“Kyaa! Calm down!”
The day also began with a scream.
Diarin broke a sweat suppressing a mad bastard’s crazy dog with her entire body.
Of course, a person possessing all three traits – ‘mad’, ‘bastard’, ‘crazy dog’ – wouldn’t be easily dealt with just by words.
Even having just one of these traits is tough, but possessing all three is something else.
Think about it, how much of a nuisance that would be.
But Diarin, too, wasn’t new to this job; it wasn’t just a day or two for her.
She had become accustomed to dealing with the mad dog’s frenzy, worn and weary as it was.
Diarin skillfully patted the back of the growling mad bastard’s crazy dog and infused it with holy power.
There would be few clergy who could do this, pinned under a large panting man.
Even for a clergywoman, it’s not easy. But Diarin moved her hands calmly.
This is something one can do with experience in the field.
“Shh… It’s alright… This isn’t a battlefield…”
Being able to voice such a calm, lullaby-like presence in this situation isn’t something just anyone can do.
Indeed, I am a special clergywoman handpicked by the gods themselves.
That’s how she convinced herself of her unbelievable workload.
It was a kind of struggle, not to run away.
The mad bastard’s crazy dog, after a while of burying its face in Diarin’s shoulder and taking rough breaths, eventually let out a heavy sigh and slumped down.
Finally, the frenzy was over.
The term ‘mad’ was truly meant for those who went crazy and ran amok.
This mad bastard’s crazy dog would go crazy and run amok from time to time.
And the clergywoman assigned to calm it down was Diarin.
“Could you move aside now?”
Diarin nudged the thick body, signaling her survival.
She was still alive, but a little more pressure and she would soon be dead.
“Ah…”
The ‘currently’ sane man who had returned to his senses got up disheveled.
Diarin glanced at a distant clock with a side-eye and congratulated him indifferently.
“Congratulations. You calmed down 10 seconds faster than last time.”
The now sane man sat blankly without responding.
Diarin didn’t even expect a word of thanks.
She sighed and got up.
As expected of a room trashed by a rampaging beast, it had turned into a complete mess in a short time.
She was now used to seeing this mess.
If someone else came in to clean, it was clear he would go crazy again.
Diarin began to pick up the items with familiarity.
But when she had barely picked up one, she felt a tug on her robe and turned around, straightening her back.
Though not mad, eyes resembling those of an abandoned puppy were looking up at Diarin.
“What is it?”
“…”
This damn beast doesn’t know how to express what it wants in words.
It would either move or stare.
But that didn’t mean Diarin could understand. That wasn’t the case either.
Diarin needed to be spoken to in human words.
“Say it with words.”
“Stay…”
“Stay what?”
“Stay by my side.”
She was full of desire to outright reject and abandon him…
…but doing so would mean starting this ordeal from scratch again.
Pity was all there was in the eyes, but in reality, it was no different from blackmail.
“Ugh.”
Diarin let out a deep sigh and slumped to the floor.
Despite asking to stay by his side, the bastard couldn’t bring himself to come closer and embrace her. Hesitantly inching forward until he was just an arm’s length away, he stood there awkwardly. Diarin, looking at the skittish beast, let out another deep sigh.
Turning the mad bastard’s crazy dog into a polished young lord fit for high society seemed a distant dream.
“How did my fate end up like this…”
Staring blankly at the ceiling, Diarin’s reminiscence began.
“May the blessings of the gods be with you.”
The chief priest greeted Diarin with a kind smile.
Though always wearing a kind smile, the words that came from his mouth were invariably a harbinger of disaster.
Diarin responded with a forced smile of her own.
“Why am I here…”
For a regular priest like Diarin to have a one-on-one with the chief priest was an extraordinary event in itself.
In Laclion, the temple was a massive organization.
Aside from the central temple that housed the ‘Seven Eyes of God’, the highest order of priests, there were temples established in every region.
Each temple had its own chief priest, and there were archpriests overseeing the temples in each region.
Within such a strict hierarchy, a regular priest like Diarin was essentially a nobody.
Simply put, she was a low-ranking member who had to do as she was told.
“Priest Diarin, it’s been quite a while since we started spreading the word of God together, hasn’t it?”
“Yes…”
This is unsettling.
Why the friendly act?
“There have been challenges, but Priest Diarin has shown remarkable growth and resilience.”
“Yes…”
This was a prelude to being assigned a thankless task.
Diarin’s apprehension grew even more.
