Even as his men were exultantly gathering the spoils of war, Viscount Worsil issued an order to withdraw from Libert. Seizing upon his military victory, he established a defensive alliance with the Libert chieftain under the guise of mutual border security. In truth, the shattered Libert had no choice but to surrender its safety into the hands of Nor. For a time thereafter, Nor fell silent, choosing to recuperate and lower its profile to avoid stirring the jealous suspicions of other lords.

　　While the western lords were embroiled in their petty intrigues, Worsil’s son, Berdiska, donned the Viscount’s robes and buckled the ancestral sword to his waist in a ceremony that was as grand as it was concise. Worsil retired to the quiet of his manor. Though his physicians warned that his condition was grave and could turn fatal at any moment, the old Viscount lingered for nearly three years before passing away peacefully in his sleep.

　　The successor followed his father’s counsel, first elevating Beri Smote to his inner circle. Worsil had long ago recognized the man’s extraordinary intellect during his diplomatic missions, seeing in him a mind capable of orchestrating Nor’s grand strategy.

　　During this period, an eloquent Limidian envoy appeared at the wooden lodges of the forest chieftains. He warned them that relying solely on their treaty with Nor was insufficient to guarantee their survival, even though Nor was scrupulously fulfilling the terms of their agreement.

　　The identity of this Limidian envoy remains a mystery to this day. However, through his persuasion, the chieftains convened secret meetings in a secluded woodland cabin. Driven by a shared sense of urgency, they resolved to send a delegation to Colibia. Five men, masters of the Lier tongue and well-versed in Limidian affairs, were handpicked to infiltrate Nisul in Colibia, disguised as simple merchants.

　　At that time, the Lord of Colibia was privately gloating over the losses suffered by the Border Alliance in Longedis. The timely arrival of the humble forest envoys at the Count’s castle, bearing flattering words and heavy gifts, secured the Lord’s generous favor. After careful preparation, the Count dispatched a holy mission of priests and monks to the forest tribes in a display of magnificent splendor.

　　Before the watchful eyes of the locals, a high-ranking Limidian priest led the sacred procession. His coarse cloth robe symbolized profound scholarship, while his wooden staff, inlaid with precious stones, marked his venerable status. Monks followed behind, bearing sacred vessels according to their rank. Two elders, seemingly older than the priest himself, walked closely behind him, clutching thick, ancient volumes to their chests.

　　A gentle breeze through the trees caught the monks’ robes and their fluttering banners. Even the grooms leading the horses exuded an aura of such holiness that even the most godless men were moved. The High Priest took up residence at an open glade called Smolice. His dwelling was a meticulously crafted wooden lodge—not as opulent as marble palaces, perhaps, but possessing enough comforts to sustain the monks' daily lives and sacred rites. The stillness of the forest nights proved perfect for study and contemplation.

　　Furthermore, the generous chieftains were sparing no effort to establish this place as a permanent domain for the gods. Encouraged by their leaders and a newfound yearning for the divine, local craftsmen worked with such fervor that the temple was completed ahead of schedule. The chieftains were the first to become converts of the Sun God, attending religious rites in plain attire, humbly listening to the High Priest’s teachings, and enshrining idols in their private homes.

　　Pleased and heartened by their devotion, the High Priest wrote to his brothers in the faith, praising the piety and studiousness of the tribes and expressing his hope that more clergy would come to share the burden of civilizing these "barbarians." To further entice Limidian priests and their acolytes, the chieftains spent vast fortunes to hire Limidian master-builders to construct edifices in the Limidian style.

　　On the advice of a Colibian envoy, forest messengers appeared respectfully in the streets of Hedlim. They offered pious sacrifices at the Pantheon and bowed in submission before the King, hoping to be recognized as lords of the Willem Dynasty. The impoverished King, ever in need of coin and fealty, was glad to accept their submission.

　　However, Milar, the High Priest of the Pantheon and the King’s spiritual mentor, was secretly accepting generous "gifts" from Nor. He used his influence over the courtiers to whisper a different narrative into the King’s ear: if these barbarians truly wished to serve the Willem Crown, they should seek the blessing of the Sun God from the peaks of the Pantheon, not from some crude, makeshift temple in Colibia.

