Chapter 7 The Situation <TOC> Chapter 9 The Onset of Action
Translator: SumTLMan
The woman appeared hesitant now. Reminded of Lance’s earlier comforting smile — something she’d never dared to dream of — she shivered when she met his eyes filled with compassion.
“I’m sorry we’re late,” Lance said boldly, seizing the moment to embrace her. He whispered reassurances, “No more hardships, I’ll protect you. You’ll never go hungry again, I promise…”
As he spoke, he discreetly granted her a subtle [Blessin]. A warmth surged from deep within her, awakening long-dried tears which flowed like a breached dam. A piece of metal she’d held in her hand fell to the ground.
Reynard, witnessing this, felt a chill run down his spine, gripping his sword hilt tighter. Memories of a compassionate Madonna and Child he’d seen in a church as a child overlapped with the image of Lance.
Is this our savior?
Even the rough-around-the-edges Dismas was deeply moved. Nobles rarely stooped to mingle with the dirt-ridden common folk, let alone embrace them.
While nobility is never wrong, this man chose to shoulder burdens not his own, apologizing and even letting himself be reprimanded by the commoners. At this moment, Dismas felt a newfound strength, certain he would find redemption in the glory of his lord.
Lance, sensing the mood, let go of the woman. Truthfully, having grown up in a modern society, he was somewhat averse to the dirt and stench of her ragged clothes, but for the sake of maintaining his image, he bore it.
After comforting her, Lance approached the bed to examine the man lying there.
His hair was gray, and he looked aged. His face was as pale as a corpse, his right eye obscured by a black patch. An evident wound, covered by a piece of rag, marred his right shoulder. Lance gently peeled back the cloth to reveal a festering wound beneath.
“He’s still alive,” Dismas remarked in surprise.
Indeed, any ordinary person would’ve succumbed to such a severe injury after days of agony. But this man was clinging to life, his breath almost imperceptible, yet still there.
“It’s her care that’s kept him going. Otherwise, even the toughest would meet the reaper’s scythe,” Lance remarked, scanning the room. Turning to the woman, he asked, “Why save him?”
Had she lost her mind?
To the villagers, after all she’d endured, she seemed unhinged. Why else would she, herself starving, try to save another?
But Lance sensed her emotional state: she seemed to have transferred the love for her deceased husband and son onto this mercenary. In her mind, if he lived, so did they. But when Lance confronted her with reality, her emotional dam broke.
“He saved my son,” she began.
As she relayed her tale, Lance and the others heard a story slightly different from the waiter’s.
Bandits hadn’t always targeted the village. Initially, they ambushed caravans on the old road. Caravans hired mercenaries for protection, inadvertently boosting the town’s economy. However, a month ago, the bandits began their raids. The mayor forcibly drafted villagers, including the woman’s husband.
The church’s knights and priests, although passive, served as a deterrent. With the mercenaries and the drafted villagers, the town initially resisted the bandits.
Among these mercenaries was the experienced Man-at-Arms. Instead of indulging like the rest, he trained villagers in the square, encouraging all who wished to learn self-defense.
Then, without warning, war broke. This time, the bandits brought cannons, shattering the town’s defenses. The church’s knights retreated, the mayor fled, and the woman’s husband was obliterated by a cannonball.
Only the Man-at-Arms, with the remaining militia, stood ground, covering the villagers’ retreat.
In the throes of combat, a seasoned Man-at-Arms stood his ground, shielding her son from a bandit’s piercing blade that targeted his right shoulder. Yet, a stray cannonball, in its ruthless trajectory, claimed the young boy’s life, leaving the veteran crumpled on the battlefield.
She didn’t flee with the masses. Instead, seizing the pandemonium, she dragged the fallen Man-at-Arms beneath the debris of a collapsed structure, narrowly escaping the marauding bandits.
Once the dust settled and the bandits were gone, she hauled him back to their home — and with them, the… boy.
Lance, following the woman’s gaze, settled on a corner mat he hadn’t noticed before. The pungent odor permeating the air gave away its grim secret.
With a sigh, Lance unveiled the mat under the scrutiny of the onlookers. There lay a decomposed body, its skeletal frame suggesting a tender age of six or seven.
The sight was nothing short of harrowing. Even for Lance, who had steeled himself for the worst, this was a stark testament to the world’s unforgiving nature.
The shadow of death loomed large.
Dismas, witnessing the child’s remains, was overcome with raw emotion, more so than Lance, his face contorted in rage, and he bellowed, “I swear, I’ll slit their throats!”
Lance, unperturbed, retorted sharply, “Anger clouds judgment. It’s with a cool head that we’ll exact our revenge.”
Dismas reined in his fury, and only then did Lance address the woman, “Gone is the past, but for the living, life must go on. Let’s grant the child eternal peace.”
Tears welled in the woman’s eyes once more as she gazed upon the skeletal remains. She nodded in agreement, but a heartbeat later, she turned away, her face buried in her hands, grief overwhelming her.
“No, ma’am, please look.”
Guiding her gaze back to the body, Lance approached it with reverence and began chanting an incantation, “May you find peace…”
Invoking [Sacrifice], the child’s remains were swallowed by a void in an instant. The sight of her child’s body vanishing left the woman stunned. But moments later, instinct took over.
“My child! My baby!”
“Rest assured,” Lance consoled, “he’s entered the Kingdom of God, where war and death are no more, hunger and illness are absent, and eternal happiness awaits.”
“Is it… true?”
“It is.”