The Holy Man of Another Century Gospel

Chapter 41 Ready to Lick

After Baker left, Eric took a sip of mead, then took a few big bites of the barbecue that had just been delivered. At one point, he suddenly turned his head and looked in the direction he had just pointed.

"..."

At the dining table in the corner, a mysterious man in a hood looked directly into his eyes before he could look away.

After a brief moment of surprise, the man could only pretend to be calm and look away.

Under the hood was a strange face. There was no hair or scales on the face, and the skin color was normal. It should be an ordinary human.

Eric was sure he had never seen him before, and this face did not exist in his memories of his previous life. He didn't look like an important person - at least not particularly important.

Could it be that it was really a thief who was targeting his property as Baker guessed?
The man looked away for a while, then turned his gaze back and found that Eric was still staring at him. His expression finally changed.

After a brief silence, he said something to his companion sitting opposite him. The latter turned his head and glanced at him, while he stood up and came over.

Didn't you continue to avoid me, but instead came to me on your own initiative?
Eric looked at the other person calmly, and the coachmen and guards at the table next to him stood up and stared at the man.

The hooded man was startled, seemingly unaware that the two tables of people were in the same group. He immediately stopped and raised his hands to indicate that he had no weapons in his hands and had no intention of hurting anyone.

Eric nodded, and the guards sat down and continued eating and drinking.

The man came over and looked at Eric. "Excuse me, what is your name?"

"Eric." He only stated his first name, not his family name.

"Mr. Eric." The man bowed his head and said humbly, "I'm Garcia from Alan. Sorry to bother you."

As he spoke, he lifted the hood on his head, revealing his short silver hair.

"Arameans..." Eric was really surprised this time.

"That's right." Garcia bowed again. "My companion and I are both descendants of the ancient nation of Alan. We noticed that the style of Mr. Eric's sword was very similar to the swords of our homeland, so we couldn't help but stare. I apologize for any disrespect or offense we caused."

Eric hadn't recovered from his surprise yet and shook his head slightly to indicate that it was okay.

Garcia's eyes turned to his weapon again, and he asked sincerely if he could borrow his sword to observe it.

"No problem." Eric glanced at the guard, handed the sword over, and told the Aramean: "You are not mistaken, this is a relic of the ancient country of Aramean."

Garcia was a little excited. He took his sword with both hands, stroked it carefully, carefully felt the edge with his fingertips, and observed every pattern on the hilt and the sword.

"That's right... This is the standard steel sword most commonly used by King Alangu's guards! I never thought it would be so well preserved after hundreds of years."

Eric watched closely, not because he was afraid he would suddenly attack and hurt someone, or run away with the sword, but because Garcia's eyes made him feel that this Aramean might lick the blade in the next second, which would be disgusting...

Garcia watched it in fascination for a long time, and finally remembered that he had a fellow tribesman. He quickly called him over, and the two of them licked the sword over and over again with their eyes.

When he gets the sword back, he must soak it in hot water for half a day and then disinfect it thoroughly with alcohol, Eric thought silently.

"Mr. Eric." After a while, the two Arans finally finished admiring the weapon, and Garcia asked him about the origin of the weapon.

Eric knew what he was going to do without even thinking, and he spoke without hesitation, "My grandfather bought this sword from a weapons dealer in Lutia when he was young. He gave it to me as a gift for self-defense while I'm away on this trip."

Both nuns looked at him silently.

Garcia really proposed to buy the sword from him, but Eric immediately declined, saying that the sword carried his grandfather's expectations and he could not give it up.

"Twenty gold coins."

"It's not about money."

"Fifty gold coins, how about that, Mr. Eric?"

He was really willing to spend the money. Eric glanced at Baker not far away and still shook his head, "This is really not about the money."

Seeing that he was unwilling to sell the sword, the two Arrans were heartbroken. After touching the sword a few more times, they reluctantly returned the weapon to him. "If Mr. Eric gets a better weapon in the future and wants to exchange it for this sword, please contact me," Garcia said, still unwilling to give up.

"Okay." Eric agreed immediately.

He didn't like this steel sword so much that he had to have it. He just found it convenient to use and didn't want to sell it to them because he had no other replacement for it at the moment.

Garcia's eyes suddenly lit up, "Mr. Eric can go to the Saier Ice Lake in Noslia then..."

His companion's expression suddenly changed and he bumped him with his arm.

"..."

Garcia came to his senses, realized he had said something wrong, and his face turned pale.

Fortunately, the young noble opposite did not seem to notice anything wrong with his words and continued to wait for him to continue with a smile.

"Uh... Mr. Eric, please leave this sword at Lutia's auction house and assign it to me, Garcia of Alan. I will visit it regularly."

Eric nodded. "Consigning it to the auction house? That's a good idea. I'll keep it in mind."

The two chatted for a few more words, and Garcia was pulled back to his original seat by his companion and put his hood back on.

"Who are the Arameans?" Sophie, who had been listening for a long time, finally found a chance to ask.

"They're human, just like us," Eric said. "They just have a special hair color, silver from birth. There's no other difference."

He paused, carefully recalling the history he knew. "Back in the dark ages when the demons ruled the continent, the Aramaeans established their own kingdom. It was later destroyed, and most of them were assimilated into the empire. However, some Aramaeans still call themselves the Aramaean Remnants. They resolutely refuse to accept the empire's rule, wandering their homeland with a strong desire to restore their nation. They also insist on intermarriage, which is why the hair color of those two Aramaeans is such a pure silver-white... The number of Aramaean Remnants is small, and they usually only operate in the north. Seeing them here is quite a coincidence."

Sophie quietly glanced back at the Arameans in the corner and asked, "Why would those Arameans prefer to wander rather than accept the rule of the empire?"

"Because it wasn't the demons who destroyed the ancient country of Alan." Alena said.

"Huh?" Sophie was stunned.

"They are the people of the Empire, including my ancestors," Eric said, taking over from the head nun. "The current Delan Empire was originally built on the ruins of more than a dozen ancient human kingdoms."

Sophie opened her mouth. "Didn't the Hero King Utu drive out the demons and establish the first human kingdom?"

It seems that they have different understandings of the history of the early empire.

Eric had no interest in puncturing the little nun's fairy-tale view of history. He picked up the wine glass, shook it, and took another sip of the sweet but light mead.

What he cared more about was why these two Arameans appeared here.

"The Saier Ice Lake in Noslia..."

He couldn't pretend not to hear what Garcia accidentally said.

Noslia, the northernmost province of the empire, has a cold climate and is covered in ice and snow for most of the year. To the north, it borders the Demon Realm through the Black Ice Wall, and to the east is the Kingdom of Varane, which split from the Demon Realm.

From what he said, the Arameans who had been wandering for hundreds of years seemed to have quietly established a stronghold near the Sailer Ice Lake over there.

Eric remembered completing a quest from a severely injured Aram survivor who claimed their tribe had been annihilated by the demons. Now that he thought about it, the Aram stronghold must have been right on the path of the demon army's southward advance, and they were easily wiped out.

How unlucky...

Eric had some sympathy, but not much.

"There seems to be a relatively famous Arran NPC... who is he?"

Not remembering it for a moment, Eric ignored it and continued eating and drinking.

After eating and drinking, the group slept in a nearby hotel and spent the first night after leaving Dent County.

(End of this chapter)