Caw! Caw!
A few crows circled above the treetops, hovering over the barbarian corpses reeking of blood, occasionally flapping their ominous, jet-black wings as if proclaiming the arrival of death.
Crackle, crackle.
Beside the campfire, a few weary Infantry picked up pots and bowls, opened the barbarians’ supply packs, and began to eat heartily.
Clang, clang!
Logistics personnel wielding shovels struck the hardened earth, digging a deep pit to collect the barbarian corpses.
“Mr. Green.”
A gentle voice sounded beside Green. “War… really is cruel, isn’t it?”
Theresa squatted down, hugging her long legs with both arms, her mood appearing a little downcast.
“I just went to offer some comfort at the Medic Camp.”
She tilted her head, gazing at the distant afterglow of the sunset shining through the twilight. Theresa’s stunningly beautiful face, bathed in warm hues, looked like a fairy who had stepped out from a storybook.
From her high nose bridge, Green could vaguely hear the sound of soft sobbing.
“Tom is dead too.”
Theresa fell silent for a moment before slowly uttering a name. “Do you remember him?”
Of course Green remembered.
That was the unlucky fellow who, just as he was about to feast on roast chicken in the stables, ran into Green’s musket.
Truly unfortunate.
In fact, he should have finished his service a long time ago.
“I remember him.” Green’s gaze turned distant. Although he theoretically possessed the form of an Elect, allowing him to perform ‘miracles’ like Resurrection in a certain sense, such overwhelming power that reversed the fundamental laws of the world would inevitably trigger a tremendous chain reaction if used.
And as the caster, Green himself would have to pay a price that was far, far too great.
More importantly, this sort of sorcery had its limitations—although the dead could be revived, the form in which they returned… was seldom what the caster imagined.
So, Tom was truly dead. A death that could not be reversed.
Green felt a bit sorrowful.
Even though they had only met once, and even though Tom had indeed turned a blind eye to corruption and fallen into disgrace, for some reason, Green’s mind kept conjuring up that youthful, innocent face—he could even clearly recall the freckles on the young man’s cheeks.
“It’s really a pain,” Green sighed helplessly. “Why must I have such a good memory?”
“Did you know?” Theresa, not noticing Green’s lament—or perhaps just needing someone to share her feelings with at that moment—continued, “Tom died from an infected wound. When the barbarians launched their assault, he fought bravely till the very end…”
“At the Medic Camp, right before he died, Tom even thanked me.”
Thanked her?
Green’s expression froze.
“Do you still remember the women we rescued from the barbarian army?” Theresa asked, her mood even heavier.
“Mm.” Green replied softly, without launching into one of his usual lengthy discourses.
He knew that what Theresa needed now was not comfort, but companionship.
Green was more than willing to play that role.
After all, this was an area a bard had some expertise in.
“Tom said that one of the women we rescued was his cousin. You know, most of the farm owners in nearby towns are related in some way.”
That was what Theresa said.
Being drafted into the cavalry corps, Tom was certainly not from the lowest ranks.
He might not have been a noble or an official, but a farm owner was definitely part of the well-off citizenry.
And it was normal for farm owners near towns to have marital ties with those from the borderlands and ranches.
“His cousin and her husband had three children,” Theresa continued, almost as if she were explaining to herself as well as to Green. “One of them was especially cute and always liked to tease him. But they all died. Only his cousin survived, but she was… violated by the barbarians.”
Theresa hung her head even lower.
“I’m not a competent commander.” Her Highness’s voice was tinged with both regret and a powerful resolve.
So Green still did not offer her any comfort. He could faintly sense that the girl who once grew emotional over killing even one person had now become so much stronger.
Indeed, could war truly shape a person so swiftly?
Not only the princess, but even those who once schemed, craved life over honor, and colluded with corrupt officials—cavalrymen who were formed into the suicide squad to atone for their crimes—had now undergone a complete transformation.
“But Tom said I was great.”
Theresa raised her head again. This time, though her face was sad and tears still shimmered at the corners of her eyes, there was no longer any trace of confusion—only endless determination.
“He even told me he felt honored to die in this battle.”
Theresa took a deep breath.
“You and Ryan are both wrong.” Her Highness suddenly said solemnly, “This victory isn’t my achievement. In fact, Green, it’s not just yours either.”
“This victory was created by all those warriors like Tom—perhaps individually insignificant in power, yet still steadfast in fulfilling their duty and fighting bravely.”
Theresa concluded with fervor.
“You are absolutely right, Your Highness.” Green thought for a moment, then said, “But Your Highness, you needn’t be sad. Some people, though dead, still live on.”
Green patted his chest. “Those soldiers who gave their lives for their duty will forever live in all our hearts.”
“And some, though their bodies still live, are already dead inside.”
Thinking of the filth and rot of the imperial capital, Green sighed lightly.
“Commander, Mr. Green.”
A lazy yet sonorous voice sounded near them.
It was Colonel Ryan.
“All troops are assembled. The lightly wounded have been treated and bandaged. The severely wounded have attendants and stretchers ready. As for those who met a Gallant Death…”
For once, Ryan’s usually roguish face bore a solemn expression.
