January, the Year 1229 A.C.

Kingdom of Edria

The King's Palace

King Odis Farud Bandar Edrana watched the Council in front of him devolve into chaos with bored eyes.

“You bastards are mad!” Baron Jimmie Coulston shouted in outrage as his spittle flew across the table, narrowly missing one of his fellow nobles. “I knew you were posturing to attack Ocrana, but to think that all of you would go through with it! This is madness!”

Very true, Odis agreed internally with the Baron. Coulston, a middle-aged man, was one of the nobles with a decent personality, but Odis lamented his lack of skill in politics. The good man was just too honest and kind for his own good.

“Of course we'd go through with it!” Count Wilbert Grett shouted back, his fellows supporting him with a cheer. “We've been preparing this for more than a decade already with hundreds of thousands of gold spent and you think we were just posturing?! We are ready, and there is no better time to attack Ocrana! With our preparations, those weak-willed Ocranians will fall before our armies!”

War is not all about pitting soldiers against the enemy until one runs out of men to send to their deaths, you imbecile, Odis thought while looking at the fat Count in scorn. Well, not anymore at least.

“This war isn't going to benefit anyone!” Coulston replied acidly. “Instead of spending gold on a worthless war, why not spend it on reforms that would help our citizens?! All of you are spending gold just to spill the blood of our people!”

Well said, Jimmie, well said, Odis inwardly praised. If I could, I would have made you the sole member of my Council of Advisors.

“Watch your tone, Baron. You are speaking in the presence of the King,” a deep voice intervened. At the sound of his voice, the other clamoring nobles quietened as they shifted their focus to the speaker.

Aw, I was hoping the charades would last longer, Odis complained.

A large man dressed in a military uniform stood up from his seat near the King. His green uniform was decorated with various medals that showcased his achievements throughout his military career and his service to the kingdom. His wild dark brown hair and thick bushy eyebrows lent an intimidating aura to his appearance, which was further emphasized by his large and powerful build.

Duke Winston Mulvahil, General of the Edrian Royal Army, stared the Baron down with his dark eyes and spoke. “Are you saying that we are doing all this just to waste the lives of our own men?”

It may not be your intention, but that is what you are doing, Odis quipped in his mind.

Baron Coulston wanted to utter the same words that the King thought, but he found himself silenced by the Duke's intense gaze. Mulvahil took the Baron's silence as a sign to continue speaking. “More than nine decades ago, Edria and Ocrana was a single nation.”

Oh Mother, here he goes again, Odis grumbled while trying to keep the grimace on his face from showing. He saw some of the nobles at the table grimacing slightly and he almost burst out laughing.

“Because of their greed for riches and power, they waged a civil war to establish their own insurgent state!” Mulvahil exclaimed loudly. “All of Ocrana's people and its king are insurgents, and we are the rightful owners of that land! If it weren't for their greed, Edria would have been powerful enough to no longer fear the Empire!”

That's pretty rich coming from the one who got his pockets filled with Imperial gold, Odis thought.

“The insurgents have been left alone for too long,” Mulvahil continued. “The threat of the Empire is looming over us, and if we do not reclaim Ocrana soon and unite their rebel forces with ours, we will not stand a chance when the Imperial legions come knocking on our borders.”

Talk about arrogance, Odis thought scornfully. Not once in his speech did Mulvahil ever call Ocrana a ‘kingdom.’ He simply called it an ‘insurgent state’ and its people ‘rebels.’ The amount of hypocrisy he's showing is astounding, and yet the majority of the nobles here support him. This kingdom is truly gone for good.

“They did not wage a civil war out of greed, they started a revolution because of tyranny!” the Baron shot back. His reply caused some of the nobles' eyes to widen in shock. Nobody talked back to the Duke except for the King.

Mulvahil narrowed his eyes at the Baron and replied calmly. “Those are lies propagated by insurgents, Baron. I don't blame you for your lack of knowledge since even our kingdom's history books are filled with lies written by insurgents pretending to be Edrians. But one thing is clear: the majority of the nobles here have already agreed with the plan and you cannot stop it.”

The rest of the nobles in the conference room glanced nervously at the King. Every word that came out of the Duke's mouth was an insult to the Crown and its authority. Everybody in the room knew that the history books in the kingdom were written by none other than the Royal Scribes, and to say that they wrote lies was the same as calling the one who hired them, the King, a liar.

“Most of the nobles in this room have agreed to proceed with the attack, Your Majesty,” Duke Mulvahil said to Odis, not bothering to ask permission to speak. “Does His Majesty approve of it?”

King Odis stared at the man standing before him with blank eyes. He was silent for a minute, making the other nobles in the room sweat in nervousness. Duke Mulvahil's jaw clenched so tightly that Odis swore he could hear his teeth cracking.

After a minute had passed, Odis smiled at the Duke and nodded his head. “You have my approval, Duke.”

Both men stared at each other's eyes a few seconds longer than necessary before the Duke relented and sat back in his seat. I love my small victories, Odis thought.

Baron Coulston shot an extremely disappointed look at the King, but remained silent. If he spoke out against the King's decision, the Duke could easily accuse him of treason.

“Are there any other issues that require my attention?” the King asked his Council of Advisors, ignoring the Baron's stare.

“What do we tell the Archbishop from the Holy Mother Church regarding their request, Your Majesty?” one of the nobles asked.

Everybody in the room grimaced. The Holy See in Zurath had requested to station more of their Templars in each of their dioceses in Edria to keep their priests and priestesses safe. Despite the famous neutrality of the Holy Mother Church in secular affairs, the nobility was still nervous about a foreign force inside their borders in a time of war, but they couldn't simply reject their request. War was chaotic, and if a pastor of the Holy Mother Church died because of the conflict, Edria would be at war against two nations.

