Chapter 56 The Smiling Lady

"Tymora?"

Xanan was rather surprised by the halfling's faith.

He couldn't help recalling the various occult knowledge he had recently been cramming in.

In his impression, compared to the [God of Justice and Suffering] Tyr, who possessed numerous knightly orders and was dedicated to eradicating all injustice; or the Blood Skull Cult devoted to the [God of Murder] Bhaal, lurking deep in the gloom, whose every appearance was accompanied by bloody storms and massacres, the Lady of Smiles could be said to be very low-profile.

She was neither eager to actively spread her doctrines, nor did she enjoy showing off so-called "divine miracles" in front of people.

In the Kingdom of Servia, you would rarely see large temples dedicated to Tymora, and not even birdcage-sized shrines were often found.

Only those most pious, fanatical believers who put the Goddess of Fortune's doctrines into practice in their daily words and deeds had the chance to be tested and become a priest in a related field.

Yet on the other hand, due to the unique nature of the domain she governed, Tymora possessed an exaggeratedly large number of pan-believers across the entire continent.

Merchants, sailors, gamblers... and even many adventurers were followers of this goddess.

Even if they never mentioned her usually, or even knew what her specific functions and holy symbol looked like, it didn't prevent them from silently reciting Tymora's divine name in their hearts when facing a suddenly discovered treasure chest or an about-to-be-revealed dice cup, praying for good luck.

And curiously, the Lady of Smiles was never stingy with her power.

Idle gamblers, aggressively speculative merchants... those who dared to place important things of their own on the other side of the scale and let luck decide the final outcome were often able to attract Tymora's averted glance.

Therefore, one frequently heard of some lucky bastard winning a huge sum of money in a casino, or some small merchant happening to strike a big deal.

— Even though the won gold coins were soon squandered away by the lavish gambler, and the merchant suffered consecutive losses in subsequent business.

All in all, in scenarios unrelated to interest, those who could still claim to be followers of Tymora were clearly genuine believers in this naturally detached goddess.

And the halfling before him, who stopped talking about it right after explaining his faith and showed no intention whatsoever of proselytizing, truly possessed the demeanor of a follower of the Goddess of Fortune.

Only...

Xanan ate the stew in his bowl, his peripheral vision sizing up Alton beside him.

He saw the fellow enthusiastically studying the soup spoon in his hand for a moment, as if curious about its forging craftsmanship; then anxiously jumping up because a horned owl flew over his head, superstitiously shaking his soft cap three times in his hand.

His expression carried a hint of oddity.

He had once heard a secret rumor about the halfling race from an elderly drunkard in a tavern.

Much like the protagonists in epic poems and novels who would never die before the story ended.

These curious, cheerful, and enthusiastic little people seemed inherently blessed by the Goddess of Fortune.

Falling off a cliff and having one's trousers caught by a tree branch, encountering a monster and unexpectedly receiving support from passing adventurers...

Under normal circumstances, halflings would often attribute their good luck to their mother goddess, "Yondalla," rather than the Lady of Smiles outside the Huldarin pantheon.

Therefore, a halfling who believed in the Goddess of Fortune was logical yet rare.

Noticing that the stew in Xanan's bowl had bottomed out, Alton, who had finally settled down, immediately stood up and ladled two more spoonfuls for him.

The smile blooming on his face seemed exceptionally satisfied with Xanan's recognition of his culinary skills.

"Thank you."

Taking the wooden bowl handed over by the halfling, Xanan expressed his gratitude.

In his heart, however, he couldn't help pondering.

As an adventurer dealing with all sorts of monsters every day, he could be said to be dancing on a tightrope.

Although he was lukewarm about such deities on this continent, as for the Goddess of Fortune... perhaps he could still harbor a tiny bit of faith in her?

Thus, taking advantage of the topic, he brought up his related questions to the halfling.

Of course, his words were extremely restrained and cautious.

Even an ordinary casual remark had to be turned over twice in his mind before being spoken aloud.

After all, in this world, gods truly existed!

If he accidentally said something offensive and it happened to be overheard by Tymora, and she lifted a finger to shave off a few points of his luck, then his life would pretty much be over.

Yet the halfling's reply left Xanan somewhat disappointed.

"Of course you can!" Alton waved the soup spoon in his hand, a thick smile still lingering on his face. "No god in this world would refuse to have one more believer."

"Then what specifically is required? A ritual, or some kind of sacrificial offering?"

"Um..."

Alton scratched his head through the pointed soft cap on his head.

"I suppose... not really."

"If you feel you are a follower of the Lady, then you are."

"Anyway, I suddenly received the Lady's divine oracle in a dream one night."

Seeing Xanan's gradually stiffening expression, the halfling quickly added,

"Perhaps you could try picking a four-leaf clover and tucking it under your pillow when you sleep, it might just work!"

Xanan shook his head.

In his heart, he already understood that for deities with personalities like Tymora's, unless one's faith was exceptionally pious, or one was naturally favored by the goddess like the halfling before him, it would otherwise be impossible to establish a genuine connection with her.

Belief meant belief.

Even if he prayed to her three thousand times every night before going to sleep, it probably wouldn't be as effective in gaining Tymora's gaze as finding a casino and going all-in with his hundred-plus gold coins.

Fretting no further, Xanan continued drinking the uniquely flavored stew while chatting casually with the halfling.

Extremely enthusiastic, chatting idly with a halfling never hit a dead end.

Often, Xanan would just casually mention something, and Alton would rattle off countless topics like spilling beans from a jar.

Within a few dozen minutes, Xanan even knew clearly what seasonings the other's mother used when cooking, and what time the old man next door watered his green plants every morning.

It was truly a bit exaggerated.

Fortunately, before he could become completely lost in the halfling's endless stream of topics that rivaled the stars in the sky, the caravan captain, "Jeff," that honest-looking fellow, carried a large bowl of stew over to the adventurers' temporary camp.

He had come to discuss tomorrow's itinerary and subsequent arrangements.

"By tomorrow morning at the latest, we'll reach Caranfull. If you all have free time then, I'll find a tavern and treat everyone to a meal, just as a reward for the hardships along the way."

"Actually, if we're in a hurry, traveling through the night isn't completely out of the question. After all, we're very close to the town now, and there won't be any danger to speak of."

"But just to be safe, we'll still..."

Jingle-ling—

The trap was triggered!

The sharp and loud ringing instantly interrupted Jeff's words.