Goblin Heavy Dependence

Chapter 173 Banquets and Portraits

The Feast of the Moon.

It is one of the most important annual festivals on the continent of Efala, taking place during the month of decay as winter approaches.

On this day every year, people pray for their deceased relatives under the moonlight and hope to get through the harsh winter ahead.

Of course, this is also due to the festival's long history and the vast expanse of the continent of Aifara.

The specific customs related to the festival have long been changed due to the different living habits, geographical environment, climate and other factors of various ethnic groups.

For example, they would march along the road from the cemetery to the town, and, led by a priest, scatter bone fragments mixed with phosphorus powder along the way to guide lost souls back to their hometowns.

Adult men put on new clothes and lie in the snow pits they dug to commemorate the deceased, while their wives and family members stand on both sides and throw pine branches into the pit as a blessing.

It is said that in the wild wilderness far from civilization, filled with gales and the roars of beasts, those marginalized people who are rejected by society, covered in long hair and with sharp fangs, will spend more than half a month going to dangerous areas to hunt in order to commemorate this festival.

On the night of the Moon Feast, they offered the flesh, scales, and feathers of the most powerful and beautiful prey they could find as sacrifices to their mother goddess.

As a large city with a huge population and thriving commerce, Newme naturally holds corresponding celebrations as the festival approaches.

Even the poorest people in the slums, who struggle to even fill their stomachs, would not be stingy with their coins on this holiday to enjoy a delicious and "sumptuous" dinner with their families—even if it meant going hungry for the next few days.

Residents living in the city would buy candles and lampstands in advance to light up every room until dawn the next day.

It is said that this will bring the blessings of the deceased, ensuring peace, health, and good fortune for the family members living in the house.

As for the high-ranking officials and dignitaries in the city center...

To some extent, the customs are the same for them for every festival of the year.

There were only one celebratory banquet after another.

A bright, moonlit night.

Newme, city center.

A spacious hall with ornate decorations.

It's clear that it was carefully arranged.

The silver-blue wool carpet laid on the floor was specially prepared for the feast, matching the festive theme of night and moon; the family crest that should have hung on the wall, symbolizing the host's identity, was replaced with an exquisite tapestry printed with a silver-white crescent moon pattern.

The frost-patterned velvet on the long table contrasted beautifully with the black gauze and lily of the valley wrapped around the columns on both sides; the pale blue flames flickered gently among the flawless silver-white ceremonial vessels, casting tranquil and sacred shadows on the ground.

Smoked deer leg, roasted wild boar, fragrant pies with a milky aroma, piled high with fine salt and spices, seasonal vegetables and honey liqueur...

Even though 95 percent of them will be wasted and thrown into the trash after the banquet, or packed up and taken home by a few daring waiters when the host is not looking.

These extravagant dishes, which the poor in the lower city might never be able to afford even once in their lifetime, were still laid out on the long table.

It remains neglected, perhaps only being scooped up by a passing guest at the very beginning of the banquet, and then maintaining its dignified and intact appearance until the banquet ends.

In some ways, the steaming hot dishes on these plates are no different from the candlesticks and paintings on either side.

It has lost its original essence as "food" and is only left as decoration.

"To the beautiful lady, thank you for your invitation. I sincerely hope to be able to admire your elegant dance up close."

"It's a pity that I have just finished a rather dangerous mission and my body has not yet fully recovered. Today, my feet are only fit to kiss the earth rather than dance with the moonlight."

"If you don't mind, I might be able to recommend a few good candidates for you. I'm sure they wouldn't refuse a beautiful lady like you."

Politely decline.

Cornell sat in a velvet-cushioned armchair, his eyes reflecting the silhouette of a young woman in a form-fitting dress walking away, her slender figure revealed.

He shook his head slightly.

Although he was not young, he was not like his fellow students in the laboratory, who seemed to want to dedicate their entire lives to arcane magic.

Because of years of maintenance, his physical condition is even better than that of the average professional.

It's not like I'm some kind of ascetic monk who needs to abstain from sex.

