It turned out the instigators behind everything were the wizards of Saruman's council.
But… are they truly unafraid of public outrage?
This is an assault on a nation.
And those Orcs—nothing good comes of them.
What a monstrous deed!
"Don't even think about succeeding! Even if you've captured my two brothers and are using my father as leverage, I won't yield."
"Oh? Even if your father has been poisoned?"
Éowyn's pupils tightened.
Poison?
So Father's recent weakness—he's been poisoned!!!
Gríma smirked—brazen, shameless.
She wanted nothing more than to drive a fist into his face.
He looked at the furious little lioness and sneered.
"I'll give you one chance. I can spare your father's and brothers' lives."
"What chance?"
"As a living sacrifice—offered to the gods."
In the broad, sunlit corridor,
where light should have warmed her,
Éowyn felt as though she had fallen into an icebound cell.
This treacherous minister had waited for her refusal, only to spring this demand.
What do I do?
What can I do?
Éowyn kept asking herself.
Her opponent had laid his cards on the table.
Her father had been poisoned. Her two brothers were in chains. Though the city's people were with her in spirit,
the army was firmly in this minister's hands.
In that instant,
darkness washed over Éowyn's eyes.
"Fine. I accept. But you must restore my father's health. Otherwise, I won't go to my death willingly."
"Ah? My dear, you might be overthinking. A living sacrifice does not die. Only a death sacrifice dies."
Gríma explained lightly.
She didn't appreciate it in the least.
That afternoon,
a proclamation went out in the capital of Rohan: Orc forces had breached three cities already.
To crush these hateful raiders,
Minister Gríma had personally invited the wizard Saruman.
Upon the walls of Edoras,
ten—no, tens of thousands—of troops surged and rolled like a black tide.
People shivered in terror.
In the face of such fearsome Orcs, they had no answer.
"Why hasn't the master wizard appeared?"
"I don't know—perhaps the distance is too great."
"Didn't that snake Gríma invite him? Don't tell me he's run away!!!"
…
Fear coursed through them all.
They detested the villain Gríma, yet simultaneously prayed for the wizard's arrival.
Because these Orcs
had crushed all their pride.
The rain of arrows from the sky just now hadn't felled a single Orc.
One of them even snapped an arrow mid-flight between two fingers,
mocking them every which way.
"Advance. Launch a full assault on the human capital."
The Orc host had finished mustering.
At the barked order,
they hurled themselves against Edoras.
Their thunderous roars
drew tears from many on the walls.
Orcs stood over two meters tall. They needed no catapults; they simply heaved stones the size of furniture and flung them at the ramparts.
Boom.
Boom.
Boulders flew like rain.
A soldier on the parapet was nocking a cold-iron arrow.
A stone struck him.
He burst like overripe fruit—meat and blood sprayed across the stone.
The blackened battlements
were painted a fresh gore.
Éowyn had withdrawn early.
She cursed inwardly without pause.
"That damned Gríma—did he just toss our agreement aside like so much filth?"
She knew Saruman had created these Orcs,
but confronted in the flesh,
she felt a suffocating pressure.
How do you fight such horrors?
Couldn't they sweep the whole continent?
Iron bones, iron hide;
limitless strength;
even enchanted arrows might fail against them.
Thrum—
Just as everyone thought Edoras was about to fall, a black light fell from the sky,
striking the earth just before the walls.
It tore a trench a hundred meters deep,
and thousands of Orcs toppled in one after another.
"A divine command sent me to save the innocent. Tell me—are you devout believers?"
A mist-draped voice
descended from the clouds.
Saruman wore a robe inked with an abyssal sigil; he looked surprisingly young.
After all, he wielded supernatural might—
to restore a youthful face
was nothing.
The people of Edoras, hearing that voice,
began to cry out in waves.
"Great wizard, we are believers of God!!!"
"Please save us!"
"Kill these Orcs, please…"
…
As the cries swelled,
Saruman added, "The god I speak of is not some overseas idol, but the great and merciful Eternal God. Do you believe?"
A hush fell over the city,
then broke like a dam.
They didn't care which god.
Anyone who could save them was a good god!
The eastern district was near collapse. If he left them now, they would be trampled under Orc hooves.
These creatures were simply unkillable monsters.
Done.
Saruman smiled faintly and turned toward his Orc army.
He lifted his staff.
A black space-spell unfurled—
and swallowed the Orcs.
