"Althea, Althea. It's quite noisy outside. Many people have arrived. Do you think they're all here for you?"
Althea stared at the man with gray-blue eyes but didn't say a word. Just a minute ago, with three minutes left of the half-hour deadline, they had taken a child outside. She preferred to imagine the possible death of that child rather than stare directly into this man's eyes.
"I don't know," she replied.
"The answer is no. The people of Darkshire Town are gathering here for something much more significant, and your life means very little in comparison. Besides, you won't live much longer," the man said. "What, thinking about crying?"
His right hand cupped the left side of Althea's face, and the tip of his thumb brushed over her lower eyelid, catching a tear. She shivered.
"You have a little scar here. How did you get it? A fight, I assume? It must be. A person without scars can't be called a warrior. But this scar, it's still early days. Look over there."
He forced her head to the right, making her look at a masked man, and said, "Kaelaman, let the young lady see your face."
"Really boring," the man said, lifting his mask for a few seconds before putting it back on. "Is this good enough?"
Althea took a deep breath suddenly.
"See that?" The man turned her face back to him. "Kaelaman's scar seems to have startled you. That's why we call him the 'ugly man.' Even the brothels won't take him in this condition. It's all because of your father, Gondore. He's racked up too much blood debt. Kaelaman didn't die, but he ruined his face. It's hard to say whether that's lucky or unlucky. You better get used to a face like this because when you die, it won't be much prettier than that."
He patted her face, and Althea struggled not to cry out loud. Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes, distorting her vision, and a pool of blood in the distance gradually spread in her blurred sight.
"You're not much of a talker, miss. Quite different from what I've heard. You better act a bit happier; it might improve my mood, and who knows, I might give you a chance to convey some last words to your family—assuming I haven't killed them all."
"Boss," someone by the door said, "It's time. Their people seem to be here too. Should we kill the kid?"
"No need to be scared, Althea. They weren't talking about you," he stood up, turning to the person by the door. "Not yet. Bring him back for now. It's time for business."
Althea stared at the man with gray-blue eyes as he exited the room. Then, a child who had been taken outside just a moment ago was brought back in. The boy stared at the ground, showing no signs of movement in his head, neck, or eyes, as if he had lost control of his will, even forgetting how to walk. One of the men grabbed him by the collar and tossed him to the ground.
Althea's mind was almost blank. Only twenty percent of the words she had heard had been correctly processed in her brain; the rest were just threatening noises, like the clattering of stones thrown into a muddy pool. She tried to make herself appear not the most frightened person, but it was impossible. The panic wasn't just from the threat to her life but included many other things. If her entire world was a small straw hut, these invaders were a burning carriage that could crush everything she cared about in an instant.
Followed by several guards, the man with gray-blue eyes walked out of the room. He surveyed the surroundings, satisfied with what he saw. Dozens of yards away, townspeople and Nightwatchmen surrounded them. In the front stood Mayor Elro and Nightwatch Captain Joseph, both of whom he recognized. Elro was putting on a façade of calmness, and Joseph's gaze carried a warning and a hint of confrontation, but that didn't matter. Surrounding these two were members of the town council, and the crowd extended on both sides, blending into the ordinary townsfolk. He could sense that these townsfolk had been chosen carefully; they lacked focus in their eyes, whispered amongst themselves, and evidently didn't fully comprehend what was happening. When he planted his long knife into the ground, some townspeople immediately fell silent.
One person had caught his attention. This individual stood beside Joseph, their gaze filled with unabashed scrutiny, as if they were the only one unaffected by the current situation, studying the enemy in front of them. He remembered this person coming from MI7. So what?
He saw Elro take a step forward, fulfilling the duties of a mayor—a responsibility he had no choice but to fulfill but one that inevitably carried the illusion of escaping.
"Quiet," Elro repeated several times, waiting for the murmur to subside before addressing him. "Who are you? What do you want?"
"It's my turn to speak," he thought. "So many pairs of eyes on me, filled with fear and confusion. This is what I've been waiting for all year—"
"My name is Mohnitz," he said. "And we are people who make their way with weapons in hand. Bandits, brigands, kidnappers, call us what you will, though none of those are entirely accurate descriptions. Right now, we're here to make a deal with Darkshire Town, but before that, I must explain the guiding principle of this transaction: trust. Yes, trust—keeping your word, doing what you say. If this deal is to go smoothly and without harm to anyone, it all comes down to trust. On the other hand, there's betrayal of that trust. I emphasize this because a year ago, we experienced betrayal right here. I bring this up today only because of that shameful experience. Without it, I wouldn't be here."
