Black Hearted Mage

Chapter 360: Church of Dawn

A few days later, early in the morning, members of the Northern Trading Company arrived at the Cavill family, treading through a thin frost. Leading the group was the company's director, draped in a thick snow bear fur coat, followed by several sturdy Northern warriors. The Northern Trading Company's carriage stopped at the mansion, and the director withdrew the remaining payment from the transaction—more than a dozen boxes of high-grade magic crystals and a frozen portion of premium savage beef.

Caesars stood on the steps, draped in his morning robe, his dark eyes scanning the cold cargo. He personally opened the wooden crate and inspected the magic crystals, his slender fingers gently caressing the shimmering blue crystals. Each one resonated with subtle energy beneath his fingertips. Meanwhile, Fatty Dog, already impatiently circling the thickly coated savage beef, his snout twitching.

The fat dog wagged its tail proudly, signaling the northerners to spread out the meat. When the icy, savage beef was spread out across the courtyard, it immediately went to work. Its scarlet eyes gleamed, and its stubby paws deftly fiddled with each piece of frozen meat, occasionally lowering its head to take a deep sniff.

In less than half an hour, the fat dog had snouted out several chunks of frozen beef, each weighing hundreds of pounds, and dumped them heavily on the ground nearby. The fat dog leaped onto the pile of meat, standing firmly on his hind legs, his front paws on his hips, and barked and howled at the northerners, his demeanor like a tax collector who had discovered counterfeit goods.

Caesars walked over and used the magic blade he carried with him to cut the piece of meat that the fat dog had picked out. The sharp blade easily broke through the fat on the surface, revealing the frozen purple internal organs.

"Interesting." He raised an eyebrow, flicking the blade with his fingertips, making a crisp tremor. "Using fat to wrap offal to disguise premium meat, this method is very northern!"

The head of the Northern Trading Company's face suddenly turned stiffer than frozen meat, with beads of sweat oozing from his forehead. The atmosphere in the courtyard instantly thickened, and even the breath he exhaled seemed to carry a hint of chill.

"Marquis Caesars, this beef was just shipped from the tribe. I didn't know it contained inferior meat..." the burly northerner explained hurriedly.

"I'm not talking about you. I'm talking about the northerners on the grasslands. Their consciences are blackened. They are like the offshoot of the highland ogres - the white-skinned ogres, an inferior race that needs to be hunted and cleaned up regularly!"

As Kaisas spoke, he put the barbarian beef into his interspatial ring, leaving the few pieces of inferior meat where they were. He continued, "I hope this is the last time I pass off inferior meat as good. If there's a next time, I'll complain to the Highlander's Great Shaman. I've heard that the Highlanders have always longed for that lush grassland..."

Caesars mentioned this casually, but then stopped talking at the perfect moment. The Highlanders are essentially a branch of the Northlanders who inhabit the northern plateaus, having for generations followed the powerful Highland Ogre tribes. Over the years, deep resentment has built up between the Highlanders and the Steppe Northlanders, from territorial disputes to trade frictions, with conflict threatening to erupt at any moment. The only reason they've managed to maintain a semblance of peace is thanks to the mediation of the Ogre tribe's highly respected Great Shaman.

The men from the Northern Trading Company felt uneasy upon hearing Caesar's words. Fine beads of sweat oozed from their smooth foreheads, glistening in the sunlight. While the Northerners were naturally robust and could easily handle ordinary humans, the disparity in strength was stark when facing Highland warriors, forged in the bitter cold of the plateau. Even two strong Northerners working together would likely struggle to defeat a single fierce Highlander.

"Mr. Marquis, can you...can you really meet the Great Shaman?"

The gray-bearded middle-aged manager of the Northland Trading Company's voice trembled, and the corners of his wrinkled eyes twitched slightly. He subconsciously rubbed his bony hands together, his cloudy eyes filled with disbelief.

"Old Trum and I have known each other for over thirty years. I even remember the scent of his favorite incense." Caesars played with the crystal wine glass in his hand, a meaningful smile on his lips. "A few years ago, I often visited the Highland Ogre Tribe. Now, when I go to see that old guy, I don't even need to notify him—the Ogre guards will let me in as soon as they see my emblem."

