If one permits a certain degree of vagueness in its description, the continent of Idoragia can be said to consist of two circular landmasses connected north to south.
To the south lie regions unfit for settlement, such as the Great Cursed Realm, along with barbarian territories. Several culturally less-advanced nations exist there, and venturing further south leads into uncharted regions known as the unknown lands, connecting to areas no one knows.
Conversely, the north is dominated by only two nations. The Holy Kingdom of Quolia, a nation of light ruled by the human race, and the El-Nar Spirit Contract Union, ruled by the elf race.
A nation's prosperity stems from a complex interplay of various factors.
That these two nations currently enjoy prosperity and, despite some tension, have reached a relatively stable relationship as adherents to the same order, cannot be explained in a single sentence either.
However, there is an entity whose contribution to this outcome can be stated with certainty.
It was the so-called decisive weapon known as the Holy Maiden.
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The Holy Kingdom of Quolia adopted a provincial system to efficiently manage its vast territory.
Centered on the royal capital, Quolianne, it is a unique nation with provinces positioned to the north, south, east, and west, each possessing its own administrative authority.
That northern province. Including many cold zones, it is the least developed of the four provinces, and at its very northernmost tip—
It was a land of little value, now only dotted with a few fishing and farming villages, where a girl, clad in white attire utterly out of place in that environment, stood gazing intently across the snow-covered landscape before her.
"Holy Maiden, the time has come. A messenger has reported that the barbarian horde is advancing towards us as expected. As per the divine will, please perform that miracle."
"Understood."
Surrounded by the Sacred Knights, resplendent in ornate armor and wearing pure white cloaks, stood one of the cardinal bishops governing this province, who had just relayed that message while also gazing toward the distant horizon.
Addressed by him, the girl took a step forward.
Almost immediately, a harsh, unpleasant screeching sound reached them from the distance.
Simultaneously, a spray of snow kicked up, and a group of subhuman creatures could be seen charging toward them, their feet pounding the earth.
They were about half the size of humans, with rough, blue skin and sharp eyes. Their faces, devoid of any discernible intelligence, bore sharp fangs. In their hands, they carried crude clubs, sharpened branches, and simple axes with stones lashed to them.
A horde of snow goblins had suddenly appeared in the northern territories. Their numbers reached into the thousands. For Quolia, a holy kingdom whose territories each commanded armies in the tens of thousands, a mere rabble of goblins—inferior to humans in every conceivable way—was little more than a nuisance. But that was only from the perspective of the nation as a whole. In truth, their incursion had already razed several villages, claiming the lives of their inhabitants. Now, a single figure stood between them and their path of advance.
Dressed in white vestments adorned with golden embroidery and decorated with floral motifs, she was a young woman of about seventeen, her delicate features giving her a fragile air. The common folk called her the Mercy of God, the Maiden of Flowers, the Beautiful One, the Shield of the World—
One of the Seven Great Saints of Salvation for the Idragia continent, the Floral Funeral Saint, Soarina. The living embodiment of miracles, whom the Holy Kingdom of Quolia held in highest esteem.
"Your crimes have brought terror to countless souls and sown tragedy far and wide. They are unforgivable. God's sorrow has grown beyond measure, and the time for your repentance has long since passed."
Soarina spoke with unwavering eloquence. It was questionable whether the snow goblins possessed the intelligence to comprehend her words at all. Yet, she continued to weave her speech, as if reciting a hymn, as if offering solace to those she could not save.
"I hear the suffering of many innocent people. I hear the voice of God, who yearns for peace."
Soarina raised her hand, pushing her palm forward as if to present it.
The snow goblins' movements were swift. The threat was now imminent; in a few more seconds, they would be crushed by the sheer mass of the horde. Behind her, the Cardinal began to panic, and the Holy Knights drew their swords, preparing for battle.
But the Saint, Soarina, spoke calmly:
"For the crime of disrupting the order of the Holy Kingdom of Quolia, and for the sin of defying the Holy God Aros, you are hereby sentenced to... a Floral Funeral."
The land was annihilated by hellfire.
Without any preliminary movement, hellfire that simply burned everything to nothingness manifested before Soarina's eyes.
The mass of Snow Goblins was swept away along with the ground and vegetation, and wretched screams and the thick stench of burning flesh filled the air.
Though some squealing, scream-like cries from the Snow Goblins could be heard, they were swallowed by the swirling flames and eventually faded away.
The land that had felt so cold just moments ago now bore the aspect of perpetual summer, and while the stalwart holy knights could endure it, the Cardinal and his attendants had no choice but to remove their cloaks and roll up their sleeves.
The mass of Snow Goblins that must have numbered in the thousands.
