The white-haired Conan Doyle wore rumpled clothes, blood on his lips. He looked at Roland hopefully but dared not say a word.
Behind Conan Doyle was his wife, his two sons, his two daughter-in-laws, and his two grandchildren.
The older of his grandchildren was only ten, and the younger one was around seven.
They were all panicked. But awed by the Church of Storm, they dared not move at all with their hands tied up.
Roland gazed at them for a while and then turned back to the leading male cleric. He asked gently, "Were they involved in the incident in Sisilia too?"
The middle-aged cleric eyed Roland up and down warily, but he did not give in at all. "Who are you? This is the Church of Storm's business. Get out of the way if you're not from a significant background."
Roland smiled at the man's arrogance. "I don't have any background, but I'm in charge of this city for now."
Cage nodded in satisfaction. He liked Roland's attitude which was neither cocky nor humble. He felt that his niece's man should be exactly like that.
"Are you the mayor?" The middle-aged man was rather hesitant.
The middle-aged hummed in response. He knew who Roland was now.
He had done some investigation before he came to Delpon. He was aware that someone in Delpon controlled the mayor's house and hence indirectly controlled the city.
It was just that he forgot the person's name a moment earlier.
"I understand your capabilities now." The middle-aged cleric nodded. "Out of respect for you, I can explain to you why we're taking them away. They are the Defiers who are deeply associated with the sinners in Sisilia. By the order of the gods, we will take them away and convict them. Do you understand now?"
Turning to Conan Doyle, Roland asked, "Did you really take part in the incident in Sisilia?"
"No, not at all!" Conan Doyle was smart enough to recognize that Roland was on his side. He seized the opportunity and roared, "Mr. Roland, I didn't! I really didn't! The person he referred to is my brother whom I only had correspondence with occasionally. My family hasn't left Delpon in a year… Ah!"
Half way through his speech, Conan Doyle was hit in his abdomen by a young cleric behind him.
After a scream, he fell on his knees and vomited nonstop.
Roland raised his eyebrow. "Why didn't you let him finish?"
The middle-aged cleric turned back and dropped a hint at the young cleric who just hit Conan Doyle. Then, he turned back and said, "We can't let him spout nonsense."
"But I want to hear it."
Roland's smile was even bigger.
Seeing Roland's attitude, the middle-aged cleric knew that things were getting tricky. He became solemn. "Do you really plan to go against the Church of Storm, sir?"
"You're stirring trouble in my territory," Roland said calmly, "but you imply that I'm asking for trouble? Is everybody in the Church of Storm as unreasonable and arrogant as you?"
The young cleric's face changed when he heard that. He stepped forward, trying to punch Roland in rage.
But the middle-aged cleric stopped his subordinate. He gazed at Roland with more shock and suspicion. In the end, he said, "You're too proud to be a noble. All the nobles are respectful when they meet us. There is only one type of person in this world who don't fear the gods. Are you a Golden Son?"
"It seems that you didn't investigate this city well before you came," Roland said with a smile. "You're right. I'm indeed a Golden Son…"
Then, Roland's expression changed slightly, and his eyes became sharper.
After he said that, not just the middle-aged, but the young cleric who wanted to punch him earlier fell silent too.
They seemed to be in a dilemma. They wanted to be tough, but they didn't want to be too tough.
It had been two years since the Golden Sons emerged. A lot had happened during the two years.
This group of psychos who never slept at night but ran about everywhere, even poking gutters in the hope of finding treasure, had fully revealed their reputation and personalities to the world.
Most Golden Sons were nosy and would meddle with everything they found unfair.
When drunkards were fighting, they would try to stop the drunkards, but if they were attacked, they would beat up both drunkards.
When a man abused his wife, the feminists among the Golden Sons would beat up the husband and walk away.
They would also help the seniors cross the street, and amuse crying kids by picking fruits for them.
Since they were interested in such trivial matters, they certainly wouldn't ignore matters of great significance.
Those Golden Sons would punish anyone as long as they did bad things no matter who they were.
From nobles from the royal family to the tattooed peddlers on the street, nobody scared them.
There were several Golden Son Priests in the Church of Storm too. One day, a Golden Son found that a cardinal archbishop coerced a female cleric into sleeping with him. He exposed the scandal, only to be killed by the cardinal archbishop.