　　Though no definitive answer was given, a second party of monks arrived in Smolice under the enthusiastic invitation of the chieftains and the tacit approval of the Colibian sovereign, Wibers. They were greeted with a lavish reception by both the secular rulers and their religious peers.

　　The expanded temple now featured grand, comfortable halls for prayer and tranquil cells for meditation. Its sacred decorations and architectural elegance made it hard to believe this had once been barbarian land. What the visiting brothers envied most, however, was the status of the clergy here—the High Priest had become a spiritual sovereign, standing on equal footing with the secular chieftains.

　　In his pride, Wibers declared himself the conqueror of distant lands. Under the shadow of this ambitious Count’s protection, the forest tribes enjoyed a season of peace. During this time, Nor maintained a humble posture. Its only military action was to push its boundaries southward to the banks of the Wiser River. Though the area was densely wooded and remote, the marching soldiers spotted fishermen drifting peacefully in the gentle currents.

　　The army and envoys of Berdiska crossed the calm waters in the King’s name. The people of the Great River’s northern bank greeted the newcomers with warmth and respect. These were a people who could tame wild beasts into loyal soldiers and who viewed the towering trees as gods. They revered their elders, honored their ancestors, and saw the gifts of nature and the fruits of labor as divine blessings, while viewing waste and excess as sacrilege.

　　Wibers’ reign brought a golden era of peace to the forest tribes. Through his personal influence and the efforts of the chieftains, Smolice nearly became another holy site for the faithful. As the West fell back into bickering, the people of the East believed that, sheltered by geography and the power of Colibia, they could continue their lives undisturbed by the world.

　　And all the while, they remained utterly indifferent to the "insignificant" Nor. The arrogant high lords looked down upon the Viscount for his blacksmith origins—his family had once been mere servants to the King, a band of laborers forging weapons for the Royal Army in a place called Sawin.

　　Yet, in the darkest hour of the forest tribal incursions, it was these very servants who—rallying to the call of the Nordis family—seized the weapons of their own forging and raised the Royal banners high. In a state of near-starvation, they held their ground until reinforcements arrived. Though they bore heavy losses, they were rewarded with the very status and dignity they now possess. The Baron of Nor never shied away from his humble beginnings; instead, he adopted the smith’s anvil as his family’s sigil—a lasting symbol of their resilience and a testament to a legacy tempered by a thousand strikes.

　　The tranquility in Smolice brought both prosperity and protection to the locals. However, as the High Priest advanced in years and recently fell victim to illness, both the clergy and the local chieftains began to weigh the critical question of succession. The current High Priest hoped for a peer from Colibia to carry on his heavy burden, for they knew each other well, and their personal bond was pure and untainted. The chieftains, however, were guided by far more secular considerations.

　　Count Trosbini of Colibia found himself entangled in the messy affairs of the West. Though he understood the weight of the situation, he had no choice but to push the forest tribes’ requests aside for the time being. On the advice of a Limidian consultant, the forest chieftains turned instead to the hollow figurehead of the King. At this time, the High Priest Fede of Hedlim oversaw the daily rites and religious activities of the Pantheon. His predecessor, Milar, had met a rather ironic end, dying from the excesses of drink—a pathetic fate for a man of his station.

　　The mild-mannered Fede accepted the forest tribes’ explanation. During a lull in the sacrificial ceremonies, he told the King that his remote and humble subjects would be more than satisfied with the simple right to pray. At the same time, courtiers who had been well-greased by the chieftains’ bribes chimed in with their own support. The King, swayed by both the rhetoric and the tribute, granted an audience to the tribal representatives at the court of Hedlim. He soon issued a Royal decree appointing Kedara, a priest of the Pantheon, to the temple at Smolice to civilize the King’s subjects.

　　This Kedara was a man of modest scholarship and failing health, yet during his brief tenure, he devised exhaustive rituals for the ceremonies at Smolice. This allowed the people not only to satisfy their intellectual curiosity but to find genuine spiritual joy in structured worship. Before his arrival, the previous High Priest had been far more cautious, advising these noble converts to keep their idols in private chambers and pray in silence—fearing that public rites, if inconsistent with their rank, would bring trouble upon both the flock and the shepherd.

