Chapter 232: The God of Hunger, Ferderica (3)

The next morning dawned with a hazy sky and the promise of more trouble for Milayna. She stepped outside, intent on managing the day’s business, only to freeze in surprise the moment she opened the main door of the Akasha family estate.

Right there, blocking the gate, stood a group so disheveled, so caked with filth, that anyone passing by would have mistaken them for common beggars. Their clothes were ragged, stained, and their faces sunburnt and drawn. However, there was a strange focus in their eyes, something almost fanatical.

Before Milayna could react, the estate guards rushed to her side, their faces strained with worry.

“Lady Milayna, we’re sorry for the disturbance...”

“What’s happening?” she asked one of the guards, already bracing herself for bad news.

“These people... they’ve been blocking the gate since last night,” the guard replied, glancing uneasily at the group.

Milayna frowned. “Then why haven’t you asked them to move? That’s what I pay you for.”

“We tried, but...” Their words trailed off, helpless. The guards exchanged nervous glances.

It was clear something more was going on. Setting her jaw, Milayna stepped forward herself, facing the ragged assembly. “Who are you people? Why are you camped at the Akasha estate?”

A woman at the front stepped forward, her posture stiff, her eyes narrowed. “We are the followers of the God of Hunger, Ferderica. My name is Riltara.”

Milayna’s heart skipped a beat. She knew that name. She had heard rumors about the followers of Ferderica—how they moved like a blight from land to land, leaving starvation and chaos in their wake. Now, they were standing on her doorstep, in the very heart of Denian’s capital.

So that was why the guards had done nothing

, she realized.

No one in their right mind would want to antagonize the agents of such a powerful, unpredictable god. Milayna forced herself to remain composed. She introduced herself with formal dignity.

“I am Milayna Akasha, head of the Akasha family. I greet you as one who honors all the great gods, including yours.”

Riltara’s lips curled in a faint, disdainful smile. “Milayna Akasha. I know your name well.”

Milayna’s reputation extended across the continent. She was the woman who had resurrected a family on the verge of ruin, transforming it into the kingdom’s foremost merchant house. People admired her; stories about her business acumen were told in every city. However, to Riltara, all that meant nothing.

“You’re the woman who fills her belly with false abundance, wallowing in wealth and decadence. I always knew we would meet someday, but I never expected the chance would come like this,” Riltara said, her voice sharpened by contempt.

Milayna managed a strained smile. She realized at once how the priestess viewed her. To someone who served Ferderica, a god who glorified deprivation and condemned abundance, Milayna’s very existence was an affront. Yet she kept her tone polite.

“What business do the followers of Ferderica have with my family?” she asked, her words calm.

Riltara answered coldly, “We have confirmed that the Sinner of Revelation has come here. Present him to us now.”

So it was true,

Milayna thought. They had come for Ketal.

She shook her head. “I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

“Are you refusing the will of the god?” Riltara’s voice was ice.

“Even if a god personally issued the command, I see no reason to obey,” Milayna replied evenly. “Ketal is my benefactor. I cannot betray someone to whom I owe so much, not even for the will of a god. To cast him out would be to reject everything I stand for.”

In this world, it was accepted that a direct divine revelation could override almost any obligation. However, exceptions existed, especially in cases of personal loyalty. Otherwise, society would be thrown into chaos with every supposed sign from above.

Riltara’s face twisted with anger. “How dare you...”

Her outrage was unmistakable. To a servant of Ferderica, such defiance was blasphemy. Normally, she would have stormed in, using force to get her way. However, this was Denian, far beyond the reach of Ferderica Church, a kingdom powerful enough to threaten any invaders. Riltara had to restrain herself, even as she seethed with fury.

Milayna pressed on, “Ketal himself said he would accompany you after finishing his current business. Please be patient and wait until then.”

It was a reasonable compromise. The followers lacked the power to drag Ketal away by force. It would be better for all sides if they simply waited until Ketal was ready to leave. If nothing else, it bought them time.

However, Milayna forgot one important thing. These were not ordinary diplomats or negotiators—they were fanatics. They had come to impose the will of their god, not to seek compromise.

“We have no reason to heed your words, unbeliever,” Riltara spat. “Frankly, I would rather storm your estate and crush your so-called prosperity to dust, but I am restraining myself out of mercy. And you dare offer me terms? Know your place.”

Milayna was truly taken aback by the open hostility. She had never expected such direct antagonism, not in the heart of the capital. It was as if Riltara saw herself as a holy sword, come to cut down all who stood in her way.

Riltara wasn’t done. “Still, acting by force would be barbaric. I am offering you one last chance. If you do not present the Sinner of Revelation, then we will wait here, at your door, until you comply.”

With a clang, she stabbed her sword into the earth, as if to plant roots. “We will remain here, unmoving, until you bring him out.”

Her followers followed suit, forming a ring around the Akasha mansion.

Milayna stared at them in disbelief. The estate was besieged—not by soldiers, but by religious zealots.

Her mind raced. She needed help, fast. She summoned her aides and sent word to the royal palace. It didn’t take long for Maximus, the famed Swordmaster and one of the kingdom’s pillars, to arrive.

“I heard rumors, but I didn’t think it would come to this,” he muttered. He surveyed the scene, frowning deeply.

Milayna turned to him. “Maximus, is there anything we can do?”

He shook his head. “Much as I’d like to chase them away, I can’t justify it. Divine revelation doesn’t have to be obeyed blindly, but interfering with a god’s chosen agents is dangerous. Unless they cause a disturbance or break the law, they’re untouchable. It’s practically diplomatic immunity.”

“But if they’re just standing here...?” Milayna asked him, voice tinged with disbelief.

