The Great Caravan returned to the Lands Between.
Even as the flames of resentment still flickered in their eyes, even as the hatred buried deep in their souls refused to fade, after their long journey, even those bitter spirits had to admit—compared to the rest of the world, the Golden Order Dynasty was still the most humane place left. If they hadn't been buried alive before, stepping beyond its borders would have doomed them eventually.
In truth, this wasn't the Great Caravan's first disaster. Otherwise, there wouldn't be so many Nomadic Merchants scattered across the lands.
Not every solitary merchant represented a complete destruction of the caravan, but if things had gone well, none of them would have needed to leave—the only home that ever accepted them, the only family they had.
Wandering, rejected, hunted... every time they struggled to survive, what awaited them wasn't hope, but despair—again and again.
Was there truly a place in this world for them? Could the peace they longed for, even a single safe place to settle, ever exist?
These thoughts had already taken root among the caravan even before they reached the Golden Order Dynasty. That was why, upon discovering that the people of that land were untouched by madness, they clung to it like drowning men grasping at straws, entrusting all they had to the Dynasty.
But the result...
In this timeline, their tragedy had not occurred. And under a certain someone's suggestion, the Great Caravan returned once more to the Lands Between.
Yet the question remained—what now?
They had come back to this tolerable land, and no power sought to harm them. But the Great Caravan's livelihood had always been trade—wandering the world, selling the unique goods of each land, earning a living through exchange and profit.
Now, although they still had some wares left from earlier expeditions and old stock, their supplies were limited. Once those ran out, they would have nothing left to trade unless they ventured out again.
But that wasn't the greatest problem.
The most pressing issue was the flickering flames that occasionally appeared in their eyes.
Whether remnants of that ancient Great Plague or something contracted later during their travels, the curse of madness burned among them. Many had already succumbed to those fiery eyes, and their own suffering weighed heavily on the rest. Once discovered, they would inevitably face rejection, hostility, and even persecution.
So, although the caravan had returned to the Lands Between at Lloyd's suggestion, not a single smile could be seen among them. The entire camp was shrouded in gloom. Some merchants even began considering leaving the caravan to survive on their own.
It was then that the outsider who had brought them back stepped forward once more, claiming he had a way to solve their problems.
"First of all," Lloyd began, "you might think the Lands Between are entirely the territory of the Golden Order Dynasty—one family, with no room for trade.
"But in truth, this land is still divided. Each demigod governs their own domain, with little contact between them. That means there's plenty of room for commerce. The profits may not be huge, but it's viable."
"Of course, you'll need to notify the rulers beforehand. But that's not a problem—you've met the goddess, haven't you? She's not difficult to speak with, and she's quite open to new ideas. As long as your proposal makes sense, she won't refuse."
As it turned out, Lloyd was right.
Without relying on force or connections, the merchants worked together to draft a basic trading plan. After submitting it, the approval came quickly—stamped and confirmed in no time. Officials were even dispatched to assist them, though they clearly carried a second duty: supervision.
But that wasn't the most important part.
More significantly, after the agreement was reached, and at Lloyd's insistence, the caravan drafted another document—a "Research Report on Madness."
In it, they detailed the presence of madness among their people, noted that those blessed by the Golden Order were immune to it, and formally petitioned the Golden Order Dynasty for aid.
The Nomadic Merchants hesitated at first.
After all, their wandering life had begun because of this very affliction. Now that they finally had a foothold and permission to trade, it was only natural to fear exposure—fear losing everything or facing persecution once more.
Lloyd understood. Were it not for the fact that it was Marika they were appealing to, and that he knew her well, he would never have advised them to take such a risk.
After all, it meant placing the fate of their entire race in another's hands—a gamble with stakes far too high.
But this was Marika.
And this was the Golden Order Dynasty.
Not the shattered remains after the wars, but the age when gentle The Law still radiated light—when even demi-humans could receive its blessings, when the gold still shone bright.
And most crucially—
"They never told me it was madness," Marika had once told him, "never said it couldn't infect those blessed by grace, never even mentioned it at all.
"So what did you expect me to think? To me, they were a band of Frenzied Flame cultists trying to sneak into the Dynasty under the guise of merchants to perform a ritual.
"What was I supposed to do? Pretend not to notice? Or confront them and risk alerting them?"
She had said this when Lloyd met her to gather information in the Royal Capital before entering the Dungeon.
So, in truth, as much as it was an awkward story, it wasn't entirely Marika's fault. The Great Caravan really hadn't told her anything. Even as they were being buried, they never explained their situation. They had treated her as an all-knowing goddess, assuming she already understood and pitied them from the start.
But in reality, that "village girl" was simply kindhearted—she had only shown them compassion because they looked pitiful.
"So, people from the Lands Between—or beyond, for that matter—none of you know how to speak plainly, do you?"
That was Lloyd's only comment on the matter.
Then, with heavy hearts, the Nomadic Merchants submitted their report.
...
Then they were surrounded by the army.
Radagon personally led the troops, with the Crown Prince beside him, encircling the entire caravan in a wide formation.
Just as the Nomadic Merchants thought they were about to be slaughtered, several prayer masters stepped out from the ranks. They approached, questioned them about their situation, and after conducting several tests, confirmed that the madness truly did not affect those blessed by the Grace. Nodding in acknowledgment, they explained that they had come to help.
