The Female Knight of Doom - TFKOD 45: Second Update

It was only when the village chief inquired that Alice became aware of how peculiar her stance appeared in Cecilion’s absence.

Without the ability to clarify her situation, she feared the village chief might suspect she was under some restless possession.

Should she attempt to explain that she was in communication with a divine presence, she risked further misunderstanding—convinced that she was possessed rather than enlightened.

Ordinary folk, when seeking communion with the divine, kneel humbly and pray; no one claims to “communicate” with the gods while maintaining such a rigid posture.

“It’s nothing. I’m just doing some… well… special stretching. Like this, first turn left, then right…” Alice said, then turned to the other side, doing the same movement symmetrically, praying the village chief wouldn’t question her.

“Really?” The village chief clearly believed her, and began to imitate her.

Seeing his ridiculous behaviour, Alice instinctively wanted to bury her head in the sand, but she kept a straight face, “Yes, well done. This method helps relieve the fatigue of desk work… What did you come here for?”

“I’m here to tell you that the traveling merchant, Mr. Anlino, sends his regards, and to remind you to pay what you owe the village when it suits you.”

“Owe money? When was that?” Alice asked, flipping through the ledger to find the record of the debt. “This only records Reynolds’ debts… and there are a lot of them.”

“That’s it.” Although the village chief wasn’t adept at accounting and had limited knowledge, he was very familiar with the various expenditures and receipts in the account book, “Sir Reynolds had a peculiar aversion to settling his purchases with cash; instead, he always requested to be recorded in the village’s account book. It was customary to clear the year’s debts during the autumn account reconciliation. Yet, Sir Reynolds habitually withdrew all available funds beforehand, neglecting to settle his debts over recent years. Naturally, no one dared to confront him about it.”

Alice realized that the merchant had likely heard about the transfer of ownership of the land in Ronald Village, leading him to believe that his longstanding debt might finally be addressed. Driven by this hope, he hurried to the scene.

“Why should I be the one to pay what Reynolds owes?” She demanded.

The village chief explained, “Because the land served as collateral for his debt. Now that he has left and the land is no longer under his control, I doubt Sir Reynolds intends to return and settle what he owes… do you?”

The village chief’s reasoning was quite sound.

Reynolds was unlikely to return, and the chaos he left behind could only be resolved by Alice. A twinge of regret crossed her mind—perhaps she should have been more forceful when she previously confronted him.

She drew a steadying breath and softly declared, “Please inform him that I am currently occupied and unable to meet him. Regarding Reynolds’s previous debt—I’ll work out the precise amount and settle it this autumn.”

The village chief bowed respectfully to her before turning to depart.

Alice remained engrossed in her calculations, her mind focused on Reynolds’s liabilities. As she reviewed the figures, a lingering headache intensified.

Fortunately, the traveling merchants who frequently visited Ronald Village seldom offered items of high value; thus, despite Reynolds’s numerous debts, the total sum was relatively modest.

The village’s annual income was substantial enough that, with careful accounting, and barring any unforeseen natural calamities this year, the harvest season’s proceeds would comfortably suffice to clear Reynolds’s debts and accrued interest.

If that is the case, Alice’s aspiration to acquire a complete set of armor would have to be deferred once more.

She sighed deeply, acknowledging that perfection was an elusive goal in this world.

Throughout the day, she diligently organized the accounts until evening, then spent the night in the house that once belonged to Knight Martin and Reynolds.

Over the past half-day, the villagers had graciously assisted her in cleaning the entire residence, making it quite comfortable to settle in. Given that Reynolds had at least left this house behind, it seemed reasonable to consider alleviating some of his debt.

It was only as Alice lay in bed that she realized this was the first home that was, in name, truly hers.

Born in a humble, dilapidated rental on Dark River Street, she soon forged a path as a mercenary, forever on the move and residing in a variety of hotels.

Recently, she has found her stead at Cloud Mist Castle, finally establishing roots. Yet, the wing she inhabits resembles a barracks—its cold stone walls and stark surroundings offering little sense of warmth or belonging.

Despite this, the space exudes a homely atmosphere. It’s evident from the intricate details that Knight Martin invested considerable effort into its decoration.

Though subsequent owners have not maintained it with the same care, leading to some damage, these are merely minor imperfections. With proper upkeep, this space has the potential to become a truly cherished home.

