Somewhere in the Conquest Sea, on the main island of the Summer Tree Archipelago.
It was night on Summer Tree Island. Deep within the island, nestled among dense woods, lay a clear and tranquil lake. In the darkness, the pristine waters reflected the stars and moon overhead, while a gentle breeze stirred ripples across the surface.
At the center of the lake stood a wooden hut, propped up by countless wooden stakes. Inside this spacious cabin, a nun in white robes sat quietly on a mat laid over the floor. With her freedom restricted, she prayed silently beneath the starlight shining through the window.
“O Lord… please keep everyone safe. Please protect the innocent from harm.”
Vania, held in solitary confinement, prayed devoutly. From the bottom of her heart, she hoped this entire chaotic situation would resolve peacefully. She earnestly wished the divine would intervene to prevent any tragedies, even though she knew it was likely a faint hope.
“Right now… all I can do is wait for Miss Dorothea or the Church to send a rescue. But if it’s the Church, then this island will probably suffer total destruction. Not just the original residents, but even I and the other pilgrims—how many of us could actually escape? I wonder if Miss Dorothea might have a more suitable plan…”
Sitting alone in the empty wooden hut, Vania pondered. She knew the marionette marks she’d implanted in several of the captors were likely now in use by Dorothy somewhere. She hoped Dorothy’s efforts through those marks had yielded results.
Just then, a familiar voice suddenly echoed in her mind.
“Great Aka… I request to initiate direct communication with Sister Vania. Please build the bridge for me…”
Hearing the voice in her head, Vania paused for a moment. She had experienced this kind of contact before and immediately understood what was happening. She responded mentally. “Miss Dorothea? Has there been progress on your end?”
“Yes. Thanks to your help, I’ve been able to investigate the island to this extent. Overall, I’ve uncovered some rather interesting intelligence—information that might help get you all out.”
Dorothy’s voice sounded directly in Vania’s thoughts. Upon hearing it, Vania couldn’t help but breathe a small sigh of relief. She followed up immediately.
“Hah… that’s wonderful to hear. So, does your next step require my assistance?”
“Of course it does. In fact, Vania, you’re the key to my plan. Now, listen carefully while I explain…”
Dorothy then began to detail her proposal within Vania’s mind. The nun, sitting in the hut, listened attentively. But the more she heard, the more tightly her brow furrowed.
“This… this is your plan? I… can I really do it?”
Vania responded with clear anxiety in her tone. But then Dorothy’s voice returned, this time gentle and reassuring.
“Don’t worry. I believe in you. I’ll be watching over you and helping the whole way. Just like when we dealt with that werewolf named Smith.”
“Like back at the werewolf mansion, huh?”
Murmuring under her breath, Vania remembered that perilous experience. After a moment of hesitation, she acknowledged that doing nothing wasn’t an option. With the deep trust she had developed in Dorothy, she decided to once again follow her lead.
And so, after a long session of strategizing and preparation through their spiritual link, everything was finally ready.
Sitting on the floor of the wooden cabin, Vania took a deep breath and gazed out the window at the starry sky.
She calmed her nerves, walked to the tightly sealed door of the hut, and gently knocked twice.
Then, she waited quietly.
Before long, the door creaked open. On the other side stood several men in Summer Tree attire, faces filled with suspicion, weapons clutched tightly in their hands. They stared warily at her.
Vania, speaking politely and with a friendly tone, addressed them.
“Good evening, gentlemen. I have something I wish to discuss. May I request a meeting with your Bountiful Tree Priest?”
Vania addressed the two guards in Ivengardian. After a brief moment of surprise, one of them responded in somewhat broken Ivengardian.
“No… you’re a prisoner. You have no right to see the Priest.”
“I can’t? That’s a shame…” Vania replied gently.
“You see, I’ve just received some new information from the Church. It’s something the Priest should hear.”
She spoke calmly, undeterred. The guard who could understand her paused for a second before blurting out.
“Information from Radiance? How did they contact you? Did they send a response?”
The guard questioned her with a serious expression. Vania simply smiled and nodded silently, affirming his words. Seeing this, the guard didn’t dare delay and quickly left.
“Wait here a moment.”
Not long after, the guard returned—this time accompanied by several others. Among them was a familiar figure: Bahoda, the leader of the group of captors.
“Radiance managed to contact you? They responded to our demands? What did they say?” Bahoda asked in a hurried tone, staring at the nun before him.
