The Game Difficulty
Is Insane
Kraaak, kraaak—
Perhaps because the sky was so gloomy, the cries of the crows sounded even more chilling.
Below them stood rows of pitch-black buildings, and on a hill at the edge of sight rose a mansion that gave off an ominous aura.
On top of that, the territory’s residents trudged along the roads with lifeless, drooping expressions.
The scenery of Veronia Territory felt far too unsettling to be a place that belonged to the Holy Papal State.
“…What is this place? Is this really human land?”
Romina, sitting behind him on the horse, shaded her eyes with her hand and looked around the city.
“It is, but honestly, this is basically the stronghold of the Black Cult. You can tell just by looking at it, right?”
At that, killing intent coldly surfaced in Romina’s amber eyes.
“Oh… is that so?”
“No. I’m kidding.”
Romina’s murderous gaze turned straight toward Glen.
“Ahem. It’s just a territory. A gloomy one.”
Glen averted his eyes.
Despite appearances, Veronia was actually one of the five territories in the Holy Papal State with the deepest faith among its people.
“But this is more than just gloomy. Like you said, it really looks like the Black Cult could be hiding somewhere.”
“They do get that misunderstanding a lot.”
Because the city atmosphere was so dark, no one would take it as a joke if someone said the Black Cult was hiding somewhere here.
Just like Romina.
“So. What business do you have here?”
“Didn’t I tell you?”
“You didn’t.”
“Oh. I thought I did. It’s nothing big. I’m just here to build some connections with the lord who lives here.”
Romina tilted her head slightly.
“With the lord? Is there something useful about the ruler of this gloomy land?”
“Of course. Do you think I came all this way just to laugh and chat?”
“Well, thinking about it, you did suck that talkative, fat lord dry until he became a mummy last time.”
The talkative, fat one… she was talking about Pebien, the lord of Haven.
From behind, Romina suddenly leaned her face over Glen’s shoulder.
Her red hair brushed against his cheek.
“So, what delicious thing could be here that made young master Glen rush over without even showing his face to our Lady Tris?”
“Have you ever heard of the Veronia Battle Priests?”
The Battle Priests of Veronia.
They were Veronia’s greatest military strength, comparable to the Gray Wolf Knights of Wordsworth.
The difference was that, unlike the Gray Wolf Knights who wielded swords on the front lines, they excelled at supporting advancing knights from the rear.
“So, on the demon side, they’d be like mages or witches?”
“Exactly. And if you look at pure combat power, the Veronia Battle Priests wouldn’t lose to Penelope’s witch corps.”
Considering that most of the allied casualties in the war against Penelope were caused by magic cast by mages and witches, it was easy to imagine just how strong they were.
Romina frowned.
“If they’re that strong, why didn’t they participate in the last battle?”
“Veronia isn’t exactly on good terms with Wordsworth Territory. And the distance between the two is pretty far.”
In fact, it took Glen a full five days to get here after passing the Wordsworth estate.
Even nearby territories only three days away from Ovenue had failed to arrive in time, so Veronia was self-explanatory.
“And more than anything, Veronia can’t afford to help other territories.”
“What do you mean?”
“It means they have urgent problems of their own.”
Romina pointed upward with her index finger.
“Territory problems… Is it related to this gloomy sky?”
“Correct.”
“Now the picture’s coming together.”
Only then did a small smile appear on Romina’s lips.
“So. You’re planning to solve that problem?”
“Yeah. And in return, I plan to receive support from the Veronia Battle Priests.”
“Hm. For one of your plans, it sounds a bit plain. Are you sure solving that territory problem itself doesn’t benefit you too?”
Romina whispered softly into Glen’s ear.
She was sharp.
No wonder she tormented players even in the later parts of the scenario.
Ttak, ttak—
Just then, several knights in black armor on horseback approached from afar.
They dismounted and saluted with disciplined movements.
“We, the Black Horse Knights of Veronia, greet the blood heir of Wordsworth. By the order of our lord, we have come to escort you.”
* * *
Guided by the Black Horse Knights, Glen headed straight to the Veronia mansion on the hill.
Krrrumble—
It looked like it would rain at any moment.
The view of the territory through the reception room window looked several times more depressing than it had at the city entrance.
After sitting and waiting for a short while, the reception room door opened.
Creeeak—
The one who entered was a middle-aged man who was tall, yet shockingly thin and gaunt.
Glen naturally stood up and gave a light bow.
“I greet the lord of Veronia.”
Willoden Veronia.
The current head of the Veronia family and a Seven-Star Priest with seven rings of holiness.
Honestly, judging by his appearance alone, he looked more like someone who would use black magic rather than miracles.
“Th-there’s no need. Please, sit.”
Willoden waved his hand awkwardly, looking flustered.
“Yes.”
With the table between them, Glen and Willoden sat facing each other.
Unlike Glen, who wore a polite public smile, Willoden looked anxious, averting his gaze as if he were a sinner.
“Have you been well?”
“H-Huh! Y-Yes. Um… your father, Duke Henry…”
“Yes. There is still no news.”
“I-I’m sorry.”
Willoden bowed his head deeply, looking ashamed.
“You have nothing to apologize for.”
“Hmm…”
The more he looked, the more pitiful the man seemed.
Yet Glen showed no particular reaction.
This is just a mask.
A strange light flickered in Glen’s eyes.
Despite his cowardly speech and behavior, Willoden was a great lord who ruled over many noble families as vassals.
Even if he looked pathetic now, the man behind that mask was not someone to be taken lightly.
He probably already knows that I came here to request support from the Veronia Battle Priests.
In the end, Glen had to shape the situation exactly as he wanted against this crafty snake hiding beneath a shabby disguise.
