The Bahila Territory: a fierce battleground between the Dark Alliance and the Holy Federation. This land, where Legion Commander Yona and the Saintess of Miracles fiercely clashed, was currently in the throes of the "Sealed Book Scramble." Simon knew of the "Sealed Book" well; it had appeared countless times in his history books. ’The latter half of the Hundred Years’ War revolved entirely around the ownership of the Sealed Book,’ he recalled.
The Sealed Book was a relic of an ancient civilization and a devastating tactical weapon. Scholars had long confirmed the existence of its final volume. And the Bahila Territory was one of the most likely places the relic was buried.
Desperate to claim it first, both the Dark Alliance and the Holy Federation scrambled to occupy the most promising excavation sites. Skirmishes erupted daily over stolen territories and sabotaged digs. This camp was no exception.
Simon followed Richard into the Dark Alliance’s main encampment.
’Wow.’
The frontline base was staggeringly massive. Countless uniform military tents stretched as far as the eye could see. Beside the tents, workers dug tirelessly into the earth, hunting for the Sealed Book.
"Hey, watch out," Richard warned, pulling Simon back by the shoulder. A colossal undead shackled at the ankles—an Abomination—stomped past.
"Keep your wits about you unless you want to get crushed. Some of the undead here aren’t fully under control."
"Right, understood."
Indeed, aside from conscripted soldiers and Necromancers, a staggering number of undead roamed the grounds, pulled from subspace for final inspections. Weaving through the horde, the pair arrived at the largest command tent.
[Kuhehe! You have returned.]
Simon’s eyes widened at the familiar voice.
’Pier!’
A lanky skeleton draped in a cape stood before them—it was none other than the Pier of the past. He looked identical to the Pier Simon knew, but the jet-black aura he exuded and the sheer arsenal strapped to his robes were entirely different. Standing in the era of Richard’s prime, Pier radiated an overwhelming power.
"It’s a shame your stellar acting didn’t yield any results, Pier," Richard smirked, holding up a fist.
Pier bumped his bony fist against it.
[There must be a brilliant tactician in the enemy camp! All of our deceptive maneuvers and feints are being blocked!]
"Tsk. Normally, those Priest bastards just rely on their elemental advantage. They can’t use their brains to save their lives."
Pier turned his skull toward Simon.
[And this boy?]
His eye sockets flared with ethereal light. A chilling sensation ran down Simon’s spine—a gaze that seemed to pierce right through his soul.
"A watchdog sent by the old hag," Richard replied.
Pier remained silent. He shifted his gaze to the hourglass artifact Simon was wearing.
[You had better hurry.]
With that, he strode away, his cape billowing behind him. Simon blinked.
’What does that mean? Was he talking to me? Or...’
"Well then!" Richard declared, throwing an arm around Simon’s shoulders. "Shall we get going, watchdog?"
"Excuse me?"
"I’ll leave the report for the Commander-in-Chief in your capable hands," Richard called back to his trailing subordinates. Sighing as if this were a daily occurrence, the men veered off toward the command tent.
Richard, however, steered Simon in the opposite direction.
"Uh, where are we going?" Simon asked, flustered.
"I’ve built up a lot of stress," Richard grinned. "Time to blow off some steam."
After riding a phantom steed for who knew how long, Richard arrived at a city in the Neutral Zone. This land was under the Dark Alliance’s control. Armored soldiers roamed the streets, and excavation work for the Sealed Book was in full swing here as well. And the place Richard brought Simon was...
"Bottoms up!"
"Hahahaha!"
A tavern.
It was far from a run-down local pub where neighborhood men stopped by for a quiet pint. This was a hotspot. Deafening music blared through the building, and soldiers enthusiastically danced to the heavy beat.
"Yona! Welcome!"
"What brings our esteemed Legion Commander to such a humble establishment?"
Military discipline was nonexistent. The soldiers casually high-fived Richard and exchanged informal greetings.