He didn't mind indulging his desires a little after a tough mission.

The beautiful young woman with a clear, gentle voice and a pretty face, whose demeanor and speech clearly indicated that she had received a good education since childhood, also fit his aesthetic preferences quite well.

Under normal circumstances, such as a chance encounter on the street, or after a traditional "hero saves the damsel in distress" incident.

He is unlikely to shy away from opportunities to get close to the other party.

But things are different now.

Cornell is currently at a high-end banquet being held in a downtown mansion to celebrate the upcoming Lunar Feast.

Those who came and went were mostly nobles with titles, municipal officials, and wealthy merchants.

Of course, it's possible that some young women are simply attracted to my looks and demeanor, but what if their motives are impure, or they've become involved with other powerful figures at the banquet...?

He didn't want to get inexplicably involved in any conflict because of his momentary indulgence.

Especially at this juncture when the position of city lord is so precarious.

Turning his gaze away, Cornell gently stroked the enchanted silver ring on his finger, feeling the intricate and complex patterns on its surface, his eyes slightly lost in thought as he observed the crowd passing by.

Even disregarding his mentors and his background with the Royal Academy.

His near-supernatural professional rank of "9" and his relatively rare status as a "spellcaster" were enough to make him a sought-after figure among many dignitaries during his time in Newm.

Although I've gotten used to it, after so many days, I can't help but feel a little impatient.

This can be seen from the fact that he moved his residence to the Luna Church.

If it weren't for waiting for the night of the "Lunar Feast" to revive his teammates through the changes in the moon's phases and the fluctuations of divine power, he probably would have left long ago.

His gaze swept over the food on the table in front of him, and under his mental perception, the golden-haired elf's corpse was suspended in mid-air within the ring's space.

For some reason, Cornell suddenly remembered his orc teammate named "Volga," who had died in the goblin lair.

I felt relieved that the other person was already dead.

Otherwise, by the time we bring that brute here, he'll probably have already devoured all the food on the table.

That's so undignified.

"Turning an invitation from a lovely lady isn't like you."

"Your tastes have changed, and you look down on other people?"

A voice, laced with a playful tone, came from beside me.

Turning around, the person standing before me was naturally the central figure of this banquet, Priest Isidore from the "Church of the Moon Goddess".

At that moment, he was holding an exquisite wine glass in his hand, his cheeks slightly flushed.

He was still wearing his priest's robes, and the goddess's emblem was still hanging around his neck.

But perhaps it's because the surrounding environment has changed from a tranquil and sacred church to a noisy banquet filled with the smell of alcohol.

His demeanor had lost some of the holiness and solemnity of a clergyman, and gained more of the down-to-earth air of an ordinary person. "Drinking so much again, aren't you worried about the goddess getting angry?"

With a smile, Cornell casually replied, then raised his glass towards the other person and took a small sip.

The priest Isidore, on the other hand, drank it down in one gulp.

Then he raised his left hand and gently placed it on the emblem on his chest, closed his eyes slightly, and moved his lips to say two words of prayer.

Serene, who governs the Moon and the Stars and is known as the Silver Mother or the Maiden of the Moon, is a peaceful and tolerant lady.

Unlike some other gods, He does not demand that His followers follow certain rigid rules or offer specific sacrifices on a regular basis.

His teachings, which emphasize "tolerance" and "acceptance," align with His desire for His divine light to shine upon all people in the world, and His wish for all living beings to receive His blessings and guidance.

This goddess demands that her faith develop in an equal and understanding manner among her worshippers.

Because of Serene's inclusiveness, his followers were exceptionally diverse and widespread.

Women, sailors, soldiers, beastmen...

The lady guides the lost under the moonlight and bestows freedom as a gift upon her worshippers.

Isidore was indeed the highest-ranking priest in the Church of Luna and the one who went the furthest on the professional path.

And it was precisely because of this that he gained a deeper understanding of the goddess's teachings and the behavioral guidelines they required.

Drinking, taking vacations, and even occasional indulgences do not affect his lofty faith in the goddess.