Having never known the presence of a father, Alice now found herself bereft of her mother as well. Her master, Rom, had already established a farm on the outskirts of the royal capital, making it impossible for him to reside here with her.

Even Alice herself recognized that her time in this village was limited; once she concluded her affairs, she intended to return to Cloud Mist Castle.

Rationally speaking, her wisest course would be to sell the house—this would settle her debts swiftly and enable her to acquire the full set of armor she longed for. Yet, she chose to hold onto the house, driven by a desire to leave an open door for the future—perhaps someday, she would be surrounded by family, sharing this home with loved ones.

“You will always have a place to call home,” Cecilion’s voice whispered softly in her ear once more. “Even if you stand alone, you can still consider me family.”

His presence was a source of comfort, yet he remained intangible—more akin to a drifting spirit than a tangible being—an apparition that could not be seen, only sensed.

When would he awaken? Or at least, when might he take on a more human, corporeal form?

The Great Mother seemed to sense that the moment would arrive soon, yet it was clear that the gods’ perception of time diverged markedly from that of mortals.

Patience remained a virtue Alice knew she must cultivate. Still, she held onto the hope that progress would unfold gradually.

The following day, Alice rose early and resumed her meticulous accounting.

Based on her pace the previous day, she estimated she could complete the task in just over half a day. Though tedious, this work was deeply personal to her, fueling her desire to finish swiftly.

A quick completion might even allow her to return to the Cloud Mist Castle before evening.

While the village was her home, her true passion lay in the knightly life she cherished within the Cloud Mist Castle—where her heart truly belonged.

The village chief arrived bearing a modest yet nourishing breakfast—fresh milk, bread, and eggs—all produced within the heart of the village. Though humble, these offerings were delightfully simple, rich in flavor and nutrients, capable of uplifting spirits.

As the chief of the village, he undoubtedly bore many responsibilities; yet, after delivering the meal, he lingered patiently, unwilling to depart, engaging Alice in quiet conversation, one sentence at a time, “Does the lord also venerate the God of Light?”

“I do not serve the God of Light,” Alice replied. “My devotion is to Cecilion.”

Throughout this period, whenever asked about her faith, she would respond in this manner—affirming her allegiance to Cecilion, avoiding falsehood or frightening others with mention of the God of Doom.

In such circumstances, openly naming the god proves effective, for few outside the temple can recall all the divine names in their entirety, making this a subtle and tactful approach.

She remained unaware that the god she worshiped was, in truth, not one of the revered Twelve Gods.

“Oh, I see,” the village chief responded, his knowledge of Cecilion limited, and thus he dared not inquire further.

Having served as village chief under Reynolds for nearly a decade, he had cultivated his own principles for navigating delicate matters. Prudence in speech and action was a habit he cherished, for it served to prevent unnecessary complications.

Naturally, he remained here, observing Alice as she meticulously managed the accounts—with hidden motives underpinning his presence.

He had pondered this situation for an entire day, yet had never dared voice his thoughts aloud.

His attention had been focused on Alice herself; from her demeanor towards him and her promise to settle Reynolds’ debt, it was evident that the new village lord was quite approachable and easy to converse with.

The elder hesitated to challenge the limits of this formidable new lord; after all, she possessed the strength to effortlessly hoist a man like Reynolds overhead and shatter finely crafted steel plate armor with her bare hands.

Merely contemplating her power was enough to quicken anyone’s heartbeat with apprehension.

If it were possible, the elder would have preferred to observe her for a little longer before approaching her with his request. Yet, the new lord’s apparent intention to leave soon meant that the matter pressing upon him could not be postponed.

These conflicting considerations weighed heavily on the cautious village chief, leaving him torn and hesitant. Though still sharp-minded despite his age, he found himself lacking the decisive resolve needed to act swiftly in this delicate situation.

Alice was no fool.

Seeing the old village chief leisurely strolling around, she knew roughly what was going on in his mind.

Not wanting to wait for him to pace back and forth, she simply asked directly, “What’s the matter, you’ve been standing here this whole time?”

Holding his straw hat in his hand, the village chief finally spoke the words he had been harboring for a long time, “Lord Knight, our village was one of the first in this country to begin worshiping the God of Agriculture and Herding, God Panlos. We have many shrines to this god dating back hundreds, even thousands of years. When Sir Martin was the lord, he used to allocate funds to us every spring.

