As a large, unidentified group appeared near the castle, Jervis immediately led the guards to the walls without waiting for Gwynnis's command. Sixty-four guards lined up on the wall, flanked by a hundred longbowmen. Everyone, both on and atop the walls, waited for Gwynnis's reaction.
Bonn swallowed nervously, and some archers had already nocked their arrows in anticipation. Bonn felt like he was being roasted over a fire. He glanced back at the hundreds of homeless refugees behind him, their faces etched with despair and exhaustion, even his own loyal guards showing signs of weariness.
They were desperate for a safe haven, as the harsh conditions of wilderness survival had taken their toll. But the decision to open the gates rested solely with Gwynnis.
"Daddy, can't we go inside?" a little girl asked weakly, nestled in her father's arms. Exhausted, her father could only pray silently to Agnes, hoping for mercy.
Bonn, seeing no response from the walls, still clung to a sliver of hope and continued to plead. "Lord Gwynnis... I beseech you, on behalf of Lord Osborn... please, show mercy and open the gates!"
"If there has been any misunderstanding between us, I assure you, it was all a mistake!"
"Even if you dislike me, please let them in! These people are innocent!"
Bonn's last words were a desperate attempt to play the role of a benevolent official, hoping to soften Gwynnis's heart. After all, young people might still have some compassion, right? A few tears, a choked-up plea, might just do the trick.
Gwynnis, observing the pitiful crowd below, saw their pleading eyes and desperate hopes. Even Mayor Bonn, usually so proud and privileged, had been reduced to a miserable figure. Rosalyn, who had joined Gwynnis on the wall, was visibly anxious and perplexed at his lack of response, wishing she could open the gates herself.
But Gwynnis' reaction to the scene was almost one of amusement. Yes, these people were pitiable, but what did that have to do with him? Their families were killed, their homes destroyed, but that was not his doing. Why should he bear the responsibility for the actions of others?
The villagers' taxes hadn't been paid to him; he had no obligation to them. As for the appeal to commonality under Earl Osborn's rule, had Bonn ever shown such camaraderie, refraining from stabbing him in the back? Had Bonn ever extended a hand when Gwynnis was in dire straits?
Now the roles were reversed, and Bonn expected generosity from Gwynnis? That was wishful thinking.
Gwynnis was not known for his kindness. To expect him to open the gates at the sight of a few tears was a grave miscalculation. His heart was not so easily swayed.
Gwynnis could never bring himself to do such a thing, regardless of his inner thoughts. Yet, he would never let his true feelings show on his face.
His concern was the presence of two command systems within one castle. If he really opened the gates and let people in, could he rest easy with Bonn and his loyalists inside? As the Baron of Targas, he certainly couldn't command Windermere's guards. Even if he took over in name, Bonn's presence in the castle would be a constant worry.
If there had been deep trust and camaraderie, like wartime allies, it would have been different. But given his current relationship with Bonn, who knew what schemes might be brewing in the background?
Whether Bonn would attempt assassination or spread rumors to turn Gwynnis's guards against him, both scenarios were equally perilous. Some might argue that Bonn might not betray Gwynnis, that everyone should set aside their conflicts to face the enemy together. But Gwynnis knew if roles were reversed, he would certainly betray Bonn. It was a risk he couldn't afford to take.
Therefore, Bonn could not be allowed to set foot in Targas's castle.
With a sigh, Gwynnis said, "Mayor Bonn, it is truly regrettable that you find yourself in such a predicament. It pains me to see this."
At these words, a flicker of hope appeared on Bonn's face.
"These wandering refugees should have been enjoying a peaceful and happy life under your governance. They worked hard every day and paid their taxes generously, only to end up in such a state. It's truly lamentable."
Bonn's fleeting relief turned to stiffness.
"Mayor Bonn, you should take responsibility for all of this. As the ruler of your land, your neglect led to their suffering. You are the main culprit."
"I regret saying this, but you should take your own life as atonement."
As Gwynnis's words fell, Bonn's face froze completely.
Before Bonn could react, Gwynnis shouted, "Listen, everyone!"
"Your Mayor Bonn has personally entrusted me with your care and asked me to shelter you. Out of the kindness of my heart, I agreed."
"As for himself, I believe that as a noble and respected ruler, he will take responsibility for his failure. I respect that. Mayor Bonn is truly a role model for us all."
"However, despite this, I want you all to understand that Targas Castle does not welcome outsiders."
"My castle is open only to Targas's subjects. I will not force anyone to make a choice; your decision must be genuine and heartfelt."
"I declare that those who willingly join Targas can enter the castle. Those who do not wish to join are free to leave with Mayor Bonn."
"I will not hinder your decision."
"Of course, if Mayor Bonn believes my announcement infringes on his rights or illegally poaches his people, he is free to leave with his subjects. Perhaps he could even report my transgression to Earl Osborn, and I will respectfully accept any punishment he decrees."
"That is all I have to say."
Ignoring Bonn's ashen face, Gwynnis then loudly ordered, "Lower the drawbridge!"