The people from the Northland Trading Company left in a hurry, taking with them a few large pieces of defective meat. This matter must be dealt with as soon as possible. The Five-Colored Stone Tribe seemed very powerful, but it was far inferior to the fierce Highlander Tribe.

At the Northland Trading Company, Baturu's face flushed crimson. The company's staff had been busy for a long time, checking all the beef in stock and discovered that 20% was low-quality meat. It was all his brother's fault.

"Send another 10,000 kilograms of premium barbarian beef to the Cavill family. We need to appease the magician's wrath. Grondo, remove the dragon horn as soon as possible. I can't keep it anymore. I must present it to my father as soon as possible, otherwise the Northland Trading Company will be closed down!"

When Baturu looked at the scarlet dragon horn, his eyes were full of reluctance.

At dusk over half a month later, Caesars returned to Rose Castle in the last rays of the setting sun. He stroked the Soul Gem in his pocket. The once lustrous, milky white crystal had turned cloudy and dim—the soul energy within had been depleted. He remembered clearly that this gem from the Duchess's cemetery had once been enough to sustain six complete soul drains, but now it was depleted after only three uses.

The ascetics of the monastery had all fled, and the Paladin training camp had been abandoned. The nearest church on the other side of the Emerald River was over three hundred miles away from the Rose Castle.

The wooden door of the monastery creaked in the wind, and the remains of the fleeing ascetics were scattered all over the ground. The Paladin training camp to the east was now a ruin, with rusted swords and spears stuck in the weeds. Caesars stood atop the tower and looked out into the distance. In the twilight across the Emerald River, the church closest to Rose Castle was on the horizon, more than three hundred miles away.

"Damn dog!" He suddenly kicked the fat dog curled up in the shadows. The creature raised its head, baring its sulfurous fangs. "I'll take you to the church to do bad things tonight." He licked his cracked lips, his nails scraping harshly on the stone bricks of the city wall. "Kill all those priests in red robes, and the golden Holy Grail will be yours, and the silver candlesticks will be yours too!"

The fat dog stood up with some joy, its stubby tail wagging merrily. Its round eyes flickered with an eerie red light, as if two clusters of blazing flames danced deep within its pupils. It raised its front paws and gestured eagerly in Caesar's direction, its tender pink paws tracing a few arcs in the air before finally tapping its storage ring with precision.

"Got it, got it!" Caesars couldn't help but shake his head. "The dried meat, ham, and all the delicious food in their storage rings are yours. As for those aged wines..." He deliberately dragged out his tone, watching the puppy's ears instantly prick up. "I'll take most of it, and the rest will be given to you to satisfy your craving."

Upon hearing this, the fat dog let out a satisfied hum and sneezed. It proudly held its head high, its moist nose twitching constantly—this was no ordinary sense of smell; it could sense any magical fluctuations within a hundred meters.

Seeing it like this, Caesars couldn't help but recall the time in the ancient wizard's tomb, when this creature had easily found even the secret compartment hidden behind the gargoyle statue. Even the most secret chambers in that ancient church were destined to be exposed by this gifted pup.

After dinner, Caesars carried the chubby little dog on his way. As usual, the dog was terrified of heights. As they soared into the air, the fat dog immediately closed its round eyes tightly, its limbs stiff as a log, relying entirely on Caesars's palms to support its furry body.

To conserve precious mana as much as possible, Caesars expertly controlled his altitude. He first soared above the clouds, then switched to a light levitation technique, harnessing the high-altitude currents to begin a long glide. A biting cold wind whistled in his ears, tiny ice crystals condensing in the thin air. The temperature here rivaled that of the polar ice sheets. The white breath Caesars exhaled instantly formed frost on his eyelashes, but he simply tightened the collar of his cloak—after all, the distance was only a little over 300 miles. At his current speed, he could reach his destination in another half hour.

The Cathedral of Dawn stands majestically in the north of Gasloo, shrouding the medium-sized city in a sacred aura. As the de facto controller of the Bitterwater Farm, the Cathedral sheltered the ascetics who had fled the monastery, providing a new haven for these fanatics.