However, since Sir Reynolds, who has no interest in worshiping God Panlos, became the lord, we have not received any funds for this purpose. This spring has seen a period of diminished rainfall, and if we do not promptly seek a solution, I fear it will ultimately hinder our harvest.” He hesitated briefly, then cautiously continued, “…perhaps you could consider allocating some funds to the village for the repair of the sacrificial site dedicated to the God of Agriculture and Herding, viewing it as an early investment?”

The village chief felt a sense of unease. He was well aware that ever since the new lord had arrived, he had yet to bring any positive news.

The debt owed to the merchant could be settled by autumn, but the repair of the sacrificial site required to provide funds immediately—an undertaking that might prove challenging.

Sure enough, Alice’s face clouded over, “I feel like I’m being treated like Her Grace’s treasurer.” She said sarcastically, “I’m not a wealthy knight with the backing of a family. I’m a mercenary, penniless, and have nothing. I can’t even afford a suit of armor, much less repair the sacrificial ground.”

Her words were harsh, but the village chief refused to back down, “It won’t actually cost that much.” He continued patiently. “Most of the villagers here are worshippers of Panlos. Anyone who wants to repair the altar can help. We just need to find a way to get the sand, stone, and other necessary materials. Restoring the altar will be a great benefit to the entire village. In the long run, it will significantly increase the land’s income.”

The thought of “it can increase the land’s income” tempted Alice, but she wasn’t ready to agree so easily.

“How much do you need? Give me a figure.”

“The ceremony itself won’t cost much, but the sacrificial grounds are in a state of disrepair. Restoring the square and altar to their original state will cost at least seven or eight gold coins,“ the village chief observed her expression and carefully continued. “If I had a dozen gold coins, I’d definitely be able to build a beautiful altar. From then on, annual sacrifices and repairs would only cost seven or eight silver coins.”

“I don’t invest in things I haven’t seen,” Alice said shrewdly.

Of course, this was also due to Rom’s earnest teaching. Thank Rom, if it weren’t for his years of teaching, she would have been cheated out of all the money she had when she first went out on her own.

“I can take you to see it.” The village chief saw a glimmer of hope and immediately grabbed it tightly, “This place is in the center of the pasture, very close to here. It is said that Panlos himself built this sacrificial place after he descended into the world. It is the prototype of all Panlos’ sacrificial places. Even if it has been abandoned for a long time, it is still worth seeing. It can be called an ancient miracle that has survived to this day.”

Already burdened by the tedious account books and frequently interrupted by the persistent village chief, Alice’s efficiency was steadily waning.

Recognizing the need for a moment of respite, she decided that a walk outdoors might restore her clarity and calm, “Then let’s go.”

The village chief agreed graciously, and together they stepped outside.

As they approached the well, the elderly beckoned Alice to pause and drew half a bucket of water, cradling it carefully in his hand.

“What are you doing with that?” She inquired, suspecting it might be for feeding the animals.

The village chief shook his head with a mysterious smile, hinting at a secret she was not yet privy to.

Intrigued by his enigmatic conduct, Alice trailed behind him into the heart of the pasture, where her curiosity was finally rewarded with the sight of the long-forgotten circular sacrificial site—an ancient remnant shrouded in quiet mystery.

The surrounding area was lush with flourishing grass, while weeds had taken root within the crevices of the stone tiles. The original sacrificial site, once entirely paved with stones, had become almost indistinguishable from the overgrowth; only by carefully stepping upon it could one discern that the terrain beneath differed.

Had it not been for the circular altar rising above the ground, the old village chief might never have recognized this hidden place. Long abandoned and forgotten, the site had fallen into quiet obscurity.

With gentle care, the village chief pulled weeds from the cracks, revealing the underlying stone bricks.

Approaching the altar, Alice observed its remarkable design—distinct from any she had seen before.

At its core was a stone disk, supported by a cylindrical base, pierced at the center by a hole that seemed to extend deep into the earth itself.

The village chief gently poured the water he carried into a carved stone basin. The pristine liquid coursed smoothly through a hidden channel beneath the basin, descending to the base of the altar, then flowing through the carefully spaced gaps between the stone bricks on the ground.

As the water reached the edge of the circular ritual space, Alice noticed that these gaps had been deliberately crafted with precision. When filled, the water revealed intricate, divine patterns across the entire circumference of the sacred circle, shimmering with a subtle, ethereal glow.