But Vania only smiled and said calmly, “I need to speak with the Bountiful Tree Priest directly. There’s much to discuss with him face-to-face.”
Her words caused Bahoda to pause. He stood there in thought for a moment, then finally nodded.
“…Fine. I’ll take you to him. You’d better not try anything.”
And so, under Bahoda’s escort, Vania left the lake cabin where she had been imprisoned. They crossed the water in a small boat, guided by lamplight, until they reached the shore. Under the cover of night, Bahoda led her through the dimly lit streets toward the heart of the town.
Their destination was the massive square at the base of the towering sacred tree, now largely emptied and quiet. From there, Bahoda guided Vania behind the tree to a large wooden longhouse.
They climbed the wooden steps and arrived at the door. Bahoda gestured for her to wait, then stepped inside alone. A short while later, he reemerged with a solemn expression.
“Lord Anman will see you.”
Vania stepped into the longhouse. Inside was a modest wooden room filled with the strong scent of herbs. Bundles of dried plants hung from the ceiling. Tiny bones and strips of dried meat adorned the walls, along with a faded cloth painting of a tree motif. There was no table—only shelves cluttered with bottles and jars. At the center of the room, a stone fire pit crackled and glowed, providing dim light.
Sitting cross-legged behind the fire was an elderly man dressed in coarse robes, a rope tied around his waist. His face was deeply lined, his beard and hair completely white. He fixed Vania with a solemn gaze and spoke in fairly fluent Ivengardian.
“What has Radiance said about our demands, Sister?”
Though his voice was calm, a hidden tension and anxious hope flickered in Anman’s eyes. He was desperate to know Radiance’s stance, desperate to know whether this all-or-nothing gamble would bring salvation—or doom—for his people.
As Anman awaited her answer, Vania turned to glance at Bahoda behind her. Then she looked back to the old priest and said, “For what comes next, I would like to speak with you alone, Bountiful Tree Priest.”
No sooner had the words left her mouth than Bahoda’s brows furrowed.
“No way. I’m responsible for Lord Anman’s safety. I won’t leave. Say what you have to say—don’t try any tricks.”
Bahoda spoke harshly to Vania, but she didn’t respond directly. Instead, she turned to face Anman, placed her hands over her chest, and began to move them swiftly in a series of intricate gestures.
Her hands danced before her—sometimes cupping, sometimes unfurling—performing what looked like a silent ritual. In the flow of her gestures, one could see echoes of life: an embryo forming, a seed sprouting… Anman’s eyes widened as he watched, his mouth slightly agape in astonishment.
“What are you doing?! Stop right now!” Bahoda shouted, ready to intervene.
But before he could act, Anman raised a hand and stopped him.
“Stand down, Bahoda.”
“What?! Lord Anman… she—”
Bahoda looked completely bewildered, but Anman cut him off firmly.
“I know. It’s alright. Do as I say and return outside. I will speak with her alone. She poses no threat to me.”
“…Yes, sir.”
Though clearly still uneasy, Bahoda obeyed. He cast one last confused glance at Vania before turning and leaving the longhouse.
Now only Anman and Vania remained.
“Please, sit,” Anman said softly.
Vania sat cross-legged before him, and he tossed a few more sticks into the central fire pit, stirring the flames. Then he asked, his voice calm but curious.
“Where did you learn those signs?”
“I’ve known them since I was a child. They were taught to me by the priestess-sister from my homeland,” Vania replied earnestly.
“Your homeland…? Where are you from? And this priestess—what did she worship?”
“I’m from a remote settlement far away, deep in the mainland. It was much like your island here, a secluded place with its own traditions and beliefs. But now… that place has become a devoted sanctuary to the Holy Mother. Still, the priestess who raised me, the one who guided me—she too worshipped the Mother of Abundance.”
“Yes. I’m like you. I am a faithful believer in the Goddess of Abundance. We share the same divine mother.”
Vania pressed her hand to her heart as she spoke softly. Anman’s eyes widened again, and clear astonishment flickered across his weathered face.
“So it’s true… I didn’t expect this. That outside of Summer Tree, there were still followers of the Goddess. I suppose the previous high priest was right—Her worship once flourished across the continent, and we are but a single surviving branch… Ha… After dealing with Radiance for so long, I had begun to believe the outside world belonged entirely to them.”
“I heard from Bahoda and the others that you acted differently from the rest of Radiance—that you treated the wounded without regard for friend or foe. So that was the reason… you’re one of us.”