This magnificent complex covers over a thousand acres, with more than ten halls of varying styles nestled within its towering walls. The most striking feature is the fifty-meter-tall spire, atop which stands a massive, pure gold cross that gleams brilliantly in the sun. Even more breathtaking is the cross, inlaid with hundreds of rare, luminous gems. At night, these gems emit a soft, holy light, becoming the city's most striking beacon.

Before his ascension to the Patriarchate, Depero spent over fifty years in deep meditation here. Even so, he entered the mysterious Archbishop's Courtyard only a handful of times, and knew little of the ancient secrets hidden within. The current Saint, Her Majesty, once revealed in a secret conversation that she possessed the privilege of visiting all churches in Saint-Laurent, with the exception of the Cathedral of Dawn—a prohibition that only added to the mystique of the place.

It is noteworthy that the vast majority of popes throughout the history of the Church of Saint Laurent have come from this church. The cardinals of the Cathedral of Dawn seem to hold the key to the highest power of the Vatican. This tradition continues to this day, giving this church a unique and pivotal position in the church system.

The night was as dark as ink, thick enough to swallow everything. Caesars stood on the edge of the bell tower, his dark red cloak rustling in the wind. He narrowed his eyes, piercing the darkness, his gaze fixed on the five-meter-tall golden cross atop the church spire. It radiated an unnaturally bright light, standing out like a beacon against the pitch-black night, as if deliberately guiding him.

"You dead dog, did you see that?" Caesars licked his dry lips, his fingers unconsciously stroking the magic blade at his waist. "When we're done, we'll pry off that pure gold cross and take it back. Just melting it into gold bars will be enough to feed you for three to five years."

With a slight noise, Caesars landed on the top floor of the bell tower. He roughly ripped open the laces of his cloak and threw the fat dark red fur dog in his arms to the ground. The fat dog seemed very excited and kept circling around him.

"Be quiet, you idiot!" Caesars grabbed a few magic crystals from his magic bag and greedily absorbed the magic power within. The fat dog seemed a little excited, its gaping mouth dripping with corrosive saliva. Its two soybean-sized eyes had turned completely blood red, casting two eerie streaks of light in the darkness.

"You damn dog, if you keep getting so excited, those charlatans' warning spells will soon..." He suddenly fell silent because the fat dog's head hit the copper drainpipe, making a muffled sound in the silent night.

The stained windows of the church in the distance suddenly lit up with a holy white light.

"Damn it!" Caesars gritted his teeth, lowering his voice. He quickly produced a piece of leather and wrapped the fat dog tightly in it. "Listen, you horny dog! We're going to do this quietly and take all the treasures here!"

Caesars cast Invisibility and Shielding, sensing distant magical energy sweeping towards the bell tower. Shielding effectively blocked magical detection. Fatty was usually very obedient, but his unusual behavior had caught his attention.

Caesars quietly maintained a dual barrier of invisibility and shielding. He could clearly sense a surge of probing magic sweeping around the clock tower like invisible tentacles. If it weren't for the shielding spell he'd set up beforehand to block out the magical fluctuations, their whereabouts would have been exposed by now. This usually docile fat dog's sudden agitation just now seemed even more suspicious.

"Dead dog!"

After confirming that the magic of detection had faded, Caesars suddenly lifted the animal hide used for camouflage and poked the fat dog's wet nose with his index finger. "Those charlatans' detection spells almost swept over our heads!" He lowered his voice and scolded, "You'd better really find something - don't tell me there's a bitch in heat in the church that's making you want to make a move!"

The fat dog let out a short whimper, its dark eyes flashing with an indescribable desire. It couldn't tell what was hidden deep in the church, but an instinctive hunger was gnawing at its reason, as if the most tempting delicacy in the world was hidden there.

Caesars frowned, his knuckles unconsciously tapping the magic blade at his waist. Something that could make this fat dog lose his composure like this... What kind of shady "delicacy" is hidden in the church?

PS: This book is almost finished, thank you for reading.