, and their tails dripped poison strong enough to melt steel. I was nowhere near strong enough to face them head-on, so I hid my trail, used every potion I had, and kept to the shadows. For three nights they hunted me, their roars shaking the trees. I barely slept at all. But on the fourth night, I left behind a decoy—an old cloak smeared with my blood and a flask of fire oil. When the beasts pounced on it, the blast lit up the whole valley. By the time they realized, I was already across the ridge. You can believe me when I say how scared I was.”

She paused for effect, then smiled faintly. “Another time, a group of bandits tried to block a mountain pass. I didn’t have many crowns on me, and back then I didn’t even have an inventory skill, so I traveled with full packs. Naturally, they targeted me. But I convinced them that what I carried was cursed, and that opening the packs would bind them in chains of madness. They let me pass without touching a single bundle.”

A ripple of laughter went through the table. One of the men slapped the arm of his chair. “Quick tongue, Lady Greenwood. A true merchant’s weapon.”

“Yes,” Lily said, smiling. “And it has saved me more than once. Crown pays the road, but words open it.”

The attention on her grew with every word. She could feel it in their eyes, the way they leaned closer, the way even the servants slowed their steps so they would not miss a detail. And Lily felt something stir in herself too. She truly liked it. It was just like the old roleplay sessions, only now the audience was real. She invented her stories as she went, weaving in bits of memory from her experience in Xantia and her imagination, and it felt as though she was telling them from her true life. She went with the flow and loved it, loved how her make-believe became reality in their eyes.

But at the same time, it felt wrong. Not because she told lies and shaped them into a tale, but because she spoke as if she were truly elven. Deep inside her, something resisted being recognized as one of them. Lily paused, then forced herself to ignore it. This was only for her merchant persona here… just a little longer. She fought the impulse to spit on the ground and continued her stories.

“I have also collected things on my travels,” she continued. “Rare ingredients, strange relics, and items most people overlook. In the human south, I once bought a jar of [Whispering Sand] from a desert shrine, where the wind sings at night. It is tagged as [Rare Material], and under the moon it glows faintly blue. Alchemists pay triple for it, because it amplifies sound-based spells.”

She paused for a sip of wine, enjoying the way the nobles leaned closer. “Another time, in the eastern woods, I found a [Moonfruit], a consumable that stays fresh for weeks without rotting no matter the weather. It restores stamina and increases vitality for a short while. I sold it to a noble who wanted to eat one every morning, and he paid me enough crowns to buy a whole caravan.”

The nobles exchanged looks, amused and impressed.

“And now,” Lily said, lowering her voice just a touch, “I have come to Tiara. I had heard of the auction hall, and I wanted to see it for myself. I wanted to walk among the collectors, the connoisseurs, and learn what treasures they value most. And perhaps, if the gods favor me, to make myself known here as well.”

That struck the right note. Several heads nodded at once.

One of the nobles across from her said, “You have done well, Lady Greenwood. Few merchants step into this Salon and hold the room as you do. You are welcome among us.”

Another added, “And you will find eager partners here, I am sure. Exotic items, rare goods—there is always hunger for such things.”

Gideon leaned back in his chair with a satisfied smile. “I told you, my friends. Lady Greenwood is not only skilled in trade, she also carries herself like a fox among hens.”

There was polite laughter at that, and Lily inclined her head, playing her role. “I am grateful for the welcome. And I hope in time I can return the kindness with opportunities worthy of your interest.”

The talk flowed on. They asked her about the eastern forests, about the customs of the elves, about how trade differed between the human south and the far east. Lily answered with ease, sometimes drawing from her memories of Xantia, sometimes from her own imagination.

Time passed quickly. Glasses were refilled, servants brought fresh trays, and still the questions came. Lily was in her element, weaving stories and watching the nobles drink them in.

At last, when the flow of talk shifted back toward the upcoming auction, Lily rose from her seat and decided it was time to meet Veyth to appraise his item “of high worth” and prepare the scepter for auction. She promised to return tomorrow after the auction to the Salon and bring some of her stock with her. Then she excused herself with a polite nod and stepped away from the table.

Gideon rose as well and embraced her lightly. “It was truly pleasant to make your acquaintance, Lysaria. Today is one of my luckiest days in years,” he said with a smile.

Lily returned the smile. “The feeling is mutual.”

Then Gideon snapped his fingers to a page passing by and gave the order. “Bring Lady Greenwood to the office of Mr. Veyth.”

The page nodded quickly, and Lily followed as he led the way out of the Salon.

Veyth had left already half an hour ago, so Lily followed the page through the corridors of the auction hall. The chatter of the Salon faded behind her, replaced by the quieter hum of servants at work and the distant echo of hammers and wheels from deeper inside the building. They passed rows of heavy doors, until the page stopped before one reinforced with iron bands.

He bowed slightly. “This is Mr. Veyth’s office, Lady Greenwood.”

Lily nodded. “Thank you.”

The page opened the door after a few knocks and stepped aside, letting her enter.