The King could delay his answer, but the Holy See made their request years ago. If they rejected or ignored them outright, the healers in Edria might protest and refuse to provide their service, and everybody in the room knew that fighting a war without healers would be devastating.

“I think we've delayed long enough, Your Majesty,” Duke Mulvahil said, shooting a knowing look in the King's direction. “I suggest we accept their request.”

“I agree,” Odis replied. For once, he wholeheartedly agreed with the Duke. “I shall send a missive to the Archbishop to allow one hundred Templars to enter our kingdom. Are there any more concerns?”

“May I have the permission to speak, Your Majesty?” Baron Coulston asked. His words elicited dubious stares from Mulvahil's supporters, wondering what his intention was. The Duke simply watched silently.

“You have my permission, Baron Coulston,” Odis replied.

“About a month ago, I've received word that the Baronet of a town in my land has been killed along with most of his guards and two civilians,” the Baron said. “Witnesses report that a new species of a spider-like monster had attacked the Baronet's mansion, killed all his guards, and managed to escape from two augmenters, one of which was a third-augmenter.”

Susurrations sounded throughout the room as the nobles murmured their thoughts. Most of them had looks of concern, but some had expressions of glee. They were from the Duke's faction who rejoiced in the tragedy that befell the Baron.

“A new monster, eh?” Odis said. “Can you describe this monster?”

“According to the reports, it looked like a black spider with dozens of tentacles growing out of its back, Your Majesty. It was able to slaughter dozens of guards instantly by piercing them with its tentacles and was able to destroy an entire section of a stone building.”

“Interesting,” Odis muttered. “I've never heard of a monster like that before. And tentacles? Are you sure it was not an Eldritch?”

The mention of an Eldritch instantly silenced all noise in the room. The nobles who were formerly grinning at the Baron's plight paled.

“I-I don't think it was, Your Majesty,” Coulston replied with a stutter. The thought of an Eldritch crawling around in his domain unnerved him. “There were no reports of widespread mania and insanity in the area, so chances are high that it was a monster of this world. I've already sent small search parties to find the monster, but I'm afraid they won't be able to take it down even if they did find it.”

His words brought relief to everybody in the room. King Odis sighed in relief, although he was grumbling inwardly. An Eldritch in this blasted kingdom would have been a good diversion to help me solve all my problems.

“Nevertheless, even if it isn't an Eldritch, a new species of monster is still a large threat. Duke Mulvahil, can you spare any of your soldiers to help our kind Baron?”

The Duke's eyes lit in fury for a moment before immediately calming down. “Apologies, Your Majesty. All of my men are already stationed near our border with Ocrana for the spring offensive.”

Odis already expected the Duke's reply, but he wasn't expecting any help from him in the first place. He just loved needling the big man at every opportunity, and asking him to help the Baron who was the most vocal in going against his plan to attack their neighboring kingdom was a big insult. Take that, you muscle-brained bastard.

“That is unfortunate,” Odis said with a ‘regretful face.’ “I would have liked to send my own men, but I'm afraid they are currently preoccupied with the duty of defending the capital. You would have to avail the services of the Adventurer's Guild, Baron Coulston. I'll hire some of the adventurers myself to ease your burden on the expenses.”

The Baron looked disappointed for a second, but immediately schooled his face. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

After a few more formalities, the council was finally adjourned and the nobles left the conference room. After making sure that there was nobody else lurking around, the King spoke to the empty room. “Such a shame that the charades ended so quickly today. I always find it quite funny to watch that snake of a Duke still pretending to respect me.”

After a few seconds of silence, the shadows in one corner of the room darkened until it appeared like a black void where no light escaped. A figure clothed completely in black stepped forth from the shadow, a hood over their head and a cloth covering their mouth and nose, revealing only their dark eyes.

“Do you know what's funnier? Seeing a King follow his Duke's every whim because the latter has more power, influence, and an entire Empire backing him up behind the curtains,” the figure said with a feminine voice.

“You don't have to hit me where it hurts, Esta,” Odis grumbled. He faced the figure shrouded in shadows and shot a glare at his spymaster.

Esta simply sat in one of the ornate chairs and propped her feet up on the table. “The truth always hurts, Odis. Maybe if you didn't spend your entire youth fighting and training instead of reading your books, we'd be in a far different situation.”

“You're not supposed to talk to your King like that,” Odis said with indignation, but to his closest friend and follower, it sounded more like whining. “If you're done making fun of my situation, how about you give me that report you've been itching to tell me about?”

Esta's eyes turned serious underneath the hood. “The Hooded Man rejected our offer. As of today, it's safe to say that the Hoods are now a part of the Duke's faction.”

Odis grunted and rubbed his beard in contemplation. For the majority of Edria's people, the King was the absolute ruler of the kingdom while the nobility served as his vassals, but Odis' situation was far from it. Ever since Odis, who was the Second Prince at the time, was forced into the throne more than fifteen years ago after the death of his brother, the political stage in Edria was split into three major factions.

The strongest and most numerous faction was the Duke's, whose goal was to ‘restore Edria to its former glory’ by annexing Ocrana.

The next faction was the King's, which was composed of a few loyalist nobles and was vastly outpowered by the Duke's faction.

And lastly were the unaffiliated nobles, who knew about the power struggle but chose to remain as spectators.

In a bid to balance the scales between their factions, Odis had intended to bribe the Hoods, the largest criminal syndicate in Edria, into remaining neutral in the current power struggle between him and the Duke. But Esta's report revealed that their leader, the Hooded Man, had already taken the side of the Duke.