To Simon, who had never set foot in a place like this, it looked like an absolute den of debauchery. No one cared who was watching. Men and women openly embraced and kissed in the corners.
"You should have a drink, too!"
Before he knew it, Richard was shoving a heavy mug of beer into his hands. Simon quickly waved it off.
"I’m fine! I’m on duty—"
"Eesh, I’ve got a real stick-in-the-mud tailing me."
Suiting himself, Richard downed his beer in one massive gulp. Spreading his arms wide, he took a deep, theatrical breath.
"The air is sweet!"
He suddenly leaped up, landing with a loud thud on a table where people were eating and drinking. Beer spilled and food scattered in the ensuing chaos, but the crowd just laughed and cheered.
"Lord Yona is here!"
"We picked the right night to come out!"
Richard reached out with a flashy flourish. A stringed instrument flew from the hands of a bard on stage and slapped right into his grasp. He strummed a sharp chord. He knew how to play.
No, he didn’t just know how to play—he was a virtuoso. Standing tall, he began playing the mandolin, plucking the strings so fast his hands were a blur. All eyes were drawn to the dazzling melody. The bards in the back wore expressions that clearly said, ’Here he goes again.’
The entire audience began clapping in time with his performance. Richard strutted across the tables, mandolin singing, until he reached the bar.
"Drinks are on me tonight!"
Explosive cheers erupted from all sides, accompanied by the frantic ringing of the tavern bell. Having hyped up the crowd, he played the mandolin like a madman until the tavern owner chuckled and set a fresh glass in front of him.
"Rough day again, Yona?"
"Glad you asked. I had a really shitty day today."
With a final, ringing chord, he tossed the mandolin into the air. A waiting skeleton caught the instrument and seamlessly picked up the exact same melody.
"The Saintess of Miracles! Yeah, that woman is the problem! Everything’s been going wrong ever since she showed up and ruined my skyrocketing career!"
He grabbed another instrument, shredded a solo, and tossed it into the air. Skeletons seamlessly took over each instrument, reducing the out-of-work bards to mere clapping machines like the rest of the audience.
"Now, whenever I show up on the front lines, the Federation sends her. Just wait until I get my hands on her—I won’t let her die easily."
Loud singing and shouting filled the air. Tossing an instrument noisily over his shoulder, Richard swaggered over to the piano. What followed was an incredibly flashy piano solo.
His head bobbed violently to the rhythm, his dark hair flying. Gasps of admiration burst from the crowd, and women flushed, licking their lips.
"Everyone, raise your glasses!"
He slammed down on several keys at once with a heavy, discordant clang, then leaped onto the piano bench. A skeletal hand immediately offered him a wine glass.
"To the death of the Saintess of Miracles!"
"Cheers!"
Everyone echoed the toast, raising their glasses high. Among them, Simon stood with his arms crossed, a bitter taste in his mouth and a deep scowl on his face.
"I’ll say it again: drinks are on me tonight, so drink up and enjoy yourselves!"
As time passed, the party reached a fever pitch. The music shifted to a slow, romantic melody. Richard, who had been mingling and partying all over the room, finally chose one of the many women vying for his attention. Just as Richard placed a hand on her waist, ready to lead her outside...
"Hold on!"
Unable to watch any longer, Simon intervened. Richard scowled.
"That’s enough!"
"Huh? What’s your problem all of a sudden?"
"Stopping your little escapades is the duty Lady Nephthys entrusted to me."
Simon gripped the hourglass around his neck, then bowed politely to the woman.
"I’m sorry, but please leave."
"...What the hell."
Her mood ruined, the woman scoffed and walked away. Richard reached out to grab her, but she was already gone.
Richard’s fierce glare locked onto Simon.
"You’re not a watchdog. You’re a shackle."
"I don’t think it makes sense for a Legion Commander to be partying in a place like this during wartime," Simon shot back. "A battle could break out at any moment."
"We’re people, not chess pieces meant only for fighting. We need a place to blow off steam!"
Their gazes clashed intensely.
