Chapter 41: Rumors

“The deity declared, whoever speaks falsehoods, their voice shall turn hoarse. Now, answer me! Who are you?”

Only after the light representing detection faded away did the woman’s face finally show a bit of reaction. But it still wasn’t pleasant. It was like a cold wind blowing over ice—no matter what, it stayed freezing.

“What do you mean by this?” Constantine froze for a moment. Similar to magic, the divine magic believers received from their deities served many purposes. What the other party used now was a higher-level lie detection divine spell. If the target lied while answering questions, their voice would become hoarse and terrifying, and they would feel sharp pain in their throat as if pierced by needles. Conversely, speaking the truth caused no effect at all. But generally, casting this spell on others was extremely rude, representing extreme distrust. Usually, only bandits or thieves were subjected to this spell.

“Answer my question! When and with whom did you form your divine pact?” Ignoring the youth’s question, the Priestess pressed on with her own query instead…

“Divine Pact? What’s that? What are you talking about?” The youth frowned. Clearly, the other’s voice had received special treatment; though it didn’t sound loud, to Constantine, it boomed as if amplified massively by large sound systems, making him dizzy!”His Excellency Crispian Lanston Astarte… be mindful of your own and your companion’s attitude!” The old steward standing nearby spoke up. His voice wasn’t loud, but the anger within it made eardrums sting. “Yes, Veronica, this is too rude!” Old Cleric Astarte hurriedly scolded his disciple. He awkwardly lowered his voice, though this didn’t stop others from hearing: “We came to ask questions… to ask! Not interrogate! How could you use lie detection without permission?”

“Questioning? What’s the difference? As far as I know, getting the truth is necessary regardless…” Her cold voice showed no ripple, indicating the Priestess felt no remorse for her behavior.

“You… apologies, everyone. My disciple lacks some… sensibility towards worldly matters. I hope her rude behavior just now didn’t cause you too much trouble… I’ll handle things from here. Veronica! You are not to ask any more questions, understand.”

Thus, the subsequent questions stayed within acceptable bounds. The old Cleric named Astarte was clearly no ordinary believer. He handled noble etiquette and the nuances of law and human relations adeptly, his language gentle and kind, putting no pressure on anyone. In contrast, the Priestess beside him not only lacked expression but seemed impatient in occasional exchanges. Her attitude, treating people like corpses coupled with an icy demeanor, was nothing like the warm Sun God Clerics Constantine remembered… She seemed more like a creditor everyone owed money to. Had the situation not been so unsuitable for conflict with the Temple, Constantine might’ve found some sharp words for her.

“It seems this was indeed the work of a mad undead being, perhaps too confident in his power. Regardless, we should resolve this quickly.” Due to the earlier incident, the conversation wasn’t long, lasting less than half an hourglass’s flow. After Constantine described the events simply, the old Cleric frowned in thought for a long while before nodding slowly. Then the old man turned the topic to Constantine.

“Lord Constantine, based on recent observations, the curse upon you appears to be… a variant aging curse! Spell removal magic won’t work entirely; it seems the perpetrator used a very special method. According to the Temple elders’ deduction, this curse is set to activate on schedule…”

“Aging is essentially pushing the body through growth too fast, one of the most notorious curses. Yet it requires special catalysts and immense power. That wretch currently lacks the strength. I could cleanse it myself! The real problem is it’s mixed with another curse magic. Seems these holy types don’t know what it is!” The Lich snorted disdainfully.

But Constantine was startled. He quickly asked, “The curse? Well, I remember… divine magic has curse removal abilities too, no? Is the Temple unwilling to help? Then perhaps magic could achieve a similar effect…”

“Lord Constantine, we’ve attempted it. Though divine power banishes evil, understanding its essence is needed. Your curse is not simple. Hastily purging it could cause significant side effects. Hence, we intend a slow removal cycle over months… Rest assured, under our deity’s light, you will face no danger. As agreed earlier, the Duke’s Mansion will have strict protection… until that undead being is purified… Then, we shall take our leave.”

The two Clerics seemed reluctant to dwell on the topic. After those few offhand remarks, they stood and took their leave.

“Your Excellency the High Priest, forgive my earlier disrespect. But your actions were overly rash. Even a common noble wouldn’t converse under lie detection… That youth clearly knew its mechanics; he deftly sidestepped my key questions.”

Inside the specially arranged room in the Duke’s Mansion, the old Cleric waved his hand, spreading a faint golden light throughout the room. Then his expression turned solemn and reverent: “Moreover, we still can’t confirm the youth possesses a divine pact, let alone determine how much the Connallyvis family knows about the matter. To ask so directly…”

“His answer wasn’t necessary. The resonance of his soul alone confirmed he harbors a peculiar ability, somewhat akin to a deity’s pact… yet different too.” The Priestess interrupted, her expression unchanged, but an authoritative aura from long-held command surfaced unmistakably: “Though he seemed ignorant about the pact, the influence of divine power is immutable. What we must ascertain now is which entity forged the pact. The rest is secondary. If an evil deity’s pact is confirmed, he must be executed outright. Following Pelo’s teachings, all darkness and malevolence must be destroyed.”

“Additionally, the magic array upon him seems imbued with bizarre power… I couldn’t discern it, but it carried malignant vibrations. If an evil deity’s pact is confirmed, he must be executed outright. Following Pelo’s teachings, all darkness and malevolence must be destroyed.” Pausing, the young woman continued, her voice still steady, as if discussing swatting a fly.

“But the Connallyvis family… Yes, Your Excellency High Priest.” The old man hesitated, then bowed his head in reply.

The young woman left. The old man stood still for a long while, murmuring a prayer:

“However, remember: just as dazzling sunlight blinds, an overzealous focus on evil darkens the heart, obscuring life’s greatest blessings: kindness, compassion, and mercy.”

