Chapter 132: Windy Tower (Part 2)
The man named Beiyard flickered with a momentary panic in his eyes, but he quickly steadied himself.
“It’s me.”
Beiyard slowly lifted his head and took a deep breath.
He looked at the old man sitting in the chair across from him. The old fellow’s face was gaunt and weathered, shifting from calm indifference to a gradual reveal of disappointment. Those murky eyes were fixed on him, radiating a chilling sense of heartache.
That gaze stabbed at Beiyard’s heart for just a moment.
Then, a surge of rage bubbled up from his chest.
“Have I done something wrong?”
“Absolutely.”
“Where did I go wrong?”
“You’re trying to destroy everything your father sacrificed his life to protect.”
“Don’t you dare bring up my father—!”
Beiyard erupted, his voice booming. He had never dared speak to his grandfather like this before, but at this moment, the old man had dared to mention his father—the one who had given everything for faith and honor yet was left with a tarnished name in d*ath, Commander Nick Williams of the Third Knights Order.
“Now you speak of him with such righteousness! But where were you when he was captured and tortured by heretics at the end of his life? Where were you!!”
“My father is dead! And now you want to shake hands with those lowlifes who killed him!!!”
“Why should I? Why should I!?”
He was shouting, red in the face, panting heavily as he glared at his grandfather, who remained calm as if the whole thing didn’t concern him at all. For a long time, the anger that had lain dormant within him finally exploded like a piñata at a birthday party.
“Do you know how I survived those times? Look at the scars on my body! Look at this eye!”
Beiyard ripped off his shirt, tossing it to the ground, pointing at his blind eye. The bone-chilling cold of winter could not extinguish the fire of grief in his heart at that moment.
“For half a year, I was hunted by over a dozen members of the Choir of Saints, along with nearly two hundred from the Knights Order and the Faith Organization! A whole six months! How did I get through it, you ask? I didn’t tell you before, and I don’t want to tell you now, but do you know how I survived in the end?”
He suddenly laughed, tears welling in his eyes: “I was saved by a bunch of folks from the Gate of Truth…”
“Murderous, bl**d-drinking, unforgivable heretics! They were scattered and fleeing after being defeated by the First Knights Order in Alectine City, hiding in the wilderness, eating dirt and praying for their lives, and they picked me up when I was severely injured. They were all skin and bones, barely human, but once I talked to them, guess what?”
The smile on the man’s face began to spread, as if the anger was fading away, and his voice lowered: “They were all tenants from Silgaya…”
“Because a devastating flood had ruined their homeland, they joined the Gate of Truth simply because those people fed them and allowed them to live.”
“What are you trying to say?”
Saint George’s expression tightened as he furrowed his brow, but the man before him ignored the question.
After the rage had subsided, Beiyard seemed to begin pouring out his thoughts to the old man—thoughts he had never considered sharing before.
“I survived. I thought if I returned to the Holy City and shared everything that had happened in Silgaya, with the Temple Church and the Council, the owls—someone would bring justice back to the Williams family, but what happened?”
“Everyone wanted to k*ll me; everyone hoped we would d*e. No one cared about the truth; they only cared about how to divide the property left by the Williams family! They were willing to k*ll off all of us! My second uncle, my grandma, my cousin Wesker, my sister Freya! I can never forget the looks on their faces when they died! Which of the surviving Williams could forget that night!?”
Suddenly, Beiyard tore off his eye patch.
“This eye, it’s completely gone, yet it aches every night.”
That right eye, blind as if blinded by swords, ugly and horrifying. What was lost was perhaps not just half of the light, but the guiding light of hope within his heart.
“I wish it hurt more because it would always remind me not to forget what has happened, not to let those enemies live happily.”
“Beiyard, you’ve lost your mind.”
The old man did not shy away, staring into his grandson’s blind eye, an edge of annoyance visibly creeping into his expression. “You need to take a moment to reflect, calm down.”
“…”
Beiyard and Saint George locked eyes.
At this moment, somewhere deep in his heart, he hoped his grandfather would yell at him, even if just to let loose.
But the man knew his grandfather would never do that.
So the last remaining eye, its fervent spark began to dim.
“Two years ago, there was a girl…”
Beiyard thought for a moment, intending to finally share one last thing with the old man.
“I met her at the Royal Academy; I really liked her. Back then, I thought, if I could bring her home to see my father, to show you, you’d surely like her too.”
As he spoke, the old man’s brows suddenly raised, as if he had already guessed who he was talking about.
“She was an extraordinary girl. Her name was Silvya, pure, kind, brave, upright, and shining so brightly I had to look up to her. At that time, I thought, if I worked hard enough, maybe there would be a chance, after all, she looked easily fooled, just a little food would do.”
At this point, Beiyard wore a bittersweet, nostalgic expression, a complicated mix of emotions.
He sighed, “But I never got that chance again.”
“So you’re going to destroy the Western Continent?” The old man slowly rose.
“If the land has no one I love, no one who loves me, only countless enemies living in luxury, then what does it matter if I destroy it?”
“Coward!”
Buzz—
In an instant, just as Beiyard finished his sentence, a brilliant golden light enveloped Saint George. The overwhelming force of faith surged forth with an ear-splitting hum of divine miracles, shockwaves cascading outward, toppling the dilapidated house. The unprepared man was hurled several meters away with a grunt.
“What the hell!”
“What was that noise—”
“Saint George, are you alright?”
In a matter of seconds, a dozen guards surrounding the house had arrived. Among them were the Pope Knight, the leader of the Fangclaw students, and even clerics from the Church. Upon seeing the young master of the Williams family lying unconscious, they all fell silent.
“Get lost.”
As the wooden house rattled and collapsed, the old man, surrounded by saintly light, floated out of the swirling ashes and addressed the crowd in a low voice, “Take him away and lock him up for ten days.”
…………
“We found the Saintess Class.”
After Beiyard was dragged away, Sharman, wrapped in a gray cloak, approached the old man, handing him a half-burnt letter.
“They’ve been captured and imprisoned in a civilian house within Holy Angel Fortress, guarded by a few mercenaries who took some money. They don’t even know who’s locked inside; they only know it’s a bunch of pretty women. Some had ill intentions and planned to dispose of evidence before escaping. Unfortunately… all that’s left is this half a letter.”
While she spoke, the old man had already unfolded the letter, brushing the dust off its remnants. He looked down, and after a long while, his expression grew grave, his lips trembling.
He took the letter, gazing southward.
“You’ve already reported this news to Her Majesty the Queen, right?”
Sharman froze abruptly.
After a moment of anxious waiting, the old man said no more and instead commanded her, “The south has already begun to fall into chaos. Emerald City is tightly gripped by Rossius, unable to do anything. Write me another letter, and be sure to send it to Shanter Castle.”
“If the Western Continent can’t unite, then nothing will remain…”
