Chapter 213: Act 147 – The Hope of Gentle Words (9) (Second Update, Seeking Support, Recent Results Are Dismal)
The night of the Sainya People is tranquil and peaceful, a night for resting souls. The forest is so quiet it feels like a harbor where one’s spirit can also sink into slumber.
The disputes of the day came to a close after dusk, and the village of the Sainya People returned to calm. However, just outside the shadows of the bonfire in the square, a small dark figure stealthily slipped into the warehouse at the edge of the Sainya village—
Funiya took small breaths, cautiously glancing around her with nervous green eyes—she slowly pushed open the door with her small hands, slipped inside, and carefully closed the door behind her.
The warehouse was pitch black, illuminated only by a cold shaft of moonlight streaming in through a skylight, casting a silvery glow on the floor.
But for a true Sainya, this darkness was nothing; the blood of the werewolves lurking within them awakened in the dark, their pupils dilated, sweeping the darkness aside—every detail in the warehouse was sharply defined.
Funiya walked over to a ceramic jar filled with water, tiptoeing carefully to fill her water pouch, then capped it and glanced around.
Though the day’s conflicts ended without resolution, Funiya had already made up her mind; she would go alone to that Lord Duke—everyone had said so—if she did this, she could save everyone, and her father and grandfather wouldn’t need to argue anymore.
She hoped everyone could live well, not having to leave her forever like her mother.
“Mom…”
Funiya sniffed, holding back tears; she didn’t know if she would ever see her father, grandfather, or everyone else again after she left, but it didn’t matter. She wiped her eyes—she thought she should be strong enough.
Just like her mother had said—
Funiya needed to be strong quickly; she shouldn’t always be crying; even if her mother was gone, she could still live robustly with her father because Funiya was also a child of the forest, a Sainya.
Recalling her mother saying that to her while covered in blood, yet still smiling, brought warmth to her heart. She rubbed her eyes, feeling the tears betraying her once more.
“Funiya, silly…”
She bit her lip, whispering with tears in her eyes.
After carefully checking everything she needed to bring, she stopped, her little heart racing as she put on the clothes and boots she typically reserved for ceremonies.
Girls always love beauty; even though she didn’t know what she was about to face, she still wanted to indulge her little vanity at the end—
At this moment, she thought everyone should forgive her.
But in any case, it didn’t matter.
Funiya thought with a hint of stubbornness, tears in her eyes, smiling a bit mischievously.
What else was there?
Right, her mother’s flute.
The little girl froze for a moment, reluctantly taking the short wooden flute that hung around her neck. She looked it over carefully and stroked the flute’s body, but in the end, she gently set it aside.
“This is for father,” she thought: “When he sees this, he will remember Funiya and mother.”
She blinked her stinging eyes, reluctantly letting go, then placed her hands on her knees, hesitating for a moment. Confirming there was nothing forgotten, she prepared to stand up.
But at that moment, she felt something cold touch her hand.
Funiya shivered slightly.
Like a startled little animal, she turned around, widening her green eyes, and saw a shiny silver short sword with a scabbard extending from the darkness—a reflex made her look up quickly, and she was met with gentle eyes in the shadows— the short sword in the stranger’s hand was being offered to her.
“B-Big Brother…” the little girl exclaimed, stepping back carefully.
It was Brendel.
The young man stood still in the darkness, looking at Funiya with a quiet encouragement—
“If you go out, remember to bring a self-defense item.” He replied gently.
Funiya froze for a moment.
Brendel revealed a smile, slowly stepping out of the shadows; he approached Funiya, sat beside her, and lifted the little girl’s hand—placing the silver short sword in her grip, he helped her close her fingers around it.
“B-Brother…?” Funiya asked in confusion.
“Call me Brother Brendel,” Brendel said, observing the little girl whose courage and helplessness melted his heart; but all of that transformed into a smile as he turned back to her: “So you plan to go alone, Funiya?”
The little girl lowered her head, remaining silent.
“I knew it,” Brendel nodded, exhaling: “Come on—”
Funiya was stunned. She looked up in surprise, seeing Brendel extending a hand to her, tilting his head with a smile: “Brave lady, will you allow a knight to accompany you?”
Funiya opened her small mouth, momentarily unsure of how to respond.
But in the end, the little girl turned red, nodding vigorously, shyly placing her hand in Brendel’s palm.
Brendel chuckled, nodding back at her as he stood tall, taking Funiya’s hand and lifting her up. He then looked back at the patch of silver moonlight on the ground, faintly smiling:
“Alright, let’s go see what kind of being that Lord Duke really is.”
