Winter brings no harvest to most northerners, especially towns near the Helmes Plateau. The Evil Moon brings not only endless rain and snow, but also bitter cold, starvation, and death. But White, the 'Pseudopod,' is different. Every winter, the Church's messengers come to him, asking him to drive to the borders of the Wolfheart Kingdom, where he picks up orphans suffering in the cold and takes them to the Old Holy City.
This is a lucrative deal—each trip yields nearly twenty Silver Wolves, making it a virtuous undertaking. With the Evil Demon Month drawing to a close this year, this carriage will likely be the final one.
"Sir, why don't you stay in the carriage? The snow outside will keep falling for quite some time. You're not like us who brave the elements daily—make sure you don't catch a cold." "It's nothing," the envoy said, drawing his wine flask and taking a sip. "The New Holy City is far colder than here. On the plateau, even fur coats and armor can't shield against the biting cold. They're like the Devil's insidious claws, seeping into every part of your body. Without antifreeze pills, that place is truly not for ordinary people." "You mean," White nodded repeatedly. He had never been to the New Holy City and didn't want to go. What was there to see besides ice and evil beasts? But as an experienced carriage driver, he could always find new topics, and this envoy was far more talkative than his predecessor. "Your gloves are made from wolf skin, a specialty from the western borderlands of Graycastle, aren't they?" "Oh? You know that?" "Hey, sir, I've been in this business for nearly thirty years," White said smugly. "First driving for the baron, then for the countess, and even for Little Wolfheart Princess. If it weren't for an accident that broke my leg, I might still be at the count's estate. They have nothing else—only golden dragons, Graycastle furs, silverware, winter jewels, and fjord crafts. They never stop talking once they get in the carriage, until their ears turn to calluses." "So that's how you got your nickname," the ambassador nodded. "What kind of accident?" "Ah, a refugee uprising. Those ruffians would do anything for food." "White spat," "They surrounded the carriage. To protect the Countess, I had to spur the horse into a wild gallop. The horse panicked, threw me off, and overturned the carriage." "So you broke your leg?" the ambassador asked curiously. "What about the Countess?" "Better than me. The carriage had cushions and thick blankets, but she was bruised and battered from the fall," White said indignantly. "She crawled out and ran, leaving me on the road. I dragged my broken leg home and spent all my savings on a prosthetic leg," he tapped the copper rod sticking out of his pants. "But the Earl's estate kicked me out with the excuse of my inability to drive. Those damned Nobles!" "What a pity," the ambassador paused. "But God hasn't abandoned you. You're now driving for the Church. May God be merciful." "Yes, sir. May God be merciful." "No, if heaven were truly merciful, it shouldn' t have let me suffer such a thing," White thought. "It didn't save me when I needed it most."
At this moment, the sound of a girl's cry came from the carriage.
"Stop." White tightened the reins, gradually bringing the horses to a halt. The ambassador leapt off and circled around to the rear of the carriage. Soon, the sound of whips lashing out filled the carriage.
Poor child, he sighed. 'Endure this—this is your savior. Without the Messenger, you won't survive this winter. You'll end up as a street corpse, left to rot.'
After a short while, the ambassador returned and climbed onto the carriage. "Let's go." "Take your seat. Let's go!" White shook the reins, and the carriage started moving again. "They all come from different parts of the Wolfheart Kingdom?" "More or less. Churches in every town across the kingdom shelter orphans, especially during winter when food and clothing are scarce. We end up taking in several times more than the Church's monks can handle alone. That's why we also hire trustworthy carriage drivers through the carriage company to assist with transportation. You've done a great job, White. My predecessor praised you highly." "It's an honor to participate in such good deeds," White said with a smile. "Sir, will they all be sent to the convents? Please forgive my rambling, but while they're all orphans, their natures differ. Some may be young, but they've done all sorts of things. Could such people taint the sacred land?" "God will make His judgment. Even if they're guilty, they'll still have a chance at redemption." "Is that so? That's truly commendable." White looked up at the sky. "It's getting late, sir. Should we spend the night in the next town? If the weather's good tomorrow, we should reach the Old Holy City by noon." The ambassador let out a sigh. "Find a stable with a yard where we can park the carriage. You go prepare food for them." "Certainly!" White replied.
This town was the only route from Wolfheart Kingdom to the Old Holy City. Having been here before, he knew the way like the back of his hand and quickly located the inn where he used to stay. After driving the carriage into the courtyard, he took the coins from the messenger and went to buy food for the orphans. As usual, sweet potato porridge was the perfect choice—affordable and delicious. Watching them distribute the porridge, White limped back to the inn, ordered a buttered loaf, and sat at the bar to munch on it. As for the messenger, he must have found a better place.
If he hadn't lost his leg ten years ago, he would have gone to a tavern to order a glass of wine and tossed a few dice—his luck had always been good back then. Now... White touched the money bag in his pocket and decided it was better to return to his room early.
As dusk fell, he heard commotion in the courtyard. Rising to lift the curtain, White saw the drunken messenger unlock the carriage door and step inside. Soon, two orphans were dragged out. Behind him stood two more men, their attire unmistakably Noble.
White put down the curtain and went back to the warm bed.
This wasn't the first time he'd seen such things—the ambassador in charge often did the same. 'To live is the greatest fortune,' he thought. 'Better endure the pain than face it now.' 'When you reach the Holy City, you'll have a whole new life, 'he added.' At least in the monastery, you won't have to worry about hunger or cold.' White yawned and dozed off.
At daybreak, he boarded the ambassador's carriage and pressed on. The journey went smoothly, and the two arrived at the Old Holy City half an hour ahead of schedule. The Church's carriage was already waiting for them there. Though the poor souls still had some distance to go, it no longer concerned him.
"This is your reward," the Ambassador threw a cloth bag over his shoulder.
White took the note and counted it twice in his palm—it was indeed twenty silver wolves. He nodded and bowed, saying, "I hope to see you again next year." The ambassador didn't reply, merely gesturing for him to leave.
White noticed that several other carriages were doing the same task as his. Could they have been sent from other kingdoms? He wondered, but something felt odd—the ones getting off were all young girls. Did the Church only adopt girls when taking in orphans?
He shook his head, put these questions out of his mind, and drove home.