Chapter 699: Amid the Crowd

East of Seville City, as soon as the Pope of Light, Hebrew, issued the order to deal with the traitors, even the last remaining Church knights, those barely enough to maintain local security, began marching according to plan.

They coordinated with the Velys royal family, who held actual control over the territory, sealing off transportation arteries from north to south and west to east, strictly inspecting passing caravans to prevent dangerous individuals from slipping along the main roads into Seville City, which was likely to become the primary battlefield.

In an eastern city near the royal capital, taverns that had once been bustling had grown noticeably quieter with war looming. Two peddling merchants, dressed plainly in the manner of traders, sat in a deeper corner and asked the owner for two mugs of coarse wheat beer.

Then they set down their packs and rummaged carefully through them. A moment later, they took out a few small pieces of jerky wrapped in cloth, preparing them as food to go with the drink.

"After this run, I’ll have to stop for a while."

One of the merchants rubbed his stubble and spoke in a low voice.

"See? What did I tell you before, stock up on more grain while you can. It’ll definitely be useful later."

"Just this short run from Pizzel to Seville City, I made nearly half a quarter’s profit. If I hadn’t been so short on funds, I should’ve stocked more Blackstone ore back then. Sell it all in one go and I wouldn’t have to worry about income for at least two or three years."

A few days earlier, the Velys royal family had begun levying agricultural taxes heavily on the lowest-tier tenant laborers, while also dispatching people to buy grain and weapons from independent traders at high prices. The scale and the offers were so extravagant it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to call it bleeding the treasury dry.

Many merchants who’d already heard rumors of the border war had long guessed this day would come. They happened to flip the coarse wheat and meat they’d collected to the royal family, carving out a ruthless profit. The customer now sitting in the tavern waiting for his drink was clearly one of them.

Hearing his friend, the other merchant, slightly younger, though still in his early thirties, nodded in agreement.

"True. Too bad I didn’t have much cash either. No way I could’ve put my whole fortune into it, or I’d be making a killing right now."

"Who could’ve imagined things would end up like this?"

The Valeria Empire had broken through Grand Duke Grant’s territory with frightening ease, even turning the stationed Church knight order against them. Before long, they would likely advance along the eastern road toward the royal city.

This trading city, located in the kingdom’s central-east, lay directly on that marching route. With the shadow of war approaching, and the plague still raging, even the number of people coming here for a drink had clearly dropped.

"To be honest, I feel like grain and meat prices can still climb."

"They can climb all they want. Depends whether we can swallow it."

After eating a strip of dried meat, the first speaker swept his gaze around. Noticing only one other customer waiting for drinks, a small figure in a black robe, he lowered his voice further.

"His Majesty is locking down the transport lines, controlling the flow of people."

"The inspectors were already corrupt. In the past, a small bribe was enough to get through, but now there are so many checkpoints and officials demanding money that every stage costs more. It has become unbearable."

"...You mean it’s also at His Majesty’s instruction?"

"Maybe not. But the big shots are definitely turning a blind eye while they squeeze a bit more out of us. It’s subtler than raising commercial taxes, and it brings in more. Ordinary folk can’t say much."

A full wagon of food would lose half a percent the moment it passed a checkpoint. Travel through a few more cities and you’d bleed a few more half-percent. And they couldn’t fight back, only let the local nobles strip them.

Otherwise, those guards, hard to offend, could seize the cargo on any pretext and refuse to release it. The ones taking the loss would still be merchants like them, with no backing.

"So I think... Once we finish this batch, we’re done. Go home, rest a bit, and watch how things develop."

Because the Kingdom of Velys’s farmland and hunting grounds were scattered, and climate differences between north and south were drastic, caravans had always been needed to link the major towns and meet local demand.

The king’s actions had certainly stockpiled massive military resources for Seville City, injecting a burst of new blood, but the nobles across the realm, using decrees as a pretext to extort the people’s lifeblood, had clearly crushed merchant enthusiasm.

Independent traders like them suffered worse. Many wide main roads that had once been passable were now off-limits. They had to detour, slowing transport and lengthening delivery times, and every extra city meant extra payments. Round-trip costs skyrocketed overnight.

As for merchants with noble backgrounds, their business environment was a bit better, sometimes even getting waved through, but once they crossed out of their own territory, they still got fleeced by other royals.

All in all, hauling grain into Seville City was a brief flash of good business. Miss this wave and everything else would be hard to do. And as things worsened, the outlook for the trade would only become bleaker.

"Mm. That’s what I’m thinking too."

As they spoke, the two mugs of coarse wheat beer arrived. Each took a sip. With warmth from the tavern hearth spreading through them, their stomachs warmed too, and the grueling travel didn’t feel quite as unbearable.

"Seriously... even this mug’s up by twenty or thirty percent..."

"This place is close to the capital. Grains for brewing’s in short supply and expensive. That’s normal."

Even so, they drank.

After a while, still drinking and chatting, they started discussing whether they could ship alongside roads. But considering the likelihood of bandits, they’d have to post a task at the Adventurers’ Association and hire extra hands. By the time they calculated the costs, it was cheaper to take the highway.

"Don’t bother. If you’ve still got grain, hold onto it. War’s coming, who knows what the kingdom will look like later?"

The man took a sip and deliberately lowered his voice.

"If something unexpected happens, having supplies in hand gives you a foundation. At least you won’t starve, right?"

He could see it clearly now: this time, the Valeria expeditionary army wasn’t here to play at skirmishes. The Velys royal house was weak to begin with; after earlier defeats, it had lost much of its prestige.

