CHAPTER 4: CHAPTER 4: SQUIRES AND DIVINE GRACE

"From today onward, you are all freemen of the Frozen Soil Territory. I hereby pardon your status as slaves."

Ryan’s declaration left the thirty-some former bandits staring wide-eyed in shock.

They had assumed Derren’s words were a trick—and if they hadn’t been defeated, they would never have shown up here.

But after realizing that Ryan wasn’t toying with them, the group fell to their knees, kowtowing repeatedly and praising the lord’s mercy.

After accepting their gratitude, Ryan rewarded one of the elk carcasses—over 120 pounds in weight—to the eight trainee knight guards.

The smallest elk, just under 100 pounds, was gifted to the 150 or so villagers of Frozen Soil Village.

With that, Ryan’s prestige in both the village and the entire territory reached its peak.

Yes, it was really that simple. The thought made Ryan inwardly mock this rigid and hierarchical era.

After a full meal, Ryan finally felt a noticeable surge of strength.

"So, where exactly do you lead to?"

[Spirituality: 27]

Only 27 points of spirituality remained. Ryan had spent 100 points to create a portal the size of a doorframe in front of him. He took a deep breath—then turned away from it.

"Derren!"

"My lord!"

Ryan called for Old Beard and Derren, then turned to Derren with a serious expression:

"Are you willing to become my knight squire?"

Derren and the other seven trainee knights were technically just his guards—assigned by the Rimehart County to accompany him. In truth, they were still his father’s soldiers.

But to become Ryan’s squire meant completely severing ties with Rimehart.

"I..." The usually fawning Derren lowered his head in shame and conflict at this moment.

He knew his family in the Rimehart lands would live better lives than here. He had seen what the Frozen Soil Territory was truly like.

"If you’re unwilling, go call Rosen."

Ryan’s voice was calm, but it made Derren collapse to the ground in panic. He scrambled away, knowing full well his position as knight captain was about to be handed to Rosen.

"Are you willing to become my knight squire?"

"I am!"

Rosen trembled too—but his was from excitement and passion.

Being a knight squire wasn’t a prestigious title in itself. It simply meant Rosen would be entirely bound to Ryan’s service. But typically, only after becoming an official knight did one take on such a role. For a mere trainee knight like Rosen, it was an exceptional honor.

"I will shed blood for the sword and shield. Your will is my direction. Your grace is my divine blessing!"

Rosen cut his palm with his sword, clenched his fist, and pressed it to his heart.

Though only a squire, he was pledging to fulfill his duty as if he were already a full-fledged knight.

"Good."

Ryan looked at Derren, whose face was complicated with emotion.

"You’ll guard this place. Without my order, no one is to enter the house."

"Yes, my lord. I will obey your will." Derren remained respectful. Even without becoming a squire, his relationship with Ryan hadn’t changed—yet.

And if Count Rimehart, Ryan’s father, chose not to intervene, Derren’s future would be spent in the Frozen Soil Territory.

He had only refused earlier because of his family.

His two sons had strong knight potential—perhaps enough to become full knights earlier than he had—and he hoped they could live better lives in the warm south.

Ryan understood that. So he hadn’t pressed Derren too hard or stripped him of his title as Knight Captain.

"Beard, come in as well."

Ryan entered the house with Old Beard and Rosen. The two were stunned by the sight of the portal within.

"This door will only last for 100 hours. We need to move quickly."

"Divine grace!" Beard looked at Ryan with fervent reverence, falling to his knees.

"In the name of the knight, I swear never to reveal Lord Ryan’s secret for all eternity."

Beside him, Rosen mimicked the action, and the two of them began setting up precautions at the entrance.

Anyone who entered the house would be detected later.

A few meters outside, Derren stared at the tightly shut door, a creeping sense of regret washing over him.

"Let’s go."

Ryan stepped into the portal. Beard and Rosen flanked him on either side.

In what felt like the blink of an eye, the house vanished, replaced by a vast and blindingly white world.

If the Frozen Soil Territory still had some traces of green, then this place was a boundless snowfield—nothing but an endless stretch of white death, with no other color in sight.

All was smothered by the blizzard. Not a trace of life could be seen.

Ryan turned around. The portal was gone—but he knew he could reopen it anytime within the next 100 hours to return to his territory.

There were faint traces on the snow beneath their feet—someone had passed through here recently.

"There are people here. That’s good news," said Rosen, curious about what this place truly was.

"Let’s move."

Without needing an order, Rosen drew his sword and took the lead. Though clad in leather armor and shivering from the cold, he placed himself between his lord and the wind.

"Beard, tell me about divine grace."

Their footsteps crunched in the snow, the only sound in the oppressive silence of the snowfield.

"Yes, young master."

Beard, now far more respectful after witnessing Ryan’s abilities, no longer acted with the entitlement of an elder.

But his knowledge of divine grace was limited.

"The gods launched a war across the interplanar realms. They needed their followers to fight on their behalf."

"In the later stages of the war, desperate for victory, the gods personally bestowed their followers with divine grace. Using this grace, the chosen harvested faith for their deities."

"Once one god began, others had to follow. Thus, more and more graced individuals appeared across the planes."

"Eventually, the gods’ war ended. The entire North was blanketed in eternal winter."

"Their battles filled the skies with apocalyptic fire. The death of gods plunged the land into a never-ending, frozen silence."

"But the divine grace did not disappear with the gods. From time to time, one still hears tales of such blessings."

"Moreover..." Beard paused, visibly shaken, perhaps even afraid.

"It’s said that after the war, divine grace no longer required a god’s direct bestowal."

"Many gods died in that war across the planes."