Haudemer's temple sits on a creek near the docks and is a fairly large stone church by Manling standards. According to Manling Victor, since Haudemer was a small town, the twelve "gods" worshiped by the Manlings - Winkle couldn't help laughing - had to share the same temple.
From what he knew, the weaker species worshiped these more powerful creatures, just as minions obeyed their dragon masters, and were given a place by their side after death. This part confused the dragon, who wished he could live forever.
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Presumably, the prospect of an afterlife only attracts those races that are vulnerable enough to die.
As soon as the residents saw Wacker, they left the surroundings of the temple. While he fully understood their inferiority complex before him, a little awe and adoration would have been nice. If they had enough money to worship twelve non-dragons, then of course they could give him some worship.
Only one man did not flee, but instead harassed his chief of staff.
"Do you want to be saved in the new world?" That Manlin looked even more ridiculous than others of his kind. He was wearing a black robe and had a poorly drawn map of the ocean and land painted on his chest and forehead. "Wait, I can feel your issekai level, medium!"
"I'm a self-proclaimed man," protested Winkel's chief of staff, showing off his tattoo of a dice. "You confused North America and South America on the map!"
"Oh, perfect!" The harasser was not discouraged and grabbed the minion's arm. "If you join the Mysterious Order of the New World, you're guaranteed to be reincarnated on a mysterious Japanese island where every girl is a virgin!"
"Get away!" Victor tried to push the piece of Manlin away. "Get him off me!"
"Minions," ordered Vankle, because he was too important to handle this. "Do this."
"Defend the Chief of Staff!" Red ordered the kobolds, and five kobolds immediately pounced on the confused believer, grabbing his face.
"Ah, kobolds!" protested the disciple of Manlin, trying to throw the little creatures off his back. "Get them off me!"
"Don't kill him, just restrain him!" Victor pleaded as the kobold pinned the poor fool to the ground. Winkle watched this scene quietly and found it very interesting.
These five are too cute to be used as emergency rations. Winkle hopes Victor can recruit some less comical minions so he won't regret eating them.
The scene did confuse the dragon, though. "What is that, Manlin Victor?"
"This is a money scam," Victor complained. "I have lived on earth, and it is nothing like what he just said!"
"Why are we here?" Minions, while I understand that you lower species need to pay homage to a higher power, if you want to pray to someone, you should pray to me. Sometimes I even answer. "
"Your Majesty wants to get rid of the business of selling corpses and monster parts." His chief of staff pointed to the carriage behind them. “The church is responsible for dealing with these issues.”
Ah, yes. In total, Wankel "caught" six Manlin thieves, and one he accidentally chopped down while practicing with an axe. They also encountered an orc, who ran away at the sight of him; the dragon simply glared at them as if they were unworthy of him, which they were.
What was he thinking at the time, recruiting those cowards as minions? Manlin Victor made the right decision, and the kobolds solved everything.
Manlin Victor left the believer with his servants, walked through the open door and walked into the majestic white hall inside. Soon after, Winkle followed, head and neck in front, with pure dragon majesty.
Then, he failed to insert his wings.
Fankle grunted and tried to squeeze himself in, but after a big meal he was too fat to fit in. His shoulder hit the wall, making the temple tremble, but unlike the weak city hall, the walls here were strong and thick.
Manlin Victor watched the scene expressionlessly, drank from the water bottle, and waited politely for his host to complete his dramatic entrance. Fankel noticed that there were still a few people in the building looking expectantly.
"Minion Victor! Dragon complained to his companions: "Tell the architects to build a bigger door!"
"Of course, Your Majesty," the chief of staff replied. "But can you save this place from falling upon us poor mortals?"
When he finally realized that he couldn't get in without first pressing the entire temple on top of his servant, Winkle decided to let only his neck and head in, and make a noise.
Why is Manling so small?
The Haudemer Temple mainly consists of a white hall and two small rooms on both sides. Each of the 12 gods of the weaker race has a statue and altar, although not with the same degree of respect.
The dragon's share of the spotlight fell to the same creature, and Winkle received a statue of Mithras, the sun god of law and justice. This is a giant marble statue of King Manling wearing a golden fire crown and wielding a flaming sword with the largest altar. Next to him is a statue of a blond, plump-breasted female knight of Merlin, whom the weak race calls Leone, the goddess of art and nobility.
