On this day, a tremor shook the world.
It had been confirmed that the "Calamity"-class monster, "Storm Dragon Veldora," had been annihilated.
Even though it had been sealed away three hundred years ago, it was still a Calamity-class monster.
There was no guarantee that what appeared to be annihilation wasn't merely the beast reborn as a new threat in some other region.
However, twenty days passed after the report of its annihilation, and the Western Holy Church officially declared the complete destruction of the "Storm Dragon Veldora."
Baron Nidoll Meigum was furious.
"How can such nonsense be true?!"
He recalled the cardinal's words from earlier and spat out his curses.
Cardinal Nicolaus Spertus.
Just thinking about him made his blood boil.
"The threat of the 'Storm Dragon Veldora' has been eliminated. Therefore, the countermeasure subsidies previously provided by the Holy Church shall cease as of today."
That was how it had been — the conversation unilaterally cut short.
Unilaterally summoned, made to wait three hours, and then dismissed like that.
Certainly, the subsidies had been a tremendous help up until now.
The barony along the Great Forest of Jura was a critical defensive outpost on the frontier of the Farmus Kingdom.
But this wasn't solely the Farmus Kingdom's problem — the Western Holy Church, whose own territories bordered the region, had no right to wash its hands of the matter.
Even though the "Storm Dragon Veldora" had been sealed, the threat it posed had never diminished.
And that held true for monsters as well.
No — if anything, it had been an even greater threat to the monsters.
The disappearance of that threat meant one thing: a surge in monster activity.
They needed to strengthen the frontier's defenses now more than ever, and yet this was the moment the Church chose to cut its support.
This was the root of Baron Nidoll Meigum's outrage.
The Western Holy Church might have its reasons, but to Nidoll, they meant nothing.
How was he supposed to defend his territory going forward?
Hiring mercenaries cost money.
Adventurers from the Free Guild were unreliable when it really mattered.
The Church, his one lifeline, had cut him off before he could even ask.
And the last hope, the Kingdom… Nidoll pictured the king's face and felt despair wash over him.
Even with the "Storm Dragon Veldora" still in existence, no support had ever materialized.
Now that the threat was gone, they'd probably just assume defense costs could be pocketed.
Worse yet, they might increase his taxes.
Realizing this, Nidoll grimaced.
Inside the carriage heading toward his territory, Nidoll agonized over countermeasures.
His mind was so consumed with the monster problem that he had no room to contemplate threats even greater…
Nidoll was not the only one wracking his brains.
The Farmus Kingdom was a mid-sized nation. Because of that, any crisis could theoretically be contained at its borders.
That being the case, the Kingdom itself felt little sense of urgency.
True to Nidoll's prediction, there were even ministers who saw this as an opportunity to cut defense spending.
However, the smaller nations along the Great Forest of Jura could not afford such complacency.
With no one to turn to, they had no choice but to formulate their own countermeasures.
Kings and ministers across the various countries held emergency meetings day after day, planning future strategies and gathering intelligence.
Baron Belyard, a minister of the small Kingdom of Blumund, was one such person.
"I called you here for one reason and one reason only. You've heard about the 'Storm Dragon Veldora,' I trust?"
As if that needed saying. Maintaining his composed demeanor, Baron Belyard addressed the man who had entered the room.
He was short in stature, but his eyes held an unmistakable sharpness.
"Of course, Baron."
The man confirmed with few words.
His voice was low and gravelly.
"Hmph. As expected of a Guild Master! Or should I say so?"
Baron Belyard snorted and continued, the words tumbling out in a rush.
"Then tell me — what countermeasures has the Guild prepared?"
"Nothing in particular. We have no plans to take any special action."
"What? I'm sorry, I didn't quite hear you… Did you say you have no intention of taking countermeasures?"
"That's correct. We simply don't feel the need."
The man called Guild Master replied in an indifferent tone.
He looked as though he didn't understand what Baron Belyard was so angry about.
Baron Belyard found the attitude irksome but kept his composure as he pressed on.
Not that his efforts could be called particularly successful…
"No need? What a thing to say! The annihilation of the 'Storm Dragon Veldora' means we can expect a surge in monster activity! And yet you're telling me you won't prepare any countermeasures?"
"Now that's a rather absurd thing to suggest. Preparing countermeasures is the work of the state. We are the Free Guild, not a volunteer organization."
