The nobles quickly settled the details of the action, and Malin was, well, "assigned" is a better word, by the combat priests of the Church of Justice.
Anyway, Malin needed to follow the third assault team into the village located at the southwesternmost part of this region. The village had a rather pleasant name, Remo Village, a seaside village. It was said to have a population of nearly nine hundred people, with a temple for the God of the Seas, a temple for the Goddess of Fortune, and a temple for the Shepherd God. According to the nobles, such a small place had only one priest and a few assistant priests, as well as being guardians of the faith—because it was too small, the Church couldn’t possibly provide dedicated guards and a garrison for this place.
The third assault team consisted of nearly two hundred soldiers, eighty sword-and-shield soldiers, eighty with long pikes, and forty crossbowmen.
Without any rifles, the only thing Malin felt when he saw these soldiers was that he had traveled back in time to the Middle Ages—from the motorcycle, the bar, and even the life pod that had served as a coffin, it all seemed like nothing more than a fleeting dream.
After reflecting on this, he shook his head—the Farole Principality was a very poor country, much like Carterburg, both being coastal areas. However, this particular marine area had a plethora of Ocean Spirits and various treacherous sea conditions, so much so that fishermen could only fish in nearshore waters and relied more on animal husbandry.
Raising sheep, Sharo beasts, and horses was the mainstay, with horses being an important source of income for the village. They would be purchased by the state and then sold off.
It sounded like an exploited existence, but even so, the breeding of horses was still an important source of income for the village—almost fifty percent of the villagers were followers of the Shepherd Church, thirty percent worshipped the God of the Seas, and as for the Goddess of Fortune... she didn’t really need worship, but being a True God, there would always be people who believed in her, even if only nominally, so there were also about twenty percent of believers.
Since the people here mainly ate fish and animals and didn’t grow grain, the Goddess of Harvest had no foundation in this region.
It sounded somewhat regrettable, but in the current situation, Malin thought it was better not to have any foundation—Chaotic Believers only claimed to have covertly controlled the region, and those priests and assistant priests were likely either corrupted or killed. Therefore, Malin also had a team of four mages as reinforcements, who would be responsible for dealing with any potentially significant threats.
Malin’s job was to take good care of them.
It sounded like a very important responsibility, but Malin felt he wasn’t there to act as a nanny but rather to watch a play—as two hundred professional soldiers and four mages against nine hundred civilians, even if they were all Chaotic Believers, were nothing more than troublesome rioters.
Given that the best Transcendents in this village were only three Apprentices, Malin thought that if it were up to him, it would be over in the time it takes for three swings of a Hammer.
Ah, how boring. He longed to be on a grand battlefield.
"Why are you sighing, Mr. Malin?" The young mage’s laughter pulled Malin from his complaining, and turning to look at him, Malin shrugged helplessly, "It feels like I’ve been relegated to an insignificant place."
"It’s good for young people to be energetic, but what you need most is to accumulate experience. A small village is truly suited for you. On a grand battlefield, most of the time no one would have the time to care for you. At that time, you inexperienced youngsters would usually die off at the fastest rate," another older mage said while walking ahead.
After considering it, Malin decided that a true man does not boast of past bravery. His actions of entering and exiting the Chaotic lines seven times in Parol City may seem like yesterday, but they were, after all, already clouds of the past, and it was evident these four mages were not from Sydney and thus naturally would not know Malin’s story.
However, the young mage gave Malin a playful nudge with his elbow, smiling, "Don’t mind what my mentor said. I’m Raphael Marino, grew up in the Farole Principality. I was sent to the Mage Tower at the age of seven. What about you?"
"Malin, Malin Gaiate, from Carterburg." Malin extended his hand and shook with him, realizing the child’s hands were somewhat rough. Hearing he grew up in the Farole Principality, it appeared he had already begun to learn to live from a very young age, quite an impressive child: "How old are you this year?"
"Twelve. I look a bit small, my tutor says it’s due to malnutrition," the young mage said, smiling sheepishly.
Malin smiled in return, "I’m fifteen, shrunk due to an active period in my bloodline."
"Then your bloodline must be quite extraordinary. I noticed your ears; they’re square-shaped," the young boy said, narrowing his eyes curiously, "Tutor, is there any race with square ears?"
"No, also, Raphael, curiosity isn’t always a good habit, especially when it comes to making baseless guesses about someone’s bloodline. Sometimes, it can become very lethal, so apologize to Mr. Malin," his tutor said.
Thus, the young mage laughed awkwardly, "Sorry, Mr. Malin."
"It’s okay, I don’t know myself," Malin said, comforting the boy with a smile.
At that moment, news came from the front of the column; they had already seen the village on the other side of the hill, where torches and bonfires were lit at this time.
Malin got to the top of the hill and verified the situation of the target, noticing that the village seemed unaware of the distant visitors, with many people gathered in the small square in the center of the village, seemingly holding a congregational meeting?