Looking at the people before him, filled with vigilance, wariness, and even hatred towards him, Wright was momentarily silent.
He was not an outstanding preacher—or even an outstanding priest, a fact he had known for a long time.
He was merely an orphan picked out from a pile of firewood, surviving entirely thanks to the old abbot's kindness at the monastery. Before awakening his Holy Light Talent, for a full twenty years he was nothing more than a menial worker and servant at the monastery. Unlike those who were formally trained clergymen and received a complete theological education, or those born fortunate and gifted who could quickly learn how to navigate the intrigues of the higher religious circles, he was different.
