"To defeat Heresy, one must understand Heresy. What do you know?"
Eric snatched back his Cross Pendant and wrapped it around his wrist.
He then noticed that his Chain Armor, and the Viking Longsword Ansebel had given him, were also gone.
"That's right, I don't understand. But I do know you've violated the tenets. Your self-righteous arguments can't excuse this blasphemous carving. You've committed the crime of desecrating a Holy Image.
In the England of old, anyone who said such things would have been burned at the stake long ago."
The girl grimaced, Eric's grip making her wrist ache.
She was not pleased.
After all, she was the one who had saved his life.
"Wait, how did you know I'm a Cultivator?"
Eric latched onto that word, narrowing his eyes as he looked at her.
He wasn't wearing a Monk's Robe right now—he'd given it to Robert. Nor did he have the tonsure of a Cultivator.
He slowly advanced on the girl.
The girl, realizing her slip of the tongue, kept backing away.
