My boots hit the ground with a crunch as I deliberately stepped on a twig that had fallen from one of the hundreds of trees lining the dirt road.
The sound echoed louder than expected in the quiet.
Tall trees flanked the road in uneven rows, towering sentinels that cast long shadows over the worn path. Some trunks leaned slightly toward the road, others stood stiff and silent, leaves barely rustling despite the occasional breeze.
A bird darted over the road ahead, chirping once before vanishing into the forest, leaving silence in its wake.
Just the soft shuffle of my boots on packed dirt, the occasional crackle of dry leaves underfoot.
The scent of sun-warmed bark, dry grass, and distant earth filled my nose. Every breath I took felt bigger than usual, like I was inhaling the whole forest.
The road stretched ahead in gentle curves, disappearing into shade and sunlight in turn. I couldn't see Arlam yet, but I didn't mind.
'This is what a break is supposed to feel like, right? No goals. No missions. No expectations. Just living.'
My left hand brushed the hilt of my sword as my pace slowed slightly. A sound caught my ear, faint, but distinct. The trickling of water, somewhere off to the right. A stream, maybe. The temptation to veer off and take a look tugged at me.
But then I glanced down at my outfit, white jacket, white pants.
'No need to go getting my only set of clothing dirty.'
I shook my head and kept walking, surrounded by the soft, steady hum of nature.
A moment later, I hopped over a shallow puddle, and something caught my eye mid-motion, a faint glimmer.
Green.
I landed and turned my head, spotting a dull green glow pulsing from a tree trunk just a few steps off the road.
A glintstone, embedded in the bark.
I adjusted my footing and stepped toward it, head tilting slightly as I narrowed my eyes.
It was a pretty decent-sized crystal. About the size of my dagger in length, soft mana flickered from the stone, subtle and rhythmic, almost pulsing in a pattern.
'Weird. What's something like this doing out here?'
I didn't touch it. I wasn't that stupid. Odds were high that it was something Roswaal had set up, and I had no interest in triggering a surprise barrier, ward, or explosion.
But that didn't mean I couldn't be curious.
I stepped back from the tree, eyes sweeping down the road. More crystals. Same shape, same size, embedded at perfectly spaced intervals. One every few trees, each pulsing with that same soft green flicker.
"Well then."
Click
Reason and Judgement
My Authority activated, and the world obeyed.
Sound collapsed.
The air stilled.
Leaves froze mid-fall, mid-rustle, suspended between motion and memory.
The sun remained, but its warmth was forgotten.
Time froze. And the world exposed itself.
Every detail. Every flaw.
Now. Let's answer the question.
Why would glintstones be embedded in trees along this road?
'That's rather simple to deduce. One doesn't need a degree in magical theory to understand a tool's function. Not when the evidence is right there. All you have to do…'
I looked to the nearest crystal, angled slightly away from the path. Pointed into the forest, not toward the road.
'...is open your eyes.'
Further down the road I spotted them.
Another stone. Same angle. Then another. Then another.
Each one identical in glow and placement. Equal distances. Fixed orientations. Too deliberate to be coincidence. Too consistent to be aesthetic.
'If these were for lighting, for the sake of carriages or travelers, they'd be facing the road. They don't.'
'In fact, I'd wager they aren't meant for people at all.'
'The common man may benefit by proximity, but the intent is clearer than crystal.'
'These aren't guides. They're guards.'
My eyes snapped onto a tree far out past the tree with the glinstone on it. And there it was.
Claw marks.
Neither deep nor fresh, but unmistakable. Four parallel gouges were torn into the bark. High enough off the ground to rule out some rodent or rabbit.
I followed the path of evidence, my mind slotting each piece into place with maddening ease.
'The glintstones form a boundary. A barrier. A line that something on the other side won't cross.'
I didn't know what that something was.
But I didn't need to.
'So… someone carved a road straight through the territory of a creature that leaves claw marks on trees but fears getting too close to this magical line.'
'And Roswaal allowed this?'
If I could scoff in this frozen moment, I would.
'Bold choice.'
I released my grip on time and let the world resume its motion. A soft wind blew through the leaves again, unaware it had ever stopped. My hand remained at the hilt of my sword as I continued down the road, uncaring of any lesser beast that would attempt to stop that which couldn't be harmed.
—
Rounding a bend, I finally caught sight of Arlem Village. Smoke rising from chimneys had hinted at its presence miles ago, but now the buildings themselves came into view, wooden structures clustered together, modest but not primitive.