Their goal was not only to assist the Great Caravan but also to use the opportunity to deepen their understanding of the Frenzied Flame.
Though the Golden Order had always feared and avoided the Frenzied Flame, in truth, they knew very little about it.
Anyone else in the Lands Between would have handled it the usual way—see it, fight it, destroy it. That was simply how things worked here.
But for this "village maiden," who had built her power from nothing and won the War of the Giants through strategy and insight, information mattered above all else. Though the Lands Between lacked the saying "know yourself and know your enemy, and you will win a hundred battles," her thinking was much the same.
She had no intention of delving too deeply—after all, the lesson of Midra was still fresh—but since the Great Caravan stood before her, willing to cooperate, she could at least use this chance to study it. Even basic knowledge, like resistance testing, would be valuable for understanding how to fight the Frenzied Flame in the future.
Of course, that all depended on whether the Great Caravan truly was what they claimed—and not followers of the Frenzied Flame themselves.
And then...
There was no "then."
Being divine herself, the village maiden naturally understood the difference between a "natural phenomenon" and an "essential nature."
Even in the original timeline, not long after burying the Great Caravan, she had already realized the mistake. Had she reacted just a little slower, word of what had happened might have spread—and the Sword Monument might have stood as their epitaph.
And then, there would have been nothing left to say.
Once she confirmed these people were not cultists of the Frenzied Flame, but victims suffering under its torment—those who loathed the Frenzied Flame more than anything—the maiden showed them mercy. She ordered her followers to help treat the afflicted while studying the symptoms of those infected.
As for the uninfected members, they were permitted to trade within the Lands Between, just as promised.
Thus, the Great Caravan's problem was finally resolved.
In fact, not only was it resolved, but after some time traveling and trading, the Nomadic Merchants became warmly welcomed across the Lands Between.
This, of course, had much to do with Lloyd.
To summarize briefly—after the matter was settled, Lloyd gave them a new request.
Even though the Golden Order Dynasty had accepted them, he reminded them that they were not native to this land. It did not belong to them.
Therefore, even when trading, they should not make profit their top priority. Instead, they should pay attention to what the people of this land truly needed—how to conduct trade that brought mutual benefit, so others gained as they did. And when necessary, the needs of others should come first.
It was a principle that defied all commercial logic—but oddly enough, it wasn't difficult to put into practice.
One reason was Lloyd's influence. Through everything that had happened, he had gained immense respect among them—enough to become their leader in all but name. Otherwise, he could never have convinced them to risk everything by submitting that report on the madness.
For an outsider to propose a decision that gambled an entire race's survival—and have it accepted—spoke volumes of his authority.
The other reason was that the Nomadic Merchants were not ungrateful people. They knew the Golden Goddess had taken them in. It wasn't exactly a matter of debt or devotion, but they wanted to repay that kindness somehow. After all, even in business, reciprocity is a virtue.
So, despite Lloyd's request contradicting the nature of commerce itself, they agreed almost instantly—and afterward, they faithfully lived by it.
From there, everything unfolded naturally.
The people of the Lands Between were never truly xenophobic. With the merchants' good deeds and the new wonders they brought from their travels—strange tales, exotic goods—they quickly became beloved figures throughout the land.
Building on that momentum, Lloyd went further. He used this new popularity to shape an ideal: "This is what a merchant should be. Profit is secondary. The true purpose of trade is to create value that benefits all."
Through this, the Nomadic Merchants found a sense of pride and even responsibility in their craft.
Perhaps, in some distant future, this ideal would be twisted or forgotten—mocked as naive, called foolish, dismissed as a philosophy unfit for real commerce.
But for now, the Nomadic Merchants could hold their heads high, proud of their profession, admired and respected by those around them.
The story had reached a perfect ending.
But...
It was only a story.
When all was over and the world shattered like a reflection upon water, those once-happy merchants fell to the ground.
When they rose again, their bodies burned with roaring flames—madness, distortion, venom.
Yet this time, there was something else flickering within the fire.
Confusion. Doubt. And then, after a long, silent pause, they collapsed to their knees and wept.
They had once believed that being buried alive by the Golden Order was the most agonizing despair in existence.
But now they understood—the cruelest pain was not pure despair.
It was realizing, too late, that hope had once been within reach.
That the peace and happiness they'd longed for had been only a single step away.
If only they had met Lloyd sooner.
If only they hadn't misunderstood Marika's intentions.
If only they had said just a little more...
But the world knows no "if."
No matter how close that hope once was, the end remained the same—they became those who slept eternally beneath the earth, bound in despair.
Had nothing intervened, they would have remained that way forever, awaiting the destined Lord of Frenzied Flame to ignite the Erdtree with their accumulated suffering.
Or perhaps that Lord would never come, leaving them trapped in endless agony and despair.
Yet when they had given up all hope, the unexpected occurred.
An Ashen One stepped into their world—showing them a hope even more unbearable than despair.
Then, it reached out its hand to them.
"Are you willing to try trusting others again?"
"Though what's done is done, and I might not be able to recreate what happened in the Dungeon, at the very least, I can give you a place to belong. That much, I can promise."
"So..."
"Will you come?"
A long silence followed.
Then, countless hands of souls rose from the darkness—hands filled with resentment, with blessings, with despair, and with hope.
And they reached out to grasp his.
The story began anew.
But this time, it was no longer a tale of the past—no longer a piece of fiction.
This time, they carried the weight of what once was... and reached toward the future.