“The will of the gods is as bright as the sun, but there are shadows in the world. Isn’t it our role as priests to seek out every corner of that shadow and illuminate the whole world?”
“So, what do you want me to do?”
This wasn’t her first day on the job, and Diarin was well-seasoned by now.
In the beginning, she tried to resist, crying out of fear and loathing. She even threw tantrums. But she learned long ago that complying quietly usually led to less trouble than resistance.
If you’re told to strip, you strip.
It would be nice if they at least explained properly how and where to strip.
Without any significant backing, she was burdened with the toughest tasks and saw no promotions.
Nobility often sent one of their children to the temples to secure a connection, and those kids climbed the ranks without a hint of divine power.
Having observed such practices, Diarin had become a jaded priest.
“It’s about assisting someone suffering from the aftereffects of war to adapt back into society.”
Laclion had been in a prolonged war with Sorben.
Diarin had been drafted to the battlefield twice.
The battlefield needs more than just warriors; it needs priests and doctors.
Priests are valuable assets in war, providing psychological comfort and medical care, essentially doing the work of two.
In other words, she nearly died doing the work meant for two.
Diarin stared straight at the chief priest.
“I’ve been to the battlefield twice, and now you’re asking me to treat post-war trauma.”
It sounded like a tough assignment.
Only those who have been near a battlefield understand how devastating the experience can be.
“They need the care of the gods more than anyone.”
“I think I need that care first.”
Perhaps financial therapy, or promotion therapy.
Priests, in principle, cannot earn money personally. The temple’s income is for communal use.
No matter how hard Diarin worked, nothing substantial ended up in her hands.
Having grown up in the temple, she accepted this as normal. She was content with just not starving or freezing.
But her perspective changed after a few near-death experiences on the battlefield.
“Can’t you think of it as offering a sip of water to someone dying of thirst?”
“And what if I end up dying?”
“You will enjoy eternal peace in the embrace of the gods.”
“…”
She last fell for that line 7 years ago.
Ah, the gods will save me, so I must work hard!
Back in her naive and youthful days, she worked tirelessly, grinding herself down.
Now, she understood the hidden meaning.
It meant that death was the end.
“And what if it gets so hard that I’m close to dying?”
Diarin asked for more tangible and realistic rewards.
Their unwavering gazes met, neither willing to back down.
The chief priest wasn’t in his position for nothing. He knew when to use threats and when to negotiate.
“I have witnessed the outstanding abilities of Priest Diarin in spreading the will of God far and wide. It’s truly regrettable that the central authority has not recognized your talent and sincerity until now.”
Diarin’s eyebrows raised slightly.
This was getting interesting.
“If you successfully complete this task, I am sure not only the central authority but also the Seven Eyes of God will acknowledge your capabilities.”
In other words, ‘you will be promoted.’
The answer she wanted was given.
Only then did Diarin humbly accept her duty.
“If that is where the gods wish me to be, then it is my purpose as a priest to serve there.”
“I knew Priest Diarin would say so.”
With their mutual understanding reached, genuine smiles returned to their faces.
“So, when do I start, and whom shall I assist?”
“The sooner, the better. You will be responsible for just one person.”
A hint of unease crept back in.
Just one person?
Wait, this wasn’t what she expected.
Not a hospital duty for veterans, apparently.
The fewer the individuals involved, the higher the potential for trouble.
“A hero of this war, a warrior from the 8th battalion.”
“…”
Her sense of unease had a knack for being right.
Diarin laughed hollowly.
“Ha, ha. You mean one of those mad dogs from the battlefield?”
“Not ‘dogs,’ just one ‘dog.’”
“…”
Even the chief priest didn’t deny the ‘mad dog’ description.
The 8th Battalion of the Laclion Army, colloquially known as the mad dogs of the battlefield, was a highly specialized minority group that turned the tide of battle when Laclion was at a disadvantage.
Details about their recruitment and training were top-secret, with nothing known to the public. Even the existence of the 8th Battalion was not disclosed outside, and only those who were on the front lines were aware of their presence.
Diarin had seen them in passing on the battlefield before. They were covered in blood, their eyes gleaming fiercely. They were so ferocious that they couldn’t even distinguish friend from foe, charging at anyone in their path.
Hence the nickname, the mad dogs of the battlefield.
“Ugh, why of all things…”
Diarin groaned, covering her face with her hands.
Even if she were a god herself, not just a servant of the divine will, she doubted she could handle those mad dogs.
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