“B-Big Brother?” Funiya turned to look at him.
“Don’t worry, Funiya,” Brendel replied calmly, “just as the Sainya must leave hope for their kin, I must also leave hope for myself; thus, Funiya—”
“Even in this world, I will overcome it for you this time.”
…
Even in the deep night, the Duke’s castle was still ablaze with lights; people came and went in the hall, but Grudin wore a grim expression, staring ahead. His icy gaze pierced through the arched stone windows of the castle, falling into the vast night.
And there, beneath the night sky, a line of plains was similarly illuminated by flickering flames, a brilliant sight.
Seven clerks stood nervously beside the cold-hearted duke, stammering, yet none dared to speak. It was finally Grudin’s confidant who bowed, replying in a low voice:
“My lord, the mercenaries have gathered outside the city, and I fear our people may soon be overwhelmed.”
Before he could finish, Grudin shot him a cold glare, silencing the second half of his suggestion, which he had to swallow back down.
A crash of broken dishes echoed.
The duke swept his hand across the table, sending the lavish dinner he had before him crashing to the ground. His sudden outburst of rage startled everyone present; the servants immediately fell silent, retreating in fear of being dragged out to the cross outside by this mercurial lord.
After all, the blood on the bodies of those mercenaries and adventurers had yet to dry—
“Fools.”
Grudin said coldly: “I ask you, where are Ball’s cavalry? Why haven’t they returned yet?”
His confidant swallowed hard, replying: “They were likely intercepted by the mercenaries outside the city…”
“Likely?” A cold light flashed in Grudin’s eyes.
“Forgive me, my lord, our people cannot leave the city as the mercenaries block the entrance. Therefore, we have no news at this moment…”
“Mercenaries, mercenaries, again it’s mercenaries, can’t you think of a way?” The lord felt like throwing the fork at the man’s face, roaring: “Can’t you just kill them all?”
“Uh…”
His confidant felt embarrassed; he thought to himself that there were at least a dozen teams of mercenaries outside, along with adventurers. Not having stormed in yet was already a blessing from Martha, and how could they possibly kill them all when they had no power to do so? Moreover, during the day, he told them not to kill so many mercenaries, just to teach them a lesson—but they didn’t listen, relying on backing from Madara’s Undead Army, acting recklessly without considering the consequences, which led to this huge mess.
In the end, they were blamed for being foolish.
Of course, these thoughts were merely in his mind; to voice them would be tantamount to asking for death. Thus, he could only lower his head, quietly waiting for Grudin to change his mind.
Grudin fell silent for a moment, realizing the current problem. However, he was not too worried, simply tossing the fork to the ground.
“What of Madara’s people?”
“Should we call for them?” His confidant immediately raised his head.
“Of course, they need to be involved; just tell them the truth— I only want one outcome: I don’t want to see those filthy, lowly mercenaries in my territory come morning.”
Duke Grudin waved his hand, answering coldly.
Kill them all?
Everyone’s expressions changed; this was no small matter.
…
But just as Grudin’s confidant had said, the mercenaries, though gathered together, did not all desire to seek justice from the local authority—a lord of the kingdom.
The bonfire blazed brightly, reddening the faces of everyone present.
The young wizard apprentice glanced coldly around at everyone, his eyes sweeping across their faces. Among them were the large leaders of mercenary groups, representatives of adventure teams, and some wandering mercenaries: but beyond an unspoken flicker of indignation, many hid their own agendas within their hearts—
The young man sighed, knowing that revenge today seemed increasingly unlikely, yet he could not swallow the anger of so many fallen comrades.
He couldn’t help but clench his fists, but his demeanor remained icy as he questioned: “Do you really not want to rise to fight? So many have died, and yet you choose cowardly silence; have you ever considered that to them, we are insignificant, that our lives are truly worth nothing, trampled without consequence?”
“Comrades, friends, and fellows, their corpses are still cold, and you have already accepted your fate?”
Yet his inquiry fell into a bottomless abyss, forever unheard.
People exchanged glances but no one answered.
“Is that it?” Someone whispered in the crowd.
“What else can we do? They’re nobility.” Another responded dejectedly.
“Not just nobility, but a lord,” someone added.
“A lord can kill at will?” The young man retorted angrily: “It seems to me the kingdom’s code does not include that clause? The bodies still hanging on the crosses were your living comrades mere hours ago; can’t you feel a shred of anger?”
…
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