Chains of Vengeance

Chapter 182: A Shepherd Dog

The haloed dog shifted heavily in his bed, feeling the weight of sleep still clinging to his body. He slowly opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling, blinking a few times before noticing his surroundings. The walls around him were not those of his usual home, but a pink fabric that moved slightly in the breeze.

He had spent the night in the mating tent.

He turned his head lazily and looked around. Several cultists were still sleeping next to him: the crow, the squirrel he liked, a moose, an octopus, a starfish, and a shrimp. They were all scattered around the bed in the tent, breathing calmly.

The dog shrugged. Nothing out of the ordinary.

He stood up carefully so as not to wake the others and left the tent.

As soon as he set foot outside, the sunlight hit him brightly. He blinked several times, feeling his eyes take a while to adjust to the brightness. He was probably a bit hungover, but he didn't mind too much.

He pulled an hourglass out of his pocket and looked at the time. Breakfast was over... and probably lunch too.

He felt a slight throbbing in his head, a sign of a possible migraine, but instead of looking for something to eat, he took another direction. He headed towards a nearby river with the sole intention of clearing his head.

Upon arriving, he took advantage of the fact that he wasn't wearing his clothes and dove headlong into the water.

The cold immediately enveloped him, giving him a shiver that ran through his entire body, but at the same time it helped him clear his mind. He stayed in the water for a few moments, letting the current caress his skin, relaxing with the sensation.

When he finally emerged, his body was shaking from the cold temperature, but he wasn't too worried about that. He shook himself vigorously, scattering droplets everywhere like any dog ​​would when drying off.

More awake now, he sighed and made his way back to his house.

It was time to get back to his routine.

Once home, the haloed dog walked over to a small trunk and calmly opened it. Inside, neatly stacked, were several basic cultist robes, simple but comfortable. He took one of them and shook it out before putting it on.

The soft brush of the warm fabric against his body was an immediate relief after the cold water splash. He let out a sigh of satisfaction as he adjusted the robe, making sure it fit him properly. "Nothing like the feeling of being dry and warm after a cold plunge."

Already dressed, he left his house with a firm and proud bearing. He confidently greeted other cultists as he passed, feeling a small pride within him. He was not a god, nor a special oddity like Lambert, Goliath, or Ramael. But that did not mean he was any less important. In his mind, after them, he was the highest ranking figure in the cult.

After all, he was Narinder's first and only religious disciple, and the golden halo above his head shone as proof of that.

The celebration of the sin of lust was over, so it was time to clear some things up with Narinder. Also, he wanted to know if there were any new orders from his god.

He was in charge of many things within the cult and he wanted to continue contributing. This was his home, his paradise, and he wanted to keep it in its best condition.

He walked calmly to the leader's house, the residence of Narinder and his spouses. For him, that place was almost as sacred as the temple or the confessional.

Upon arriving, he knocked on the door and, without waiting for an answer, he entered confidently.

"My lord? How are you? Are there any new orders to follow?"