At the same time a golden pointer formed of pure Holy Light appeared above the Tome, extending beyond its pages and pointing in a specific direction, rotating slightly from time to time.
Haldryn stared for a moment, then understood. Some of the gold he had just tried to donate was stolen property. The Holy Light could sense and punish evil; of course it had noticed.
The first volume of A Paladin's Self-Cultivation had mentioned this ability, but he had skipped ahead to Divine Shield at the time. Reading the relevant section now made everything clear.
A random-item reward sounded worthwhile—especially given how often Gifts of Fate produced nothing but "Thank You for Your Patronage."
He decided to try.
First he used the Appraisal Codex to sort through the coins until he isolated the single stolen one. Placing that coin on the Codex caused the golden pointer to grow clearer and more stable, locking more precisely onto the thief's location.
Finding the culprit would be easy. Dealing with him afterward was the real question.
Hand him over to the town guard? That might make obtaining a written Book of Apology difficult.
Beat a confession out of him on the spot?
Looking at his own build…
His expression shifted through several emotions before he settled on a plan: avoid a direct fight if possible. If it became unavoidable, turn the man over to the authorities and simply ask the victim for a Book of Gratitude. That should be enough.
As a precaution he took a wooden staff with him when he left.
The wood came from Vanaheim and was harder than most metals on Earth—perfectly adequate for everyday Asgardian brawling.
Tome in one hand, Vanaheim staff in the other, he strode out looking almost like a proper paladin for once.
"Haldryn, where are you going dressed like that?" Aunt had just returned from the herb gardens and eyed him with faint concern for his mental state.
"Nothing… nothing important." He quickly closed the Tome and hurried off.
Before long he reached a street corner. The golden pointer began rotating more actively; the thief was nearby.
Few people were about. Following the Tome's guidance he soon locked onto the target and began trailing him at a careful distance. The man was even wearing a tunic of the same style Haldryn had seen in Taylor's shop. No doubt remained.
The thief looked young—though in Asgard that could mean anywhere from thirty to three thousand. Short golden hair, average height, lean build.
Seeing the slender frame, Haldryn relaxed a little. At least he wasn't facing some muscle-bound brute.
It made sense. True powerhouses rarely resorted to petty theft… unless this was some kind of plate-armored rogue build.
He decided he could risk a confrontation. He had the advantage of surprise, and Holy Strike should hit harder against someone carrying sin.
The thought had barely formed when a cold realization struck him.
While following the man he had, without noticing, entered an empty stretch of street.
At that exact moment the thief spun and launched a flying kick straight at him.
Haldryn twisted aside in alarm and swung the staff at the man's kidney.
The thief moved with real skill—nothing like Skurge's mindless charges—and slipped past the strike easily. His fingers stiffened into a blade and struck Haldryn's right hand in a flash.
Pain flared across the back of Haldryn's hand. The staff flew free.
The thief's eyes flicked with contempt. He drove a fist toward Haldryn's nose.
If that punch landed, the fight would be over instantly.
Haldryn clenched his teeth, met the incoming fist with his own, and called on the Tome in the same breath.
Holy Strike!
Apologize.
Golden light exploded around his fist, bright as a small sun, radiant and sacred.
The thief froze for a split second at the sudden brilliance.
Their fists collided. The golden light around Haldryn's hand flared even brighter, almost as if it had detonated.
"Aagh!"
The thief screamed and dropped to his knees, clutching his right hand and howling.
Haldryn pressed the advantage at once, fists and feet flying, and in moments the man was on the ground, no longer able to fight, only moaning.
"Talk. What have you been doing lately? Don't pretend you don't know."
"I…" The thief's breathing was ragged, eyes flickering between fury and pain. At last he muttered, "I stole Gnar's money."
As expected.
Haldryn nodded. "Hand it over."
The man struggled to a sitting position, still resentful. "How did you even know it was me? Gnar himself shouldn't know yet."
"Less talk. The money. Now." Haldryn produced paper and pen. "And you're going to write a Book of Apology—full confession and repentance."
Alarm flooded the thief's face. "You're… you're turning me over to the guard?"
Asgard's population was small and its streets usually peaceful. A thief was genuine news; word would spread quickly. Once the authorities had him, the man would find it almost impossible to live a normal life in Asgard again.
"Please don't tell anyone," he begged. "I'll return everything… no, I'll return double."
"You should have thought of the consequences before you stole," Haldryn said, firmly suppressing the small greedy voice that liked the sound of double repayment.
"Please…"
Haldryn sighed. "Fine. I won't tell anyone. I won't hand you to the guard. And I don't need double. But you will write the Book of Apology. If you steal again, I take it straight to the authorities."
"Thank you. You're a good man." The thief exhaled in relief, took the paper and pen, and began writing.
The Book of Apology had specific requirements: the writer's identity, the exact crime, and a formal repentance offered to the Holy Light.
From the text, the man's name was Yarlin.
"What is the Holy Light?" Yarlin asked while writing.
"A pure force," Haldryn answered. "You can think of it as justice and fairness given form."
Yarlin was silent for a long time. Then, quietly: "I once wanted to become someone like you…"
There was a thread of sorrow in his voice.
He finished the letter, handed over both the Book of Apology and a pouch of coins, then cradled his injured hand and walked away in silence.
Haldryn looked down at the letter and the pouch for a long moment, expression complicated.
He placed the Book of Apology on the Appraisal Codex. Light shimmered across the page, and words only he could see appeared:
[Appraisal successful. You have fulfilled a paladin's duty. Donate the Book of Apology to receive a Commendation of Justice. Appraise and donate the corresponding Book of Gratitude to receive a second identical Commendation.]
^^^
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