Inside a magnificent, golden palace—the Cardinal Inquisition of the Ryan Empire—James Watson, editor-in-chief of Legendary Spells, sat behind a wide desk, meticulously reviewing a thick stack of reports.
Perhaps at this moment, it was more appropriate to address him as Lord Watson, Supreme Arbiter of the Ryan Empire.
Editor-in-chief was merely a part-time role; his primary duty was judging the heretics within the empire's borders.
The sole lawful faith of the Ryan Empire was the Lord of the Dawn. Any worship of other deities on imperial soil was branded heresy.
Recently, however, the empire had expanded its territory significantly. Many newly incorporated freemen were unable to adapt immediately to such draconian religious laws, still clinging to their faith in the old gods.
Yet these people were humans—brethren capable of being guided and enlightened. James Watson did not blindly send them all to the stake. Instead, he carefully read through the investigative reports brought to his desk, tailoring proselytization initiatives to suit the varying conditions across the newly acquired lands.
Whether through gentle conciliation or strict discipline, every measure was deliberate, precise, and effective.
Such work might have appeared overwhelming to others, but for a devout believer like James Watson, who had risen through the ranks starting as a grassroots priest, it was second nature. He was confident that within a few years, the people of these lands would be forged into staunch followers of the Light.
Problems that would take anyone else ten to fifteen days to resolve were handled deftly by Watson in a little over half a day. This efficiency was precisely why his position as Supreme Arbiter remained unshakable.
Only after completing his official duties did James Watson turn to his secondary job of manuscript review. To him, reviewing submissions was little more than entertainment and recreation. Reading manuscripts penned by heretics and ruthlessly rejecting them was the most delightful game he knew.
After casually jotting down rejection notes on a few submissions from dwarves and elves, his gaze was suddenly arrested by a peculiar manuscript.
*My Paladin Friend Alan: A Modest Inquiry into the Impact of Faith on the Youth.*
"What is this rubbish?"
One look at the title made it obvious this was intended for the supplement of *Legendary Spells*. Novels resembling sensational gossip and fabricated tales had become immensely popular of late. Watson normally paid them little heed; no matter how well they sold, they could never match the influence of the main journal.
Watson even hoped the heretics would churn out more of this trashy fiction and degenerate completely, allowing *Legendary Spells* to stand untainted as the true academic gem of human magic. For that reason, his oversight of the supplement was extraordinarily lenient, usually receiving nothing more than a passing glance before being approved.
Yet that name—Paladin Alan?
Watson looked at the author's name: William Harvey. It was a name he had never heard before, undoubtedly either a pseudonym or some complete nobody.
However, upon reading only the opening lines, the Supreme Arbiter's expression changed instantly.
His brow furrowed deeply as he rubbed the ring on his finger. A curtain of light unfolded before him, but the communication feed, which should have been crystal clear, displayed nothing but a storm of crackling sparks.
This ring was linked to his son Alan, meant to allow them to communicate anytime and anywhere. Now, the connection was completely dead.
The manuscript was likely no fabrication. His son, Alan Watson, truly had been captured—and captured by a lich.
Watson picked up the manuscript once more, scrutinizing every single sentence. His face swiftly turned ashen.
The essay painted Watson as an irrational, fanatical zealot who used a distorted doctrine of the Light to brainwash his own son, employing all manner of inhumane methods to torment others physically and mentally. If it had merely been slander of this sort, Watson could have brushed it off. He had endured countless smears and defamation throughout his life; a solitary essay could hardly harm him.
What truly stoked his fury was that the essay analyzed faith in the Lord of the Dawn from an outside perspective. The author argued that the Lord of the Dawn was scarcely any different from other deities. Whether the Lord of the Light or the God of Nature, their doctrines were alike, the conduct of their followers was alike, and even their sworn enemies were nearly identical—all harbored a deep hatred for the undead. Yet the followers of the Lord of the Dawn were far more xenophobic than even the druids. The author asserted that this was a desecration of the Dawn, a bastardization of the tenets of the Light, and that under this twisted faith, the Ryan Empire was manufacturing endless tragedies and strife—all to serve the personal ambitions of Supreme Arbiter James Watson.