In truth it was teleportation magic; when it activated, space warped and the earth buckled,
which made it look as though he had obliterated them.
Seeing thousands of Orcs vanish,
the people of Edoras roared with joy.
At that moment Gríma came to Éowyn's side.
"Well? What do you think of my master, Princess?"
The blonde princess swung her gaze toward him,
complicated emotions in her eyes.
By now she understood completely.
This was nothing but a ruse.
A conspiracy to spread a religion.
An invasion of the kingdom of Rohan:
seize control here and cultivate belief in the Eternal God. Orcs had no wits—tell them to believe, and they would only stare blankly,
not knowing what to do.
Rohan was different.
This was the realm of humankind.
"I only hope you'll hold to our agreement."
At this point,
Éowyn gave up struggling.
Gríma chuckled and assented.
Then Saruman descended to the palace. Éowyn played the maidservant, introduced the wizard's "merits" to her father, and secured his consent.
The ailing king
only wished to sleep.
He cared little what Saruman wanted.
Whenever his daughter spoke,
he nodded.
Half an hour later,
the treaty was signed.
Saruman was granted the title of Keqing (honorary) wizard, and the Eternal God's faith became the state religion. All people were required to believe and to offer prayers three times a week.
At first, many still harbored doubts.
But when they prayed,
things changed.
Everyone experienced a leap in strength and spirit.
Éowyn watched, astonished.
She had imagined the country would descend into chaos.
Instead, the opposite unfolded.
Night fell.
Éowyn met with Saruman.
He told her,
"Though the princess hates me, will you thank me now? The realm is stronger, the people happier—are these not the things you wanted?"
"That's true. But what do you want?"
A black robe—
a taboo garb.
Ordinary folk knew little of wizards,
but she did.
How could a sorcerer wicked enough to command tens of thousands of Orcs be so benevolent as to strengthen Rohan?
Saruman smiled faintly.
"If you don't understand the Eternal Faith, you cannot grasp God's greatness. My magic is 'evil,' but that doesn't mean I am. Although the cities were taken, the Orcs killed very few. You must admit that."
Éowyn nodded.
By then fresh reports had arrived:
in the cities that fell,
casualties were indeed low.
She lowered her head and sighed. "Tell me what you want to do, and I'll listen…"
Gríma was already dead.
The Gríma that Éowyn had seen was merely a puppet manipulated by Saruman.
She had only just learned this.
In exchange,
Éowyn was to assist Saruman—or her father, her brothers, and all her subjects would die.
"It's simple. Spread the faith across the realm, and then—in Rohan's name—seek aid from Lady Galadriel of the Golden Wood!"
"No… impossible. The Elves won't agree."
Elves have ever hated Men.
It's an ancient truth.
Everyone knows it.
Saruman sneered. "She will. Because Sauron will soon awaken, and the world will be in peril. She'll have no choice!!!"
To reap belief,
first sow chaos.
Rohan was but a seed.
Saruman had many means—and with the Eternal God behind him,
he aimed higher.
Wake Sauron.
Stir the One Ring.
Plunge the whole continent into a bloodstorm.
Only thus
could the Eternal God's faith swell.
Yes, it would be bloody—
but what else could one do, when the gods of this world had no true worship?
Éowyn stared at Saruman in horror, seeing in him a demon wearing human skin.
The Orcs teleported elsewhere
regrouped and stood ready.
Well fed, they marched toward the Golden Wood.
Their orders were simple:
Fight, eat, sleep.
Sleep, eat, fight.
No need to think—they were content every day.
…
Time quickened.
Pirates of the Caribbean—World
was entering the age of enforced faith.
Compared to before, though this age was drenched in blood, it brimmed with a strange happiness.
Because once you joined the religious territories,
you received very generous treatment:
no fear for your freedom, no dread of pirates' sudden raids.
Captain Jack sat on deck,
studying the chart in his hands.
"Only the Asian continent left. The rest of the world has joined the lands of faith. Come on…"
In this world, frail in force and inferior in might,
Captain Jack felt helpless.
He wanted to summon Heroic Spirits, but he couldn't even collect enough tribute.
What a sorry business.
He felt that, in the chat group, only he and Old Gao were the most miserable.
A mere mortal—what a sad existence.
A fleet of hundreds trailed behind the Black Pearl.
Their target: that last territory.
Conquer it,
and the world could be promoted!