If the days in the desert were unbearably hot, the nights were just as brutal in the opposite direction. The temperature dropped so low that the mercenaries slept with their waterskins clutched against their chests.
There were several reasons for that.
At first, the water retained some of the day's warmth and served as a precious source of heat. Later, as the temperature continued to fall, they relied on their own body heat to keep the water from freezing.
Unlike the mercenaries, Amon was in heaven.
He was sprawled across the sand with a soft, fluffy pelt beneath him, yet another item he had dragged out of Eriavel and stored inside my realm. He did not bother wrapping himself in layers of fur. Unlike ordinary humans, his tolerance to cold was far superior, likely due to his half-velmoryn bloodline.
He glanced at Eric, swaying as he fought against sleep.
The mercenaries took turns standing guard.
They remained on edge, worried that if the wormlike creatures attacked during the night, they would be unable to protect themselves without their leader's unique magic.
Catalina was still unconscious.
She had not woken since collapsing after using her magic.
Ordinarily, I would have assumed her condition was serious, but since none of her companions seemed worried in the slightest, I concluded that losing consciousness was a common consequence of her ability.
The group had adapted accordingly.
They had not set up tents or removed any of their uncomfortable equipment, even while sleeping. Their goal was obvious. If the monsters attacked, they wanted to be ready to flee immediately.
Whether they could actually outrun creatures capable of swimming beneath the dunes was an entirely different question.
Fortunately for them, they had nothing to worry about.
After observing the party's magical abilities, Amon was no longer worried that someone might realize he had lied about his Rank and that he was actually Platinum. So he had stopped concealing his mana.
Even if the wormlike beasts were stronger than any individual mercenary, they were nowhere near Amon's level.
Not a single worm had entered a radius of several hundred meters around him.
I had monitored them closely and even witnessed a few turning around and fleeing after sensing his presence. Clearly, the creatures possessed highly developed perception.
After confirming that Amon and the others were going to have a cold and uneventful night, I shifted the Window back to Eriavel.
A few days earlier, several candidates had been proposed for the position of new leader, and now the council had narrowed the choices down to two.
“Priestess, it’d be better for everyone if you became the new leader,” Freya said. “No one would object to you ruling Eriavel.”
“I have already made up my mind,” Tekla replied, shaking her head. “I am a Priestess, not the ruler of Eriavel. We must come to an agreement and choose a velmoryn whom all of us trust and believe capable of carrying this responsibility. As for our people, I will publicly bless the one we choose. That should help strengthen their authority.”
Her voice was calm and low, exhaustion visible in her eyes.
For the first time since I had blessed Tekla, she looked tired. Not when the spider mutants attacked the tribe and her father nearly died. Not when she spent days praying without rest during the campaign against the nest. Not even when she personally welcomed every family that arrived in Eriavel and spoke with nearly every velmoryn one by one.
This was the first time I had seen genuine fatigue in her.
And the reason was simple.
Doubt.
When it came to faith and my teachings, Tekla never wavered. But leadership and administration were another matter entirely.
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Those were her weaknesses.
She feared making a decision that would displease me or harm Eriavel. And because of that fear, she had resolved to find someone better suited to the role.
Tekla had sworn to herself that she would learn how to say no. She would remain a Priestess and focus on the duties of a Priestess instead of trying to fulfill every role and solve every problem herself.
“Priestess, have you considered the velmoryn I suggested?” Othrien asked carefully.
Unlike the rest of the council, he saw Tekla not only as a Priestess, but also as a young woman with limits and flaws.
“I have.”
“We cannot have another leader from the Crimson Tribe,” Nelya said. “If both leaders come from the same tribe, then… the others may become displeased.”
“Both leaders?” Othrien snorted.
Surprisingly, the old velmoryn made little effort to hide his irritation toward the Silver Tribe’s representative.
“The Priestess does not belong to any tribe. She was chosen by our Lord, and she has already proven that she loves all velmoryns equally. Not once has she shown favoritism toward the Crimson Tribe, not even toward her own family.”
