Chapter 10: The Men and the god (10) Faith (1)
Character Map:
"X" = Protagonist
"(X)" = Protagonist's strong inner thoughts
'0X0= Goddess Mnemosyne
'1X1'=Mike?
'2X2'=Calvin?
'3X3'=John?
'4X4'=Norkin?
'5X5'=Belkorn?
'6X6'=Damian?
'X' = Extras
'XXX'= Enemy
Other Notations:
[X] = What is written on something
--- = POV change
|||| = Time skip
== = Time recap
"""" = Return from Recap
(X) = Explanation/author's note
([X]) = Sound effect
{X} = Buttons or actions that may trigger an event
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"According to the geography lessons I studied before descending into this world, this is Shieldon—Kindheart's bulwark against invasion."
As we approached the gates, I observed that the incoming line was divided into two: one for those traveling with carriages—taking up the wider part of the road—and another for individuals arriving on foot.
Both lines were being thoroughly inspected. Passengers in carriages were made to dismount for personal checks, while the carriages themselves were searched with practiced precision. Similarly, those on foot were lined up and questioned, their belongings inspected one by one by the city guards.
As we neared the carriage line, a thought occurred to me. I turned to the companions I had recently recruited and asked:
"Attention. I must ask—do any of you have identification that would serve to identify yourself?"
Their response was silence.
'1–6… 1–6…'
That silence spoke louder than words. I understood immediately.
"(So their identification was stolen… or worse, erased to prevent any traces.)"
I began to ponder the next steps, diving deep into the knowledge I had acquired during the past century.
"(Let's see... we should be fine if we pay a toll. It might cost more without identification, but it's not an uncommon occurrence—travelers without papers aren't unheard of.)"
"(However… that all hinges on one thing we currently lack: money.)"
"(Which leaves one option—pilgrimage. Matters involving divine will are still considered sacred, even in an age where aspirant gods are abundant. In my studies, it was noted that the Kindheart Kingdom practices an edict that tolls must be waived for those on pilgrimage—as long as their cause aligns with good and justice, and the god in question isn't categorized as evil god.)"
That gave me a clear plan.
I would present us as pilgrims on a righteous journey. Of the many causes I could claim like eradicating evil, Helping the poor, and Spreading faith, I chose the most defensible and believable one—the eradication of evil monsters. Given that this was the Frontier City, the first line of defense against outside threats, it was an entirely plausible cause. In fact, it would be expected.
"(Now, as for our lack of identification… I can simply claim that we are part of a small sect—a religious order not widely known or recorded. If the guards press further, I'll have my companions swear an oath before them. That should satisfy any suspicions.)"
With my plan set, I steeled myself.
I sent my intent through the mental link to my recruited companions, instructing them to act in accordance with my plan. Though clad in rags, which might cast doubt on our claim, I would use divine power to lend weight to our story. It was a simple, believable excuse: we had been attacked by a powerful monster, driven back, our equipment corroded or destroyed—left only with our lives. Now we sought refuge to recover our strength.
A bit pitiful, yes. But plausible.
It wasn't uncommon for pilgrims—especially those in service to lesser-known gods—to return from battle stripped of armor, beaten but not broken. That was the angle I aimed for.
Hearing my thoughts through telepathy, I saw grimaces on a few of their faces. The excuse, though painful to accept, was one they couldn't refute. It aligned perfectly with their actual appearance—and the truth that they had, until recently, been prisoners, robbed of dignity and equipment. Now, they had no choice but to abide. They steadied themselves, taking on the posture of devout, if weary, followers.
Our carriage rolled forward until it reached the gate.
' Halt, '
The city guard called out sharply.
' Identification, please. '
I sent a final telepathic push to my companions, urging them to straighten up, appear solemn and fatigued—but not suspicious. I then gave the mental signal to Swordsman Mike, prompting him to deliver the line I had entrusted to him.
With steady breath and a disciplined voice, he stepped forward and spoke:
"¹ We are on a pilgrimage to eradicate evil, such as monsters that threaten the land. A few days ago, we encountered a creature that corrupted and corroded all of our equipment and necessities—armor, weapons, supplies… all rendered useless. Fortunately, we and our druid-tamed magical beast were able to fend off the monster and help us flee the area. Though we were unable to slay the creature, we survived and made it here. Thus, we humbly request entry into the city—to rest, recover, and continue our mission. ¹"
He bowed deeply as he finished.
The guards exchanged glances. One narrowed his eyes, looking at our torn garments. Another raised an eyebrow when he saw Druid John calmly stroking the subdued magical beast that stood beside the carriage.
I remained silent, allowing their judgment to form naturally. The weight of divine energy subtly radiated from my recruited companion as I manifested my divine power to them—not too much to overwhelm, but enough to stir an instinctive feeling of reverence and sacredness that usually emitted by those who serve the gods like priests and paladins that in pilgrimage.
Now, the moment of truth hung in the air.
'...I see. Then, could I ask you to write and sign your details in our ledger? We use it to record religious pilgrimages. What we'll need listed are the names involved, the place you came from, your group's affiliation, and your intent in visiting the city. I'll also ask you to write a report of the monster you encountered a few days ago. That goes in the lower section.'
At his words, the city guard gave a signal. Another guard rushed off into the gatehouse and soon returned carrying a thick ledger. The first guard—the one clearly in charge—took it, then handed it to us.
'Just be quick, and make sure it's written in the continental language.'
'1 Thank you for your generosity. We will repay the kindness when fate permits 1,'
Swordman Mike replied, bowing slightly. The captain gave a short nod, stepping back into place while watching carefully.
Mike took the ledger and began writing our information as instructed. He filled in the names, group name, region of origin, intent of visit, and a short report about the monster encounter. Once finished, he handed it back respectfully.
The captain flipped through the entry, eyes scanning each line. After a short pause, he gave a nod.
'Could I ask you and your companions to step down from the carriage? We need to carry out a formal inspection. It's standard procedure.'
'1 Of course. We humbly comply 1.'
Swordman Mike relayed the command. The rest of the recruits quietly exited the carriage and stood to the side as the guards thoroughly inspected both the interior and undercarriage.
After several minutes, the inspectors returned to the captain and gave a few brief words and nods. Satisfied, the captain approached again.
'You may now enter the city. Also, make sure you report that monster encounter to the Adventurer's Guild. Lastly—though it should go without saying—don't cause trouble. May your time in Shieldon be well spent, pilgrims.'
'1 Thank you for your kind words 1,'
Mike replied once more.
He took the reins and gently flicked them forward. The horses pulled the carriage, slowly passing through the gates of Shieldon.
But just before we fully entered—
'Halt. One more thing.'
The voice of the captain cut through the air again. Everyone stopped. Mike turned, and the others looked over their shoulders, waiting.
'What's the name of the god you serve?'
The recruits froze, unsure, glancing at each other with unease.
"(Now that I think about it... I never gave them my name.)"
I paused.
In my mind, I recalled the name they called me in the Divine Realm—one spoken in the tongue of the gods, untranslatable in mortal script.
"(Hmmm... Then let me choose a name. One they can say. One that carries a fragment of what I am.)"
I decided.
Within a fraction of a second, I sent a telepathic message to all of them.
Receiving the name, they turned toward the captain in unison and spoke clearly:
'1–6 Dice, the God of Games 1–6.'
As my name in the divine language means possibilities and probabilities, the name should fit.
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aot
sorry for long late updates, well no excuses but just in month of enrollment so, have a good read and day to come