Such a critique made Watson's face darken with rage. The Ryan Empire was currently engaged in active expansion, which inevitably brought war. The author's arguments were absurd and entirely devoid of substantive evidence, but they reeked of conspiracy theory—and conspiracy theories were precisely what readers devoured.
Watson was certain that once this essay was published, such conspiracy theories would spread like wildfire, plunging the empire into a perilous storm of public opinion. While it might not affect outcomes on the battlefield, it would undoubtedly create a deeply unfavorable situation.
Yet, if he refused to publish it, his son Alan would likely lose his life.
"I explicitly told him to go to the Silvermoon High Court. Why on earth did he run off to the City of Alchemy? That little bastard... could he have heard about that nonsensical prophecy too?"
Watson wished he could haul Alan right in front of him and thrash him within an inch of his life. The paladin's training journey had been carefully planned long ago, but the boy had clearly altered the itinerary on his own and headed straight for the City of Alchemy.
Rumors of a treasure capable of granting godhood resting within the sewers of the City of Alchemy had circulated in the Ryan Empire for ages, but a legendary powerhouse like Watson held them in utter contempt. By all accounts, Alan was far from naive; how could he have fallen for such a ridiculous prophecy and rushed there?
Still, agonizing over that now was pointless.
"Foolish! Reckless! Utterly arrogant..." Watson cursed bitterly under his breath.
The author had made their intentions abundantly clear: if he wanted Alan to live, he had to publish this piece and reply in the editor's comments stating whether he was willing to pay the ransom. The money itself was no issue—a mere few million gold coins—but the essay's impact on the empire was far too grave. It could never see the light of day. Otherwise, Watson would become a traitor to his own nation.
After a long silence, Watson said in a mournful whisper, "Alan, forgive me."
He reached out and pressed his palm against a crystal on the desk. A flash of sacred light flared, and a paladin clad in silver-white armor materialized before him, dropping to one knee with the utmost reverence.
"Your orders, Lord Supreme Arbiter."
"Select ten men from the Knights of Condemnation and proceed to the City of Alchemy to search for my son, Alan. If he still lives, do everything in your power to rescue him. If he cannot be saved, utterly destroy the lich who took him. Exercise caution—you may very well face a legendary undead."
The paladin replied with unshakable confidence, "Rest assured, my Lord. The Knights of Condemnation were founded specifically to deal with legends. The humiliation of that past day will never be repeated."
Hearing mention of that past disgrace, Watson could not help but recall the legend. Before he was even born, the Ryan Empire had mobilized an entire paladin legion to hunt down a Headless Horseman. The outcome had been catastrophic; the paladin legion suffered devastating casualties, while the Headless Horseman cut his way clean out of imperial territory, ultimately vanishing without a trace.
It was a dark chapter etched into the empire's pillar of shame. It was also following that disastrous hunt that the empire established the Knights of Condemnation, created specifically to counter exceptional foes like legendary undead. Unfortunately, though the order had existed for many years, the older generation of paladins had never found an opportunity to wash away that dishonor before their souls returned to the Divine Realm of Light. The new generation of knights gritted their teeth and trained relentlessly day after day, all for the chance to avenge their predecessors.
Even if their opponent this time was not the enemy of old, confronting a legendary undead was a trial the Knights of Condemnation had long dreamed of undertaking.
They would offer the soul of that undead as a sacrifice to the Lord of the Dawn. May that vile spirit find purification.
James Watson stood up, clenching his fists tightly. "Remember: no matter what conditions the other side presents, agree to none of them. The Ryan Empire never bows to threats."
"By your command, Lord Supreme Arbiter."
Chapter 41