"Winter is coming…" Geppeto exclaimed reflexively.
It was already September, the last month of autumn. Yet the cold seemed to have arrived earlier than expected.
"You're right, winter is approaching. But it's colder than usual this year," Darcy replied after listening to Geppeto.
Geppeto pulled his clothes tighter around himself before curling up in a corner of the carriage.
It looked as though it might snow outside. Geppeto could see few people in the street, apart from a handful of beggars on their knees, pleading with well-dressed passers-by.
These homeless people were clad in coarse rags, probably scavenged from who knows where, and looked as thin as hemp ropes.
Their eyes conveyed a profound despair. Unfortunately, Geppeto also noticed very young children among them.
The passers-by moved away with disdain; some even covered their noses and mouths before hurrying off.
Geppeto's gaze lingered on these unfortunates for a moment before shifting to a group of knights gathered at the edge of the street.
The knights all wore light silver armour covering their upper bodies, carried wooden shields, and had swords slung across their backs—blades about half the height of a man.
They cut an imposing figure, even if their gear seemed a little ridiculous from a modern perspective.
The crowd in the street appeared intimidated by these knights, and some of the homeless children showed a flicker of envy.
Geppeto frowned.
He had no idea who these knights were, at least not from the memories of his new body. The situation was different, however, for the player Dean.
Darcy also spotted the knights from inside the carriage. Unlike the homeless children, the young girl showed not the slightest admiration for these armed men.
All the same, she was not entirely indifferent and declared in a cold tone:
"Those good-for-nothings again… They're supposed to be the knights of the city defence force, but their strength is laughable."
With a small click of her tongue, she continued:
"They're nice to look at, but ultimately useless. Judging by how many there are, it looks like another town is dealing with bandits coming from the west."
Geppeto remained silent, absorbing the information dropped by his half-sister. He had only just arrived in this world—one he had once considered fictional—and his biological memories were not yet fully restored.
The former player preferred not to rely on his game knowledge as common sense without a proper overall grasp of the current situation. He simply listened in silence.
Though there were only about a hundred of them, these knights were well-equipped by the standards of the game he knew, and each gave off an impressive aura. Geppeto judged that they were certainly not as incompetent as Darcy claimed.
The young girl, too focused on resource management, clearly had no military knowledge whatsoever.
'The baron probably concentrated too much on the economic side of her education, since he considered a woman unfit for military matters,' he concluded mentally.
It was a common reality in a medieval world, but time would prove Darcy wrong.
The knights were preparing to leave the city and soon vanished from view. A moment later, the carriage shuddered in the cold wind. Geppeto lowered the curtain and returned to the warmth inside.
Shortly afterwards, the coachman gradually slowed and announced softly:
"Young master Geppeto, young lady Darcy, we have arrived at the church."
"Very well, let's get out. We're finally here!" said Darcy, her voice hurried and brimming with energy. She immediately jumped from the carriage and rushed inside the building.
Geppeto did not follow her right away. He stretched, rolled his stiff neck, and finally raised his eyes to the church before him.
The building covered an immense area, almost the size of a baseball stadium. Ordinary worshippers mingled with a few aristocrats dressed in extravagant ceremonial attire, all gathered for morning prayer.
The Crimson Kingdom had officially established worship of Ares, the God of War. The Church's power was immense, and nearly every town had a place of worship dedicated to him.
The faithful were countless, from what Geppeto could see.
He followed the crowd into the main hall. Inside, the white walls were adorned with huge colourful frescoes, clearly religious and dedicated to the glory of the God of War.
Geppeto noticed, on the centre-right, a fresco depicting a tall man with rugged features, bathed in the blood of an unknown figure.
Though the scene appeared brutal and barbaric, it stirred in him a strange respect for an act he instinctively judged "manly."
The title of the fresco read: "War is not a question; it is the answer." Written in an unfamiliar language, Geppeto understood its meaning thanks to the memories inherited from his avatar.
Other frescoes showed: "The God of War hunts down an arrogant demigod," "The God of War frees Death from a treacherous trap," "The God of War punishes the deceit of the treacherous king," "The God of War rewards warriors who fell in battle," "The God of War warms the Goddess of Love, neglected by her husband," and many more.
Though the stories differed, the message remained the same: all glorified the god who had supported the founder of the Crimson Kingdom.
Under the guidance of the pastor, the fervent worshippers bowed their heads and clasped their hands over their chests. Prayers filled the vast church.
Geppeto thought back to the beggars he had seen earlier in the street and scanned the well-dressed people at prayer. He realised then that this world was truly different from the game.
The prayer lasted an hour. At the sound of the bells signalling the end of morning service, the worshippers gradually dispersed.
Geppeto was held back and led by Darcy toward a small side door of the church. Unlike in the carriage, her face clearly showed worry, and she was wearing more comfortable clothing.
Soon they reached the rear courtyard. Geppeto saw about twenty people of various ages training in swordsmanship under the direction of an elderly man.
Darcy approached him with some apprehension and murmured:
"Lord Léon…"
The man, in his fifties, wore light silver armour and held a great sword. His gaze, filled with unusual vigour for his age, gave him a dignified air.
(Image)
The swordsman Léon glanced at Geppeto and Darcy and said softly:
"Fall in…"
Darcy let out a sigh of relief that Léon barely noticed and gave a faint smile.
She immediately took Geppeto's hand and pulled him into the forming group. Disoriented, Geppeto followed, having been literally dragged inside.
As he stood there unsure what to do, a young man with red hair waved to him from the back:
"Geppeto, hurry up!"