5 a.m.
Fortress City Rivera was still shrouded in bluish morning mist.
Yet, in the midst of all this, there was a place unusually bustling…
“…So, because of the landslide, the Northern Trade Route’s blocked and now we’re short on steel.”
“Steel prices are sky-high right now even without that. If I’d known this would happen, I’d have stocked up earlier.”
“Hey, let us through! Move your donkey aside, will you!”
“Fresh bread! Hot bread, just baked this morning!”
From the peddler leading a donkey, to the traveling merchants unloading full wagons of goods, and even the boy selling breakfast to the merchants.
The Venice Company, proud owner of the largest marketplace in Fortress City Rivera, was a scene of chaos from dawn.
“Hm.”
Shylock, owner of the Venice Company, closed the window as he overlooked the scene and slowly sat down at his desk.
“Let’s hear about anything that happened overnight.”
At his words, the chief steward, who’d been waiting, began to report the previous day’s incidents one by one in detail.
“First, the matter of the Northern Trade Route. They say the landslide will take quite some time to clear. A huge boulder’s blocking the way, and it’s estimated to take at least a month to fix.”
“…A month? Even a slug would work faster than that. Give them a week. Use money, use manpower—just get it done within that time.”
“I’ll take care of it immediately.”
The steward moved right on to the next topic.
“A letter arrived from the Lord of Rivera.”
The steward carefully took a letter from his breast pocket and handed it over.
Shylock broke the red wax seal and began to read its contents.
[Dear Sir Shylock,]
It’s been a while since we last met at the banquet.
I write so suddenly because there’s a matter I urgently need to ask of you.
Shylock quickly skimmed the letter.
He could already guess the gist of it without reading to the end.
“They want support with expedition supplies, I presume.”
Recently, the price of iron ore had been climbing endlessly.
The main reason was the blockage of the Northern Trade Route connecting to the Mining Town, but the true cause lay elsewhere.
“There are rumors that the Demon Beasts’ movements have become suspicious lately. The King has ordered a draft to all territories in response.”
At the steward’s report, Shylock nodded slowly.
The Demon Beasts had begun to move.
A massive, organized army, the likes of which hadn’t been seen in decades.
According to intelligence, the Monster Legion had already gathered forces far outnumbering the King’s Army.
Thus, the king, feeling the crisis, had ordered a full-scale reinforcement, and as demand for weapons and armor for the soldiers rose, so did the demand for iron ore.
It was in such circumstances that even a relatively peaceful area like Rivera received an order to send troops.
Owing the Lord a favor wouldn’t hurt.
With that in mind, Shylock looked at the steward and said,
“…Send a reply to the Lord of Libera. Tell him I’ll provide the necessary supplies.”
The steward bowed deeply and continued with the last piece of news.
“These past few days, a rumor has been circulating in Rivera.”
A gigantic mountain of Salt and Pepper has appeared in the Sunrise Forest.
“…Salt Mountain and Pepper Mountain?”
Shylock stroked his mustache slowly.
It was a habit of his whenever something piqued his interest.
“We sent someone to check, and indeed, there’s a hut near the forest with huge piles of Salt and Pepper stored inside.”
“Salt, I can understand, but gathering that much Pepper isn’t easy. This is quite intriguing.”
In Shylock’s mind, he was already calculating the financial value of the Salt Mountain and Pepper Mountain.
What was particularly noteworthy was that the Salt and Pepper had simply been left out by the forest.
It was a display, without a doubt.
‘They can distribute massive amounts of Salt and Pepper without a trace.’
‘They have enough strength that even bandits wouldn’t dare to steal from them.’
So, who could possibly be behind this?
A few faces flickered through Shylock’s mind, but he soon shook his head.
At that moment, the steward, watching for an opportunity, cautiously added,
“Furthermore, there are rumors that a village called ‘Sanctuary’ has been built at the heart of the forest.”
“…Sanctuary?”
“They claim to be Believers who serve God, and the Sanctuary is said to be God’s first village. Some even say they performed a Miracle of Healing, completely curing Incurable Diseases in lepers and the lame.”
Upon hearing this report, Shylock sighed.
“A god, huh… Seems some cult leader’s appeared to deceive the foolish crowd. Especially at a time like this.”
Just then—
Creak—Bang!
Suddenly, the office door burst open and a servant came running in, breathless.
“Master! The young lady… she’s having another attack…!”
Shylock instantly rose to his feet.
“Steward! Call the doctor at once! Hurry!”
Shortly after.
The finest doctor in Rivera arrived.
Shylock, the master of the Venice Company, had only one daughter.
Lily.
As delicate as a single white lily, she was Shylock’s only family.
“Is there still no way to cure her?”
“I’m sorry, Sir Shylock. Your daughter’s illness is such a rare genetic disease…”
Incurable Disease.
