Chapter 27: Act 19 – The Opponent
As Brensen returned with the food and medicine he found to the old soldier Marden known to Brendel—or the current Chief of Security Marden—at a campsite in the Beledor Forest, the return of the young members of the third militia squad caused a stir in the valley.
Markmey, Eck, Aissen, Bertha, Little Finnis, and the Nibeto brothers, all of whom were the firstborns of their families in the village, had their relatives believing they had perished in the battle that night, even preparing to accept this grim reality—yet now they had returned alive and intact.
The crowd of refugees erupted with excitement, although not all of them were residents of Buche. Some might have come from Qing Village or Weibin, but the joyous atmosphere affected everyone, after all, this was the first good news they had received in two days.
A good omen could indicate that the days ahead would be smooth, especially with the accompanying food and medicine; the starving and freezing people could finally enjoy a warm meal, the injured could receive care, and everyone felt that hope was no longer far away, bringing them to forget their afternoon hardships and tragic circumstances.
People always yearn for a good life, and even if it could only be a little better than the present, they would still feel satisfied. Some say humanity is insatiable; indeed, they are, but they are also the easiest to satisfy.
Marden ordered a bonfire to be lit. This veteran of the November War was naturally brave and stubborn and would never yield to the skeletal figures of Madara. He didn’t care that Cabais and Rothko had discovered them; according to him, they could bring it on; Erluin was no coward—
Most of the untrained civilians couldn’t hide; it was better to be generous.
On the other hand, Freya, who had suddenly become lonely, received treatment akin to that of a hero. At first, Brendel worried she would become sentimental, but soon he realized that this was an unnecessary concern:
“Freya, thanks to you all!”
“Freya, don’t be sad. You still have us. Everyone in the village will support you; you’re a strong and good girl, everyone knows that!”
“Freya, are you hurt? Come let Aunt Akasha have a look, how could you be so careless!” A plump middle-aged woman pushed through the crowd, despite her rough hands and loud voice, concern couldn’t hide from her face.
She pushed aside Freya’s bangs, wiped her face, and stepped back to examine the girl closely.
“Aunt Akasha, I’m fine now.”
“Really? If there’s anything, don’t keep it to yourself.”
“Really, thank you all.” Freya looked at everyone surrounding her, a veil of mist inadvertently blocking her vision. These people had actually not been well over the past days; each of them had lived in fear, bloodshot eyes reflecting their dread. But here and now, they displayed the most genuine kinship among humans.
Brendel sat far away, observing this scene, unable to help but feel a strange warmth in his heart.
The warm bonfire, the connections between people, and the aroma of food wafting through the air seemed to dispel the darkness and the cold of the mountains for that moment, allowing everyone to marvel:
What a beautiful scene.
The relationships between people should really be this simple.
Brendel leaned against a white, jagged rock, staring up at the stars in the sky: each one unchanging and ancient, like diamonds scattered over a deep purple curtain.
“Why don’t you go over?” He saw Romaine sitting higher up, hugging her bag on her lap, her round-toed leather shoes dangling in the air.
“They don’t like me.”
“Why?”
“Both my aunt and I are seen as odd by them. Besides, what ordinary girl wants to be a merchant? So, it’s normal that I’m not liked.”
You know that, Brendel thought. Yet he suddenly realized he had no impression of Romaine’s aunt, as that woman was always out and about, here one day, there the next, only occasionally returning to bring Romaine some peculiar little things that she liked.
Perhaps it was precisely because of her independent upbringing that this future Merchant Miss developed her unique character.
“Can you tell me about your parents? You’ve never mentioned them before.”
“I’ve never seen them; it’s always been my aunt since I can remember. My aunt says, ‘Little Romaine, when you grow up, you must repay me well!’”
The Merchant Miss giggled, her eyes sparkling under the moonlight.
Brendel paused, settling into silence after hearing that.
“So that’s why you want to be a merchant?”
“Mm.”
“What a strange thought.”
“It’s okay—”
After chatting for a while, Brendel noticed Freya breaking away and walking towards him. The young girl appeared innocent, simple, and approachable before everyone, but once she transformed back into the third militia squad leader of Buche, she bore the faint responsibility of a future Valkyrie.
She promised to take Brendel to see the Captain of the Buche Security Team, although she didn’t know what the young man intended to do. But just like Aissen, she had a blind trust in him, believing that as long as he was the one, he must have a way to lead everyone out of this predicament.
Freya didn’t want to rely on anyone; she was simply curious.
As for Brendel, his plan was as follows: having coincidentally joined forces with the Buche Security Team and these refugees, he understood the failures that Captain Marden would face next. Standing at this historical turning point, he felt it necessary to do something.
Indeed, Brendel first thought of preserving himself, but one cannot live in this world alone. If he did that, how would he face Romaine, Markmey, Little Finnis, or Freya?
