Chapter 102: Chapter 102- Movement of Heroines

The morning air was thick with the scent of damp earth as two priests trudged through the narrow paths leading toward the camp.

Their white robes, stained with mud from weeks of travel through neglected roads, swayed with each weary step.

“This countryside is a damn mess,” the younger one muttered, wiping sweat from his brow. “I’ve seen beggars with better roads in the capital slums.”

The older priest shot him a warning glance but nodded anyway. “Keep your voice down. We’re almost at the Viscount’s estate. The last thing we need is for someone to hear us complaining.”

They passed through the makeshift camp where a few guards loitered, barely acknowledging their presence.

The mansion loomed ahead, a structure that tried too hard to look grand but only managed to appear gaudy. Inside, the air was different—perfumed, artificial.

The drawing room was spacious enough, with light filtering through stained glass windows that probably cost more than a farmer’s yearly income.

On one side of the room, a woman sat on a velvet sofa, her posture relaxed as she sipped tea.

Her dress was unmistakable—white with golden embroidery along the hems, the sacred symbols stitched into the fabric marking her as a saintess.

Her eyes were closed, as if she were somewhere else entirely, unbothered by the world around her.

Across from her, Viscount Harren wore a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

He leaned forward slightly, gesturing with his hands as he spoke, clearly trying to impress her. “—and of course, Saintess Seraphina, my estate is entirely at your disposal. Whatever resources you need, just say the word.”

Seraphina didn’t open her eyes, simply taking another slow sip of her tea. The silence stretched just long enough to make the Viscount fidget.

The door creaked open, and the two priests entered, bowing deeply. “Saintess Seraphina.”

Her eyes finally opened, sharp and calculating despite their soft blue color. She set down her teacup without a sound. “What happened?”

The younger priest glanced at his companion before speaking. “It’s… it’s very hard to make people in the countryside trust the church.”

The older one coughed awkwardly, shifting his weight. “Since we haven’t been active here for years—” He stopped himself, clearly not wanting to say they’d abandoned the countryside entirely.

“As per your prophecy,” the younger priest continued, “you sent us to search, but people aren’t cooperating. They don’t trust healers. Some even threatened to throw us out.” He hesitated. “It seems we need to do some charity work here first. Build trust.”

“And Count Redwood,” the older priest added, his voice dropping. “He was furious. Told us to leave his lands or he’d raise the matter directly to the capital.”

Seraphina’s expression didn’t change, but something flickered in her eyes. “Count Redwood,” she murmured, almost to herself. “He’s too much of a hassle.” She breathed out slowly, then looked directly at the priests. “Wait outside for a moment.”

They bowed and turned to leave, but she wasn’t finished.

“You too, Viscount.”

Harren’s smile faltered. “But Saintess, I thought—”

“Leave.”

Her tone left no room for argument. The Viscount stood, his smile now strained, and followed the priests out. The door clicked shut.

For a moment, Seraphina simply sat there, listening to the fading footsteps. Then she reached into the hidden pocket of her dress and pulled out a small pendant. The royal crest gleamed on its surface as she placed it on the table.

“Did you hear that?”

A voice emerged from the pendant, feminine and clear. “I did. It was expected, though. The monastery has been ignoring the commoners’ suffering for years.”

Seraphina shook her head, leaning back. “Well, healing costs too much energy and stamina. Why waste it on people who don’t even matter?”

Silence from the pendant. Then: “It doesn’t matter. Once my prophecy comes true—once the kingdom starts to divide and Prince Leo unify them again under flag of an Empire—we’ll be able to solve all these problems. One way or another.”

Though ’another’ here simply means massacre.

Seraphina’s gaze narrowed. “How sure are you about this, Cassandra?”

“More than anything.”

Seraphina bit her lip, thinking. Their workforce was spread thin across too many territories already. “So what next? There are too many issues here. And if your prophecy is right—the one I claimed the goddess herself gave me—we’ve mobilized the entire Holy Church’s workforce. It still won’t be enough to cover all the villages in these borderlands.”

“Then why not use those mercenary henchmen?” Cassandra’s voice was calm, almost casual. “Specifically, those bandits aligned with the low-tier franchises.”

“You want me to use bandits?” Seraphina’s eyebrows rose. “Do you really trust them?”

“No. But send one priest to each village instead of teams of healers. One priest, backed by bandits. Sincw the healer would be supported by church and capital, those brutes will not lay a hand on them. And for the people. Those who accept healing will be handled properly. Those who don’t trust the church…” Cassandra paused. “The bandits can deal with them. We need to search every home. I definitely saw the birth of something in my vision—something we need to monopolize at all costs.”

“Birth of what?”

“I don’t know yet. But with time, the vision will become clearer. For now, we need to prepare. We need to be ready when the time comes.”

“So what’s the scale of this prophecy?” Seraphina leaned forward, her interest piqued.

“It will speed up the division of the kingdom,” Cassandra said slowly. “From decades to just a few years.”

Seraphina’s eyes widened. “What? Are you serious?” She stood abruptly, pacing. “But that wouldn’t start until the present king dies. Unless…” Her thumb went to her lips, teeth grazing the skin as she thought. “Are you saying one of the nobles will declare themselves a kingdom?”

“What if one estate decides to break away?” Cassandra’s voice was steady. “What if they have enough strength to go against the royal family?”

“That’s impossible. Unless the king is…” Seraphina stopped mid-sentence, pieces falling into place. “So an estate would declare itself a kingdom. But they’d need an army strong enough to challenge the capital. Do you see that happening?”

“I don’t know yet. The vision needs more time to clear. But now you understand why I’m using your name—why I’m having you claim this prophecy came from the Saintess herself. Why I’m using the Holy Church’s reputation. This is important.”

Seraphina nodded slowly. “Fine. I’ll contact the bandits. Tell them to prepare the villages for the healers’ arrival. Even if it means…” She paused, choosing her words carefully. “Some minor sacrifices.”

Both women knew exactly what “sacrifices” meant. Death. Crime. Terror. And they both knew the capital would never hear about it.

Messages from the borderlands had a way of disappearing.

As for the royal guard teams stationed there—50th to 60th squadrons scattered across vast territories—they could be pressured by the right authorities to look the other way.

“And,” Cassandra added, her voice dropping to something almost conspiratorial, “it’s a perfect opportunity to get rid of that other saintess candidate… Your sister.”

Seraphina’s lips curved into a slow smile.

“Throw her into some deserted village,” Cassandra continued. “She’ll die out of exhaustion due to her reckless healing habits or at the very least, you’ll have enough time in the monastery to become strong enough that no one can challenge you.”

Seraphina turned toward the large map hanging on the wall—the map of the northern borderlands.

Villages and towns dotted the parchment like scattered seeds.

She picked up a pin from the desk, weighed it in her hand for a moment, then threw it without looking.

It struck dead center on a small, half-faded name—M…b..ook

A broken town on the edge of the map, far from any major road.

She walked closer, reading the name with satisfaction. Then she chuckled, a sound both soft and chilling.

“Indeed. This village might just be your graveyard, dear sister.”

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