Chapter 156: Into the Deep Sea

Missionary Leight’s brief and straightforward answer left Gawain momentarily stunned. He had prepared a whole list of polite, well-reasoned excuses to counter the missionary’s endless chatter—things like “There’s no money in the territory to support a church,” “No funds to maintain clergy,” “If you want bricks for the chapel, you’ll have to pay for them yourself,” and so on. Yet, to his surprise, this burly man—who looked more like a gladiator turned priest—just accepted it all so easily… just like that.

Could this guy be a spy from the Shadow Church planted inside the Holy Light Church?

“You’re really just going to let it go like that?” Even Amber couldn’t help but blurt out. “Not going to try persuading him any further?”

“The way of the Holy Light teaches me that if I do good deeds, the light will naturally shine upon people’s hearts. If I don’t, then no amount of talking will make a difference,” the big man said, tracing the emblem of the Holy Light Church over his chest. Despite his scruffy beard and muscular frame, he somehow managed to look genuinely holy. “So if you’re not interested, that’s fine. Come find me when you are.”

“Well, he’s certainly an interesting character,” Hetty shook her head in disbelief. “By the way, you’re from the central region, right? Why would the church from the Holy Spirit Plains send you all the way down here to the far south? And they only gave you a single letter of introduction? Where are your attendants and guards?”

This was no longer the chaotic era when civilizations were just emerging and various sects struggled to survive in the wilderness. Even itinerant missionaries no longer traveled alone like ascetics. Especially those from the fertile Holy Spirit Plains—they usually traveled with a sizable retinue of attendants and guards. Such groups were called “mobile churches,” meaning they had all the personnel a church needed: armed guards, servants, and clergy. But this Mr. Leight had come all the way from the Holy Spirit Plains with nothing but a tattered letter. He didn’t have any attendants; he earned his own way, paying for his food and travel with his own labor.

It was almost like he had stepped out of a history book from a more primitive age.

When Leight heard the question, he just smiled casually. “I’m traveling alone. The bishop gave me this letter and told me to come preach in the south, so here I am. As for attendants and guards… I’m just a low-ranking priest. Where would I get any? And I don’t need them.”

He flexed his muscles with a grin. “Many paladins can’t beat me, and many attendants aren’t as efficient as I am. So why would I need them?”

Then he glanced around and noticed a fresh batch of bricks arriving at the construction site. Standing up, he dusted off his pants. “Looks like there’s work to be done. Any more questions? If not, I’ll go help unload these bricks.”

Gawain’s expression twisted oddly. “…By all means.”

Leight waved him off. “Alright, I’m off. Oh, and don’t forget to give my letter to your lord. I need his permission to build a church and preach openly.”

Gawain couldn’t help but chuckle. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he gets it.”

Leight nodded and started toward the worksite, but after a few steps, he turned back. “Oh, one more thing I forgot to ask.”

Even Hetty couldn’t help but laugh. “What is it? Ask away.”

“Where do we eat after work?”

Hetty sighed. “Just follow the workers. Anyone who works gets fed. You won’t go hungry.”

After the missionary finally left, Amber muttered quietly, “I thought the Holy Light Church would give me trouble, but this guy’s just a clueless… weirdo.”

“Don’t be paranoid. He doesn’t even know who you are, so why bother?” Hetty shot Amber a glance, then turned to Gawain. “Lord, do you intend to allow this… ‘missionary’ to preach in your territory?”

“Let’s observe him for a couple of days first,” Gawain said calmly. “Assign a clerk to register his basic information, then arrange housing for him near the administrative district, following the standards for technical immigrants. Keep a close eye on his movements. If he proves no threat, then allow him to preach and operate within Cecil’s legal framework.”

Gawain himself was somewhat skeptical of the gods, but he had no intention of stopping religious activities in his domain. Religion was an established fact in this world, and divine magic was part of local productivity. Most of the population—eighty to ninety percent—held some faith, whether in the gods of fertility and the Holy Light or in deities of craftsmanship, commerce, knowledge, or war. Most were casual believers; a few were devout. In this context, banning a Holy Light Church missionary would be both unnecessary and pointless—and would only raise suspicion.

Moreover, as long as this oddly straightforward missionary had no suspicious background or taint, his arrival could be beneficial. Gawain recalled what Veronica had mentioned before, and he believed the saintly princess was no idle talk. She would come to him again eventually. But if, before that, a small chapel recognized by the Holy Light Church was established in his territory, he would have ample reason to politely refuse any church infiltration from the capital.

A local church founded by a wandering missionary under the lord’s patronage was far easier to control than one directly commanded by the capital’s clergy.

With these thoughts swirling in his mind, Gawain returned to his tent.

Looking around the tent he’d lived in for months, he felt a twinge of emotion.

