Chapter Twelve: The Unhesitating Betrayal
Page 1/3
Roy finished denouncing the nobles for their acts of sacrilege, then knelt deeply before the two High Shamans, expressing profound self-reproach. Yet the two High Shamans did not seize the moment to press the advantage; instead, they turned their gazes toward the lizardfolk nobles across from them.
The High Priest’s expression was gentle, while the Chief Deacon’s was cold and severe. Though neither spoke explicitly, the nobles understood perfectly well this was the Shamans offering a way out:
If you surrender now, we will punish only the principal offenders and spare the others.
The Shamans could never afford to wipe out all the nobles at once—that would force them into an all-or-nothing fight to the death. But that did not mean the Shamans would swallow this bitter loss quietly.
They intended to compel the Dragon Valley nobles to admit that the “True Dragon’s Daughter” was a fraud, scapegoating these two humans as the chief culprits, and to declare that henceforth only the Shamans had the authority to enthrone the True Dragon’s Daughter. Then today’s tribunal could end here.
As for the aftermath, that would be dealt with in due course.
Lord Argol watched coldly as the nobles whispered anxiously among themselves, unsurprised by their wavering loyalty.
If the Dragon Valley nobles had truly united, would they have been oppressed by the Shamans for so many years?
He decided to play his trump card.
His gaze drifted lazily toward the distance, where Centurion Talasha of the city’s defense forces was leading troops, roughly pushing aside the obstructing crowd.
The guards forcefully parted the onlookers and thrust a bound lizardfolk mother and child into the square.
At the sight of the pair, the Chief Deacon’s pupils trembled uncontrollably.
His mouth opened awkwardly but no words came out.
The High Priest regarded his disgraced old colleague with a hint of disdain in his eyes. Then Centurion Talasha shouted loudly:
“High Deacon of the Shamans! This woman claims to have had an illicit affair with you and bore a sinful illegitimate child!”
An uproar swept through the crowd: What? The High Shamans, sworn to lifelong celibacy, secretly had mistresses and illegitimate children?
“Talasha.” Lord Argol’s voice carried a faint smile. “How can you slander the High Deacon so recklessly? If you make such accusations, you must produce evidence, or else you blaspheme.”
“This is the proof!” Talasha fiercely tore the pendant from the child’s neck, held it aloft, and turned to show the crowd.
The onlookers gasped again, for the pendant was a silver scale.
The Dragon God’s Scale, a sacred relic of the Horn Temple, existed in two pieces: the golden scale belonged to the High Priest, the silver scale to the Chief Deacon. It was said to grant longevity and immunity from disease to the two High Shamans.
Yet now the Chief Deacon had bestowed the silver scale upon a child—did that not mean this child was...
Page 2/3
“Compassion is a virtue ordained by the Dragon Lord,” the High Priest finally spoke, his tone measured. “Last year, this mother came to the Horn Temple, pleading for aid because her child was frail and sickly.”
“Moved by pity, the Chief Deacon temporarily lent the silver scale to the child to cure its ailments. Surely this does not constitute irrefutable evidence of violating the Shamanic precepts?”
Lord Argol smiled in agreement.
“If that is the case, then Roy’s collective accusations against the nobles also lack any proof and must be deemed baseless slander.”
“Indeed.” The High Priest could not afford double standards under watchful eyes. To preserve the Chief Deacon’s reputation and authority, he was forced to sacrifice Roy as a pawn. “False accusers shall receive equal punishment, for this is the just virtue granted by the Dragon Lord.”
With a glance from Lord Argol, Centurion Talasha stepped forward swiftly, dragging away the ashen-faced noble Roy along with the weeping mother and child.
The scene fell into deadlock once more. After the recent confrontation, the once fervent lizardfolk crowd gradually calmed.
Neither nobles nor Shamans possessed definitive evidence of sacrilege, yet suspicion required no proof.
Both sides felt tainted and untrustworthy...
“Daya,” Reyn whispered, his voice low enough for only her to hear, a faint smile playing on his lips, “remember this moment well.”
“Remember these nobles and priests, beneath their sanctimonious robes, are nothing but hideous walking corpses.”
Daya bit her lip silently and nodded softly.
“Good, very good!” The High Deacon, having witnessed his mistress and son dragged away for execution, suddenly erupted into madness. He pointed fiercely at Daya and roared at the nobles:
“You claim she is the Dragon’s Daughter, but I ask you: the apocalypse is near, the true dragon will appear. Where is this world-ending calamity?”
“According to scripture, the True Dragon’s Daughter only manifests her sacred power at the apocalypse,” noble Harsatch defended. “That is to say, even if the apocalypse has yet to come, the True Dragon’s Daughter may still appear—just appearing as a mere mortal...”
“Then I can bring any mortal here and claim they are the True Dragon’s Daughter!” the High Deacon bellowed furiously.
“High Deacon!” the High Priest sharply rebuked, “Watch your tongue!”
“Why shrink back in the face of sacrilege!” the High Deacon fumed, pointing skyward. “If it is not the apocalypse, then why did the Dragon Lord send the True Dragon’s Daughter to this world?”
His argument was flawed—Harsatch had already answered. The scriptures did not explicitly state that the Dragon’s offspring appear only at the apocalypse.
Yet the Shamans’ teachings always combined the apocalypse and the Dragon’s salvation to frighten unbelievers into converting.
The common folk, more familiar with the phrase “the apocalypse is near, the true dragon appears” than obscure scripture, shouted jeers from the crowd:
“Silence! Where is this apocalypse? Don’t speak nonsense like a clown and make us all laugh!”
Harsatch frowned slightly and signaled Lord Argol with his eyes.
Page 3/3
This turn of events caught Lord Argol completely off guard.
Logically, the Shamans should have quietly reached a tacit compromise with the nobles to protect the Chief Deacon’s position and keep his scandal secret.
“Don’t question whether my Dragon’s Daughter is genuine, and I won’t question whether your Chief Deacon broke his vows; we’ll just deceive the people together.”
But the Chief Deacon suddenly lost his mind, fixating on the apocalypse and insisting on denying the Dragon’s Daughter’s identity, throwing the nobles into a dilemma:
Should they let both the Dragon’s Daughter and the Chief Deacon perish together?
Argol looked again to the High Priest but found the aged lizardfolk elder had closed his eyes, wearing an expression of cold indifference—“I am tired; I no longer care.”
Quickly weighing the pros and cons, Argol realized that insisting Daya was the Dragon’s Daughter now would fail to convince the entire city.
Better to cut their losses, trade the Dragon’s Daughter for the Chief Deacon, and severely weaken the Shamans’ power.
“High Priest,” he asked kindly, “which sin is graver: impersonating the True Dragon’s Daughter, or a High Shaman breaking his vows and fathering a child?”
Daya’s eyes widened in shock, disbelief turning to Lord Argol:
Aren’t we on the same side? Why...
“There is no difference,” the High Priest answered coldly. “Both shall be sentenced to death by hanging, their souls imprisoned within their corpses, suspended from the cliffside to suffer day and night until the Dragon Lord returns to judge their sins in person.”
“Then I have no objections.” Argol nodded calmly.
Centurion Talasha gave the order, and the guards quickly split into two squads. One dragged away the still-raging High Deacon; the other approached Daya and Reyn to arrest them.
“It was my idea alone to impersonate the Dragon’s Daughter!” Daya finally summoned her courage and shouted, “Lord Faher was deceived by me too! If you want to arrest anyone, just arrest me...”
Before she finished, Reyn pressed his hand on her shoulder, cutting off her impassioned self-sacrifice.
“Don’t interrupt the show. Step back.”
“Erelina, come forth!”