"From today onward, you are all freemen of the Frostholm Barony. I hereby pardon your status as slaves."
Ronan Reed's declaration left the thirty-some former bandits staring wide-eyed in shock.
They had assumed Darren's words were a trick—and if they hadn't been defeated, they would never have shown up here.
But after realizing their lord wasn't toying with them, the group fell to their knees, kowtowing repeatedly and praising Ronan Reed's mercy.
After accepting their gratitude, Ronan Reed 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 Frostholm Village.
With that, Ronan Reed's prestige in both the village and the entire territory reached its peak.
Yes, it was really that simple. The thought made Ronan Reed inwardly mock this rigid and hierarchical era.
After a full meal, he finally felt a noticeable surge of strength.
"So, where exactly do you lead to?"
[Spirituality: 27]
Only 27 points of spirituality remained. He 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.
"Darren!"
"My lord!"
Ronan Reed called for Bernard and Darren, then turned to Darren with a serious expression:
"Are you willing to become my knight squire?"
Darren and the other seven trainee knights were technically just his guards—assigned by Count Reed's county to accompany him. In truth, they were still his father's soldiers.
But to become Ronan Reed's squire meant completely severing ties with the Reed County.
"I…"
The usually fawning Darren lowered his head in shame and conflict.
He knew his family in the Reed lands would live better lives than here. He had seen what the Frostholm Barony was truly like.
"If you're unwilling, go call Roland."
Ronan Reed's voice was calm, but it made Darren collapse to the ground in panic.
He scrambled away, knowing full well his position as knight captain was about to be handed to Roland.
"Are you willing to become my knight squire?"
"I am!"
Roland trembled too—but his was from excitement and passion.
Being a knight squire wasn't a prestigious title in itself. It simply meant Roland would be bound entirely to Ronan Reed's service. But typically, only after becoming an official knight did one take on such a role. For a mere trainee knight, it was an extraordinary honor.
"I will shed blood for the sword and shield. Your will is my direction. Your grace is my divine blessing!"
Roland cut his palm with his sword, clenched his fist, and pressed it to his heart.
Though only a squire, he pledged himself with the devotion of a full knight.
"Good."
Ronan Reed looked at Darren, whose face was filled with complicated emotion.
"You'll guard this place. Without my order, no one is to enter the house."
"Yes, my lord. I will obey your will." Darren remained respectful.
Even without becoming a squire, his relationship with Ronan Reed hadn't changed—yet.
If Count Reed chose not to intervene, Darren's future would be spent here in the Frostholm Barony.
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.
Ronan Reed understood that. So he hadn't pressed Darren too hard or stripped him of his title as Knight Captain.
"Bernard, come in as well."
Ronan entered the house with Bernard and Roland.
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!"
Bernard looked at him with fervent reverence, falling to his knees.
"In the name of the knight, I swear never to reveal Lord Ronan Reed's secret for all eternity."
Beside him, Roland 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, Darren stared at the tightly shut door, a creeping sense of regret washing over him.
"Let's go."
Ronan Reed stepped into the portal. Bernard and Roland 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 Frostholm Barony still had some traces of green, then this place was a boundless snowfield—nothing but an endless stretch of white death.
All was smothered by the blizzard. Not a trace of life could be seen.
Ronan turned around. The portal was gone—but he knew he could reopen it anytime within the next 100 hours to return home.
There were faint traces on the snow beneath their feet—someone had passed through recently.
"There are people here. That's good news," said Roland, curious about what this place truly was.
"Let's move."
Without needing an order, Roland 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.
"Bernard, tell me about divine grace."
Their footsteps crunched in the snow, the only sound in the oppressive silence of the snowfield.
"Yes, young master."
Bernard, now far more respectful after witnessing Ronan Reed'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…"
Bernard hesitated, visibly shaken.
"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."