It was definitely time to move out—into a proper brick-and-mortar house.

At least the new manor he designed had a formal study, bedrooms, storage rooms, and various laboratories. Living and conducting magical research there would be far more convenient than in this tent.

But for some reason, Amber seemed unusually excited about Gawain moving into the new house. When he asked her about it, she rambled on about strange things: “It’s been so long since I’ve had to climb through a window to get inside,” “Your tent doesn’t even have a door you can pry open,” “No basement or treasure vault—what kind of noble house is that?” Really odd.

Gawain had to lightly knock her on the head to correct her strange remarks, but it didn’t seem to help much.

Several reports on population and new residential district expansions lay on the desk. Gawain sat down and began his daily work.

Thanks to the inherent charisma of an ancient hero and Gawain’s own example of leading and protecting his people, his policies were implemented swiftly across the land. Even measures that were difficult to promote or explain in this era—like planning town roads, building sewers before houses, and banning public urination—were well enforced. People didn’t seem to care much about the reasons behind these policies (even though Gawain had sent people to explain each one). They simply trusted their lord’s word.

But Gawain knew this blind trust couldn’t last forever. It would erode with each new law and regulation. To maintain such compliance, there were only two ways.

First, make sure new laws and policies brought visible benefits, so people would believe their lives were improving because of them and willingly follow the rules.

Second, promote education—teach the people to think and discern, so they could truly understand what their lord was saying and still support the laws and regulations.

The second approach wouldn’t just maintain compliance; it would greatly improve the efficiency of every task in the territory.

But… where to find teachers? Especially since Gawain planned to provide universal education in arcane knowledge, such teachers would be even harder to find.

Ordinary literate people might be hired with money, but those truly knowledgeable enough to teach advanced subjects were scarce. They wouldn’t want to patiently explain runes and calculations to a noisy crowd of “lowly peasants,” no matter how much they were paid.

Maybe he should ask Jenny. She might know some fallen arcane professionals in high society… Those starving mages might be easier to recruit out of desperation.

Meanwhile, far to the east, deep in the distant ocean, the storm was finally subsiding.

The raging water elementals returned to the atmosphere and sea. The energy that had built up in the atmosphere was almost entirely unleashed onto the reefs, shattering the islands into pieces. Now, the remaining energy was calming along with the water elementals, gradually returning to nature’s embrace.

The cultists’ blood stained the sea red, the scent of blood attracting predators from the ocean. But these predators only circled nervously at the edges of the waters, unwilling to approach the still-dangerous area.

The Children of the Storm had ultimately failed to withstand the true storm. Against the natural disasters unleashed by the sea witch’s army, they fought bravely for a long time but were forced to abandon this “miraculous domain.”

At the cost of nearly a third of their followers’ lives, they carved a path through the turbulent sea and escaped.

Now, the reefs had returned to the sea witch’s control.

On the surface, many enormous, terrifying beasts prowled. Their carapaces and bone spikes shimmered with magical radiance, inspiring dread. But soon, these monsters sank beneath the waves. Moments later, several female figures emerged from the water.

They had beautiful faces, elegant and well-proportioned bodies, and eyes as intelligent and lively as humans’. Yet faint scales adorned their cheeks and arms—not frightening, but lending an otherworldly, enchanting beauty. As they stirred the water, their lower bodies occasionally broke the surface—long tails like sea serpents, or fish-like fins.

Some even had tentacles with suckers like octopuses.

These intelligent sea creatures surveyed the reefs left behind by the fleeing cultists but showed no interest in the so-called sacred relics and altars the cultists had desperately guarded.

A sea witch with sky-blue hair gazed toward the islands. Another rose from the water and swam over to her.

“The crazy humans have fled, General Vanessa.”

The sea witch called General Vanessa frowned. “Such strange creatures. I remember a few hundred years ago, they weren’t this insane. Now, we can’t even communicate with them properly…”

“Probably because they can’t live in the sea. Being stuck on land all day has driven them mad.”

“Whatever. It doesn’t matter,” the sea witch general shook her head. “Since those crazy humans have fled, we can get back to work.”

The young sea witch soldier’s face lit up with eagerness. “So… shall we keep digging for squid?”

General Vanessa smiled and nodded firmly. “Yes, keep digging for squid.”

“Keep digging for squid!” “Dig for squid!” “Big squid!”

The sea spirits’ cheers rose in a chorus, then one by one they stirred up waves, whipping their tails—shaped like sea serpents, fish, and octopuses—and plunged toward the ocean floor to carry on the task they had long planned for this stretch of sea—

To dive deep, to the seabed, and keep digging for that mysterious “big squid” that had died down there for some unknown reason, whose scattered remains covered the entire ocean floor, no matter how much they dug, never seemed to end…

(End of chapter)