Moreover, the tears of that future Valkyrie, who had cried helplessly before, had deeply moved him. A person lives life but has so many concerns—especially for him, having lived two lives, he just sought to have no regrets.
With this realization, Brendel felt the path before him open up.
Romaine naturally stayed by his side, and the three of them crossed the valley, past bonfires and crowds, until they reached a campfire at the end of the creek where they found the old man. Coincidentally or as expected, Brensen was also there. However, Brendel didn’t care about him; instead, his gaze immediately fell upon the old soldier of the November War.
Marden, according to the timeline in the game, Brendel suddenly recalled he hadn’t seen this man in nearly thirty years (the time ratio was 8 to 1).
In the game, Marden had a very unfortunate late life but died peacefully; his only luck was that he did not witness the fall of Erluin and had gained the friendship of many players. This NPC held great prestige among players—because he taught various skills such as stealth, reconnaissance, and swordsmanship, and most importantly, he taught the first advanced skill for warriors: Battle Cry of Courage.
The old man looked not much different from Brendel’s memory, perhaps even looking less aged, but the firmness on his face seemed to have increased. Brendel knew from spending time with this veteran that he was an extremely resolute and fearless soldier with a fiery temperament, so any subtlety before him would be futile; it would be better to be straightforward in stating his intentions, which might earn him some goodwill.
Yet as he opened his mouth, he felt a bit apprehensive—who knew if the personalities of characters in this world would be similar to those in the game? Although he thought they should be the same, it did seem a bit absurd to consider.
After listening to his statement, Marden’s eyebrows did indeed move—of course, they furrowed. However, as expected, the first to raise objections was the young vice captain of the security team.
Brensen.
“Are you saying we will fail? What’s your reasoning?”
Brendel’s gaze remained on Marden as the old man spoke: “Young man, I appreciate your desire to join us in serving the kingdom. But you seem to have little hope for the upcoming battle; I’d like to hear your thoughts—”
Brendel was unhurried; his biggest worry was that the hot-tempered old man would not give him a chance to speak. As long as he could speak, being someone knowledgeable about historical developments, he was confident he could persuade the other party: “Actually, I have just one question. Do you know how many undead troops from Madara are blocking your path ahead?”
The young members of the security team remained silent.
Marden was also quiet, but Brensen, catching his eye, answered: “From the battle this afternoon, it should have been the same undead army that initially engaged us. Later, another joined in; I noticed some of their banners, indicating there are at least two separate command bases. Unfortunately, I’m unaware of Madara’s specific organization.”
Our protagonist stared at this guy with surprise, unable to gauge that he actually had some substance. Unlike him, who relied on past life experience, Brensen merely deduced these conclusions by observing the chaotic battlefield, which was quite impressive.
However, this did not elevate Brendel’s view of him, as Brendel happened to be someone who understood much more than he did.
“You don’t understand this country of Madara, so it’s not surprising you draw incorrect conclusions,” he elaborated: “This is a country that has never truly unified. About before the Age of Runes and Swords, a group of exiled dark wizards came here and became the initial lords of this region, and for quite a long time, this place was a haven for bandits and wandering undead…”
“What are you saying this for?”
“Listen to him, Brensen, don’t be impatient.”
“Hmph.”
Brendel smiled slightly, knowing he could attract Marden’s attention. A veteran was still a veteran, no matter how bad his temper; he could still keenly grasp crucial information.
“But it is also a highly aggressive country, where those lords living in darkness constantly wage war against each other while plundering north, south, or any direction they please; Erluin, Cruz, Ossol, even the Banlin region suffer greatly from them.”
“Years of war have resulted in these dark lords having battle-hardened troops. Though their organization may be chaotic, their combat effectiveness cannot be overlooked. Therefore, you see two different numbered troops, their scales may also vary greatly.”
“So, can you describe some details that occurred during your battle? Perhaps I can provide some information to help.”
“Brendel!” Brensen finally couldn’t hold back and stood up, angrily shouting: “You’re lying! How could you know about Madara’s situation? As far as I know you previously—”
He was about to say more, but the young man’s stern gaze silenced him. Brensen paused, barely believing he was rendered speechless by just one look from the other party.
The previous Brendel was not so forceful; he was just a somewhat talented youth.
“Listen well, Brensen, I’m not here to argue with you.” Brendel said deliberately: “I don’t expect you to understand the gravity of this situation, but I just want you to know—take responsibility for your actions!”
Brensen was left speechless, then became furious.
“Tell him what we encountered, Brensen.” Marden interjected, the veteran’s frown deepening.
…
————————————————————————————————
[Note]
In Act 18, S’taz is in Elvish.
(PS. I have felt particularly good about the recent chapters; I wonder if everyone feels the same as I do?
Also, thanks to all the book friends for their support through collections, clicks, recommendations, and rewards; I am grateful!)