As long as you stay true to yourself and don't cross the bottom line that was engraved in your heart when you joined the religion.

Then he would always be the goddess's most devout believer.

I've known Isidore for a long time and know he was just joking; I'm used to his personality.

Cornell had been to many places and had met many priests and pastors of various gods.

I know it very well.

Even clergy, once they take off their robes, are just ordinary people who need to eat and sleep and have their own desires.

Unless one is a fanatical believer whose mind is completely ingrained with certain doctrines, no one can guarantee that their words and actions conform to the requirements of God.

She simply twisted the ring on her finger slightly.

hum-

A faint silver light shimmered.

A bottle of fruit wine with a distinctly natural appearance appeared on the small table next to him.

"Try it, it's a local specialty from Cuilin, you've definitely never tasted it before."

"It's his again?" Isidore raised an eyebrow, stepped forward, picked up the bottle, and filled his own glass.

"Hey."

"He probably won't know once he's resurrected, right?"

"Just consider it interest on the resurrection fee."

Cornell sat with his legs crossed, gently swirling his wine glass, looking exceptionally relaxed.

The two chatted casually, and after seeing off a few guests who came to make connections, the others at the banquet realized that these two professionals did not want to be disturbed, and wisely did not approach them again.

I thought tonight would pass by peacefully like this.

As the banquet was drawing to a close, a set of purposeful footsteps rapidly approached the two of them.

Cornell glanced over and saw a middle-aged man in his forties or fifties with wrinkles around his eyes.

She seemed to have dressed up specially for the banquet, her hair was neatly plastered to her head, and she was wearing a custom-made dress that looked somewhat expensive.

To ordinary people, he might be a slightly impoverished nobleman or a businessman who is doing fairly well in business.

But Cornell, a mage who had been adventuring for many years, noticed at a glance the awkwardness in the other person's movements caused by not often wearing formal attire.

They possess a fierce and valiant spirit unique to adventurers and those involved in shady businesses.

His gaze unconsciously swept over the other person's eight fingers, which were missing two little fingers.

After a little thought, I had a general idea.

—The leader of a small to medium-sized gang.

"Good evening, gentlemen."

Eight fingers wore a polite, slightly ingratiating smile that he had rehearsed countless times before.

His cloudy eyes swept over the holy emblem on the priest's neck and the rings on the mage's fingers.

They knew that the two were high-level professionals.

He cautiously approached, not daring to look at her face, but simply lowering his head and staring at the upturned soft suede ankle boot.

"I hope I haven't offended you both, I..."

“Just say it,” Cornell said bluntly, contrary to his usual self. “What do you have, and what do you want?”

The banquet was about to end, and the monk, who had only agreed to attend because of the pastor and several high-ranking officials in the city, had lost the patience to agonize over his words and socialize with others.

Especially when the other party is just an ordinary gang leader.

On the other hand, the fact that they were able to sneak into such a high-class banquet, and that the person in question seemed to know their identities, yet still dared to approach them, clearly indicated that they had something to rely on.

That's precisely why he was willing to listen to the other person continue.

Unexpectedly, things went so smoothly that Eight Fingers grinned. He took out a package he had specially rewrapped in silk cloth before coming and handed it to the other party:

"To be honest, I'm the owner of a security organization called 'Grey Badger' in the West District. A friend recently gave me something, and I thought you two might need it, so I brought it over. I hope..."

She subconsciously ignored the man's words.

Cornell tapped his fingertip, and a semi-transparent human hand appeared out of thin air, taking the package from the other person's hand.

Unfold the outer layers of silk fabric.

The grayish-black color appears even more somber under the light, while the smooth lines that conform to the texture of the material reveal a rustic beauty.

A blurry figure, standing upright like a humanoid creature, and two withered branches winding upwards, disappearing into the strange curves deep within the patterns...

What appeared before him was none other than the [Goat and Deer Statue], which he had once seen in the hands of the priest Isidore but could never obtain.

Cornell paused involuntarily.

Her gaze snapped up to the middle-aged man in front of her, who was bending over with a fawning smile.

(End of this chapter)