“There’s nothing we can do, unless they start something.” Maximus looked troubled. “The king is already working on a response. He’ll contact Ferderica’s Church directly and put pressure on them. Eventually, they’ll have to back off. But until then, we just have to put up with it.”

Milayna nodded grimly. “So for now, we’re on our own.”

The estate was effectively under siege. No one was stopped from entering or leaving, but the pressure was intense. Gossip began to spread. People whispered about why the Akasha family was being targeted by Ferderica’s followers and what they might have done to incur the god’s wrath.

The mere presence of the followers was enough to poison business. Milayna saw it firsthand the next day when she tried to meet with a merchant to finalize a crucial artifact deal. She had invested weeks of preparation and a significant portion of the family’s resources. The trade was vital for their continued prosperity.

“Wait, you’re canceling the deal?” she cried, shock plain on her face.

The other merchant looked away, embarrassed. “I’m sorry, Milayna. I can’t afford to do business with someone under Ferderica’s shadow.”

“Why?” she demanded.

However, the man was already walking away, offering only mumbled apologies. Even though she could claim penalties for breach of contract, the damage was done. Trust was fragile in the world of trade, and her reputation was under siege.

It didn’t stop there. Other deals were called off or abruptly canceled, all for the same reason. Milayna quickly gathered her intelligence network.

One of her agents brought the news. “Lady Milayna, rumors are everywhere. People are saying the Akasha family has been cursed by Ferderica’s followers. Anyone who stays close to you will be next.”

It was not just hearsay. There was precedent. Once, a powerful noble family in another kingdom had sheltered a territory targeted by Ferderica’s Church. As soon as they did, the church denounced them as heretics. Within a week, the entire domain was reduced to wasteland, its people forced to flee as refugees. The church issued insincere regrets afterward, but it made no difference—the devastation was absolute.

No one wanted to take that risk, no matter the potential profit.

The problem soon affected Ketal as well. One day, Milayna approached him with a downcast face.

“Ketal, I’m sorry, but it’s taking longer to find you a teacher.”

“Is it that hard to find someone?” Ketal asked her, frowning.

“No, I’ve already found a few candidates, but they all backed out at the last moment. They’re scared off by the holy knights and the priestess at our gates.”

Ketal’s expression darkened. “So it’s because of them.”

“Yes.” Milayna’s voice was small. “I’m sorry. I never imagined they’d take things this far.”

She had assumed Ferderica’s Church would be more subtle, exerting quiet pressure, or perhaps sending messages through intermediaries. Instead, Riltara and her followers had chosen brute force, applying overt, relentless pressure.

“It’s so crude,” Milayna said, shaking her head. “They’re hurting us, but they’re hurting themselves in the long run. The kingdom will retaliate. This will all blow back on them.”

However, the damage was done. The siege continued, stifling all attempts at business and making life at the estate miserable. The family’s reputation and financial stability suffered. The followers of Ferderica stood motionless, silent sentinels that inspired both fear and resentment.

At times, Ketal would stand at a window, gazing out at the line of the followers. Once, Maximus joined him on the rooftop.

“It’s maddening,” the Swordmaster said, scowling. “These fools are a blight on the city.”

“Isn’t there anything you can do?” Ketal asked him.

“We’re as frustrated as you are. But as long as they have the excuse of divine revelation, our hands are tied. No one can move against them without risking the wrath of their god and the suspicion of the people. It’s the power of faith. The old Kalosia Church was just as untouchable, until they finally went too far.”

Ketal was silent, brooding. He found it difficult to accept that the whim of a god could so easily disrupt his plans. Maximus seemed to sense his growing anger.

“Don’t do anything reckless,” he warned. “Those followers aren’t especially strong—barely Advanced, by most standards. You could wipe them out in a heartbeat. But if you do, the entire Ferderica Church will hunt you. They’ll go after anyone who’s ever helped you. It won’t stop until they’ve erased everything connected to you.”

“So it’s not just my problem, then.”

“No. This is the power of a god’s authority. No matter how unjust it seems, it’s the reality we live with.”

Ketal’s jaw clenched. The sense of unfairness, of helplessness, was suffocating. He was not used to being blocked, not after everything he’d endured in the White Snowfield and beyond. His whole reason for venturing into this world had been to experience its wonders, to enjoy everything it had to offer. And now, these self-righteous fanatics had come, threatening that freedom, stealing away the joy that was so rare and precious to him.

In the past, when the Tower Master had asked what he would do if someone tried to stand in his way, Ketal had answered without hesitation—it would be a nuisance. Now, for the first time, he was experiencing that nuisance firsthand.

A chill crept into his voice. “This is annoying.”

Maximus drew back, unsettled by the change in Ketal’s demeanor. Gone was the easygoing barbarian who smiled at every little surprise. Instead, Ketal’s face was cold, flat, like someone who had spent centuries locked in a cage only to be thrown back in the moment he tasted freedom.

Seeing this, Maximus repeated his warning, softer now. “Don’t do anything rash. If you strike at them, you’ll be declaring war on their entire church. And the damage won’t be limited to you.”

Ketal’s gaze was fixed on Riltara, but his mind was elsewhere. He recalled Ignisia’s words—if ever the world’s powers blocked his way, he should at least consider the consequences before acting.

He took a long breath, forcing down his anger.

“Fine. I suppose I can tolerate it for a little while. If I learn their reason for summoning me, maybe I’ll even play along,” Ketal muttered. Though he was looking at Riltara as he spoke, she was not the one he was addressing. He was speaking to the entity that controlled her. “But if their reason isn’t good enough—if they’re wasting my time—then they’ll have to be prepared to face the consequences.”