#1 This Isn't Bad Either (Saintess Lemon - Semi-Nude Prayer) (4)

I decided to check the status window later. They must have been starving and on the brink of famine. It was hard to tell at first glance because they looked like muscle-bound pig thugs.

Poor things.

They were probably just so hungry ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠they couldn't think straight. They couldn't even choose their words properly and lost their reason, blurting out unreasonable demands. I figured if I negotiated by promising to fill their bellies, they'd listen. And sure enough, they were plenty rational and gladly accepted my negotiations and proposals.

"Glad we crossed that hurdle."

I sat down on a new chair instead of the stone throne. Even with the maid's cloth draped over it, the stone was still hard and cold. Maybe I should ask for a cushion later.

"Sorry to disappoint Lete. You looked like you were having fun."

"It's fine."

"Yeah?"

"For now."

For someone saying that, she sure had been glaring at me with killer eyes just moments ago. Come to think of it, heroes in this world can level up by killing field mobs or through wars. Those orcs might have looked like walking experience points to Lete. No wonder she was pissed that I snatched them away.

Too bad, but I'm steeped in modern values and sensibilities. I just can't get used to bloody slaughter. Humans... well, not exactly, but those orcs are intelligent beings in their own right. I couldn't casually wipe them out. For someone as kind-hearted, gentle, and ordinary as me, it's simply impossible.

"So, thanks for listening, Barosy."

I said that as I patted the 'chair' prostrated beneath me. Right now, under me was Orc General Barosy. He was faithfully serving as my chair with that sturdy, muscular slab of meat he called a body. I was truly grateful for Barosy silently fulfilling his role. And as the tribe's leader, his willingness to take the lead was impressive. The ride was satisfying too. No backrest, sure, but with the still-naked maid propping me up from behind, there were no issues. Her soft, plush breasts pressing against me felt great.

Bringing in the orc tribe and Barosy was thanks to the strategy post. Among the faintly recalled details, it mentioned that heteroraces each had their specialties, so exploiting them well was key.

"Orcs have excellent breeding rates and labor bonuses. One orc provides the workforce of 3-4 adult males. Perfect timing since we need to build up our nation's foundations."

"A wise judgment, my king."

Mea praised my decision too. This was domestic affairs through diplomacy and negotiation. Far more peaceful than spilling blood and clashing swords, right?

That said, our initial negotiations didn't go smoothly. They seemed displeased with something, and talks stalled. I thought my offer was perfectly reasonable, but the atmosphere felt off somehow. Not outright rejection, but hesitant. I was offering food and beds—why turn that down?

Probably a lack of intelligence. Lives spent only on fighting and survival left no room for learning.

Negotiations nearly fell apart, but once again, the strategy post saved me. I had leftover resource magic, plus surplus from raising the base level and achievement bonuses. Pouring it all into Persuasion and Diplomacy bumped them to levels 4 and 3 respectively. After that skill-up, we tried again, and it was a huge success. They even shed tears vowing loyalty, and I graciously accepted.

Maybe I really am the Salvation King.

I even got an achievement and title like Savior of the Wandering Orcs. Bonus resource magic points too.

"Not bad at all."

"Gaon-nim? What do you mean?"

"Mea asked me to 'save' them, remember?"

Yesterday, I hadn't grasped the situation and dismissed it as too grand. But after sleeping on it, yeah—this game... no, this world's inhabitants desperately needed salvation. Because the King of Ruin was coming.

I'd never played EoR myself, but reviews and strategy posts said the continent loses horribly to the King of Ruin, leading to a horrific ending. I'd skimmed it, but it was brutally miserable. So pitiful, I wanted to turn it into a happy ending somehow.

And now I'm here, with the title Salvation King.

These orcs would've met a gruesome fate if I'd left them alone.

Starved to death first, maybe. But even if they survived, the King of Ruin would've been worse.

"I like happy endings."

So I'll be this hopeless world's Salvation King. Leading everyone to happy lives. Of course, avoiding bloodshed as much as possible. Strictly through domestic and diplomatic means. I'm no barbarian.

"All follows the king's will. Where the king points is our path."

Mea responded with her usual line. Meanwhile, bored Lete had dragged over a nearby orc to use as her own chair. Jealous of mine, huh.

Holy Light Kingdom Berea. A theocratic nation founded when the Goddess's seed descended directly, shaping its holy history. A pope stands at the pinnacle, aided by twelve Holy Councilors in governing the realm. These thirteen are the nation's apex, but beyond their authority exist special beings: the saintesses.

Chosen with the Goddess's stigmata, each saintess wields unique, extraordinary powers. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Their holy might surpasses all others, making each one worth more than an army.

─Yet even such grand saintesses have their worries.

"Haa..."

In ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a room of the massive cathedral serving as the capital in place of a royal palace, Saintess Lemon let out a sigh and set down her pen.

Saintesses are busy. Piles of work await. She didn't know why she was handling paperwork instead of tending the common folk, but it had to be done—no slacking.

But her focus broke. Worry and anxiety stirred from deep in her chest.

Is that child doing okay?

Saintess Lemon fretted over her 'little sister,' already arrived at the Bewitching Forest. The girl was a holy knight, but newly blessed. Even without that, sending her to such a dangerous place weighed heavily.

I told her not to go...

Lemon had dreamed recently. She sometimes had prophetic visions. Hers showed an ominous light falling on the Bewitching Forest. Too specific for a mere dream—the forest tied closely to ancient prophecies of ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the King of Ruin. She couldn't ignore it.

She reported to the higher-ups, but:

─"Now's not the time for that, Saintess!"

─"Haa, you really..."

─"Dispatching busy holy knights on a baseless dream..."

─"The situation's dire. With Seeds of Ruin sprouting everywhere...!"

Not welcoming responses. If she were a more influential saintess, they'd listen. Sadly, Lemon's position in the church was minuscule. Orphan origins—no noble blood, scant learning. Blunt and inarticulate, she lacked popularity too.

So no one took her ill omen seriously. Except one: her fellow orphan, the lone holy knight.

─"I'll go, Lemon sis. No urgent duties, and scouting's within my abilities."

─"But it might be dangerous..."

─"If it's dangerous, a holy knight like me must go!"

Not blood-related, but raised together like sisters. Regret gnawed for burdening the girl. Yet gratitude too—for listening and acting when others wouldn't.

Couldn't dissuade her stubbornness. Instead, Lemon used her meager authority for supplies and soldiers. No fellow holy knight, but a veteran, capable female subordinate Lemon knew well. She'd support the inexperienced girl adequately.

...Please come back safe.

To shake her unease, Saintess Lemon knelt and began praying right there. After long prayer, she refocused on work. Mountains of documents awaited her signature today too...