From this distance, it looked like a fairly sizable place. I couldn't count the buildings yet, but the closer I got, the easier it would be to gauge.
As I continued down the road, I noticed the trees thinning out gradually, giving way to clearer paths and cultivated land. A simple wooden fence lined the outskirts of the village, wrapping around most of it. A second layer of defense, I realized, right after the line of glintstones. Very methodical. Someone had taken precautions.
A few minutes passed before I spotted signs of life. Two men, farmers, judging by their clothing, pushed empty wheelbarrows along a branching path off the main road. Peering past them, I caught sight of a field through the thinning trees, just starting to take shape.
I considered calling out, but decided against it. No need to attract unnecessary attention. Instead, I took a moment to pat myself down, brushing dust off my sleeves and adjusting the collar of my coat. My boots were still caked with a bit of dirt, but otherwise, I looked presentable.
Good enough.
With a self-assured nod, I passed under a small wooden archway, the official entrance, I supposed, and stepped into the village proper.
The change was immediate.
Houses lined either side of a wide dirt path, their doors facing inward toward what looked to be the town's heart. Roads branched between them, and everything seemed arranged in a loose circular formation. At the very center sat a well, surrounded by people, noise, and motion.
I stopped, leaning casually against a wooden post, eyes scanning the scene before me.
It was lively.
Not chaotic like the capital, but busy in its own right. A miniature trade fair, right in the middle of nowhere.
Villagers bartered at makeshift stalls, voices rising over the clinking of coins and rustle of cloth. Tables displayed fruits, trinkets, and the kind of handcrafted goods you only found in places like this, woven baskets, carved wooden toys, jars of preserves that probably hadn't seen a proper seal in years.
A couple of wagons sat to the side, no ground dragons in sight, likely unhitched and stabled nearby. Travelers and merchants mixed freely with locals, sharing gossip and stories under the warm sun.
And there, past the well, loomed the largest building in town. Two stories tall, broad-framed. Probably the council house… or the home of whoever called the shots around here.
Either way, it was the sort of place you visited last, not first.
I took in the sights for a couple more minutes before deciding to wade into the marketplace myself. Take a look around and simply see what I could see.
And, of course, it only took about sixty seconds for somebody to notice the presence of an outsider.
"Well, hello there, Mister!" called out a voice, warm, weathered, and unmistakably local. "Would you happen to be a noble?"
I turned toward the speaker and found myself face to face with a woman who, frankly, looked like she could lift a cow if the mood struck her.
Mid-forties, maybe. Her soft brown hair was tied back in a ponytail, streaked faintly with gray. Kind eyes, crow's feet at the corners. A welcoming smile on her lips.
And forearms like braided steel.
It was an odd contrast. On one hand, she had the kind, caretaker aura of someone who might offer you soup and ask how your day was going. On the other… I wouldn't be surprised if she could knock down a tree with a solid right hook.
I returned the smile with one of my own. "No, ma'am. Just happen to be well-dressed."
She cocked her head at me, eyes narrowing slightly at the crest present on my shoulder. It wasn't overt suspicion, just curiosity, measuring me like she was trying to fit me into some internal framework of 'what kind of man is this?'
"Where you from, then?" she asked. "You don't look like a merchant. Too young, not twitchy enough to be a thief either, and you wear the crest of House Astrea."
'Rather observant, aren't you?' I thought dryly, but the lady was also strangely refreshing.
Click
Reason and Judgement
I looked her over with the lens of absolute clarity, but nothing jumped out that I hadn't already noticed. So instead, my focus shifted.
'How do we want to play this?'
I weighed the options. Lie? Say I was just a wanderer who caught a ride on a wagon that changed course from Costuul to Ganaks? It sounded believable enough. Details would make it stick.
But… no. If I ever came back to this village and got caught in the lie, it'd be more trouble than it was worth. I'd either have to avoid this lady like the plague or invent an even dumber lie to cover the first one.
'For once… maybe we just tell the truth.'
I released the ability. Time snapped back into motion.
"I'm a contractor for Lord Roswaal at the moment," I said, nodding toward the road behind me. "He's letting me stay at the manor. The jacket was a gift from a close friend."
Technically true.
I gestured toward a pack of kids running past, not-so-subtly sneaking glances at me like I was some rare creature.
"Lord Roswaal pointed the village out to me this morning, so I figured I'd stop by. I have to say, it's a lovely place."