They had destroyed village after village and wrought untold atrocities until she entered the battle, and their end had come in the form of shattered charcoal, so utterly obliterated that nothing recognizable remained.
The flames vanished. Silence blanketed the area, and every soul stood speechless before the miracle.
Then change came.
A single flower bloomed. Then another, flowing effortlessly, then like a rushing torrent.
Before long, the entire expanse was blanketed in blossoms, covering over the charred remains of moments before.
As though conducting a funeral rite...
A single entity possessing the power of an army--no, power that far surpassed that.
This was precisely why the Saint was called a weapon of decisive battle.
"...Cardinal."
Slowly tracing the flower petals drifting on the blizzard wind over the flower field that had suddenly appeared on the northern land, the Saint Soarina spoke without turning around to the figure behind her.
"What is it, Your Holiness?"
"The matter I mentioned to you the other day--what has come of it?"
"The other day? Hmm, which matter might you be referring to?"
"The omen of disaster that appeared in the Great Cursed Sea to the south of the continent. I asked that holy knights be dispatched to investigate."
"That area is in the southern territories, outside our nation's domain. If we were to dispatch forces, we would need to file a formal request with the crown and coordinate with the lords who govern the regions we'd pass through. There is also the matter of war expenses and rewards to consider. Moreover, the Holy Knights cannot be deployed so readily — Her Holiness the Saint should be well aware of that. Is there truly a premonition?"
A tedious and disagreeable objection was returned. It was plainly obvious that behind the words, he was saying he did not want to go to all that trouble. The Holy Knight standing guard nearby, thinking himself unobserved, shook his head. What exactly he meant by that was something only he would know.
"Yes, without doubt. ...You need not even move the Holy Knights. I could go myself, and—"
"You do not understand your own position!"
The Cardinal's shout of anger made the young acolyte serving at his side tremble.
The Saint turned and fixed the Cardinal with a quiet gaze. No emotion could be felt in those eyes. The Cardinal, further irritated by Soarina's puppet-like lack of expression, let out a deep sigh and directed a contemptuous look at her.
"What exactly do you intend to accomplish with that way of thinking? Please understand more fully how important you are. This is no longer the time when you were a commoner farmer in the countryside!"
At the unmistakable insult, the Saint Soarina remained silent. Rather than being unable to retort and gritting her teeth, she seemed to simply lack the kind of heart that would be moved by such a petty outburst in the first place. Yet it resembled both a kind of equanimity and a kind of resignation.
"Hmph... I do have a few people I can deploy on my own authority. I will give them orders."
Be that as it may, in terms of standing, the Saint's position was incomparably higher. There was no justification whatsoever for a mere Cardinal to interject. Before long, as though he had given up, he presented an alternative proposal.
To this reply, Soarina nodded with a small, girlish smile — the first she had shown. With this, one of her worries was eased.
And when, at last, the cardinal muttered "country girl" under his breath, she perceived it with her preternatural hearing, but, as always, pretended not to.
...The Saint is lonely.
Endowed with abilities and the power of miracles far beyond ordinary flesh, those like her are demanded absolute devotion and loyalty as disciples of Order. Even if they are exposed to the base jealousy of those who covet their station.
To save all, to protect every smile.
She continues to wield her miracle today, silently, for those she could not save.
"Thank you. May the blessings of the god Aros be upon those people..."
Before she could even finish her words, the cardinal was already preparing to withdraw.
Watching his retreating back without expression, the Holy Burial Saint, Soarina, whispered to herself.
"I must... save them."
Her words dissolved into the frozen earth of the great wasteland.
The army of Order felt it—the certain omen of a change coming to the world.
...
……
…
"Happy, happy construction time!"
Atou's lively voice echoed through the forests of the Great Cursed Realm.
The citizens participated, and though largely ceremonial, personnel for state administration had been placed. With the minimum dignity of a nation finally established, the time for internal affairs that Takuto and the others had been eagerly awaiting had arrived.
"The great nation of Lord Takuto is still but a newborn babe. From here, we must make it as mighty as to rule the seas, as powerful as to pierce the heavens. I am counting on all of you for this first step."
The stone pedestal that had become Takuto's fixed position since arriving in this world had now been drastically altered in appearance.
The Dark Elves had built the throne they had poured their hearts into with reinforced foundations, a carpet woven from grass, and most importantly, a simple roofed structure had taken shape.
That said, it was a makeshift thing cobbled together from whatever wood they could find, but Takuto's spirits were soaring regardless.
Even now, a meeting was being held at the simple table constructed before the throne.
Only Atou and old Mortar were seated, but eventually this place too would bustle with people.
Dreaming of that day, Takuto trembled with joy.