This mesmerizing display exuded an undeniable sense of mystical power, compelling all who witnessed it to believe in the extraordinary divine forces that dwelled within this sacred ground.

If, after witnessing such conditions, Alice still refused to contribute, there would be no point in further persuasion.

She reached into her purse, her hand lingering on its familiar leather before drawing out her coins. Since arriving at Cloud Mist Castle, she had rarely needed to spend money—this was only the second time in over half a month that she pulled out her purse.

Life within the castle was remarkably frugal: the kitchen provided three nourishing meals daily at no cost, and the stables supplied fodder for the horses, requiring no expense from her.

The only occasion she had spent silver coins was on the night she first became a knight, when she invited friends from the tavern for a modest drink.

The village chief regarded the land with a mixture of regret and hope, remarking to Alice, “The fields are overrun with weeds, and some areas lie damaged and unrepaired. At present, pouring water onto them merely restores a semblance of appearance.” He paused thoughtfully before adding, “If everything were restored, the power of Panlos could truly nourish the entire village—its farmland and pastures alike.”

Though he offered little further explanation, he left the decision to Alice’s judgment, trusting she would see the potential that lay beneath the current state.

Alice had about 20 gold coins in her hand, but they weren’t enough to buy armor, and she wouldn’t be able to spend them all if she spent them on other things.

As things stood, it seemed worth spending money here.

She took out 12 gold coins and handed them to the village chief, “Will this be enough?”

“It’s enough, it’s enough,” the village chief said, nearly bursting into tears. “You’re a truly good lord. In a few years, our Ronald Village will be restored to its former glory.”

Alice didn’t want to hear people get sentimental, nor did she want to see them get emotional.

She turned away, as if feeling a little awkward about being thanked, “You go home first. Let me stay here alone for a while.”

The village chief had already received the money, so there was no reason for him to stay. He put the money in the money bag, bowed to Alice, and left.

As the village chief walked away, the air in front of Alice began to shimmer, and Cecilion’s shadow appeared.

“Interesting,” He said. “I’ve long heard that West Felix was the birthplace of worship of the God of Agriculture and Herding, but I never thought the first sacrifice site would have been here.”

“Is this really the oldest sacrifice site of Panlos?” Alice repeated in disbelief.

At first, she had thought these special words were a ploy by the village chief to lure investment.

“There’s no doubt about it. These stone monuments show traces of the gods’ visit to this land. It’s about time.”

“I thought you already knew.”

“Who cares if other gods only think about themselves?” If Cecilion had a physical form, He would probably shrug his shoulders by now, “Even if I were a god, I wouldn’t remember everything that happens in this world. I simply understand the true essence of things better than you humans or the other gods.”

As He spoke, He continued to examine the stonework and altar. “It’s fascinating to see the ancient ruins left behind by other gods. The early ruins of some gods are very different from the altars built by their later followers, leading some to wonder if the gods they bear have changed. However, Panlos has always been close to nature, and the style of his altar has likely remained almost unchanged over the years. This altar is badly damaged, but its inherent power is very strong. If we pour more water on it, we might be able to summon Panlos himself.”

“Summon Panlos himself?”

“This is the first sacrificial site he descended to. He must have loved it. A sacrificial site built by the gods themselves is fifty times more effective than anywhere else. Moreover, he built it beautifully, and he must have loved it. But for me, the aura of Panlos here is a little too strong. It’s not suitable for me to stay for long.”

For Cecilion, these last words were perhaps tantamount to a farewell. With that, he disappeared without another word.

Alice, however, found the air outside quite pleasant and wanted to stay a while longer.

The sun gradually rose to its highest point, and the sunlight illuminated the runes carved by the water on the sacrificial field with a golden hue, which looked especially beautiful.

Alice was a little mesmerized by this sight and did not feel that the aura of the god had already enveloped everything around.

At this moment, a voice came from all around the desert, “Who are you?”

The voice was very different from Cecilion’s voice, and Alice, confused, looked up and looked around.

“Who are you?” she asked. “Shouldn’t you introduce yourself before asking someone’s name? It’s more polite.”

“I am Panlos, the God of Agriculture and Herding, the lord of this desert and these flocks.” The voice continued, “No follower of a god has ever set foot in my sanctuary. Who are you? Why are you here?”