Mohnitz paused for a moment, letting his words spread and settle among the audience. When he was a child, he had dreamed of becoming a military commander, especially fascinated by the idea of giving speeches to boost soldiers' morale just before a decisive battle. He didn't fantasize about applause; attention, whether filled with admiration or fear, was enough for him. But since he had killed a man in the army and fled, he knew he could never earn the admiration he desired. Instead, he sought something different. He enjoyed giving long speeches to the people he was about to kill. When the victim mistakenly believed they might survive and a glimmer of hope entered their eyes, he felt an exhilaration, eagerly anticipating the pain he would inflict later. Just now, when speaking to Althea, he had restrained himself from strangling her and stabbing her with his dagger just before she suffocated. Not disrupting the plan was his only bottom line.
Now, Mohnitz had successfully made the audience nervous. He saw them fidgeting, rubbing their hands, and blinking. They were anxiously awaiting his next words, fearing they might have to face something unbearable. But two people—Joseph and the MI7 member whose name he didn't know—didn't fit into this category. This irritated Mohnitz a bit, but it didn't deter him from continuing his speech.
"Yes, a year ago, we experienced betrayal right here. I'm talking about the battle. Gondore Everlock, your hero, emerged from that battle. I don't care how many legends Darkshire Town has woven around him, but the fact is, before returning here, he was one of us. He promised to clear a path for us into Darkshire Town. 'I'll make a way for you to enter Darkshire Town,' he said with his own mouth. But a year ago, when the plan should have been executed, he led our forces into an ambush he had set up himself. Such betrayal cannot be tolerated. Yes, your hero Gondore is a cunning, greedy, utterly untrustworthy conspirator. Oh, and about his final suicide, that was because he couldn't face the truth that the MI7 was about to expose."
The crowd was silent at first. After about ten seconds, the chaos Mohnitz had been expecting occurred. It was as if a massive glass had shattered, and the shards scattered into the mud. The government members surrounding the mayor and Joseph were especially loud. More than a few people grabbed their clothes and shouted questions, causing some to be physically restrained by the Nightwatch. But who could guarantee that the Nightwatch wasn't harboring doubts as they fulfilled their protective duties? Mohnitz heard shouts of "fraud" and "he's deceiving us," but at this moment, it didn't matter how many believed him. He had more to say.
"In that battle, Gondore almost wiped out his former comrades. I was among those who survived, and the shame I felt far outweighed any luck. But a year later, when I returned here, I realized how right it was to fight to survive. Others also knew about Gondore's plan. First was the blacksmith, Bower — he was also once one of us. Now you should understand why he died the way he did; he deserved it. As for whether Gondore's other family members were part of the conspiracy—that's something the people of Darkshire Town should find out for themselves."
A larger commotion erupted. The reactions from the townsfolk escalated, and some attempted to break through the crowd to reach the leaders' positions. Mohnitz also saw more townsfolk approaching, having heard the news. What I wanted is right before my eyes now.
"Yes, you can think of me simply as someone who has come for revenge with surviving comrades. Right now, we have fifty-four children in our custody. If I give the order, they will all die within a minute—in ways you can hardly imagine. But honestly, doing that won't quell our anger, and I don't think it's what the people of Darkshire Town want to see either. So, I offer you two choices. Gondore's betrayal deprived us of our livelihood, so you can compensate us from that angle—provide fifty thousand gold coins. That's the first choice. The second, closer to the essence of revenge, is to hand over the entire Everlock family. Oh, and Miss Althea is with us, so there's no need to look for her."
He concluded with, "I'm leaning more towards the second choice." He was very satisfied with everything he had said, and a wave of excitement spread between his fingers and across his forehead. He even questioned if he could suppress the continuous surge of murderous intent in his mind.
Mohnitz watched the citizens trying to reach the mayor and the Nightwatch captain, as well as the bewildered government council members. I've thrown a bone, now let them fight over it themselves. That was his thought.