Chapter 56: Lady Luck

"Tymora?"

I was quite surprised by the halfling's faith.

I couldn't help but recall the various occult knowledge I'd been urgently studying recently.

In my impression, compared to the god of justice and mutilation "Tyr," who had numerous knight orders dedicated to eliminating all injustice;

Or the Cult of the Blood Skull, lurking in the depths of shadow, worshipping the god of murder "Bhaal," whose every appearance was accompanied by bloody carnage.

Lady Luck could be said to be extremely low-key.

She was neither passionate about urgently spreading her doctrine, nor did she enjoy flaunting so-called "miracles" before people.

In the Servia Kingdom, you rarely saw large temples dedicated to Tymora, and even birdcage-sized shrines were uncommon.

Only those most devout, who implemented the goddess of fortune's doctrine into their every word and deed, had the chance to accept trials and become priests in the relevant field.

But on the other hand, due to the special nature of the dominion she held, Tymora had an exaggerated number of casual believers across the entire continent.

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

Even if they never mentioned it normally, and didn't even know what her specific functions or holy symbol looked like.

It didn't prevent them from silently chanting Tymora's divine name in their hearts when facing a suddenly discovered treasure chest or a dice cup about to be revealed, praying for good fortune.

And what was novel was that Lady Luck never stinted with her power.

Idle gamblers, rashly adventurous merchants... those who dared to place their important possessions on the other end of the scales and let luck decide their future often attracted Tymora's gaze.

So you'd often hear about some lucky fellow winning a large sum at the gambling house, or some small merchant happening upon a big business deal.

—Even if the won coins were quickly squandered by the free-spending gambler, or the merchant suffered consecutive losses in subsequent business.

In short, in scenarios unrelated to self-interest, those who could still call themselves Tymora's followers obviously genuinely believed in this goddess of indifferent nature.

And after the halfling before me explained his faith, he said no more, showing not the slightest intention to proselytize—truly demonstrating the style of a follower of the goddess of fortune.

Only...

I ate the stew in my bowl, my peripheral vision sizing up Alton beside me.

I saw him sometimes studying the spoon in his hand with great interest, as if curious about its forging process; sometimes hastily standing up because of a night owl flying overhead, superstitiously taking his soft cap in hand and shaking it three times.

My expression carried a trace of peculiarity.

I had once heard from an elderly drunkard at the inn about secrets concerning the halfling race.

Like protagonists in poems and novels who wouldn't die until the story ended.

These small folk full of curiosity, cheerful and enthusiastic, seemed naturally blessed by the goddess of fortune.

Falling off cliffs only to have their trouser legs caught by tree branches, encountering monsters only to accidentally receive support from passing adventurers...

Under normal circumstances, halflings would often attribute their good fortune to their mother goddess "Yondalla."

Rather than Lady Luck, who was outside the Hin pantheon.

Therefore, a halfling who believed in the goddess of fortune was reasonable but rare.

Noticing my bowl of stew had bottomed out, Alton, who had finally settled down for a moment, immediately stood up and ladled two more spoonfuls for me.

The smile spreading across his face seemed especially satisfied by my recognition of his cooking skills.

"Thank you."

I accepted the wooden bowl the halfling handed me and expressed my thanks.

But I couldn't help pondering inwardly.

I was engaged in adventuring work, dealing with various monsters every day—practically dancing on a tightrope.

Although I wasn't keen on the deities of this continent, when it came to the goddess of fortune... perhaps I could believe in her a little?

So I borrowed the topic to raise related questions with the halfling.

Of course, my words were extremely restrained and cautious.

Even casual phrases had to turn twice in my belly before coming out.

After all, this world truly had deities!

If I accidentally said something offensive and Tymora happened to hear it.

If she casually shaved a few points off my luck, I'd be done for this lifetime.

But the halfling's answer disappointed me somewhat.

"Of course you can!" Alton waved the spoon in his hand, his face still carrying a broad smile. "No deity in this world would refuse another follower."

"What specifically do I need? Rituals, or some kind of sacrificial item?"

"Umm..."

Alton scratched his head through his pointed soft cap.

"Probably... not necessary."

"If you think you're Lady Luck's follower, then you are."

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

Seeing my gradually stiffening expression, the halfling hastily added.

"Perhaps you could try picking a four-leaf clover and putting it under your pillow when you sleep—maybe it'll work!"

I shook my head.

But I already understood in my heart that for deities like Tymora with this personality, unless one's faith was extremely devout, or like the halfling before me who was naturally favored by the goddess.

Otherwise, it would be impossible to establish a genuine connection with her.

Not believing meant not believing.

Even if I prayed to her three thousand times every night before sleeping, it might not be as likely to get Tymora's attention as finding a gambling house and going all-in with the hundred-plus gold coins I had.

No longer dwelling on it.

I continued drinking the uniquely flavored stew while casually chatting with Alton.

Incredibly enthusiastic—chatting with a halfling never had cold moments.

Often I would just mention something casually, and Alton would pour out topics like beans from a bag.

In just a few dozen minutes, I even knew clearly what seasonings his mother used when cooking and what time the old man next door watered his plants every morning.

Truly exaggerated.

Fortunately, before I completely lost myself in the halfling's topics that were as endless as the stars in the sky.

The caravan captain "Jeff," that plain-spoken fellow.

Carrying a large bowl of stewed meat, came to the adventurers' temporary camp.

He came to discuss tomorrow's itinerary and subsequent arrangements.

"At the latest by tomorrow morning, we'll reach Karanfor. If you all have time then, I'll find a tavern and treat everyone to a meal as a reward for the hard work along the way."

"Actually, if we're in a hurry, traveling through the night isn't impossible. After all, we're already very close to town now, so there basically won't be any danger."

"But to be safe, we should still..."

Ring ring ring—

Trap triggered!

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

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.