“You don't look so glum for one whose plan was ruined,” Esta commented as she watched the King's expression.

“Many of my plans have already been ruined over the years, Esta. If I stressed for each and every one of them, I'd have gone bald by now,” answered the middle-aged King.

“Still, compared to the previous ones, you don't look that disappointed,” Esta noted while raising her eyebrow.

Odis chuckled at his spymaster's words. “Fine, I'll admit I'm not disappointed. In fact, I'm happy that our negotiations with the Hoods didn't end up so well, because it only leaves me with one choice.”

“What do you mean?” Esta asked with a dubious stare.

“Since diplomacy didn't work, not that I was good at that anyway, it's time we proceed with a plan where I'm good at,” the King said as he stood up with a large grin on his face. “It's time to annihilate a criminal syndicate.”

“You can't do that,” Esta replied in alarm as she stood up as well. The last thing she wanted was for the man she was supposed to protect to put himself at risk. “The Hoods have been around before your brother even took the throne, Odis. You can't root them out with brute force, they'd just pop back up like weeds.”

“I've been rotting in my throne for more than a decade already, Esta, helpless as I watch the kingdom that my brother loved so much slowly walk itself towards destruction by the hands of a bigoted bastard,” Odis said with serious eyes. “I think it's time I remind my enemies who they're dealing with.”

Esta wanted to discourage her King from going through with his plan, but seeing him this serious made her hesitate. She always saw Odis as an easy-going man that would laugh his troubles away and tell her everything was fine even if it wasn't, but his eyes told her that he would not take any objections. “The Duke's faction isn't going to take this lying down, you know. They'll fight back.”

Odis barked out a laugh. “Hah! They will surely do so, but they will have to do it in the shadows. They can't be seen openly going against the King's intention to root out a criminal organization after all. And if they do move in the dark, then it's a good thing that I have the shadows by my side.”

Esta blushed under her mask as Odis put his large arm around her shoulder and drew her close. “I'm just one woman, Odis. You can't expect me to fend them all off.”

“If an Ascendant that can control the shadows can't even win against a blind enemy in the dark, then I stand no chance of ever defeating the Duke,” Odis said simply.

Esta grinned underneath her mask. “Then I guess I'll have to remind them of the Shadow constantly watching them from behind.”

●●●

“I guess this is it, huh?” Garin said with red eyes. He attributed it to the cold, but his friends didn't miss the tears he shed earlier.

“It's not like we're not coming back,” Terric said with a sad smile. He was dressed in leather armor, a sword was sheathed on his hip, and a rucksack hung from his shoulders. “When I finish my training and Liz finishes her studies, we'll both come back. Right, Liz?”

Liz nodded from the side. Although she did her best to take up her aloof persona, her red-rimmed eyes gave away her true feelings. “Don't act like such a baby, Garin. I'll bring back souvenirs when I get back, so don't be so glum.”

“I hope you have some good stories to tell when you get back,” Ralf said. He was dressed in a black cloak and was holding on to a shovel with strange runes engraved on it. A month ago, he had finally finished his training and was given the title of Gravekeeper by his father. “I look forward to the next time we all meet again.”

“That's impossible,” a girl murmured from the side. “Brogen's gone now, we'll never be complete again.”

The already-glum mood of the group further plummeted as they looked at Maly. The bubbly and cheerful girl they knew was gone, replaced by a brooding and depressed woman. Her long red hair that was usually tied in twin tails was loose, reaching all the way to her hips.

Terric and Liz were going to the capital, the former to become a knight, and the latter to study as a mage. The group had been trying to avoid the particular topic to make their farewells easier, but now that Maly brought it up, the situation became depressing. They couldn't blame Maly, for she had the hardest time out of all of them. Now that her family was going to move to Ocrana permanently, there was almost no chance of Maly reuniting with her friends again. And just like the rest of them, she lost a dear friend.

The attack by the unknown spider monster more than two months ago was a large mystery to the people of Erfeld. Nobody had seen it coming, not even the guards posted to keep watch of the town's borders. All they knew was that an unidentified monster had suddenly appeared as if out of thin air and began slaughtering the guards. In the aftermath, the casualties were revealed to be the Baronet, thirty-two of his guards, and two civilians.

For the people of Erfeld, the low casualty count was something to be celebrated. Since the guards were hired by the Baronet from outside and were infamous for their behavior, the locals called them outsiders and didn't consider them as a part of the town. All they considered were the two casualties, a mother and her son, who were at the wrong place at the wrong time.

Just like what happened after the dire wolf attack, the Holy Mother chapel in town held a week-long vigil for the two casualties. A few people visited to pray for their souls, but most of Erfeld's population simply went on with their lives, glad that they or their loved ones were safe. Because of this, few had realized that one of the nuns in the chapel had disappeared.

“His death is hard on all of us, Maly,” Liz said while caressing her friend's hair. “I know you were closer to him than most of us, and I could only imagine your pain, but I know Brogen wouldn't want you to become depressed because of his death. If he was here, he'd make fun of you for being a cry-baby.”

The memory of Brogen's teasing brought a reminiscent smile and a fresh batch of tears to Maly's face. Without a word, she embraced Liz tightly as she cried silently on her friend's chest.

The rest of the group had tears on their faces. When Mother Betha had visited each of them in their homes to bring the grave news a full day after the attack, they had a hard time believing the pastor. They tried to visit their friend's home to see the truth for themselves, only to be stopped by a Templar sent by the cathedral in the nearby city of Vont, who stopped anyone from entering the household. Even Mother Betha prohibited them from entering the house. The pastor stated various reasons, but the group knew Mother Betha was keeping secrets, which greatly harmed the trust they had in the old woman.