Othrien held Nelya’s gaze until the woman finally relented and lowered her eyes.
“Our new leader should be someone who has seen more than a mere hundred winters,” he continued. “Someone who has already led others and endured hardship. Someone who remembers how we once lived and still appreciates what we have now.”
His gaze shifted toward Tekla.
She met it calmly.
“That is why I suggested Teryo,” Othrien said firmly.
Freya noticed the faint smile that crossed Tekla’s face and immediately joined the discussion.
“I believe we need a younger leader,” she said. “Someone strong, influential, and someone who accepted our Lord before Eriavel was even created.”
I could not suppress a smile. Freya was clearly a born politician.
By pointing out Teryo’s hesitation in accepting me, she immediately undermined his candidacy.
Or rather, she would have if there had not been someone in the room who could practically speak on my behalf.
“Father loves all His children equally,” Tekla said. “Teryo bears His mark. Our Lord has accepted him.”
Freya opened her mouth, intending to capitalize on the pause. But Tekla continued before she could.
“I agree with Othrien. We need an experienced leader.”
Othrien’s face brightened immediately.
“But I do not believe Teryo should become that leader.”
The old velmoryn froze.
“If not for Roy and me, if not for Avenor, our tribe might never have accepted our Lord. Teryo, as a Vael, failed to recognize the brightest light within the darkness we lived in.”
The council fell silent.
Tekla's eyes remained fixed on Othrien. There was a faint smile on her lips now.
“I recommend Othrien as our first High Vael,” she said.
Freya and Nelya exchanged glances while Othrien’s jaw dropped. The old velmoryn would have expected anyone but himself. While he respected Tekla greatly, he believed their views differed on many matters, so he never imagined she might even consider him. Truthfully, he did want to become the new leader, but he would have been equally satisfied if someone else had been chosen, so long as they had Eriavel’s best interests at heart.
And that was precisely why I had chosen him.
Well, that and his age.
The position of High Vael was not hereditary. Once chosen, they would remain High Vael until death, but they could not pass the title to their children. Instead, the next High Vael would be selected the same way Othrien was about to be.
Unfortunately, there were no candidates I considered perfect for the role.
Well, except for Lyle.
But she had not shown any desire to lead and, as my Inquisitor, she no longer could.
That was why I had settled on Othrien. He was a perfectly reasonable choice, and because of his age, he was unlikely to remain High Vael for very long. Although a High Vael could be removed by either the council or the Priestess, I did not want either situation to occur. Othrien, being one of the oldest velmoryns alive, was simply the safest option.
“Priestess?” Othrien murmured when Tekla rose from her seat. “Are you leaving?”
“I have already said my piece. If you choose not to follow my suggestion, I shall take no offense. But I cannot remain any longer. Father granted me a new vision last night.”
Energy returned to her voice as she spoke.
“What vision?” Freya asked instinctively before quickly biting her lower lip. “Forgive me, Priestess, I…”
“We are to build a large...” Tekla paused, searching for the right word. “A barricade across the river and trap the water behind it. Father showed me that we must create a new lake.”
It’s not a lake. It’s a dam…
Tekla had forgotten the word.
I had shown her the vision in her sleep, assuming that she might think it was simply a product of her own mind, something she came up with on her own. But the moment she woke up, she prayed to me and thanked me for the vision.
Had she asked whether it was truly my doing, I might have lied. But she never questioned it. Not even for a moment.
She was so certain that I had granted her the vision that I had little choice but to reveal part of my plan to her.
I explained that they would need to widen the riverbed and ensure that if the dam ever failed, the resulting flood would not reach Eriavel and would instead be directed toward where I planned to lure Noah’s army.
Well, she did not know that last part.
What she did not know was exactly where I intended that water to go.
In less than three months, that dam would become one of my greatest weapons, drowning the human army foolish enough to step into my forest.