Everything was proceeding smoothly.
Quietly closing his eyes, Takuto turned his attention to all the information within his nation.
The mana possessed by the state was accumulating at a steady pace.
It was produced from special structures and land, but fundamentally it had a tax-like quality, collected at a fixed rate from the citizens each month.
And as a crucial factor, this collection rate was tied to the happiness of the population.
There were indeed systems of forced extraction and lawless methods that wrung mana out by force, trampling all rights.
But ultimately, filling the state with citizens brimming with happiness was the most efficient way to gather mana.
(I'll lead everyone to the peak of happiness with my own hands!)
In other words, the happiness of the citizens was what led to Mynoghra's development.
Harboring a resolve unbefitting the leader of an evil civilization, Takuto satisfiedly stroked the throne and savored the fruits of his subjects' labor.
The socially crippled Takuto, now little more than a decorative figure who had taken to fondling the throne, was left to his own devices as the meeting continued without him.
"So then, Atou. What sort of building should we construct first?"
"Hmm, let me see."
Atou placed her hand on her chin and sank into thought.
These matters were already well within her domain, so Takuto could rest easy and leave them entirely in her capable hands.
While he appeared to be pondering something, Atou was merely confirming the operational policy they had already discussed beforehand.
Indeed, Atou nodded immediately as if convinced, informing the Dark Elves of the initial plan Takuto desired.
"We will create food production facilities. One cannot fight on an empty stomach. Of course, even with a full stomach, one does not fight either."
"Certainly, food is important. However, can food not be created infinitely by the King's power?"
"Of course, but why must the King trouble himself with such things? Besides, when our territory expands further in the future, logistical issues will arise."
"You are quite right. My foolishness, please forgive me."
"Not at all—Well, let us proceed with that. For now, we shall build facilities that generate the food icon."
Waving his hand as if to dismiss any concern, Atou produces something from his pocket.
Old Mortar struggles at times with Atou's unique way of speaking, but he fully grasps her intent and accepts the strange object—some kind of sapling—from her outstretched hand.
"Please plant this tree and nurture it. Afterward, we will build management huts, food collection points, and storage sheds to complete the facility. I will convey the details later."
"What kind of tree might this be?"
It is only slightly larger than a palm. It has roots and strangely constricted branches.
Unfortunately, it was not among the saplings in old Mortar's knowledge, so he could not tell what kind of fruit it would bear.
However, considering that Emuru, Gears' adjutant, personally cultivates various seeds, yet this was specifically issued as an order, it was clearly not an ordinary plant.
But...
"It is the 'Human Flesh Tree'."
"Eh?"
"It is the 'Human Flesh Tree'."
It was far too different from the ordinary.
Atou spoke the same words again, practically bragging about how amazing it was. He was clearly proud of himself.
Mortar didn't know how to react. He understood only one thing: this was no plant of this world.
In truth, he wished no such dangerous plant existed anywhere.
"Um, Sir Atou. Could you perhaps explain in a bit more detail…"
"It's a food production facility from our civilization. I said it's a human flesh tree, but to be precise, it's a tree that bears a mysterious meat that tastes like human flesh."
"It's pretty evil-looking, right?"
The socially challenged king cut in without hesitation, apparently bored of stroking his throne. But even Takuto Ira was like this. It seemed that neither of them found it particularly surprising.
Mortar let out a low groan.
Food was indeed important, and having meat rather than eating only grains and vegetables would make people stronger and allow them to feed more citizens. But becoming evil didn't change one's taste in food. In truth, Mortar still preferred fish over livestock, same as always. He couldn't help but worry—this might prove difficult.
Furthermore, they had certain feelings about human flesh…
"I understand. However, with human flesh specifically, it would take some time to grow accustomed to it, and well, I must say… there are those among us who have rather unpleasant memories regarding it."
"I don't expect this facility to cover all of our needs, so that should be fine."
"People have their preferences too."
Mortar felt a wave of relief. Regardless, the food problem seemed to be progressing toward a solution. He understood the agony of starvation better than anyone. He was truly grateful to the king from the bottom of his heart that the tribe would never have to endure that suffering and those terrible decisions again.
But that one of the solutions tasted like human flesh was an extremely ironic twist.
Construction of a building has been selected.
Constructing! [Tree of Flesh]
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=Eterpedia===
[Tree of Flesh] Building
Food +1, Food Production +10%
Beast-type unit recovery power +10%
Recovery power of units with "Man-Eating" +50%
The Tree of Flesh is a facility unique to Mynoghra, serving as a substitute for a granary.
In addition to its normal capabilities, it has the effect of increasing the recovery power of beast-type units.
It also greatly increases the recovery power of units with "Man-Eating."
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