"Oh my, a flatterer, are you?" she asked, tone teasing.
I raised my hands in mock surrender, starting to realize that might be becoming a bit of a habit.
"Not at all, miss. If I were flattering, I'd mention your excellent physique. Tell me, what's the secret?"
She barked a laugh and strolled up beside me, landing a pat on my back that felt like a cannonball in slow motion.
"Hard labor since I was half your size, kiddo. You need to put some meat on those bones!"
She gave me a gentle shove, though it still had enough force to get me moving, and began pointing out familiar faces in the marketplace as we walked.
There was Martha, selling baked goods that made my stomach growl; Tavian, a traveling smith from the capital who'd earned the town's trust; and Brenna Holt, the local tailor who apparently handled most of the village's clothing work.
Finally, we stopped near the well at the center of the bustling market. She turned to face me, arms crossed.
"What's your name, anyway? Can't just keep calling you 'handsome boy' in my head."
"…Now who's the flatterer?" I muttered with a smirk, before offering a polite bow. "Ethan Caldwell. Pleasure to meet you, Ms…?"
"Fenra Belle," she replied. "And I'd say it was a pleasure, Ethan… but I think you already knew that."
"You've shown me a lot of places to spend money I don't currently have," I quipped. "But what about you, Ms. Belle? You just stand around the center of town, intimidating newcomers and hustling impressionable young men like me?"
She let loose another bark of laughter, and I braced myself as the pat landed on my shoulder with the force of a sledgehammer.
"I handle most of the construction and lumber work around here," she said proudly. "If you end up sticking around, stop by my place over yonder and I'll work some real muscle into you, might even pay you in something other than the occasional compliment."
Now that was tempting.
Not the whole flirtatious vibe this lady had going for her, but the idea of training. A good fifteen-minute sprint from the manor to here, manual labor with someone who could clearly crush granite with a stern glare…
Ever since the fight in the loot house, I'd realized one of my biggest weaknesses was my body. I could fight like a skilled swordsman, but my body and endurance didn't match my technique. I burned out fast, and in a real fight, that's a death sentence.
But I wouldn't toss myself at the offer just yet. I still needed to get a firm foundation for how my stay at the Roswaal manor was going.
"That sounds like a pretty interesting deal, Ms. Belle," I said carefully. "I'll have to think it over… assuming you weren't just teasing."
Her expression shifted. Less sass, more seriousness. She stepped in close and placed a hand on each of my shoulders, giving my biceps a light squeeze, like she was inspecting the quality of a fresh cut of meat.
"I wasn't joking, Ethan. You think about it. You help me with my work, and I'll turn that scrawny frame of yours into something worthwhile."
"It'll definitely be on my mind, Ms. Belle. Thank you for the offer, and for showing me around."
"Don't sweat it, kid. Anyway… you wanna—oh, what the fuck."
She squinted past me, her expression twisting from warm to deeply unimpressed in half a second. Curious, I turned to follow her gaze.
A man stood wobbling on a step ladder, wrestling with a half-mounted wooden window shutter. Stood being the operative word, because he immediately lost his balance, flailed once, and crashed down hard on his backside. The shutter followed with loyal vengeance, smacking him clean across the forehead and knocking him out cold.
Behind me, a sigh that sounded older than the village itself.
I turned back to see Belle dragging a hand down her face with all the patience of someone contemplating divine punishment.
"I told Todd to just wait one damn hour. But nooo. That stupid jackass thinks he knows better than me just because he's got a dick." She grumbled. "I swear, I'm gonna clock him with my hammer when he wakes up."
"I think your fists'll do the job just fine, Ms. Belle," I offered, not quite able to hide my grin.
"Hah! If that were true, I'd've knocked some sense into him years ago. I gotta go deal with this nonsense." She gave me one last glance and thumped a hand on my back like a war drum. "Take care, Ethan. Stay safe. Live strong."
"Will do, Ms. Belle. Live strong."
Left standing in the middle of the village square, I gave a polite little smile, then immediately winced as Belle marched over and punted poor Todd square in his self-righteous manhood.
'Ouch.'
I turned away before I could witness any follow-up emotional trauma and started scanning the crowd. A few merchants had rolled into Arlam from the capital, their carts parked around the square. Might've been worth browsing. Even if I wasn't in the market for anything.
I spotted a man standing beside his cart, counting something. Looked official enough.
"Hey brother, you got any goods for sale?" I called.