They didn't want to believe that their friend and his kind mother were dead, but when a sense of normalcy returned to the town and no aspiring clothes merchant appeared on their doorstep to offer them a discount on his products, the truth finally made its way into their hearts. Brogen and Helen were gone.

The death of their friend was the catalyst that led Terric and Liz to decide that it was time for them to pursue their dreams. They were young and they still had plenty of years in front of them, but Brogen's death revealed to them that life could end so abruptly. If Brogen was still alive, Terric and Liz were sure that he would tell them to chase their dreams while they were still young, which was why they decided to start their journey to the capital.

“I think we have to go,” Maly said after seeing her father wave at her from afar. He was sitting in the driver's seat of the horse-driven wagon that her family would be using in their travels. The others' parents were also there, chatting and saying their goodbyes.

“Well, I guess this is it,” Terric said with a loud exhale. “Excluding our good friend's death, the past years have been a joyful ride. I look forward to seeing you guys again in the future.”

“Ralf, please watch over Garin for me, will you?” Liz said with a small smile. “Without my supervision, I could only imagine what type of trouble he'll get himself into.”

“Hey, you're the one who needs supervision,” Garin shot back. “Terric, make sure Liz doesn't steal any of the books in the academies' libraries. Knowing her, she'd probably do it if the book piques even a tiny bit of her curiosity.”

Liz blushed from embarrassment and glared at the laughing Garin.

“I'll keep it in mind, Liz,” Ralf replied with his ‘smile,’ sending a shiver down Garin's spine.

With their farewells in order, Maly, Terric, and Liz began walking towards the horse-drawn wagon. Terric and Liz would be hitching a ride with the Matsons until the city of Vont, where they'll go on their separate ways. The Matsons' destination, the border to the kingdom of Ocrana, was to the northeast while Terric's and Liz's destination, the capital city of Edrana, was to the northwest.

Before they could walk too far, they heard a voice calling out to them. They turned around and saw a blonde woman in a nun's habit running towards them with a basket in hand. It was Sister Tillie from the chapel.

The sight of the nun brought an awkward feeling to the group. Their relationship with Erfeld's pastor wasn't exactly the best of late, making their relationship with the nuns murky. On one hand, Sister Tillie didn't make the decision to prohibit them from learning more about their friend's death by inspecting the Arte household, but on the other, she was a close confidant of the pastor.

“Hah, I'm glad, that I, managed, to reach, you guys, in time,” Sister Tillie huffed with a red and sweaty face. Terric, Liz, and Maly never informed the pastor and the nuns about their departure, but when Sister Tillie heard rumors of a group of kids departing today, she immediately knew it was them.

“Um, hello there, Sister,” Terric awkwardly said while shooting glances at his friends.

“Stop,” Sister Tillie said with a raised hand. “Before you speak, I know things between your group and the pastor haven't been great, but I want you to know that I come here not as a nun of the chapel, but as a friend.”

Her words brought a feeling of guilt to the group of friends. Just because Sister Tillie was a nun of the chapel didn't mean she was responsible for the pastor's actions.

“Lina wasn't able to come, but here, she made these for your journey,” Sister Tillie said as she handed the basket to Maly. Inside were dozens of hot meat buns.

Seeing Helen's favorite food made Maly's heart twinge in pain, and she profusely thanked the nun. “Thank you, sister Tillie. I'm sorry for not telling you about our departure. You're still our friend and you deserve to know about these things.”

Sister Tillie simply gave Maly a warm smile as she hugged the smaller girl. “It's alright, Maly. All I want is for you guys to be happy and not let the past hold you down, okay?”

“I'll miss you, Sister Tillie,” Maly said as she hugged the nun tightly before letting go. “Can you tell Sister Lina we're sorry for not telling her about our departure? Oh, and tell her we said thank you for the meat buns!”

The nun gave a sad smile. “Alright, I'll tell her that. And Lina doesn't go by ‘Sister’ anymore. She's just Lina now.”

Everybody's eyes widened at the nun's words. Before they could ask, Sister Tillie bid goodbye before running back to the chapel.

The group was silent for a moment, then each of them started taking a meat bun from the basket, eating it on the spot. It was a simple action, but for them, it would be the last time they'll be able to eat together before they finally went on their own paths. All of them were crying and sobbing as they ate, but nobody made fun of it.

When the sun was high enough in the winter sky, Terric, Liz, and the Matson family left Erfeld.

●●●

Lina was sitting on the stairs leading to the chapel's doors, gazing at the sky. The winter air was cold, yet Lina was dressed in her thin pajamas as she stared blankly at the sky. She had been sitting there for thirty minutes already. Her toes and fingers were already pale and her lips were starting to turn blue.

Lina heard the sound of crunching snow as Sister Tillie ran towards the chapel, the basket she was carrying earlier nowhere to be found. Lina was glad that Brogen's friends accepted her meat buns. It was the last thing she could do for them.

“Lina!” Sister Tillie cried as she reached the stairs. “What are you doing out here in the cold?! You're going to get sick!”

Sister Tillie grabbed Lina by the arm and dragged her inside. Lina remained silent all the while.

When they were inside the warm confines of the nave, Sister Tillie checked Lina's condition and hugged her tight to warm her friend. “I told you to wait for me inside, didn't I?”

“Sorry,” Lina simply said as she looked down. “What did they say?”

“They told me to tell you they were grateful, Lina,” Sister Tillie said as she caressed her friend's soft auburn hair. “They also wanted to tell you their sorry for not telling you about their departure.”

“Mm,” Lina said as she closed her eyes, taking comfort from her friend's gentle strokes. “I'm glad.”

After a few moments, Lina broke away from the nun and started walking back to her room while Sister Tillie watched her back with a concerned gaze.