It was a statement of fact.
The Free Guild was an organization unconstrained by the framework of any nation.
Unlike state-employed craftsfolk who belonged to a specific country, they received no guarantee of livelihood.
However, they were granted a minimum guarantee of status — a position equivalent to that of a citizen — and in return, they were subject to a fixed tax obligation.
Take chefs, for example.
A state-employed chef held the status of a citizen, with all the corresponding tax obligations. In exchange, the state guaranteed both their property and their status.
A Free Guild chef, on the other hand, received quasi-citizen status but paid a reduced tax. The tax went to the Free Guild, and it was the Guild that vouched for their identity.
However, they had to protect their own property and personal safety.
State-employed chefs were permitted to operate shops within the capital, protected by its walls, and could even pass their establishments on to their children.
Free Guild chefs were denied this privilege and could only open shops in free markets outside the state's core territories.
Even if they managed to set up shop in a city along the outer wall, they could not bequeath it to their children.
This was the foundation — shallow but deeply rooted — for the prejudice against the Free Guild.
This system was not unique to the small Kingdom of Blumund. It was virtually identical across all the surrounding nations.
But if one looked at it from the opposite angle, the Free Guild was an organization that transcended national borders, possessing an organizational capacity that exceeded that of any single state…
Whether by coincidence or by design, the truth was that it operated by embedding itself beneath the framework of individual nations.
"Protecting the property of one's citizens is the most basic obligation of a state, wouldn't you agree? Similarly, as a guild, we protect our members as well. We each have our own burdens to bear."
Listening to the Guild Master's brazen words, a vein throbbed on Baron Belyard's forehead.
He realized clearly that the man was taking advantage of his position.
"Spare me the platitudes!!! How many mercenaries can the Free Guild provide? How many combat-capable adventurers? How many people can you deploy for this city's defense?!"
The Guild Master let out a weary sigh.
"I'd appreciate it if you didn't misunderstand — we are not a charity. Under the compact between the state and the Free Guild, we can mobilize up to ten percent of our members. Anything beyond that would require appropriate compensation."
The Kingdom of Blumund had a population of one million.
The Free Guild had approximately seven thousand registered members. That figure did not include family members.
Should the compact between the state and the Free Guild be activated, ten percent of the Guild's members — roughly seven hundred in this case — would be placed under the state's command.
This was understood to apply only to members registered within each individual country. Members belonging to foreign chapters were not affected. Thus, even within the Free Guild, national affiliation was clearly defined.
Furthermore, while the state determined the duration of the compact's activation, it was agreed that during that period, the tax owed by members would be reduced by twenty percent.
Though the compact carried coercive force, from a tax-revenue perspective, it could not be abused.
Of course, the Guild itself had to advance the salaries of the mobilized members, so the terms were only natural.
Even if they were ordered to mobilize everyone, it would be impossible to comply.
Half of the Guild's members were non-combatants.
The Kingdom was well aware of this.
Under normal circumstances, they wouldn't push the issue — but this was not a normal circumstance.
Monsters becoming more active.
That was certainly a significant reason.
But the real reason was…
"Enough. Hey, Fuse. You want me to say it out loud?"
The Guild Master — no, Fuse — was mildly startled at hearing his name spoken directly.
For the first time, he looked Baron Belyard straight in the eye.
"The place where the 'Storm Dragon Veldora' was sealed was previously an inviolable zone. If a direct route through that territory were to open up, it would mean the Eastern Empire might make its move."
"Exactly! Whether out of restraint toward Veldora or fear of the seal breaking, the Empire has been quiet until now — but now it's stirring! Do you understand? If they get through that forest, this Kingdom would be swallowed in an instant! And we can't count on the Western Holy Church! The nations scattered around the Great Forest of Jura would be brought under Imperial control in the blink of an eye!"
"The Church won't move, then… Probably not. They have no interest in wars between humans. Their doctrine calls for the extermination of monsters."
"That's right. If only a single Holy Knight were deployed, the Empire wouldn't dare act rashly… Even just the absence of their monster defense would buy us time."
"Unlikely… For the Church, even if a nation collapses, it doesn't hurt their coffers. Not every follower of the faith would be saved."
Fuse regarded Baron Belyard's face and thought, He's worn down to the bone, this one…
And who could blame him? The Baron seemed to have aged a decade in just a few days.