He looked up, mid-thirties, green hair combed back neatly, a freshly shaved face, and a warm smile met my gaze.
"Hello there, young man! Didn't see you there, my apologies. Yes, as a matter of fact, I'm carrying firestones bound for Costuul and a few other goods, if you'd care to take a look."
I nodded along like someone with money in their pocket, despite having exactly zero usable coins to my name. This would be a classic case of 'just browsing, thanks' with a little extra politeness sprinkled on top.
I stepped up beside his modest stall and began looking over the merchandise.
True to his word, there was a crate full of red glintstones off to the side, each one faintly shimmering with a heat-haze glow. I had no clue what firestones were used for, but considering how many he was carrying, I assumed they were rather profitable items.
Beyond the flashy minerals, his inventory hit a little too close to home.
A dark grey blanket, thick and fluffy, looked criminally comfortable. A few plain sets of travel clothing: white tunics, brown pants, the kind of wardrobe I actually needed. My current wardrobe consisted of one extremely stylish outfit and absolutely nothing else.
Then my eyes caught the good stuff.
A blackwood quill inlaid with gold, sitting next to a ceramic inkwell glazed in a marbled swirl of deep purple and blue.
Right next to it hung a sleek black cloak with bright orange lining; it looked like something Subaru would like.
Altogether, it was the kind of selection that made me ache for financial nuance.
My hand landed on my chin as I considered if I even had any options here, or if I would just have to take the L and walk away with tears in my eyes.
Suddenly, the kind-looking merchant chimed in, "Are you finding everything alright, sir?"
I looked up from the stall and met his eyes.
Grey.
Dull, for a moment. Like someone had turned the lights off behind them. Then, click. A glimmer returned. Warmth. Life. A polite smile.
'Struggling with that customer service look, huh buddy?'
Ignoring that silly line of thought, I considered something. I hesitated. I already knew the answer, but… screw it. Might as well ask. Maybe the guy was loaded.
"Hey man," I said casually, "you wouldn't happen to have the coin to do an exchange for a holy gold coin, would you?"
The merchant blinked. Froze. Like his brain blue-screened for a second. Then his eyes went wide. Hope flared across his face like I'd just offered to cure his terminal illness.
"Wait, are you serious?" he asked, voice laced with stunned excitement. "You actually have a holy gold coin on you?"
The intensity made me pause, but… no sudden movements. No twitchy fingers. No blade halfway out of a hidden sheath. He just looked genuinely ecstatic.
"Say I did," I replied carefully. "Would you be able to do an exchange for lower denominations in trade?"
The man exhaled like he'd been holding his breath for a week.
"Oh, by Her love… sir, you're a blessing," he said, practically glowing. "There's been word from Costuul, one of the development towers there just released a very special item. But to even gain entry, they're asking for a holy gold coin as proof of intent. I've been praying for a way to make an exchange like this on the way there. Truly, you'd be saving me."
I leaned back a little, offering a wary half-smile. "So we're good on the exchange?"
"Oh, most certainly!" he clapped his hands. "Let me grab my lockbox and we'll count it together, fair and square."
"Sounds like a plan, my friend. Might I know the name of the guy I'm about to make such a monumental deal with?" I asked, offering my gloved hand.
He reached over the stall with a bright smile. "Lucan Merrit! And you, good sir?"
"Ethan Caldwell," I replied, shaking his hand.
—
The next ten minutes were spent counting coins, one by one. I leaned heavily on Reinhard's impromptu crash course in economics to make sure I wasn't getting fleeced by the friendly neighborhood merchant.
In the end, I walked away with 40 gold coins and 200 silver in exchange for one holy gold coin.
Holy gold was apparently the big dog of currency, accepted in any of the Great Nations, while everything else was a mixed bag. Lucan and Reinhard had both said as much: no king meant no centralized regulation. Lugunica's economy was a mess. Gold held value. Silver and copper? Practically worthless in places like Vollachia.
Now that I had actual spending money that didn't require me to break the national treasury in a single go, I took the liberty of buying up everything I'd eyed earlier. The fluffy blanket, a set of spare clothes, that sleek cloak with orange trim, and, why not? The elegant blackwood quill and purple-blue inkwell, too. Lucan even threw in a large travel bag to carry it all, complimentary of my enormous purchase. Fair trade, considering I'd basically bankrupted the man.
"Great doing business with you, Lucan. Best of luck with that tower reveal in Costuul," I said, shifting the weight of my new bag across my shoulder.