When she was a nun, Lina always bowed her head in respect whenever she passed by the Holy Mother's statue. But when she passed by it today, Lina glared at the statue with an intense gaze filled with hate. All I asked for ever since I served You as a nun was the safety and well-being of my friends, nothing more. I never failed You in that task, but where were You when they needed You?

The statue was silent.

Lina proceeded to climb the stairs and entered her room, a silent fury raging inside her. She sat down at her desk, where the clothes, stuffed toys, and other things that Brogen and Helen gifted to her over the years lay in an organized pile. She took a handkerchief that Helen personally made for her, hugging it to her chest.

Lina wept. For years, she had harbored feelings for Helen. She didn't confess for fear of rejection, and she lived for many years telling herself that she should be content that they were close friends. Alas, regrets were always made in the end, and Lina no longer had a chance to tell Helen she loved her.

Lina sobbed as all her regret and hatred filled her heart and mind. In all her years serving as a nun, her prayer only consisted of her friends' and family's safety. At first, she only included Mother Betha and Sister Tillie. But as the years went by and she met new people, her prayers included Helen, then Brogen, then Brogen's friends. Lina's only request to the Holy Mother was the safety of her friends and family.

But with the death of Helen came the strong feeling of betrayal. Lina's deep belief in the Holy Mother turned into deep hatred.

When Lina was in the shop that fateful day as the Baronet's guards restrained and sexually assaulted her, she was praying desperately to the Holy Mother to help her friends, not even bothering to pray for herself. In the end, Helen was still killed, resulting in Brogen's grotesque transformation.

That day, when Lina watched Brogen brutally slaughter the men in front of her, she asked the Holy Mother. Why? Why did you forsake my friends?

Throughout her life, Lina had never received a reply from the goddess when she prayed, but she always had faith that the Holy Mother was listening. But when blood-soaked her clothes and Brogen screamed in despair in front of her, Lina finally realized that nobody was listening to her prayers. She was simply deluding herself with a false reassurance that everything would be alright if she believed in Her.

Lina stood up from her seat and slowly shuffled towards her bed, where a large bag filled with clothes, food, and the meager amount of money she earned through allowances over the years lay. It took Lina a long time to gather the resolve to become a nun many years ago. Now, she was gathering the resolve to leave the chapel for good.

Lina slept.

●●●

“Why is everything so flat, Papa?” a little girl asked her father as she sat beside him on the wagon's driver seat, her large curious eyes taking in the scenery around her as she hugged her doll.

“That's because we've arrived in the southern region of the kingdom, Myra,” Sam replied to his daughter as he held the reins of the horse pulling their wagon. The horse was old, but it was the only one Sam could afford with the money he had left before leaving his hometown along with his daughter.

“What's that got to do with everything being flat?” her daughter asked.

“We used to live in the north, right? That part of the kingdom is full of forests, while the southern region is full of plains and rivers. That's why it's flat.”

“Ooohhh,” Myra said with awe. “Why is the north so full of forests while the south is full of plains and rivers?”

“Well… that's how it was ever since a long time ago,” Sam replied with an unsure tone. He wanted to satisfy his ten-year-old daughter's curiosity, but Sam never went to school. The only lesson he ever learned throughout his life was about wood carving, the trade that his family had plied for generations.

Their conversation ended at that and the duo relaxed as they watched the scenery pass by slowly. It was winter, and the land was covered in a white blanket of snow, but not enough to hinder any travels. The Kingdom of Edria seldom experienced harsh winters, allowing the people to still travel even in the cold months.

Although Sam appeared calm, he was inwardly fearful for the future. He and his daughter left their hometown in the north as soon as last year's summer started, and it almost took them half a year of travel to make it to the south. Like many others, Sam and his daughter had left their home in the north to escape the looming war against Ocrana.

Although there were no official declarations of war yet, the people could already feel the tension in the air, and Sam wasn't taking any chances of risking his daughter. He was sure that the moment the war began, press gangs would start roaming around villages and towns to draft every able man into the army. Sam's wife died when she gave birth to their daughter, and if he was forcefully drafted, there would be nobody left to care for his daughter.

So he decided to move to the southern region of the kingdom, where there were hundreds of small farming towns and villages that he could easily disappear into. Even if the King sent press gangs to the south, it would take a long time before they could visit each town to draft men, and an even longer time to send enough soldiers to supervise the conscripts and stop them from deserting. If Sam was drafted, he could easily desert with his daughter and find another rural town to hide in.

The monotony of their travel was broken when Sam spotted a large wagon just sitting by the side of the road about a hundred meters ahead. Seeing a wagon stopped during the middle of the day was unusual since people often made use of the light of day to travel as much distance as possible before they were forced to make camp. The only reason Sam could think of why a wagon was stopped in the middle of nowhere at this time was either because of a broken wheel or a tired horse. Or a distraction for an ambush, Sam thought grimly.

Throughout their journey, Sam and Myra had been waylaid three times by bandits. On all three occasions, they managed to get away scot-free after paying a ‘toll’ of a few coppers. Although there were infamous bandit groups that were notorious for their kill count, most were actually just a bunch of poor and starving people who were desperate enough to rob other people. They would rarely kill the people they ambush to avoid getting too high of a bounty and attract the attention of adventurers and bounty hunters, although mercenaries that worked as bandits were much more dangerous.

“Go inside, Myra,” Sam instructed his daughter.

Myra didn't hesitate to follow her father's order and quickly entered the tarp-covered wagon with practiced movement, peeking at the front from time to time.

As Sam instructed his horses to get closer, he saw a figure open the tarp of the wagon and step out. When they spotted Sam approaching, the figure waved at him. Is that… a mask?

