#063. The Beastkin Restoration Society is Too Kind (1)

#063. The Beastkin Restoration Society is Too Kind (1)

Cecilia wasn’t born a saint of the Revolutionary Order.

She was a b*stard child abandoned to the Order, fortunate among the countless orphans of this world.

“Are you making things too difficult for yourself with me? An adventurer and a saint are practically the same thing, so feel free to relax!”

For someone with such a cheeky way of talking, Cecilia possessed surprisingly conventional thinking.

She wasn’t the type to discriminate against people based on their status or treat them carelessly.

Or so she claimed, prompting one adventurer to grumble in exasperation.

“Then why is she so fond of calling people ‘pathetic’…”

“I call the Patriarch ‘pathetic’ too! I wouldn’t say anything to anyone else that I wouldn’t say to His Holiness!”

“Wow, that’s gutsy. Adventurers are pathetic, that’s for sure. The Saintess is the best.”

The Patriarch of the Revolutionary Order was the leading figure of the revolution that freed the kingdom from the Empire’s grasp.

On par with the kingdom’s monarch or the Speaker of the Noble Assembly, if she could be equally rude to one of the three most powerful individuals in this nation, it wasn’t discrimination.

“Come hither!”

“Ugh, what madman now… Huh? The Order’s Saintess…?”

The Sakssen Guild employee’s face stiffened.

“Has a demon contractor appeared in our village?”

“No.”

“Has a plague carrier appeared?”

“No.”

“What has appeared?”

“A beastkin dealing in human furniture.”

The employee paled.

“You knew, didn’t you?”

“Th-that is… I’m sorry. Our guild’s adventurers are…”

“I know. A pathetic branch like this can’t touch them, can it?”

A frontier development village wasn’t a pleasant place to live, to put it mildly.

Overflowing with adventurers and monsters.

Wandering mercenary bands and full-time bandit groups, ignoring meager backing and rushing in.

They bled the nearby villages dry, much like a miser gutting his piggy bank – the neighboring city and its regional lord.

Excessive development, a constant jarring of the natural habitat, led to a boss monster’s incandescent rage and a full-blown monster wave.

People, monsters, people who were like monsters.

In this place, where all of nature turned hostile, there existed those feared above all others: the beast-kin of the Beast-Kin Revival Society.

“We will lend our strength in the fight against the Demon King, humanity’s great foe. In return, you will grant us territory, resources, and a supply of slave races to satisfy our needs. Refuse, and you will find the Beast King an enemy alongside the Demon King. Remember the pact of kings?”

The Beast King, so named – King of Beasts.

To make an enemy of the beasts’ chieftain was a burden too great for a kingdom already groaning under the Demon King’s shadow.

“Send them to the frontier. All those poor and unproductive, those whose numbers strain the harvest – cast them out to the borderlands.”

And so, the kingdom banished many under the guise of frontier colonization.

A member of the Adventurer’s Guild wept openly, tears falling like rain.

“The pioneer villages are nothing but a vast feeding ground. We are living sacrifices, abandoned by our own nation. Each time they rotate through the frontier, our kind die. We endure every humiliation until they tire of us and move on.”

The village elders of the borderlands came to a realization.

Better to build their own strength, to fight, than to lose everything without a struggle.

Better to risk their lives in defiance than to simply surrender.

And so, the Adventurer’s Guild was born.

The beast-kin of the Revival Society could not conceal their displeasure at the Guild’s existence.

“The sacrifices have sharpened their claws. If we do not break them, the beast-man alliance against the Demon Lord is forfeit. Their threats have stirred the regional lord. If we move against them… the Guild will vanish.”

The nobles swiftly enacted a Guild Law, stipulating that no Guild could operate without their explicit consent.

Many guilds were shuttered, or fell to noble attacks on the pretext of illegal operation.

Those who fled to the frontier, seeking to escape the great bandits, found themselves subjugated once more by bandits of another kind: nobles.

“Garbage. As far as Westwood is concerned, we no longer need to watch the beast-kin’s moods!”

“Is that… truly so?”

“Saint Ian liberated Sodom from its garbage nobles, its garbage hero party elite troops, and its garbage beast-kin assassins. Those dead letter laws and alliances that only fostered corruption are no longer needed, see?”

The accompanying nuns sighed in relief, but the adventurers, as one, began recounting their personal experiences of Ian’s deeds.

Ian’s unfortunate past, Mother Teresa’s renewal, his shattering of every Guild advancement record, the achievements lauded by the Saintess – after hearing it all, they understood.

How immense the fortune that had befallen Sodom.

