Outside the royal city's watchtower, night had already fallen, rain and howling winds sweeping through the valley.
Saint Vera sat amid the ruins atop the watchtower, a palm-oil torch burning beside her.
Her headaches had eased lately, easing as though she had taken medicine.
"My days are numbered."
All of a sudden, that thought surfaced and took root in her mind.
As she reflected on her life, hurried footsteps approached. Her attendant Allen came panting to her side, carrying the holy sword Vivaldo as he cried out in an exhausted voice:
"Miss!"
Even a man like Allen found the holy sword immensely heavy. Carrying it while running up the tower had been an arduous task.
For once, the corners of the saint's lips lifted slightly.
"What did you come to see me about?"
The handsome Allen shook his head as he caught his breath.
"It's Mr. Amos. He wants you at tonight's war council. The command staff needs to know what you think about the guard troops of that decaying kingdom becoming so tenacious and cunning these past few days. Also, Mr. Amos said you haven't eaten with the soldiers in a long time. He's worried you'll... seem aloof."
The enemy's tenacity was like that of the local garrison they had faced when they first raised the banner of rebellion.
But this was indeed highly unusual... Though Miss Saint considered herself nothing more than a village girl, her years on the battlefield had still made her sense that something was wrong.
Generally speaking, if an army was surrounded, its morale would steadily sink and its strength would steadily weaken. Even if it was well-equipped and trained, it could easily be knocked down and killed by village farmers who could not even afford heavy armor.
Yet Guregs, the soldiers of that