According to Manling Victor, these two ascended manlings were the titular gods of the garden and were therefore located in the center. "The Architect placed the more ambiguous gods, such as the Dreadful Three, Sabra and Xesha, on the left," Manlin Victor told his master, his voice so low that Winkle could barely hear him , "And the 'politically correct' gods like Moon Man, Monk, Cybele, Isengum and Dice are placed on the right."
The man glared fiercely at the statue of the dice. Fankle gleaned from the last prayers of foolish adventurers of the past that the "dice-roller" was the god of magic, weather, and luck. As its name suggests, it is a die with an eye in the center of each of its 20 faces.
"Manling Victor, don't you like dice?" Unlike Victor's low tone, Winkel didn't care to respect the quiet atmosphere, and his voice boomed in the hall. No one dared to complain.
He would eat anyone who did so.
"The dazed fellow sent me to Overmond without asking," answered the servant. Unfortunately, everyone has idolized it since it first opened up the class system. It was almost as popular as Mithraism. "
Discussion...right. As if the dragon didn't level up first. Fankel refused to believe he was the first to do so.
Dice's altar looked more like a gambling table than a religious site, and a catkin priest was busy playing a board game with what the dragon thought were two followers. Even Winkel's superb arrival didn't take their eyes off the game.
So Winkle cleared his throat loudly, and they glanced over his head, which was enough for him.
With three exceptions, most altars have at least one small priest near them. A squid with tentacles, recognized by the dragon as the Moon Man, an ancient creature that was fought off by his kind in the distant past; a humanoid crow, dressed in a clown costume and holding a sharp scythe, covered in blood ;and a giant worm like the one in the cave beneath Vankel's own lair. The Manlings completely destroyed the last statue.
"That was Sabra, the terrible worm god, god of earth, time and destruction," explained Manlin Victor. Winkle was secretly grateful that he didn't have to voice his ignorance out loud. "No one worships it in Gadmane because it supports their enemies. People pray against it."
"Where are the others?" Fankel listened, just in case there was anything to be gained.
"Bah, Moon Man probably doesn't remember that he has followers, and Death the Clown is the God of Crime. No one openly worships him."
"That piece of Sabla
How much is it worth?" asked Winkle, eager to get his hands on that stipend and free money. "We can hunt him down if there's a bounty on his head. "
"I don't think going to war with a god is a good idea, even for His Majesty."
"Why? If it existed, I could kill it. I'm a dragon, remember? Whenever his bugs come into my cave, I eat them."
"Yes, but that one was level 100 and turned the southern continent into a desert. Besides, no one would put a bounty on a god's head."
Make sad.
Winkle briefly noticed Manlin Lynette discussing with a nearby priest, but Victor focused on the matter at hand first, heading toward the Mithraic altar.
"Greetings, faithful ones," said the bishop, who stood at the back, flanked by a scented priestess of Lyon; unlike the unflappable priest, the woman observed Wen with the appropriate degree of fear and apprehension. Kerr. "Are you here to offer sacrifice?"
"Sacrifice?" Winkel asked, amused by the strange customs of these weak people.
Victor explained the concept to him: "You give money to the church as an offering to God in lieu of loyalty."
Fankel immediately saw his opportunity. "Slave Victor-"
"Your Majesty cannot be a god," his servant said hurriedly, the fastest sentence he had ever said, "unless he reaches level 100."
Fankle sulked in disappointment. When he reached that level and became a god, he would have his servants build him a bigger temple and a bigger statue than this Mithras god. Nor could he share it with other gods.
"We have six human corpses outside, and a mantis corpse," Victor told the priest. “Will the church accept them?”
"We will purify the bodies so that they will not spontaneously rise again, and then burn them for free," said the priests of Mithras. "If you prefer another method, Ise
g
Priests of Im and Cybele would bury them in the forest so they could return to nature. "
"Free?" Fankel stared down at the priest. "You won't pay for my transportation, will you?"
“Why should we pay you to do public service?”
"Because we asked them about the huge costs involved in the death process."
"That's not a real word, Your Majesty," Victor said.
"Of course I said so," Wankel insisted.
"We don't pay people to collect the bodies," the bishop of Mithras replied, glaring at the dragon. "If you want to get paid instead of doing something moral, I suggest you go to Sasha Church instead."
"Where?" asked the dragon at once, his greed stronger than his anger at the insolence of animals.
Victor pointed his finger to the left, toward a snake-like human altar, with the upper body of a winged woman and the lower body of a snake. A creature that looks most like a dragon, her statue is the most outrageous of all, being made of solid gold.
