"Are these the Empire's citizens?" Nyx watched numbed figures support one another as they crossed the ice bridge toward them.
"They don't look to be in very good condition..." Roland nodded. After traveling day and night without rest, how could they possibly be in good shape?
"I hope there won't be any civilian casualties..." Nyx clutched the pendant at her chest, tears glimmering in her eyes.
"..." Roland glanced at the flash of silver within the valley held in his arms, shook his head, and said nothing. After traveling thousands of miles, how could there possibly be no losses? Even the Imperial army would suffer casualties.
"Your Majesty, these people need emergency treatment!" Caslo landed before Roland and spoke anxiously.
"I've already ordered the camp to prepare food and hot soup! They should just make it in time!" Roland nodded at Caslo.
"No, I think they need medicine as well. Even the soldiers have frostbite. Those civilians are probably in even worse condition!" Caslo explained.
"...Hm?" Before Caslo had finished speaking, he saw Roland slowly pull a golden staff from his robes. A huge sapphire was embedded at its top... What sort of design was that?
"Darian, inform Sir Charlie Pross to come over. His Dragon God's Glory has targets to preach to now!" Roland said slowly to the empty air behind him.
"As you command, Your Majesty!" The air behind Roland rippled briefly before becoming still once more.
"I hope that charlatan won't disappoint us!" Roland raised his head and sighed.
"So what exactly is this supposed to mean?" Nyx poked Roland's hand and indicated the gaudy, ridiculously flashy golden staff with a puzzled expression.
"To wield holy power, one must look professional!" The moment Roland opened his mouth, he sounded like both a charlatan and the Pie-Drawing King.