The Successor of the Saint Does Not Fight - Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Turtle Tactics

The information gathered by the lower-ranked individuals through complete mobilization was surprisingly scarce.

The church’s damage reports comprised no more than a dozen sheets, listing only the names of missing victims.

In cases of attacked merchant carriages, they included details about the extent of the damages.

No evidence or eyewitness accounts implicated the White Wolf in these incidents.

In essence, guilt was attributed purely based on speculation.

Guilt could be forcibly attributed based on the complete absence of signs of struggle, bloodstains, or remnants of the carriages.

In a regular theft, there would typically be some traces left behind.

The lack of such evidence led to the conclusion that it was the work of a demonic being. “Let’s blame the suspicious devil,” that was their idea.

Because the materials were overly straightforward, the idea of passing the time quickly by reading them fell apart…

Well, that’s okay.

“This isn’t nearly enough. I’ll head outside and gather information.”

“Huh? Even someone like you is going to do that…”

“Yeah, since we’re conveniently close to the scene, we should gather the unfiltered opinions of the townspeople. Honestly, we need to determine whether that White Wolf is truly a fearsome demon or not.”

No matter how you looked at it, the White Wolf was undoubtedly a malicious demon, but I will just pretend otherwise.

If I asked about a hundred people, there should be at least one weird person giving a different answer.

So, I decided to adopt the turtle’s strategy and do that pointlessly.

That was the idea, but…

———————

“Yeah, I know. The White Wolf of the mountain pass, huh? Damages? Nah, haven’t heard anything. Folks around here don’t willingly go near that pass.”

“Why? Well, it’s scary. No one would willingly get close to a place where such a monster exists.”

“We wouldn’t even consider it a shortcut. Whether on foot or by carriage, the detour route is better maintained and faster.”

Everyone I asked while walking through the town provided similar responses.

Certainly, the White Wolf’s reputation as a fearsome demon is widely acknowledged.

However, precisely because of that acknowledgment, no one willingly approaches it.

I couldn’t find a single resident who had suffered any damage from the White Wolf.

It deviated slightly from my expectations, but for me, it wasn’t a major issue.

“Hmm, there seems to be a remarkable lack of information here. I can’t make judgments so lightly.”

In front of the subordinates accompanying me during the inquiry, I intentionally sighed with a serious expression.

Continuing the diligent inquiries, especially with the fatigue lingering from walking the mountain pass last night, is honestly a challenge.

However, if it means avoiding a direct confrontation with that White Wolf, energy seems to well up endlessly. I loudly announced my next move.

“The most affected by the damages are primarily carriages and traveling merchants—essentially, individuals engaged in trade. If that’s the scenario, the local merchant guild or similar associations might possess a more detailed understanding of the incidents. Let’s head in that direction this time.”

The subordinates showed clear signs of inconvenience.

Although I refer to them as subordinates, many of those accompanying me on this first mission as the “daughter of the Holy Saint” are the offspring of high-ranking members of the church headquarters.

In other words, they are mostly pampered and not used to such troublesome tasks.

“Why would Lady Merrill bother with dealing with a demon like this?”

The unspoken sentiment felt clear.

I’d probably think the same if our roles were reversed.

“Okay, everyone.”

To alleviate some of that dissatisfaction, I prepared a suitable explanation.

“This is my approach. My ultimate goal is to become a saint that surpasses even the Holy Saint. To achieve that, I can’t follow the same path she did. It’s only by exploring a different route that I can discover new perspectives, don’t you think?”

If my mom were here, she’d likely have finished all the tasks and be back home by now.

Maybe she’d even treat herself to a fancy dinner as a reward.

It’s really frustrating.

I wish she’d share just a bit of that incredible power.

Perhaps my true feelings slipped out a bit, as these words didn’t quite connect with the subordinates.

Everyone appeared puzzled, with expressions that seemed to say, “Huh…”.

Or perhaps, it might have been a bit too much…

Doing this much just because of a single demon, and the idea of someone surpassing even the Holy Saint….

To shift the focus from the awkwardness of my remark, I quickly headed to the merchant guild.

While I’m not familiar with the area, compared to the holy city where the church headquarters is located, this town feels like a small garden.

If I bump into someone and ask for directions, I should find my destination soon enough.

In the Holy City, merely by being the daughter of the Holy Saint and speaking, residents would probably offer prayers right there.

However, in this countryside, it’s understandable that my face isn’t recognized.

Well, this kind of feeling is refreshing and not bad once in a while.

“I’m from the church. I have a few inquiries to make.”

The merchant guild building I reached also had the simplicity, or rather, shabbiness typical of the countryside.

It was a two-story stone building and moss was growing in various places.

“Hey? From the church? What do you want?”

Furthermore, the one who came out to respond was a sturdy man who looked like a laborer, carrying a barrel of alcohol.

In urban merchant guilds, there should be a negotiator to handle price negotiations, but in such a countryside, there probably isn’t the luxury of constantly having administrative staff on hand.

I pulled out the investigation report from the cloak’s pocket.

“I am investigating the missing persons incident that occurred in the nearby mountain pass. Do you recognize the names of the victims, the merchants mentioned here?”

The big man, when asked, put down the barrel of alcohol, pulled out glasses from his pocket, and examined the documents.

Afterward, he furrowed his eyebrows and muttered,

“What’s this?”

He looked puzzled.

“Um, what’s the matter? Do you not have any idea?”

“Nah. Haven’t heard of any of these folks. But that’s not the problem. This is.”

The big man pointed to the total amount of damages to the cargo.

Neither I, as the daughter of the Holy Saint, nor the pampered subordinates, saw any issue with it, but then…

“What kind of cargo is this? It wouldn’t amount to such a sum unless it was loaded with gold, silver, or treasures.”