Chapter 1720 – Casting Judgement

Sometimes, a monster needs to be taken care of. This is a universal truth for everyone who makes their life in the Dungeon. By their very nature, monsters are territorial and eternally hungry for growth and power. Eventually, one will rise above the pack, stand head and shoulders over the others and establish its own place in the winding tunnels. And, on occasion, that place runs a little too close to the territory of a city or kingdom, creating problems, endangering lives, threatening business and being an all around nuisance to everyone involved.

In case of such an event, every independent state in the Dungeon must maintain some level of armed force capable of removing such pests, which are normally beyond the reach of regular delvers.

Specially raised strike teams, monster killing experts, Dungeon annihilators, slayer squads, whatever they’re called, their purpose is the same: a specialised team to be called upon to deal with a particularly nasty monster.

The Church of the Path is no different in this respect. When there is a monster that the Church has deemed must be destroyed, it calls upon a Judgement Battalion. Fanatically loyal, rigorously trained and expertly equipped, they are excellent at their jobs and people are always pleased to see them arrive in town. An answer to prayer and bringers of hope to the faithful.

– Excerpt from ‘Dealing With Monsters’ by B. S. Wordsmith

As a War Bishop, Graham had seen many things. Mighty monsters brought low; devastated settlements that had stood for hundreds of years, destroyed in an instant. New ones popping up, seemingly out of nowhere.

Yet perhaps none had been quite as interesting as the sight of a Grand Priest attempting to sleep in a bunk alongside the regular soldiers. When Alir had emerged from the barracks in the morning, it was clear he had barely slept, his eyes were bloodshot, with dark circles beneath them. Graham took no joy in the man’s suffering, but he did find it rather intriguing. Like seeing a rare species of bird or a fascinating trinket in the marketplace, it was something he found difficult to look away from.

“You haven’t had enough of an eyeful yet?” Alir grumbled as he pulled out the stool next to the War Bishop and sat heavily at the table with a groan. “By the Path, I’m tired.”

“I am well rested,” Graham said, making the sign of the Path on his chest.

Alir stared at him, carefully blank-faced.

“Thanks. Thanks for saying that.”

“You’re welcome.”

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

A simple porridge of oats, seeds and nuts had been served for the morning meal, and the makeshift mess hall was filled with the sounds of murmured conversation, earnest prayer and spoons scraping against bowls as the troops made sure to savour every bite. It wasn’t often they got a meal as flavorful as this.

Graham watched openly as the Grand Priest stared at the bowl in front of him for a full minute before gradually raising the spoon to his lips, taking a reluctant mouthful, then grimacing as if in pain.

“Excess is sinful,” Graham reminded him.