Why the Saintess championed the Saint.

“The Revolutionary Order once fought to free the Kingdom from the Empire, but now they’ve come to liberate the borderlands from the nobles. It’s frustrating to see good people crushed under the feet of garbage, right?”

“Saintess… we are cowards who saw the beast-kin’s tyranny and did nothing. Do you extend your grace to us, even so?”

“If your conscience troubles you, then atone. Worthless guilt is banished by facing the evil you once tolerated!”

As if on cue, an urgent communication arrived from the Sodom Guild.

A vast army of beast-kin was assaulting Sodom Village.

“So, what will you do? Hide in your village like the cowards you were, making excuses for not acting for everyone? Or will you join the revolution to shatter these chains of oppression?”

“We wish to participate. Accept us into your revolution. The Sachsen Guild wishes to stand with you!”

The reinforcements had not gathered merely to rescue a pretty S-rank boy from the city, as Gorgo suspected.

“The Saint, who will bring true freedom to the oppressed frontier, is in danger!”

“He dispatched precious personnel to Sachsen Village, a village with no connections, even though we were struggling. He is the benefactor who offered aid, even after we knew we had been tricked by the enemy’s trap and did nothing!”

“If even a hair on Saint Ian’s head is harmed, we are no better than beasts from that day forth. Do you want to become beings as vile as the beast-kin we despise? If not, then take up your weapons. We go to save the Saint!”

People who never cared about appearances from the start!

Revolution is always difficult to start, but once the levee breaks, the flood is powerful enough to wash away dams.

A single surge, once unleashed, knows no rest until all is leveled and swept away.

“I wonder, what manner of person is this Saint?”

“They say he’s the offspring of that fierce woman who carved up nobles. Must be a giant, so tall even the guild’s main gate couldn’t contain him.”

“Didn’t you hear the tale of how he survived the beastfolk raid, even swaying the enemy’s chieftain? He must possess such overwhelming strength that even those powerful beastfolk were utterly captivated.”

“What weapon does he wield, I wonder?”

“They say he subdued an assassin without even a sword, earning the oath of fealty. Could it be his fists that are his weapons?”

The adventurers who’d followed Cecilia, unnerved by the rumors that were so difficult to ignore, grew disconcerted.

“Saintess, shouldn’t we dispel these misconceptions?”

“The village of Saxen is crawling with the eyes and ears of those low-grade beastfolk. It’s better to let them misunderstand freely; skewed information might just mislead the enemy. Wouldn’t that be nice~?”

“Indeed. A ploy to deceive the enemy. Then, let us go forth and embellish these tall tales further!”

The Sodom Guild adventurers, deliberately fanning the flames of gossip, soon birthed the legend of a Saint who was no pretty boy, but a monstrous being crawled out from the pit of hell who devoured beastfolk heads, alive.

This became a snowball effect, unforeseen even by Cecilia and the Sodom Guild’s dispatched adventurers.

“We’ve heard the rumors, and we’ve come! Will you accept us hunters into your ranks?”

“What rumors?”

“Of a paladin on a white horse, coming to save Westwood, who battles the beastfolk in the names of the Saint, the Holy Spirit, and the Father. We must participate in this decisive battle for Westwood’s fate!”

“Oh, is that so? Such enthusiasm is… admirable. You may join!”

High-grade soldiers, archers.

“We heard tell that the strongest man in Westwood is recruiting for his mercenary band. Is this the group heading to meet Ian, the one who can fell giant trees with a single hand?”

“We are going to see Ian, that’s true… But where on earth did you hear such rumors?”

“The Saxen Guild, apparently reconciled to bankruptcy, is contacting every guild in the union with urgent transmissions, the enchanted stones must be dwindling rapidly.”

Mercenaries, augmenting their dwindling numbers.

With each passing moment, the reinforcements swelled, reaching a mighty force of seven hundred strong as they approached the vicinity of Sodom Village.

The beastfolk, embroiled in a bloody struggle to conquer Sodom Village, were disheartened by this overwhelming number.

“Let us go. Let us make these low-grade beastfolk ‘good’!”

“Are we going to spread our doctrine, then?”

“The only good beastkin is a dead beastkin!”

“Indeed. Befitting the Saintess who worships Ian, the Saint of monstrous strength who walks the path of hegemony. Cart Mercenary band, ready your spears. We will break the front lines!”

Forces eager to make the beastfolk “good”!

A fighting force far too much for the already exhausted beastfolk to handle.

The Beastfolk Revival’s vanguard was ultimately crushed, reduced to utter ruin.