"Truly, Ethan Caldwell, it's I who should be thanking you." His tone had turned… oddly reverent. "In my darkest moments, something once guided me back to light. I wouldn't be where I am today without it. And while I don't believe you suffer as I did… I would still wish for your life to be just as blessed."
I raised an eyebrow as he opened the lockbox again, this time pressing a hidden latch I hadn't seen before. From a compartment tucked beneath the false bottom, he pulled out a small, black book.
It was plain. No title. No markings. Just a matte cover and the faintest smell of incense.
He held it out to me.
'Guided him in his darkest times? What is this, some sort of religious text? Like a bible? Or just his favorite book?'
"Uh… thanks, Lucan." I took the book and slipped it into the inner pocket of my jacket for later inspection.
"It's no trouble at all. Truly, an honor."
'An honor? Okay, bud. Now you're giving me weird vibes.'
"Well, I'll be heading off now. See you around, Lucan." I gave him a casual two-finger salute and turned toward the village square.
My eyes locked onto Martha, the baker, setting out a fresh tray of steaming loaves.
A grin stretched across my face. I had coin. I had freedom.
And right now? I wanted bread.
—
Lucan watched with a smile as Ethan Caldwell strode off, a lightness in his step that didn't exist before.
His task was complete.
The smile slipped from Lucan's face like a discarded mask.
His gaze swept the marketplace, lingering for a moment on a group of children darting between stalls, laughing, shrieking, alive. Then came the signal: a familiar tingle at the base of his skull.
He turned without hurry and walked to the back of his wagon, climbing in under the guise of checking inventory.
From beneath his brown cloak, Lucan withdrew a small black book, identical to the one he had just handed to Ethan Caldwell minutes ago.
Turning the pages of the book with practiced ease, Lucan found the latest entry, still in the process of being written. Indeed, the book Lucan possessed was one that would write itself, providing the man with his key to a successful future.
Lucan's eyes followed the fresh ink, words appearing as if etched by an invisible pen. As the ink formed characters on the page, he raised his gaze in a solemn ritual, counting to ten in silence, just as he always did.
By the time he reached the end, he looked back down, and the message was complete.
"After successfully handing one, Ethan Caldwell, his Gospel, Lucan Merrit will feel the familiar call. Entering the back of his carriage and partaking in his self-made tradition, Lucan Merrit will read his Gospel's writ."
"In order to achieve his goal, Lucan Merrit will travel to the Great City of Costuul in the Kingdom of Lugunica. Lucan Merrit will continue to pose as a merchant while making his way to Rally Point 9F."
Lucan read the lines. Then he read them again.
As was his custom, he started from the top, lips silently forming each word.
Diligence was a virtue, after all. He had learned that during his one and only sermon. A sermon delivered in person… by the Sin Archbishop of Sloth himself.
But partway through his reading, just before reaching the final sentence, his eyes began to glaze.
He blinked once, slowly.
He had already read this part, hadn't he?
Odd. He never lost focus during the Gospel's instructions. Never once since receiving the holy book had his mind wandered mid-revelation.
Somewhere, distantly, he considered drawing his dagger. A small punishment for his lapse in devotion. But no… the Gospel forbade disruptions. A scene would betray his role.
He closed the book gently.
And in that moment, Lucan Merrit forgot the final paragraph that had written itself into his Gospel:
"Lucan Merrit will not be able to parse the rest of his Gospel's words. He will forget that the last paragraph in his Gospel exists. Lucan Merrit will continue with his given task, with one key difference: at the southern entry gate to Costuul, Lucan Merrit's embedded firestone will detonate in a freak accident. His body will be erased. The secrets he held, the meeting with Ethan Caldwell, will be forgotten."
Lucan blinked the haze from his eyes and returned to his task.
He would carry out the Gospel's will. Just as he always had.
For his diligence would be rewarded.
And the future he sought would be attained.
—
Author's Note:
Well damn.
I had fun with this chapter. Just writing new characters and playing around with stuff I didn't have to be too stiff around felt liberating.
Also, Witch Cult stuff! Very fun. Did I get the whole Gospel tone down? I dunno if we ever got to read one of the Gospels in the LN. I know Guese's from the WN was read by Subaru, but then got removed in the LN, so I'm freestyling on how they would be written.
Anyway, I've heard the voices in my head, I'll be sticking with Yin and Yang going forward.