Sheen Greenwood

The distant Most Holy Origin Furnace cast a steady, faint glow across the sky. Below, a column of more than two thousand people advanced in several sections, stretching so far that neither end was visible.

At the front flew a banner embroidered with the Sacred Flame, carried by the Holy City Army under Bishop Castian's command.

Their gray-white cloaks were uniform, with the Holy Emblem of the Most Holy Church embroidered on their chests. Their swords and spears, edged with Holy Silver, gave off a faint, cold gleam.

As the Church's regular army, they were well trained. Their steps were steady and in unison, and they spoke hardly a word.

Behind them came five newly appointed Long Night Lords and their entourages. By comparison, they were a sorry sight.

Knights rode on horseback in cloaks of assorted colors and armor in varying states of repair.

Craftsmen trudged on foot with wooden crates and iron barrels weighing down their shoulders.

Several carriages were mixed into the column, packed with family members and clerks.

Compared with the orderly silence of the Holy City Army ahead, this part of the column looked hastily cobbled together.

It was the third day after the ennoblement ceremony. They had set out from the capital of the Kingdom of Austeria as soon as the ceremony ended, without a moment's delay.

After all, every day they wasted lowered their chances of surviving the Blood Moon Season.

The carriage jolted along the gravel road, its wheels grinding over loose stones with a creak.

Inside, Sheen pressed a hand to his temple.

Several days with almost no sleep, coupled with the carriage's jolting, had left a dull ache in his head.

A thick stack of parchment documents lay across his knees: personnel data sheets laid out in neat rows and columns.

They recorded names, ages, places of origin, criminal records, physical assessments, daily routines, medical histories, literacy...

Looking at the orderly forms, Sheen remembered the first version of the personnel survey he had crumpled up and thrown away yesterday. It had been full of entries like: "So-and-so is from Griffin Village, likes roasted squirrel, and was reported by a neighbor for stealing sheep..."

That kind of narrative record made Sheen's head spin. He had redesigned the form himself and ordered the clerks to conduct the survey again. Only then had he gotten a clear set of records.

Now, a glance told him how many people in the column were criminals sent along because they could not pay the atonement tax, and how many were knights who had actually received formal training.

The clear layout came from Sheen's experience in his previous life.

That was right. He had come from another world.

A year ago, at an intersection on Earth, an out-of-control heavy truck had sent him straight into this cruel world beneath a reddish moon.

He had become Count Greywood's illegitimate son, and before long, he had been named a candidate for Long Night Lord.

The official reasons had sounded noble enough: easing the family's burden, doing his duty for human civilization, and so on.

In truth, he was merely being sent to fill a gap in the defenses for his family, with almost no chance of surviving.

Every year, tens of thousands fell along the Eternal Night Wall's defenses, one after another, like wheat beneath a scythe.

Nobles were no exception. The Dark Races would not spare someone because of noble blood.

Sheen's father, Count Greywood, knew that perfectly well. But sending an illegitimate son to the front was the most politically expedient choice for him.

It showed loyalty to the Church without sacrificing one of his few heirs.

Sheen had no choice in the matter. Still, he was not particularly angry or anxious.

At this point, cursing the world would do him less good than figuring out how to build a fortress of his own in this death trap. If nothing else, he needed to survive this year's Blood Moon Season and live another year.

Sheen looked out the window. A strange overlay suddenly appeared across his vision.

The figures in the crowd remained unchanged, but numbers of different colors now hovered above their heads.

This was the Golden Finger that had awakened three days ago: the Canon of Grace and Righteousness. From the information that had come with it, Sheen had already grasped how it worked.

When he gave someone shelter, resources, or honor, any loyalty, gratitude, or even simple trust they felt toward him would be recorded as Grace Value above their head.

Grace Value could be converted into Reward Value, which he could spend to claim something in return from them.

In Sheen's sight, a number of varying color floated above every person's head.

A negative Grace Value appeared bloodred. It meant the person was hostile to him.

A gray-white number signaled distance. He could read only the most basic information.

When the number turned pale green, the person felt grateful to him, and he could probe further into their abilities and worth.

As Grace Value accumulated, the color deepened.

At emerald green, he could spend Reward Value to acquire basic skills, physical abilities, or a little information from them.

When the number reached blue or purple, he could copy their core professional abilities or talents. They would also risk their lives for him.

And when Grace Value passed its limit and turned Gilded Gold... it represented a debt of gratitude almost impossible to repay.

At that point, a bond close to a meeting of minds would form between him and the other person.

He could draw out their most essential combat techniques, secret arts, and even unique gifts of the soul. He could also grant power and abilities back to them, as much as they could bear.

Of course, all of this cost Reward Value. His total Grace Value, divided by one hundred, equaled the amount of Reward Value he currently had available.

Sheen had quickly realized the Sacred Canon's true worth.

At the Eternal Night Wall, resources were scarce, time was short, and loyalties were uncertain.

In the past, decisions had mostly come down to judgment, or even a gamble. Now things were different.

Who was worth investing in, who was only sticking around for the moment, and whose resolve had begun to waver—he no longer had to rely on instinct. He could read it.

Used well, it would spare him many wrong turns.

It would also drastically shorten the time Sheen needed to grow stronger. Skills others spent years honing, he could simply claim.

Once he built up enough Grace Value, he could quickly make up for his weaknesses.

In theory, this Golden Finger might even let him wield the Most Holy Pope's Greater Divine Grace Art with his left hand and a Vampire Duke's Origin Blood Magic with his right. Now that would be something.

But that was for later. First, he had to get through the trouble in front of him.

Sheen looked out at the column beyond the carriage window. There were a few green numbers above the crowd, but not many. Most were gray-white, with an occasional patch of dark bloodred.

Their Grace Value was almost zero.

That was hardly surprising. He had never dealt with these people before, and they were following an illegitimate son treated as expendable to the front to die. No one was going to feel grateful.

But for Sheen, it was a danger he could not ignore.

Without a sense of obligation, there would be no loyalty.

And without loyalty, these people would scatter at the first night raid.

By then, he might not even be able to get an order to retreat through to them.

If he wanted to survive, he had to change that.

He needed an opening: a way to establish his authority, win people over with a favor, and build up some Grace Value along the way.

Before they entered the Eternal Night Wall's buffer zone, he had to bring some other color to this gray-white column.

Knock. Knock, knock.

Just as Sheen was working through possible plans, someone knocked in a measured rhythm on the carriage's wooden door.

"Young master, we've reached the rest stop." It was Griffin, the old butler.

Griffin had served the count's household for years and was one of the few people Sheen knew. Even so, he had always kept his distance from Sheen.

Sheen was silent for a moment, then said, "Prepare extra food tonight and give some to everyone. Once they've eaten, gather them together."

He paused. "I have something to say."