As the Holy Crusade Army's enormous camp rapidly took shape like a beast of steel and clamor on the barren coastline five kilometers from the Snake-Man Swamp, several pairs of eyes watched everything intently from shadows beyond the sight of the players and Bagnian soldiers.
They were Minisians.
More precisely, they were survivors who had escaped the Snake-Men's clutches after the fall of the Suvano Region and hidden in the nearby forests, caves, and abandoned villages.
For these locals, who had lost their homes and loved ones and struggled day and night to survive under the threat of Snake-Man patrols and the terrifying swamp's expansion, every disturbance on this land could mean life or death.
The arrival of this enormous foreign force, the Holy Crusade Army, was like a boulder thrown into the stagnant waters of their despair, stirring extraordinarily complicated ripples.
About two kilometers from the Holy Crusade Army's main camp lay a natural crevice screened by dense, withered vines and weathered boulders.
An old man, a man, and a woman hid inside, craning their necks to look toward the Holy Crusade Army.
The three watched silently from their concealed corner for a long time before the old man spoke first.
"They aren't troops sent by King Charles."
The old man wore crude clothing stitched from animal hides and rags. He smelled of earth and medicinal herbs, carried a simple shortbow over his shoulder, and had a makeshift hide quiver slung diagonally at his waist.
The man and woman immediately turned to him.
The man, clad in leather armor reinforced with iron, could no longer contain himself.
"Who else besides our king would be willing to send their army here to fight the Snake-Men? Some other great noble?"
"We're too far away for me to make out their banners,