Chapter 353 - The knight and priest
The halls of Beld Thylelion stretched onward, silent and enduring, as if sheltering the ancient whispers of the Zuver within their stone bones. Raimond walked at an easy, unhurried pace, his footsteps faint against the floor. His gaze traced the walls, studying the frequent glyphs and finely etched lines that wound along their lengths like delicate veins. They resembled the markings he had seen on the surface—the same flowing geometry, the same impossible precision—but here, the patterns seemed to pulse with deeper intent, as though closer to their source.
It struck him, not for the first or even the fifth time, just how immense Beld Thylelion truly was: a single, sprawling structure reaching into the heart of Lake Rellaria and beyond, deeper than any temple or stronghold he had ever known. And of such singular purpose.
Was it really built only to house the Tribute of Dominion? Or was the ruin itself merely a shell, stretched thin over something far greater?
He pondered the question as he walked, until a voice—small, dry, and echoing—broke the stillness.
“Are you following us?”
Raimond smiled to himself and turned his focus to Nol’viz a few paces ahead, her three lavender eyes blinking slowly at him from behind that pale mask.
“Following you? What a scandalous accusation,” he said with a light laugh. “Given that you neglected to respond to my earlier suggestion of exploring these magnificent halls together, I assure you I would never stoop to such undignified behaviour. I am simply walking in the same direction. Pure coincidence, I promise.”
She watched him in that silent—and perhaps just slightly unsettling—way that seemed to be rather natural for her.
After a beat, Raimond placed a hand over his heart. “If my humble presence is a nuisance, I shall readily surrender myself to the mercy of the nearest menacing shadow. Merely speak the word.”
Nol’viz tilted her head slightly. “We do not care.”
Raimond gasped softly, as if struck. “No care at all? For a poor, harmless clergyman and follower of Ittar, bearing only his faith and irreproachable moral fibre? Oh, how cruel the world becomes.”
The girl continued staring at him, unmoved. Then she spoke again, her voice a whisper among whispers. “Do you truly believe Ittar is a god?”