"We’re closing up for the night!" the tavern owner announced with impeccable timing.
Richard stormed out with a frown, and Simon followed right on his heels.
’To think my father was like this in his youth. What a headache.’
As they walked, Richard looked back at Simon with a sly smile.
"If partying is the problem, then something else should be fine, right?"
"...Excuse me?"
’This guy.’
He was still looking for an excuse to mess around.
Meanwhile, at the Holy Federation’s fortress.
"Lord, grant us the strength to purify the wicked today."
Anna began her dawn prayer. Following her lead, all the Priests had gathered in the prayer room, reverently clasping their hands.
’My legs.’
Lethe, who had volunteered as Anna’s attendant, was losing all feeling in her legs from kneeling for so long. Lightly pounding her thighs with her fists, she shot Anna a strained look.
’I had no idea Teacher Anna was such a straight-laced goody-two-shoes...’
From morning until the moment she fell asleep, her schedule was packed tight. She lived and breathed her faith. She was thankful to open her eyes every morning, thankful to be able to eat—she had so much to be thankful for that she dropped to her knees in prayer at the slightest provocation.
As for the Priests under her command, how could they keep their heads held high when the Saintess was praying? Thus, a semi-forced group prayer session had begun.
Anna had no hobbies. No private life, either. To her, there was only the Goddess Deva and her holy faith. Lethe felt a headache coming on.
’Sigh, how am I supposed to set Teacher Anna up with a playboy like Richard?’
At least there was a brief window of free time when lunch and the midday prayers ended. Lethe waited for Anna to finish her prayers, then hurried over and flopped down, resting her head on Anna’s lap. Without a hint of fatigue, Anna smiled benevolently and stroked Lethe’s hair.
The strict lifestyle was exhausting, but receiving a reward like this made it all worthwhile. It felt so nice that a goofy grin kept spreading across Lethe’s face. In the distance, Israphel passed by, glaring daggers at her. Teasing the jealous Priestess was quickly becoming one of Lethe’s little joys.
"Hehe, Teacher Anna."
"There you go again. I’m not a teacher," Anna said, flustered. "I’ve never taught anyone. I’ve only ever learned and studied. That title is too much for me."
’How can she get this embarrassed just from being called ’Teacher’?’
When Lethe casually reached up and pulled back Anna’s veil, sure enough, the girl’s face was bright red.
’I seriously want to hug her so tight the continent shatters.’
"I have a question."
It was about time she got to work. She was scheduled to meet Simon alone at midnight tomorrow, and she wanted to have some results to show before then.
"I’ll answer anything I can, Lethe."
"What do you think about men?"
Anna blinked.
"A man is someone born male. In the scriptures, it also refers to a woman’s partner."
’What kind of answer is that?’
Flustered, Lethe sat up.
"No, not like that...! Like, when you’re walking down the street, a handsome guy catches your eye, right? Someone tall, with a prominent Adam’s apple, and strong, veiny arms... Doesn’t a dashing person like that draw your attention even a little?"
Anna blinked again.
"I’m not really sure."
She looked like someone without a single romantic bone in her body. Recognized for her talents since childhood, she had lived in the temple, receiving a strict education from the archbishops. She had lived a devout life of faith before becoming a Saintess through Efnel. She had absolutely zero knowledge of romantic relationships.
Lethe was utterly dumbfounded.
’Someone like her did ’that’ with a playboy like Richard?’
Lethe changed her approach. Since Anna seemed to adore children, she decided to steer the topic toward kids and family.
"Ah, then by any chance..."
Lethe quickly glanced around to make sure Israphel wasn’t spying on them, then blurted out,
"Do you want to have children?"
"Yes!" Anna replied with a radiant smile.
For the first time, a spark of hope ignited in Lethe’s chest.
"I’m eagerly waiting for the stork to bring me a child. If I get a baby, I’ll thank the Goddess and raise them with all my heart."
"...Ah." Lethe covered her face in despair.
By the looks of it, a long, hard road lay ahead for both of them.

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