--Once upon a time, when the world was one, God was also one.

　So opens the lips of Saint Mattia. "The ancient gods had many forms, but were essentially one.

"The ancient gods had many forms, but in essence there was only one. Fertility, wisdom, lightning, and destiny were all part of the same god.

　Within the walls of Garou Amalia, a clear voice echoed through the first floor of the tavern.

　As she began to speak, Mattia's eyes slowly closed. But even so, her words remained smooth. Each word seemed to melt into her.

"With all due respect," she said, "if I were to put it simply, I would say that I am a collection of consciousnesses. Therefore, there was only one word to refer to God as God.

　But at a certain time. But in a certain period of time, when civilization was rising among mankind, when classes were being created, when large societies were being born. The two consciousnesses within God began to quarrel.

　At first, it was a simple matter. As the society became more complex, people anguished and sobbed. Looking at them, one of the multiple consciousnesses of the as yet unnamed God said, "How they live!

　--How pitiful and sorrowful their lives are. I will save them from their suffering with my own hands.

　As he reached out with his pity, the other consciousness that God contains stopped him.

　--What do you say? See how they live. With their wisdom, they make decisions while suffering and sobbing. In those struggles and choices is life. Do you mean to deprive them of life?

　Unheeding the voices of the many other conscious bodies, they speak to each other, as if to separate themselves from the other.

　--They are troubled people. The more wisdom they have, the more they suffer and mourn. The more wisdom they have, the more they suffer and mourn. No worries, no obstacles, no walls towering in front of them. Let this happiness be theirs to wish for.

　--Well, if that's you, then we're only one now. You may take the wisdom from them. I will give them more wisdom than that.

　--Oh, woe is me. My one spirit. What will become of us if we divide?

　They had existed as one god, as a composite consciousness, for so long, and now they were being separated because of a small quarrel. It was because of their insistence on each other that they could never give in.

　It doesn't matter if they are one, as long as they can take each other's hand. It's better that way. But if we shake off each other's hand, it is now two. They can't remain identical.

　--So give each other a name. Sooner or later, man will pay for your sweet relief, Altius!

　--Fool. I can only carry wisdom and opportunity. In time men will forsake the torments you carry and come to me, Oufru!

　From that day on, the world parted with the gods. All kinds of nations, religions, and civilizations have sprung up on this earth, and they all begin to quarrel. The world that was peaceful under the rule of one God is gone. The world has opened wide its mouth to spew forth the words of noise and strife.

　The world has opened wide its mouth to spew forth words of noise and strife.

This is the origin of the oft-told story of Oufru, our heraldic god, and Altius, the worshiper of the Great Sacred Church. But that's just what I tell the kids at the orphanage.

　Saint Mattia clears her throat. She must be very used to speaking in public. Her every gesture showed no signs of nervousness or agitation.

　However, the audience consisted of Kalia, who was playing with her silver hair with her fingers in an uninterested manner, Fialaat La Volgograd, who seemed to be saying that it was just an education and that it was impossible for her not to know about it, and Largd Ann, who was a herald and naturally knew about it. I'm not sure if this is a good idea or not, but it's a good idea.

　It was a very small number of people for a saint's words to shake the hearts of all.

"I hate to tell you this, but I'm a Garleanist. I'm used to hearing such nonsense. Rather, what I need to hear is--

　Kalia's bored voice, as if she were about to sigh loudly. And then the end of the words that are slowly spun.

"--Rugis, right? Well, that's fine. I'll tell her later at .......

　Fialat took the bite.

　The shimmering silver eyes and the flickering black eyes overlapped for a moment. They even looked at each other as if to ask why they were here. In spite of the fact that it was only a short time, the exchange of glances made the air very heavy.

　For Wood, who is somewhat uncomfortable with that kind of atmosphere, it felt as if the air entering his lungs had turned into a heavy lump of earth.

"Uh-oh... ...... Lord Lugis, is Lord Hero here yet?

　Anne's lips opened as if she couldn't stand the air anymore, and she forced the words into the air. I'm not sure if it's a good idea, but it's a good idea.

My brother's still upstairs asleep. It's going to take a little longer. I've been busy, after all.

　He said gently, probably trying not to stimulate the air around him as much as possible. Cereal's hand squeezed Wood's hand.



　But even with those words, it was apparently too difficult to restrain the flowers with their thorns bared.

If that's what you call being asleep, then even a waterfowl taking a nap is asleep.

　Her black hair swayed in a bun, and Fialaert's tongue pierced the air.

What's the point of letting it bother you now? Sooner or later, you'll find out what, or who, was right.

　Again, their gazes collided and intertwined.

　Again, their gazes collide and intertwine, this time as if the air has finally lost its temperature. The floorboards of the tavern rang as if frozen by a cold wind.

The floorboards of the bar rang as if frozen by a cold wind. Anne, get to the point.

　Mattia's words seemed to cut through the unpleasant wind of the place.

　Both Kalia and Fialaert snorted at the words, but did not open their lips.

　Both of them had inherent intelligence in their brains. They both knew that the exchange they had just had was not very constructive.

　But the needle of frustration was piercing my chest to the point that I had to bare my emotions.

　At Mattia's urging, Anne cleared her throat and slowly opened her mouth in front of everyone. Her voice was different from Mattia's, but it too was easy to hear. Her voice had no unnecessary resonance.

"First of all, let me tell you what's going on. We have successfully taken back Garou Amalia thanks to the efforts of Saint Matia, your faith, and Master Lugis.

　We took it back, Anne said. Her eyes gazed out the window of the tavern. The sanctuary of the heralds, whose beauty has not been diminished by the attack. How I longed to enter this place, to make it the stronghold of my faith.

"But here's the thing. To be honest, our current forces are too inadequate to defend or even to attack and expand our power - so we would like to ask for help from outside. In the form of an alliance.

　An alliance. But with whom?

　The eyes of Kalia and Fialaat were pleading it as a genuine question.

　It is true that there are sovereigns and powers around that are emotionally closer to the heraldry.

　However, this is only a sentiment.

　In this rebellion, the heraldists still have only one city to gain. Even if it is Galuamaria, that fact itself will not change.

　In addition to the fact that the area around the cathedral is a very popular place to visit, there are many other places in the city where you can find a lot of people.

　In addition, the influence of the Great Sacred Church is strong in this area due to the presence of the Garlist Kingdom with its cathedral.

Of course, we've already sent letters to the other powers suggesting alliances and assistance. However, to be honest, it would be unreasonable to expect too much from them. So, ...... is one. I would like to approach the forces with which the heraldry once had an alliance, albeit a very old one.

　One of Anne's fingers rises. I could see her throat gulp slightly.
　What forces?" Kalia asks, her silver eyes narrowing. The narrowed eyes had a hint of doubt in them.

That force is the people who lurk in the forests and mountains,......, the elves. I would like to invite you to visit their kingdom, the Hanging Gardens of Gazalia.