When Sam was close enough to take a good look at the person, he noticed their weird choice of attire. The tall figure was wearing a long fancy-looking black winter coat that reached all the way to their knees, black pants, and black gloves. But if the all-black attire wasn't weird enough, the suspicious person was wearing a completely-white mask with a smiling face. This is an ambush for sure, Sam grimly thought.

Sam halted his horse near the masked person signaling for him to stop and eyed the tall bushes around them. It was the perfect place to set up an ambush, and Sam no longer doubted that he was being waylaid by another group of bandits. Too bad for them, the only thing I have right now is our remaining food for the rest of our journey and some of my wood carvings, Sam thought.

“Hello there, fellow traveler!” the suspicious person greeted cheerfully with a masculine voice.

The voice was a bit high for an average male, like a young child's, but Sam was certain that it was a man underneath the mask, and for some reason, it reminded him of some of the annoying merchants that would hawk their wares to his face constantly even though he already told them he didn't want to buy anything. He noticed the masked man rubbing his fingers with his thumb absently.

“Good day to you, sir,” Sam greeted cautiously. “Is there some kind of problem? You were waving at me earlier.”

“Oh, no! Not at all!” the masked man exclaimed. “I just waved you over to see if you were interested in some of my wares!”

Sam's face contorted into a grimace. To think that he really is one of those kinds of merchants.

“Sorry, but I'm not interested in anything you have to offer,” Sam replied quickly. He thought of signaling his horse to start running in hopes of escaping whatever ambush was prepared for them, but he remained silent. It would only bring more risk to him and his daughter if the bandits chased them.

“But you haven't seen my products yet!” the man exclaimed. “Here, let me show you!”

The masked man gripped one of the corners of the large tarp covering his entire wagon and with dramatic flair, pulled it off completely and revealed what lay underneath the tarp.

Sam's shocked face was greeted with a large wagon that also served as a store. The left and right sides of the wagon had counters where transactions could be made, and inside the wagon was an array of beautiful clothes on display. There were fancy-looking winter clothing with colorful designs, sturdy-looking apparel that looked fit for harsh work, and even some formal dresses.

There were clothes catered for both men and women, and some even looked so beautifully made that Sam swore that only nobles would be fit to wear them. Is this man actually a merchant? Sam thought with embarrassment. He was already prepared to negotiate their safe passage with bandits, but it looked like the masked man really was interested in showing them his wares. But where are his horses?

There were no horses tethered to the large wagon.

“Impressive, yes?” the masked man asked from behind his counter. Sam was so lost in his inner thoughts that he didn't even realize the merchant already entered the wagon.

“Judging from the callouses on your hands, I bet you're a craftsman by trade. How about you try some of my cut-resistant work gloves? These babies are made of three layers of tough hemp and can withstand a direct stab from a knife!” the masked man said excitedly as he brought out a pair of thick brown gloves. “I even treated their surfaces with a special process that makes them resistant to abrasion, which makes them last for decades! They're so tough I even call them ‘mittens on steroids’ sometimes. Hah!”

“Um, I don't think I'll ever need that,” Sam said slowly as he leaned away from the eccentric man. Now that he was sure that there was no ambush arriving, Sam decided to go on their way and leave the masked man behind.

“Wait! I got one more thing you'll definitely like!” the masked man said hurriedly as Sam started signaling his horse to walk. “How about these butt cushions?! I'm sure your butt must hurt from sitting on that hard wood all day!”

Sam shot a glare at the masked man holding up a pillow with a butt-shaped indent as he heard Myra giggle quietly behind him. “I don't need a butt cushion! My butt is fine!”

“Then how about a cute little doll for the fair lady riding at the back?” the man said while holding up a doll.

“How did you know—” Sam began to ask in alarm, but his daughter popped her head out of the tarp separating the driver's bench from the inside of the wagon.

“Papa, I want it! I want it, I want it!” Myra exclaimed.

The doll being held in the masked man's hand was a stuffed toy made of cotton. It had short black hair, brown eyes, and wore a simple brown dress. It had an uncanny resemblance to Myra, who also had short black hair and brown eyes.

“Tell you what, my friend, if you buy these gloves, I'll throw in the doll for free,” the masked man said with a smarmy tone.

Sam eyed the suspicious man. His mind tried to figure out how the masked man knew his daughter was inside the wagon, but he ultimately decided that the man probably heard her soft giggle earlier.

“Fine, I'll take it, but can I pay in kind? I don't have money right now,” Sam finally said after relentless urging from his daughter.

“What do you have on hand, my friend?”

“Well, I have a few wood carvings I made during our travels. Myra, go get some of our best wood carvings.”

Sam received the sack of wood carvings from his excited daughter and presented it to the masked man, who spilled the contents on the counter.

Carvings of different animals, people, buildings, and natural structures tumbled out of the sack. All of them were made with excruciating detail and sanded down to smooth their surfaces. The masked man picked up a carving of a knight and exclaimed in awe. “What impressive detail! Every nook and cranny of the knight's armor is carved with so much precision, and even the small insignia on the sword's hilt is perfectly engraved! Marvelous!”

“Yeah, Papa is the best woodcarver!” Myra exclaimed, much to Sam's embarrassment.

The masked man slowly assessed each carving with boisterous commentary, then he suddenly went quiet. He slowly picked a carving from the pile in front of him and slowly raised it to be illuminated by the daylight.

“What's this?” the masked man asked quietly, his voice almost a whisper.

“Oh, that? That's a carving of my late wife and my daughter. Myra wanted to know what her mother looked like, so I made a carving of my wife and included my daughter in it along the way. You like it?”