After his resurrection, the Golden Son launched suicide attacks on the cardinal archbishop several times, to no avail.
But for some reason, some Golden Sons from other cities learned the news and teamed up with him. The five of them beat the cardinal archbishop to death.
This was supposed to be a huge matter, but the Goddess of Storm did not issue any decree. Also, the pope took care of the matter properly and did not let the scandal become widely known.
In the end, the five Golden Sons who killed the cardinal archbishop all became backup bishops
Since then, the Priests of the Church of Storm had been aware that once the Golden Sons got serious, they would be on the moral high ground, and things would be tricky.
The middle-aged Priest turned around and looked at Conan Doyle who was still gagging. He asked, "Senior, let me ask you, did you really never leave Delpon in the past year?"
Conan Doyle shook his head hard. He had a hard time talking because of the pain. "No, I really didn't, sir."
"Then it seems that we were misled." The leading male Priest took out a gold coin and put it in Conan Doyle's hand. "This is compensation for our disturbance."
Conan Doyle looked at the middle-aged cleric who suddenly changed his attitude in surprise.
He couldn't be more clear about these people's brutality half an hour earlier.
They barged into his house and beat him and his sons up without saying anything. Then, they claimed that his family were Defiers and should be burnt.
Yet, they apologized to him now?
The leading middle-aged man ignored Conan Doyle. He turned back at Roland and said, "Since things are clear now, we'll be on our way. Until next time, Mr. Roland."
After that, the middle-aged cleric waved his hand and led his subordinates away.
The two female Priests were wearing short skirts that revealed their long, gleaming legs.
The female Priests of the Church of Storm never wore heavy armor.
They did not even dare to raise their heads when they walked by Roland.
After they were completely gone, Conan Doyle and his family all lay on the ground in relief.
Conan Doyle kept thanking Roland.
Roland waved his hand and walked away slowly.
Cage asked his men to untie Conan Doyle's family, while he caught up to Roland himself.
He asked curiously, "If the middle-aged cleric hadn't given in, would you really kill him?"
"Just because you are Andonara's uncle doesn't mean you have the right to slander me. Why would I kill anyone?" Roland asked back weirdly.
Cage snorted in disdain. "I went through more battles than you can imagine when I was a mercenary. I could clearly tell that you were all set to kill him just now."
Roland chuckled. "Do you think I'm the kind of person who would kill randomly?"
"No, but you did want to kill him, so you definitely had your reason."
Roland put on a mysterious smile.
In his vision, a system notification popped up. "Stop the Clerics from Taking Conan Doyle Away" complete. Character EXP +220.
On the other hand, after the middle-aged cleric left the city, he kept walking until he entered a forest. Seeing that nobody followed him, he was greatly relieved and caught his breath while holding a tree not far away. The two female clerics were pale and sweaty too as if they were sick.
The other clerics all found it strange. They asked, "What happened to you?"
"Roland wanted to kill us just now!" The middle-aged man wiped his sweat and said, "Fortunately, I was vigilant and smart, or we might've died there."
The clerics looked at each other in bewilderment.
The ferocious young cleric asked weirdly, "That can't be true. His expression was normal to me just now."
"He seems normal," the middle-aged man said, not entirely recovered from his shock. "But there was suddenly a strong intent in his eyes. If we had stayed longer, he would've killed us. You can ask them if you don't believe me."
The middle-aged cleric pointed at the two female clerics.
Both of the female clerics nodded hard.
They were Windsingers, a special class of the Church of Storm.
Wind was the current of air. As Windsingers, they could read the information in the air around them, including but not limited to odor and other people's feelings.
They sensed it vividly when Roland had the intent to kill them.
They were frightened, which was why they did not dare to look at Roland.
The young Priest was stunned for a while. Then, in rage, he was about to shout "How dare he?" but then he held himself back.
The guy was a Golden Son; he certainly dared to do that.
The young Priest punched a tree nearby regretfully and asked, "Bishop, is this the end of our mission? The pope will be disappointed in us. Maybe we'll be thrown to a jail for a few days."
"It's better to spend a few days in jail than to be killed," the middle-aged cleric said helplessly. "We can't catch Conan Doyle, not when a Golden Son is protecting him. Kazan the Sword Ghost was strong enough, wasn't he? But the Golden Sons killed him just to protect a maid. We're nothing compared to him. You really think he dares not slash us into pieces?"
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