Shylock’s daughter, Lily, was fighting a mysterious illness, dying a little each day.
Her face was pale and thin.
Her hands and feet were cold as ice.
Shylock gazed at his sleeping daughter’s face.
‘Some even say they performed a Miracle of Healing, completely curing Incurable Diseases in lepers and the lame.’
Recalling the steward’s earlier words, Shylock slowly spoke.
“…Prepare the carriage.”
“Starting today, I’ll be leading your training. I’m Militia Captain Hans.”
In a clearing set aside at one corner of the Sanctuary.
There, sturdy young men and women had gathered.
Soon, the man who introduced himself as Hans continued.
“Thanks to the countless blessings God has bestowed upon us, the Sanctuary was built. That means we must at least be able to defend it with our own strength!”
A few days ago, after the festival, God spoke.
During the height of the festival, a band of thieves tried to invade the Sanctuary.
God used His Divine Power to drive them out of the Sanctuary.
Upon hearing God’s words, Saint Jeanne d’Arc had taken the lead and declared,
‘Everyone, from now on, let’s protect our village with our own strength!’
From that day, the Believers set traps and snares in secluded places and built watchtowers and wooden fences around the village.
But above all, what was needed most was a militia ready to act in an emergency.
Among the Sanctuary Residents, Hans, a former soldier, would lead the militia training.
“We’ll start with swordsmanship training. Please pick up the wooden swords in front of you.”
Hans then demonstrated swordsmanship with crisp, disciplined movements.
The young people of the Sanctuary began swinging their wooden swords, albeit awkwardly.
“…So the training’s already begun, I see!”
A voice clear as crystal.
Hans quickly turned and bowed his head to Saint Jeanne d’Arc.
“You’re here, Saint. The training’s just getting underway.”
“In that case, I’d like to join as well. May I have a wooden sword?”
Hans, startled by Jeanne d’Arc’s request, quickly waved his hands in refusal.
“There’s no need for you to do such hard work, Saint. Leave the defense of the village to me and the militia.”
But Jeanne d’Arc quietly shook her head.
“Thank you for your concern. But I, too, have those I wish to protect with my own hands.”
“…Understood, Saint. But please, don’t push yourself.”
Hans handed Jeanne d’Arc a wooden sword, then glanced down at his left leg.
A few years ago.
He’d been struck in the knee with an arrow during battle, leaving him lame.
When he was healthy, he’d handled every dirty job as a ‘son of the nation,’ but as soon as he became disabled, he was treated as ‘someone else’s son.’
Dragging his damaged body from place to place doing odd jobs, his health only got worse, and eventually, he drifted into Rivera’s slums, a stranger among strangers.
‘…Wouldn’t it be easier to die than to go on like this?’
When those thoughts plagued him, a light shone down on him.
A miracle.
Saint Jeanne d’Arc, using God’s Divine Power, healed his leg completely.
Able to stand on both feet again, Hans swore an oath.
‘I will use this life God and the Saint have given me for their sake.’
However, the hastily formed militia was pitifully unskilled.
Some swung their swords in strange ways, others tripped and fell as they tried.
All except for one—Jeanne d’Arc.
Whoosh~! Whoosh!
Jeanne d’Arc’s wooden sword sliced through the air and struck the scarecrow’s torso dead center.
A graceful yet sharp dance of the sword.
Watching her skill, Hans unconsciously swallowed dryly.
“Saint, have you studied the sword before?”
“I learned a little when I was a child. I’m still quite inexperienced, though.”
Unlike the other villagers, who were panting and out of breath, Jeanne wasn’t even sweating.
“The swift, straight thrusts… That’s northern swordsmanship. Let me teach you some southern techniques as well—they might be useful.”
“I look forward to your instruction.”
Just then, a young man from the village came running from afar, shouting.
“Captain! Someone’s approaching the Sanctuary!”
He’d been keeping watch from a tower at the village’s edge.
Hans asked with a serious face,
“Is it a bandit group?”
“No, from a distance, it looks like a merchant caravan!”
Looking where the youth pointed, they saw a cloud of dust rising in the distance.
Something was definitely coming.
Hans and Jeanne d’Arc hurried to the village outskirts.
Soon after, a mysterious caravan appeared at the edge of the Sanctuary.
Led by a red carriage, half a dozen wagons sped toward the Sanctuary.
Screech—!
A middle-aged man stepped down from a carriage, slowly stroked his beard, and looked around.
“Hm, so this is the Sanctuary from the rumors. For such a village to spring up so quickly—certainly strange.”
As the Sanctuary Residents watched in silence, not daring to speak,
“You seem to know about the Sanctuary. What brings you here?”
Jeanne d’Arc calmly stepped forward and spoke.
The reply came at once.
“I heard someone here is impersonating the Creator to deceive the people. So, I’ve come to see for myself.”
It was Shylock, master of the Venice Company.