The masked man was holding up a wood carving of two figures holding hands. One was a tall woman with a bright smile while the other was a small girl. They both had huge smiles on their faces as the girl held her mother's hand. For a whole minute, the masked man simply stared at the wood carving without talking.

When Sam was about to ask what was wrong, the masked man perked up and spoke again in his cheerful voice. “This is a wonderful carving, full of feelings and emotion! I'll take this one and you can have the gloves and the doll!”

“Yay!” Myra cheered as the masked man gave them the gloves and the toy.

“Here, you might as well take this butt cushion,” the masked man added as he threw the weirdly-shaped pillow towards Sam. “Think of it as my compliment for your wonderful talent in wood carving.”

“Uh, thanks, I guess,” Sam answered back in confusion. The gloves, doll, and butt-cushion were worth way more than a wood carving, but Sam just shrugged, happy that they benefited more from the exchange.

“If somebody asks where you got those products, tell them it was from the Great and Magnificent Clothes Master, Mr. Marion!” the masked man shouted.

With their transaction done, Sam bid the eccentric merchant goodbye and signaled his horses to start walking again. When he was sure that Myra was fully occupied with her new doll at the back and that nobody was watching him, Sam placed the butt cushion underneath his derriere.

“Ooh, this feels nice.”

●●●

I watched the woodcarver's wagon move farther and farther away as I sighed in relief. Although I used to have a clothing shop with lots of people coming and going, Mom was always the one that spoke to the customers and did all the interaction while I was only responsible for the production, so pitching a sales talk to a customer myself got me nervous.

I wore a mask in the first place to help ease my nervousness and used an entirely different persona to paint my lack of experience in sales talk as confidence. Judging from the earlier transaction, I was mostly successful.

I absently rubbed my gloved palms and fingers with my thumbs. They're dry.

I put my attention back to the wood carving that I received as payment. After almost two months of living in the woods and using my power to survive, I finally managed to get myself started again as a clothing merchant, and the woodcarver and her daughter were my first customers.

I intended to take several of their wood carvings for our transaction earlier since my products were worth at least that much, but the carving of the mother and daughter holding hands caught my attention. It reminded me of the trademark I used in our first clothing shop when Mom was still alive, and on a whim, I decided the carving was worth way more than a pair of gloves, a doll, and a butt pillow. The carving may not have much monetary value, but the sentimental value was there, and it was good enough for me.

I stepped out of my wagon and inspected its condition. Although it appeared like I had been owning it for a long time already, I actually acquired it just this morning due to special circumstances.

Before today, I looked like a wild savage that came from the woods, which I technically was. My hair was long and unruly with leaves, dirt, and twigs stuck to it, my eyes were haggard, and I stank like a rotting corpse. The only thing I had going for me were the fine clothes that I made using my Authority, so even if I looked like a man living in the wild and smelled like one, at least I still had my fashionable winter attire.

For two months, I had been hiding in the woods north of Erfeld, where I hunted wild game for food and continued training my skills while hiding from hunters and search parties sent out to find me. It turns out practicing my skills in a life-or-death situation was a good motivator for helping me improve.

For the past couple of months, I was able to grasp the use of third-circle spells to help me survive. Even though I had no mentor to teach me, I was still able to devise my own spells using the runes I learned from Mother Betha's rune book, although I had to do hundreds of trials and errors. It would have been extremely risky for a normal mage to experiment with spells, but I used the same tactic I reflexively used when I went on my rampage: using threads to create magic circles.

By using the threads as the medium for making my magic circles, even if the spell became unstable, the only thing that would suffer the backlash were the threads I used. This allowed me to do riskier experiments and achieve precious insights into magic.

I finished inspecting the wagon I acquired this morning and noted a few issues. Some of the axles were damaged and two of the wheels need to be replaced soon if I wanted to travel long distances using the wagon. There were some nicks and cracks in the structure of the wagon, but aside from the aforementioned issues, it was in good condition.

After a short moment of contemplation, I decided that it was time for me to return to civilization. I planned to get some repairs on my newly acquired wagon and start off my new career as a traveling clothes merchant. Even if hiding in the woods was much safer than venturing back into society, I'd rather risk myself by going back to civilization than continue living in the woods by myself. Even if my power made living in the woods significantly easier, it didn't mean it was comfortable.

Being a traveling merchant would also allow me to easily evade any authorities by constantly being on the move. If I stayed hidden in the same location for a long period, the people pursuing me would find me eventually, and I didn't want to kill anybody innocent if possible. I already have enough blood on my hands.

The only issue was if I needed some kind of license to become a traveling merchant. It would be hard proving my identity without any papers, and that's assuming I planned to use my real identity in the first place, which would be pretty stupid. That was why I was using a disguise.

The current appearance I had right now was made entirely by my Authority. Although I looked like a tall masked man with black hair, my entire exterior was actually made of fabric. The hair, the mask, the shoes, and even the skin on my ‘head and neck’ not covered by the mask were made of fabric. With my ability to change the color of fabric, I could easily make my fake appearance look real.

To do this, I basically made an ‘exoskeleton’ made of fabric with an appearance of a tall man with my real body and head encased inside its torso and the puppet's head respectively, where I lay protected under dozens of layers of strengthened fabric. This fabric exoskeleton gave me both protection and a disguise, the perfect combination that I needed in my current situation. I call my new and improved thread suit ‘Mr. Marion.’

Even if people told me to remove my ‘mask,’ I had a generic face made of fabric ready to greet them, although there was a high chance that they'd be able to tell it was fake if they got closer, hence the reason why I wore a white comedy mask in the first place. Plus, I thought it looked pretty cool.