“We’ve seen to everything. All that’s left is to return to the fortress, hold the Honors Ceremony, and lay them to rest.”
Looking at the rows of fallen soldiers, lined up with fatal wounds—some even missing limbs—Ryan couldn’t help but shed two lines of hot tears.
Really, how old was he already?
Ryan considered himself long accustomed to partings of life and death, but at this moment, he suddenly wanted to sob aloud.
Strum…
Green picked up his Harp, gently brushing the strings with his fingers to play a mournful, lingering melody.
Ding, ding~
“Soul, Return Home…”
The solemn tune swept over everyone present like a gentle breeze, calming agitated hearts, soothing pain, and bringing new hope.
“Let’s go back to the fortress and bring them home.”
Green set out, moving toward the lingering shadows in the west.
In the ambush against the barbarian Marshal, a total of one hundred twenty-eight Imperial soldiers met a Gallant Death.
Step by heavy step, the survivors left the battlefield, making their way toward the Unyielding Bastion—a fortress that looked dilapidated on the outside and was known within for its depraved and despicable inhabitants.
But to these returning warriors, that fortress seemed like the only shining beacon guiding them home through the darkness and stormy seas.
“Home.” One suicide squad cavalryman, seeing the long-lost gates of the fortress, couldn’t help but speak. “We’re finally home.”
“Home, huh?” Green mused.
Yes, after risking life and limb alongside his brothers-in-arms, weren’t those who fought side by side his truest family?
And wherever family lived together, that was home.
“Hey, we’re back!”
A Messenger walked excitedly toward the fortress.
Swish, swish, swish.
Just as he was about to announce their victory to his comrades inside, he was shocked to find the gate was jammed with townsfolk, blocking the narrow passage completely.
“I heard the barbarians are coming soon, and the new fortress commander—Her Highness—already fled the city!”
“And I heard that Colonel Ryan killed the quartermaster and the cavalry squad captain before the battle for more funds, ruining morale!”
“That’s nothing! Did you know, Her Highness actually let some unknown bard command the army?”
“We’re finished, we’re doomed! What do we do now?”
“Don’t panic, I heard the sheriff and the Tax Guild chairman have already organized the Militia, just waiting for the deputy commander to hand over the troops and lead us against the barbarians!”
Listening to the townsfolk’s wild gossip, the Messenger was stunned, then quickly shouted anxiously, “No, townspeople, you’re mistaken! Her Highness Theresa didn’t run away…”
“Hey, look, isn’t that the border troops?”
A sharp-eyed townsman recognized the returning army.
“Tsk, look at their sorry state! Clearly lost the battle and are running away with their tails between their legs.”
The other townsfolk, seeing the blood-soaked, weary, and few in number border soldiers, and recalling what the sheriff and other ‘authorities’ had said, quickly drew their own conclusions.
“Bah! After all the donations our town guilds gave, this is how they protect us citizens?”
A townsman couldn’t help cursing loudly.
“No, that’s not it!” the Messenger quickly argued, “Don’t be afraid, everyone, we’ve already won! Under Her Highness Theresa and Mr. Green’s command, we defeated the barbarians—”
“Hey, isn’t that the usually arrogant army guy?”
Hearing what he took for the Messenger’s absurd lies, a townsman’s face turned red with anger. He mustered the courage to pick up a rock and hurled it at the Messenger’s forehead.
Thud.
The stone struck the Messenger hard.
Drip, drip.
A trickle of fresh blood fell onto the grass.
“What are you doing!”
Colonel Ryan, coming up behind, instantly put on a stern face and strode up to the Messenger.
“Ah, look, that’s the Ryan the sheriff told us about!”
“Isn’t he always drinking and lazing about in the fortress? A real parasite!”
“Now that they’ve lost, he sure acts humble, huh? Didn’t see you like this before!”
“Don’t worry, the sheriff already notified the governor and city officials. Soon, bigshots from the capital will support us!”
Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!
Rocks rained down like a storm.
“Militia, to me!”
Just as the mood grew tense, a man in a top hat shouted in a loud, clear voice, announcing his arrival. Dressed in the sheriff’s robes, he glared furiously at the victorious soldiers.
“Arrest these criminals for abandoning their posts and killing innocents!”
The sheriff spread open his parchment and read out Colonel Ryan’s crimes.
“Hey!” Ryan was about to explain when he felt someone pat his shoulder. Turning, he saw Green stepping forward calmly.
“Your Highness Theresa, just out of curiosity: according to Imperial law, what is the punishment for those who slander the honor of Imperial soldiers and spread false rumors?”
Faced with Green’s question, Theresa—her beautiful eyes blazing with anger—answered without hesitation, “It is an Act of Treason. Punishable by death!”
Clang!
“Suicide squad, hear my command.” Looking at the so-called well-armed but utterly undisciplined rabble behind the sheriff, Theresa shouted loudly, “Arrest the criminals at once!”
Swish, swish, swish!
The battle-hardened troops, exuding an aura of death, moved.