…

“What… did you say?” Constantine raised his voice. Though he couldn’t see his own face, he knew his expression must look horribly twisted.

“Just rumors among ignorant common folk, Young Master Constantine…” Walter kept his head slightly lowered, his expression unreadable, but his voice was subdued: “Many are discussing the recent commotion; this is but one version.”

“That the first heir of the Connallyvis family is a necromancer… that this incident was him experimenting with vile dark arts… Hardly just a rumor now, is it?” Constantine rubbed his nose, replacing surprise with a helpless grimace: “You realize if this blows up, I could face the pyre, right?”

Once that frenzied night ended, the frightened citizens of Hayton City awoke to streets full of soldiers, scanning every alley like imminent danger loomed. More startlingly, each patrol tailed several Temple Clerics. Everyone even slightly suspicious got questioned and simultaneously “treated”.

And astonishing rumors spread through the city swift as eight-legged mythical horses—Hayton City, Phoenix’s capital, city of countless temples, had spawned an audacious necromancer! Hundreds had already died gruesome deaths…

This was explosive news in this world. Even four centuries after the Undead War ended, “necromancer” remained synonymous with terror, far surpassing the horror of, say, a chainsaw murderer or hundred sword-wielding thugs in another Plane.

By the next noon, while Temple Priests were still cleaning up, the tale blanketed the capital, even reached distant farms. First, it was tavern chatter, a joke. But within hours, it morphed into wild exaggeration… Worse followed—strange happenings plagued the Duke’s Mansion grounds.

Small birds like ravens and sparrows inexplicably plummeted dead from nearby trees, landing belly-up. Hours later, voles, snakes, and bugs surged from the earth! The mansion’s manicured lawn was churned into black mud by the fleeing insects!

By the next day, common fauna vanished near the mansion. Suddenly, hunting dogs, likely owned by some noble, charged madly down Sterling Avenue towards the residence. But before nearing the mansion gates, the sturdy hounds let out dying howls! Black ooze dripped down their bodies; they melted like wax figures in heat! A few steps more—POP! They exploded, leaving fetid pools of liquid!

Such weirdness fueled terrifying imagination. The rumor that the Connallyvis heir was an evil necromancer spread further… This time, not just common folk, but servants of nobles who witnessed this joined the gossip frenzy. In this Plane with no TV, radio, or papers, people hungered deeply for such tales.

Nobles weren’t commoners. Frail commoners had fewer options; nobles held power.

Nor were they Paladins. Ancient Paladin codes required them to defend the weak oppressed by evil. But what should a noble do when seeing another noble troubled? A standard answer: if an ally, keep distance… if an enemy, land a stealthy blow.

Obviously, capital elites showed Connallyvis outward respect. But privately? They gladly threw more dirt at the family they’d secretly feared for centuries… By day three, the rumor reaching Constantine bore no resemblance to truth.

“Heard? The Connallyvis eldest son’s possessed by some greater demon from the Nine Hells’ depths… even Pelo’s and Cuthbert’s High Priests are helpless…”

“The Connallyvis deployed Griffin Knights to silence things; nobles dare not speak either…”

“They say corpses carted out from around the Western Frontier Governor’s Mansion like refuse… The thing eats one liver a day… Only the legendary master of ghostly hordes wielding a spirit sword can defeat it…”

“The Connallyvis are running evil undead creature experiments to sell the tech to eastern minors for funds…”

Suddenly, swept by stormy gossip, Constantine’s infamy eclipsed his father’s…

…

“Can we trace the rumor’s origin?” Constantine rubbed his temples with a grimace.

“Difficult, I fear. Every inn and tavern buzzes with it. Likely over half Hayton discusses you… And our forces… are woefully insufficient… Yet this also confirms the vampire remains within Hayton. Capture him, and the rumors fade.” Walter hung his head, clearly agonizing over handling the assassin guild sparking this chaos.

Constantine stayed silent. He hadn’t anticipated such wildly bold action—the target didn’t flee but launched this bizarre “attack”.

As an Easterner, a traditionally educated Chinese, Constantine knew well the power of rumors! “Three men spreading hearsay kill like swords!” Rumors murdered bloodlessly… Now, reversing this seemed impossible. His foe had a multi-step head start. Even proving innocence, most would cling to suspicion, fearing the worst.

He might not cherish his reputation, but Constantine didn’t want this dung bucket dumped on his head. This wasn’t kids cursing after a playground fight—if not the Duke’s eldest son, he’d likely be rotting in a Temple dungeon now.

Magical classes here weren’t overly strict. Summoning undead wasn’t exclusively a necromancer’s act; almost any Mage save Divination specialists could learn it. But in malicious hands, small matters turned deadly. Four centuries of intense hunts left virtually no necromancers in Phoenix. Yet sporadic “necromancer” eradication reports surfaced every few years, always rewarded handsomely. Driven by profit, many young, unlucky Mages met doom, falsely implicated.

“How severe were the losses? That vampire created many vampire spawn among the servants. What about Captain Scorrick?” Thinking on rumor sources, the youth recalled another matter.

“Thankfully, losses among servants weren’t huge… only five dead, including the vampire spawn you killed. The rest were shocked.” “Scorrick sustained minor wounds; inconsequential. But three Griffin Knights died in battle; two turned into vampire spawn.”

“Three… halved the guard force… Guards covering the Duke’s Mansion now feel sorely inadequate… Though they always were…”

“Fret not, Young Master. For now, ten Paladins sent by the Temple will guard here. Before His Grace returns to the Western Frontier, twenty Griffin Knights will reinforce Hayton for your protection.”

“Returns? He… Father… is returning to the Western Frontier?” Constantine started, surprised, then felt relieved.