The two of them were, in fact, childhood friends.
A baron being on intimate terms with a guild master was politically inconvenient, should it become public knowledge.
They needed to maintain the appearance of a transactional relationship — each using the other — so in public, they pretended to get along poorly.
A small kingdom like this could not weather this crisis alone.
But it was also possible they were worrying over nothing.
The Empire was certainly stirring, but it hadn't been decided yet that they would actually attack.
If it were only monsters, there were still countermeasures to be devised.
"It hasn't been decided that the Empire will move yet, right? Either way, I'll conduct a personal investigation on my own. I don't want you placing too much hope in me, but I'll look into the current state of the Great Forest of Jura and the Empire's movements."
"Sorry… That would help."
Right — it hadn't been decided that the Empire would move.
If they did move, though — no, when they moved, it would be a large-scale military operation. The Empire wasn't naive enough to start with skirmishes.
With an army exceeding one million, they would trample every surrounding nation underfoot.
If that were the case, preparations would take time.
At least three years…
That wasn't much time, but it would give them breathing room to prepare as well.
"The key is gathering intelligence. There's no time to waste — I'm heading out!"
"I'm counting on you…"
The two nodded to each other and parted ways.
There was a mountain of things to be done.
Cardinal Nicolaus Spertus watched Baron Nidoll Meigum take his leave, then allowed a faint smile to cross his lips.
"Parasite."
He spat the word out with a look of benevolent warmth on his face.
A parasite who had no faith in God, who simply swarmed toward the Church's money, power, and military might.
That was his — Nicolaus's — assessment of Baron Nidoll Meigum.
He was not alone in this view.
All those who belonged to the Church thought the same.
"If you truly believe in God, then you should pledge allegiance to the Holy Papal State of Lubelius and become a faithful follower!"
That was their creed.
The Western Holy Church was an organization centered solely upon the Holy Pope — the one and only sacred, inviolable authority — with the Holy Papal State of Lubelius as its state religion.
Lubelius was the Western Holy Church's grand headquarters, and its citizens were composed entirely of the faithful.
No matter how loudly those belonging to other nations proclaimed their faith, they were nothing more than fair-weather believers, unworthy of true trust.
God took precedence over all.
Therefore, those who made excuses about worldly entanglements and refused to become citizens deserved no compassion.
This was the prevailing sentiment shared by all who belonged to the Western Holy Church, from Cardinal Nicolaus downward.
Originally, Nicolaus had believed that all heretics who did not believe in God should simply be killed.
There was a person who mocked that belief and made him reconsider.
She had said: "It's futile. Breaking the hearts of those who worship other gods requires enormous energy. Rather than doing that, simply extend a hand and accept them. That's the more reliable approach!"
"Let them see us as a 'righteous group that protects humanity from monsters.' After all, war will never disappear from this world. When they find themselves in trouble, that's when we extend our hand! Monsters are a common enemy of all humanity, but humans are not a common enemy to each other."
"There's no need to invite unnecessary hatred. The masses are fools — help them when they're in need and they'll believe in you immediately. That is, after all, the very purpose of religion, isn't it?"
She was a thoroughgoing pragmatist.
Despite being irreligious herself, she did not reject religion.
She merely exploited it — nothing more, nothing less.
Even from Nicolaus's perspective, her approach was cold-blooded.
With eyes so cold they made him shudder, she stared at him and whispered: "We need only wait. Wait for the other nations to weaken themselves! And to that end, we must earn their gratitude!"
When those words were whispered in his ear, a tremor ran through him.
Was it ecstasy — or terror?
Nicolaus obeyed.
Thanks to her, the Church's position had undergone a dramatic transformation over the past decade.
It had already wielded a certain degree of influence, but in a mere seven years, it had risen to become an indispensable presence in every nation.
For those accomplishments, Nicolaus had ascended from bishop to cardinal.
It was all thanks to her.
"Well then, as she said — even parasites have their uses."
Nicolaus contemplated what lay ahead.
Whether the Empire would move remained uncertain, but monster activity would undoubtedly increase.
There was no question that things were about to get busy.
What would she do, in his place?
Perhaps it was time to reach out to her again after so long.
To Hinata Sakaguchi, who now served as "Chief Knight of the Papal Imperial Guard Division" — the Captain of the Holy Knight Order.