But with all that said, my current ‘identity crisis’ would pose a large problem for getting any credentials I might require. Maybe I should just use my real name instead of an alias.

I shrugged my shoulders and decided it was a problem for future Brogen to decide. I manipulated some of the spare fabrics I have inside the wagon and sent them to the parts of the carriage that were damaged to reinforce them. They would be serving as temporary repairs until I managed to find someone who could fix my wagon in a city.

With the repairs done, I stepped to the side of the road where tall bushes were growing and waded into the brush. There were a lot of thorns and brambles that would have scratched me, but my thread suit protected me from such things.

After a minute of walking through the thick underbrush, I finally arrived at my destination. In front of me was a pile of naked corpses, their blood already frozen and staining the white blanket of snow underneath them crimson. Most of them were men, with one woman in the mix.

“How am I supposed to get rid of the bodies?” I asked myself out loud. If there was somebody else listening to me, they might think of me as a serial killer that killed all these people. They'd be mostly right.

Most of the corpses in front of me were actually bandits that ambushed the owners of the wagon I was now using. I stumbled upon them this morning while I was hunting for my next meal but unfortunately, I didn't make it in time. By the time I arrived, the young couple that owned the wagon was already dead and the bandits were happily taking their loot.

Seeing the two corpses lying on the road lit the silent fury inside me, reminding me of Mom's death, so I killed all five bandits with a single thrust of a threadtacle in each of their hearts.

I rubbed my thumb over my palm as I looked at the corpses in front of me. “You two don't deserve to be buried with them,” I said as I picked up two corpses with a couple of threadtacles. They were the bodies of the young couple that owned the wagon. The victims.

I brought their bodies under a tall tree whose leaves were all shed. Using threadtacles with shovel-shaped tips, I quickly dug two graves on the frozen ground and buried their bodies with as much respect as I could. “Thank you for the wagon, I promise that I'll bring it to good use. And sorry for taking your clothes, but I need them for my Authority.”

With a short message of gratitude, I buried the young couple, making sure to remember their appearance in case I met someone who knew them. The man had dark brown hair with a strong jawline while the woman had black hair with large eyes and a round face. Although I tried my best to remember them, I dearly hoped that I wouldn't get to meet their relatives. I didn't want to bear the news of someone's death to their loved one.

When I returned to the pile of bandit corpses, I decided to just dig one large grave and bury them all in there. Even though I knew they were already dead, some hateful part inside of me told me that their bodies didn't deserve enough respect to be buried, but I ignored it and continued with my task. Was I always this vengeful?

The memories of my rampage two months ago came back, ruining my mood. I always tried to keep the memories away during my time in the woods by focusing on important tasks, but they often returned every time I subconsciously reflected on the past.

Every time my mind wandered to Mom's death, I always felt angry and afraid at the same time. The injustice done to her was unforgivable, but the memories of how I slaughtered people mercilessly without even sparing a single thought for their lives scared me. I always told myself that it was brought on by my grief and sadness, but did it justify my ruthless killing?

I absently ran my thumb over my palm, remembering the sensation of Mom's blood clinging to my skin that day.

I didn't regret killing the bastards related to Mom's death, but that didn't mean it was easy. Seeing a man's eyes slowly turn blank as the life slowly seeped out of them was hard. Even if it was my enemy, the sight of their deaths still gave me nightmares at night.

After a month of reflection, I decided to be careful about who I kill. With the amount of power I wielded, it would be too easy to lose myself. It's crazy to think how I'm fine with the concept of killing when I used to live in a peaceful world, but the one I'm currently living in wasn't exactly the best place to be a pacifist.

I'm sure Mom would never want to see me become a killer, even if the people I killed deserved it, but there was no way I'd be able to stop myself, I was sure of it. Even if I could no longer sleep from the nightmares, I was sure I would still choose to kill people like those who took Mom away from me. I'm sorry, Mom. The son you worked so hard to raise turned out to be a vengeful killer.

I scattered the blood-stained snow with my threadtacles while nursing a gloomy mood, hoping that it was enough to conceal them from passersby. Wild animals would probably smell the blood and dig up the bandits' grave, but I made sure the couple's graves were deep enough that scavengers wouldn't be able to reach them easily.

With the cleanup done, I used my fabric sense to track down the horses that managed to escape with their reins still attached. Although the reins were probably made of leather since I couldn't detect them, I could still sense some of the parts that had some elements of fabric, like the handle for the driver.

With my fabric sense's range that now covered a radius of almost half a kilometer around me, I easily spotted them about four hundred meters from my location. Since walking all the way there would take me a few minutes, I decided to just use my usual spider legs again to help me move faster.

I retrieved the extra fabric I needed from the wagon by making them float over to me. Although some of my supply of fabric was provided by the bandits' and young couple's clothes, I actually got most of it from retrieving the fur of the animals I hunted that I spun into thread. Turns out that my most recent Awakening allowed me to also control animal fur, but only if the animal was dead. I mean, I guess it makes sense since fabrics could be made from any kind of hair or fiber, even human hair.

With my spider legs lending me the speed I needed, I quickly fetched the runaway horses, led them back to the wagon, and harnessed them, which happened with a bit of a struggle since I didn't have much experience with horses.

“With everything in order, it's time to go to a city,” I told myself with anticipation and fear. “Now, how do I tell the horses to go…”

I tried raising the reins and slapping them down like how I saw it in the movies, which turned out to be a big mistake since it agitated the horses and made them struggle wildly. Fuck, how do I do this…

After several trials, I finally realized that I only needed to click my tongue. With an embarrassed expression that was thankfully hidden under my thread suit, I began my slow journey to the nearest city to begin my career as a traveling clothes merchant with a pair of irate horses.