"Hello, Lynette," Manlin Victor said as he approached the altar. Winkle looked lustfully at the statue, leaving his servant to his botched attempt at pre-breeding. "Of course you will worship the goddess of commerce."
"Yes and no, Victor," she answered. "This is more of a business deal."
"Unlike other gods, whose gifts are fickle, Lady Shesha trades her miracles according to the rules of the market," said the goddess's priestess, a potbellied dwarf woman. "For a fitting monetary gift, she provided."
"She made my inn more prosperous and charged a fee," Lynette explained.
"Really?" Manlin Victor's voice was filled with strange hope. "How much does it cost to return to my home planet, Earth?"
"Let me ask the goddess." The priest experienced a brief trance, waving his hands feverishly until a golden number composed of light briefly flashed before his eyes.
…
…
Winkle had never seen so many zeros. "This is robbery!" Victor expressed his master's contempt.
"If you accept the Shesha Worshiper's annual fee, you'll get a twenty percent discount," the priestess tried to trick Manling Victor, the numbers being changed to reflect the deduction. "30% if you become a bishop or priestess. Donations to Shesha Church are also tax-deductible, so if you have time we can discuss your financial future."
"The minion has no intention of leaving his current, satisfying job," Winkle answered for Victor, although he noted that being a god sounded almost as profitable as being an adventurer.
"Yes," Victor replied in a strangely unenthusiastic tone. "We're here to deal with the seven corpses outside, six burnt corpses and a mantis corpse."
"We can buy corpses for fertilizer and use the mantis's body to make leather and potions. Considering the value, I am willing to give one gold coin to each corpse and a hundred to the mantis beast's skin."
"One hundred and six?" Long added the numbers and said, "I said twice."
"One hundred and six," the priestess answered, her eyes shining with the steely determination of a true negotiator.
So Fankel raised his prices. "three!"
"Your Majesty, you should tone down a bit during negotiations."
"The lower levels are only for the less confident," Winkle replied. "I am a dragon and I know my worth. As my representative, I expect you to dominate as well, minion Victor."
"Dragon or not, the market is absolute," the priestess replied, her greed so pure that the dragon-like Winkle could not stop her. "One hundred and six."
Manly Lynette
li
g
ette) watched the scene in silence while a hooded figure wearing heavy crimson robes approached the group as the argument heated up.
"I'm sorry, I heard your argument." A figure with a hoarse voice said. Even though he couldn't see his face under the hood, Fankle noticed his corpse-like white hands and the familiar smell of decay underneath. Ghoul. "Do you want to sell fresh corpses?"
Winkle looked at the undead and then at his servant. "That is the worshiper of Camilla," said the attendant, pointing to the mosquito crown on the newcomer's robe. The Blood Marquise, god of death, plague and darkness. One of the Three Horrible Heroes. "
"Three what?"
"The Horrible Three. Camilla, the god of death, the Clown of Death, the god of crime, and Veran, the god of fire and tyranny. The three evil adventurers became gods together and have been friends ever since; they against the Mithras, but the people were too afraid of them to prohibit their worship.”
"I hate that evil label," the ghoul replied. "Our goddess is simply misunderstood."
"Didn't she cause the Red Death and turn many people into bloodthirsty vampires?" Victor asked.
"Just to prevent overpopulation, the vampires played a key role in defeating Formor during the Century War. Like I said, misunderstood." The figure coughed. "Anyway, have you ever heard of the undead labor trade?"
"Here we go again," the priestess of Shisha said with a sigh.
"No, never," Winkle said.
"Yes," Victor said. "They buy corpses from living relatives, turn them into mindless zombies, and then put them to work, from mining to farming. Isn't that illegal?"
"The undead labor trade is a completely legal new industry, although only a handful of cities currently allow it," the hooded man replied. "Very few people do this, but over time we hope more towns adopt this practice as they see the benefits of enslaving the dead to improve the living. Imagine going from Midgard to Ish Fania, zombies working the fields in every town, or fearless skeletons rescuing helpless orphans from forest fires.”
"Oh, where can I buy it?" asked Vaikl, who was indeed a little dizzy now.
"Your Majesty likes dead people?" Victor asked. "I never thought you'd turn into a dragon like that."
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"Follow Victor, having a retinue of undead is a status symbol for a dragon," told his chief of staff. "And they are extremely useful. They never run away, don't eat, are not tempted by treasure, and their lifespan is almost as long as As long as a dragon..."
Winkle's own rival, the arrogant Icefang, when he wasn't boasting about his crown, was bragging about his army of dead Manlin protecting his treasure.