　　To remedy this, Kedara appealed to the King to formally elevate these tribes to the rank of lords. He argued that such status would allow their spiritual needs to be met through proper worship, ensuring the King's subjects remained sincere and honest before the gods. This vision was championed by Fede, the King's mentor, leading to the eventual erection of a bust of Kedara in Smolice, where he was held in high esteem.

　　Upon Kedara's passing, Noradis, a High Priest from Colibia, took up the sacred staff. During his reign, he sent a personal letter to the Sovereign of Colibia, requesting that soldiers escort his colleague and dear friend, Dalimos, to serve as his successor. Such a blatant display of political maneuvering inevitably cast a shadow of doubt upon the High Priest's neutrality and moral integrity.

　　The Count of Colibia seized this rare opening. He dispatched a formidable force led by his most capable lieutenants; the sight of holy banners fluttering amidst a forest of spears sent a shockwave through the Eastern lords. Rumors spread like wildfire that the Count was using the Sun God’s name as a mere pretext for a military strike against eastern Scrolo.

　　The High Priests of the Pantheon issued a sharp rebuke, declaring that temples are sacred sanctuaries for the faithful and the final refuge for the suffering—stressing that a High Priest should be chosen for his learning and virtue, not for his spears and blades. From the court of Hedlim, the King added his own frail voice to the outcry, accusing Colibia of usurping Royal authority. Even the Western lords, particularly those of Sirleid, Lal, and Binehes, sent urgent inquiries and counsel to the Count, terrified that Colibia’s gaze would now turn toward the East.

　　Though Noradis's actions had invited controversy, he still commanded the deep respect of the forest tribes. His death was met with profound grief, and many faithful gathered spontaneously to pray for his soul. Yet, once the funeral rites ended, the people returned to the hard realities of secular affairs. Their advisors suggested that since they had already courted distant lords and reached out to a powerless King, they must now forge ties with their Eastern neighbors. Having secured the rank of lords from the King, they finally possessed the proper status to engage as equals.

　　After a thorough search, the forest lords determined that a priest residing in Demolay was best suited to take up the mantle at Smolice and serve as their spiritual guide. Furthermore, because Demolay bordered three territories—including Nor—any move made there would ripple through the neighboring lordships.

　　They dispatched two envoys: one traveled to the King in Hedlim with lavish gifts to secure a Royal decree, while the other began campaigning in Demolay. Their efforts bore fruit, and Keramis of Demolay was appointed as the Elder of Smolice. Though his scholarship did not rival that of Noradis, he was an industrious and eager student. His greatest legacy was the construction of a library using the temple's offerings, to which he contributed his entire personal collection. Here, the inquisitive could satisfy their thirst for knowledge, further cementing the prestige of Smolice.

　　The constant flow of people fostered the rise of supporting and subsidiary industries. This sacred destination now drew not only scholars and the faithful but also merchants and artisans, creating a scene of vibrant vitality. Thus, to implement more effective governance that aligned with the collective interests of the forest lords, Lord Keigar of Smolice appointed a competent official to oversee these affairs.

　　This official was required to possess a prudent mind and exceptional coordination skills, ensuring that people from different lands, social strata, and professions all felt the hand of justice. Such balance was vital to ensuring that Smolice remained the protective talisman of the forest tribes. His humble rank and modest office were designed to avoid drawing undue attention or causing offense to the sanctuary of the gods; even so, a solemn ritual was held before he took office to vest the position with a sense of divine sanctity.

　　During this time, Count Dreste, claiming his merchant caravans had been plundered in Nor, launched a military campaign against the territory—a move that seemed trivial to most observers. Lacking both the will to fight and any semblance of formation, Dreste’s army was first shattered by the Nor forces, who then boldly pursued them deep into their own territory, moving across the land as if it were an open field.

　　By the time other lords heard the news, the Nor army had already withdrawn. Refusing to let the matter rest, the vengeful Dreste secretly contacted Gal and Trewell, hoping for military aid and promising border lands as a reward for their assistance. However, the undisciplined soldiers of Gal began plundering and stealing on their own ally’s soil, inciting fierce resistance from the local populace. Before a single blow could be struck against the Nor army, Dreste was forced to divert his own troops to suppress the atrocious behavior of his supposed allies.