“What kind of sweet deal?”

“Life on the road isn’t easy, is it?” The young noble was sharp-eyed. One glance at Fate’s worn clothes told him the man was short on coin and weary from scraping by—otherwise, he wouldn’t have taken such a thankless job.

For someone like him, nothing felt more secure than steady work.

The noble had originally planned to hire cannon fodder.

But he needed hands, and this blond youth didn’t seem cunning or dishonest—his manner felt straightforward. Plus, he clearly had skill and grit.

“What’s your name?”

“Fate.”

“Mr. Fate, a new cathedral was just finished in Bati City. Have you heard of it?”

“No.” Fate shook his head slightly. He’d literally just crawled out of a grave—of course he knew nothing of recent events.

“Conveniently, Dawnbreak Cathedral needs a front-desk attendant and a cathedral guard. Normally, such posts go to local knights’ academy dropouts. But you handled yourself well yesterday, saving my cargo. So… reluctantly, I’ll offer you this fine position.”

“How about it? Miss this chance, and it won’t come again.”

“Cathedral guard?” Fate didn’t rush to agree. “What would my duties be?”

“As long as no thugs cause trouble inside, it’s mostly idle work. Just answer a few questions from worshippers.”

“Pay’s set at one silver coin and fifty iron coins per month. Acceptable?”

Fate had little grasp of money—but he now understood: without his knight’s stipend, surviving peacefully in this world meant needing coin. Badly.

You had to eat. No one could go without food.

Right now, aside from the mithril necklace “borrowed” from the tomb, he only had two silver coins and some copper coins from this job. It wouldn’t last.

Maybe pause the wandering… save up first?

“Alright. I accept.”

“A wise choice.” The noble had clearly expected it.

A cathedral guard still counted as clergy—status above commoners.

As for pay? The noble had his own calculus. He offered a novice clergy’s base wage… but assigned Fate two roles.

Besides, Dawnbreak Cathedral wasn’t even the barony’s project—it was commissioned by the Empress. Build it, skim what you can. Hiring an adventurer skilled in Xinjue as guard cut costs without negligence. A tidy win.

“Here. Take this letter to Father at Dawnbreak Cathedral in Bati City’s southern district.” He handed Fate a pre-sealed letter.

Fate examined it. Only House Buckly’s wax seal was visible.

Wait—what *was* Dawnbreak Cathedral?

He searched his memory. No deity named “Dawnbreak” existed in the Karno Empire’s pantheon.

A new church risen after his death?

He didn’t dwell. Took the letter. Thanked the man.

“Nearly noon. Time to move on.” The noble boarded the carriage. Escorted by merchant guards, the convoy rolled deeper into the forest.

No more goblin threats ahead. Smooth sailing.

Fate glanced at the white-draped cargo on the wagons. Considered mentioning the wiped-out goblin nest outside the village—let them claim the loot.

Then let it go. Ownership was unclear. Might belong to another caravan.

Best not touch stolen goods.

Claiming it himself? Never crossed his mind.

After asking gloomy villagers for directions to Bati City, Fate retrieved his corn bag, took a bite, and set off.

A villager urged him to buy his horse—reach the city by dusk.

Fate declined politely. Years at war taught him fine steeds from nags. This old farmer’s horse was pure scam bait.

Alone under the blazing sun, he marched briskly, nonstop. Fude Village and Bati City both lay within Buckly Barony—close enough. By noon on the second day, he reached Bati City’s southern gate.

Corn gone.

“Halt! Where from? Business?” Guards crossed spears, blocking him.

“Fude Village.”

As Fate spoke, a guard’s eyes snagged on the rusty, shabby iron sword at his waist. Disdain flickered. *Why so many country bumpkins lately?*

A perfunctory search for contraband. Then waved through.

Passing by, Fate overheard the mutter: “Farmer carrying a sword? Scared bandits’ll rob you?”

Fate ignored it. Stepped inside. Scanned the town—familiar, yet not.

He’d visited Bati City once. Only once. Knew little of it or its surrounds.

But…

It *was* better than last time.

Back then, citizens were sallow, hollow-eyed, starved-looking.

Those numb, vacant stares—he still remembered them.

Art and civilization only bloom when bellies are full. In those dull imperial eyes, only raw instinct kept them clinging to life.

When food and shelter aren’t guaranteed, who thinks beyond the next meal?

Nobles mocked peasants for short-sightedness—never asking who made them that way.