Anman murmured in wonder. Clearly, he hadn’t expected this nun before him to be a fellow believer.
“Yes. I never imagined I’d find remnants of the Goddess’s faith in such a remote part of the sea,” Vania replied sincerely.
“While speaking with the warriors, I began to suspect. And after arriving on the island and seeing the ornaments, the statues… I became sure. That’s when I resolved to come meet the island’s priest—even if it meant pretending I carried a message from Radiance.”
Moved by her honesty, Anman sighed.
“So that’s what this is… I admit, I was hoping you truly brought word from Radiance. Our people’s fate hangs on their answer.”
There was a faint note of disappointment in his voice. Meeting a fellow worshiper of the Goddess had clearly touched him—but his mind remained preoccupied with the desperate reality facing his people.
Seeing that flicker of disappointment, Vania paused… then continued speaking.
“You offered the pilgrims as leverage to pressure the Church into ceasing its forced conversion of Summer Tree, didn’t you, Priest?” Vania spoke to Anman with calm solemnity.
“You hope to use us as bargaining chips to make them respect the Goddess’s faith. But… do you truly believe the Church will accept such terms? That they would negotiate with you for the sake of mere pilgrims like us?”
Her words made Anman pause. His expression stiffened slightly as he replied with a more guarded tone.
“What are you trying to say with this?”
“I mean this very clearly,” Vania said seriously.
“From what I know of the Church, they will never agree to your demands. Even if you were to kill every last pilgrim, the Radiance Church wouldn’t make a single concession. Instead, they would respond with overwhelming vengeance.”
“That’s why I urge you—don’t place your hopes in using us as a threat to force the Church’s hand. The Church would sooner abandon us entirely than compromise with ‘heretics.’ If you keep going down this path, the only future for Summer Tree is destruction.”
“Priest Anman… is that truly the fate you wish to lead your people toward?”
Her words were heavy and clear. Dorothy had once read from the secret texts detailing how the Church dealt with dissenters—she knew full well what their bottom line was. They would never bargain with heretics over a few hundred hostages.
Anman sat in silence. His expression unreadable, he stared into the firepit for a long while before replying with stern resolve.
“Of course I know the Church will not yield easily. But we too have a line we will never cross.”
“Summer Tree was once a discarded remnant, a broken people. It was the Goddess’s blessing that gave us the right to survive. Summer Tree cannot exist without Her. The Goddess is the root of our people—our reverence for Her is the essence of who we are.”
“If Radiance won’t yield, then neither will we. We will never accept their beliefs.”
His tone hardened, and so did his gaze. He pointed at Vania and accused her directly.
“You claim to be a follower of the Goddess, yet you speak in ways that favor Radiance. Are you trying to make us abandon hope and convert?”
“You say you’re one of us, but your words betray you. Can we even believe your so-called faith? Perhaps you just happened to learn a few gestures and came here to deceive me.”
“I’ve never heard of a nun who worships the Goddess right under the Church’s nose. Radiance has so many rules—how could you hide your faith from their eyes?”
“You’re suspicious. Maybe the Church taught you those gestures, told you to disguise yourself as a convert from the Abundance faith, to soften me—to convince me to surrender. If so, you can forget it. That will never happen!”
Anman’s voice rose with righteous fury. From the start, he hadn’t truly trusted Vania just based on some ceremonial signs. His caution had never waned—he’d merely pretended to be receptive to get more information.
After hearing her earlier words, he now suspected she was a Church plant—a Radiance nun sent to pose as a “converted” believer in Abundance, hoping to manipulate him. After all, those ritual signs weren’t that complex—anyone could learn them.
But Vania didn’t flinch. She remained calmly seated and looked at Anman steadily.
“I am indeed a follower of the Goddess. You need not doubt that, Priest,” she said softly.
“If the ritual gestures aren’t enough, I can offer further proof.”
“As for how I practice my faith under the Church’s nose—it’s quite simple. I worship the Holy Mother of Radiance… as if She were the Mother of Abundance.”
Anman blinked in surprise. After a moment, he repeated her words.
“What…? You worship Radiance’s Holy Mother—as if She were the Goddess?”
“Yes,” Vania confirmed gently.
“That is how I preserve my faith beneath Radiance’s rule. It’s a very effective method. And it’s one I would recommend to you all.”
“You can do the same as I have—outwardly convert, while internally overlapping the image of the Holy Mother with that of the Goddess. Worship Her as the Mother of Abundance.”
“And I have… a method for doing so.”