"As far as I know, Victor," Camilla's necromancer priest said to his entourage, "you meet the criteria to unlock the necromancer class. You can make a lot of money."
"Really?" Winkel looked down at his servant, who lowered his head. "You can bring the dead back to life? That's awesome!"
"I meet the criteria for that class," the servant admitted. "But I'm not proud of it."
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"Minion, you have to level up in that class," insisted, "for my own good." "
"I must warn you," said the priestess of Shisha. "Our Goddess herself is currently unsure whether the potential long-term consequences of mass witchcraft will outweigh its increased market value."
"I assure you that our use of undead labor is absolutely safe. No matter what these bourgeois aristocratic imperialists trying to crack down on free undead enterprise will tell you, there is no evidence that undead energy has a negative impact on the environment." That undead The mage couldn't help but make a long speech. "To be honest, using mindless labor is more ethical than the animal slavery that is still practiced in our country. Animals have feelings, living corpses don't."
"Funeral," interrupted Fankle, more concerned with making a quick buck than local politics. "How much?"
"If you sign a binding contract authorizing us to turn them into immortals, we can give fifty gold coins to each corpse and five hundred gold coins to the lion-headed beast. Eight hundred people in total."
"Deal!" Winkle said before the minion Victor could say anything.
"I need to examine the body first," said Camilla's priest.
As the necromancer left to inspect the "cargo," Manlin Lynette put his hand on Victor's arm. "Victor, Your Majesty, can we talk for a moment?"
Victor nodded, obviously eager to win the female's favor. "What's the matter?"
"Henry is missing," she told them, then gave Victor a letter. "Someone ransacked his home last night, stole his research papers, and left this in the house."
Henry. While Victor read the letter, Wink tried to remember the name.
"There was a very arrogant Captain Franparaçois Verman in Harmonia," said the minion, "who politely offered to discuss the release of 'our mutual friend Henry' and to 'the noble Vankel His Majesty King Baine, Knight, offers 'gold' in exchange for the use of Haudemer's ships." Winkle silently admired the fact that at least one Manling knew how to properly address him. "Wellman also provided the coordinates of the meeting place and an hour tonight, and signed it in blood without a hint of evil."
"Our pharmacist confirmed that this is Henry's," said Manlyn Lynette, she sounded worried, "since we don't have a strong enough spellcaster to find him, I wanted to ask the goddess Sasha, but she prescribed The price is too high.”
"If they want to buy my forgiveness and a boat, who am I to judge them?" Winkle replied, still unable to remember who this Henry was.
"Your Majesty, the meeting place is far away from Hodmer, which is very convenient. This is obviously a trap."
"I know, minion, but what can they do? Not die?"
"Obviously not, but they can loot the city and escape while His Majesty is away." "If they don't lie, drain Henry dry, and kill him."
Manlin Lynette showed no expression and left without saying a word. "Wait, I didn't mean that!" Minion Victor called her: "This is just the worst case scenario!"
Winkle doesn't think his servant will have children any time soon.
Finally, after the undertaker found something he liked, Winkel got Victor to sign a lengthy contract with Camilla Church. Basically, as a legitimate "living relative," he swore to the gods that he agreed to hand over the body to witchcraft for transformation.
"I just sold the body to a necromancer to do slave labor in the afterlife," Manlin Victor complained. "It feels dirty."
"Why? There is nothing happier in life than watching my treasure grow!" Winkle decided to cheer up his servant with the promised reward. "Please give my steward eight gold coins."
"Eight coins?" Manlin Victor blinked. “I thought it was a tenth of the sales?”
"One-tenth," Winkle clarified.
Manlin Victor looked up at his master, obviously not very good at math. "Like a tenth?"
"Yes," Winkle answered, "a tenth, I promised. Why, do you want less?"
"No, I'm fine," the Minion said wisely. "You are already too generous."
"We will reanimate these corpses and deliver them to the cities of Fepuit and Minecruse for immediate mining labor," said the necromancer, whose real name according to the contract is "Jules Rapace" . "Thank you for supporting the modernization of our country."
Congratulations! In order to ruthlessly sell the corpses of your enemies to Camilla Church and make the world a place of death, you have obtained [Deadf
ie
d]Personal welfare!
[Dead Friend]: The mindless undead treat you as one of their own and will not attack you unless attacked first; increase charisma by 5 when interacting with undead or Camilla worshipers.
"Great, slave, I have new benefits!" You too?"
"I've never been so ashamed of a person."