The nobles everywhere harbored their own schemes, caring only for profit and ignoring the nation, loose sand that could never unite. Without reliable support, the kingdom’s forces would naturally be driven back again and again under the empire’s fierce assault.

In some time, the Kingdom of Velys would likely face earth-shaking change. Whether that would be good or bad wasn’t something a bottom-tier merchant like him could predict.

He could only take advantage of the king’s mobilization order to make money from the war, then return home and live quietly. Ideally, he would spend some of his earnings on a few Holy Light baths with followers of the Church of Light to protect himself from the plague.

The topic drifted, without notice, toward the Church of Light. Perhaps it was the alcohol and the rising mood, but the man’s tone turned sharper.

"That big shot in Pizzel City... he really doesn’t treat us like people..."

"What happened?"

"These days the city’s full of plague. Tons of people died. And what does he do? He squats on the Church of Light’s cathedral and refuses to give it up no matter what."

Though the Church of Light couldn’t directly cure disease, the daily Holy Light bathing ritual held in the church could prevent plague to a certain extent. As a result, many sought shelter there, hoping to keep illness at bay.

Under those circumstances, Pizzel City’s leader chose to cooperate with the local bishop of the Church of Light, placing his family inside the church so they could remain close to the Holy Light and receive cleansing magic at all times.

When someone enters and takes space, there’s less left for those who come later. Regional churches of the Church of Light weren’t large to begin with; once they had fixed "guests," their capacity shrank further.

Not to mention the nobles who, under the banner of expanding the church and adding manpower, kept handing money to the local bishop and certain clergy, or promising all kinds of favors, so that the names on their list could enter the church and avoid infection as much as possible.

"Who knows whether that money really went to expanding the church, or straight into those believers’ pockets."

"You can’t say that casually."

The Church of Light’s fanatical ideology was still openly popular. If someone reported you for discussing clergy integrity, you’d have to spend a lot of money to suppress it. In sensitive times, watch your mouth.

Hearing his friend, the man snorted dismissively, lifted his mug, and took a big gulp, irritation in his voice.

"When I get back this time, I’m buying myself a spot there too. Running around like this every day, it’s dangerous. No telling what might happen."

When disease spreads, the ones most likely to catch the plague aren’t the farmers who stay in one place and work like machines every day, it’s merchants like them, constantly moving, constantly traveling.

Stand by the river long enough, and you’ll get wet.

Thinking of that made him even angrier. "Everywhere I go, those people look at me like I’m dog shit on the road. Like they don’t realize, if it weren’t for us taking these risks, who knows how many would starve to death this winter."

The lowest-ranked member of his caravan was a novice mage. They weren’t easily infected. At worst, the goods they carried might accidentally pick up something bad, but that was only a possibility.

Without caravans running everywhere, relying on regions with different focuses to be self-sufficient was an impractical fantasy. What were they supposed to do, let miners who spent their days underground live by eating iron ore?

After cursing for a while, the man finally calmed down a bit. Across from him, the younger merchant had just finished chewing his piece of jerky and spoke at the right moment.

"Speaking of that... have you heard recently?"

"Heard what?"

"That Valeria Empire expeditionary army’s supreme commander, Lyra Beckett."

"The news I got says she might be able to cure the plague... the one even the Pope can’t do anything about."

At those words, the peddler who’d just been railing against the Church’s coldness, the nobles’ corruption, and the masses’ blind faith showed a subtle change in expression.

"You heard it too?" he murmured, tasting bitterness in his mouth along with the beer.

"Mm. Supposedly the Church knight order stationed around Coldwind City witnessed that kind of miracle, and that’s why they chose to defect to the Valeria expeditionary army."

It was a cure, not suppression, not prevention. Until this rumor emerged, there had been only one outcome for those infected in the Kingdom of Velys: death.

The only difference was time. Patients with abundant light-element particles around them, frequently bathed in cleansing magic, could live longer and reduce the disease’s effects. Those without such conditions could only wait in agony.

And now, a brand-new road to survival seemed to appear before them.

"Do you think it’s possible?"

"..."

The merchant who’d been asked fell silent briefly. Half a minute later, he answered.

"I think it’s probably true."

"Otherwise it doesn’t explain why the Church knight order turned on the spot. Even that Saintess ended up standing against the Pope."

"They’re not idiots, right?"

Something enormous must have happened for such a shocking upheaval to erupt, whether within the Church knights or the Church of Light.

"If it’s true, doesn’t that mean... those already infected still have the faintest chance?"

"Mm. That’s the logic... but..."

The speaker shook his head with contempt, his words thick with alcohol.

"You think that Regent is kind enough to have her people treat former enemies for free?"

"Dream on. Not happening. Only the Church of Light would do something like that." And even then, you’d have to add "former" to the front.

All nobles were cut from the same cloth. He didn’t believe Valeria’s nobles were any different from the Kingdom of Velys’s local ones. This war certainly wasn’t just about simple revenge and judgment.

"If you want treatment, you’ll probably have to pay a heavy price. And the first ones to enjoy it will definitely be the nobles themselves, or their families."

Their low discussion mingled with the tavern’s candlelight. In the hearth, blazing flames danced, crackling as dry wood burned.

"Your drink is here, miss."

Not far from the table of merchants discussing national affairs, a server set a drink in front of the guest wrapped head to toe in a long black robe, radiating an air of mystery.

She didn’t make a sound. She merely sat quietly. After the server left, she extended a hand so pale it could only be called deathly white, lifted the cup, and studied the liquid with ink-black eyes.

As she raised it, a strand of hair as black as her pupils slipped from beneath the robe, falling along the girl’s smooth, pale neck.

This drink was far inferior to anything she’d had before.