In the early evening, Charmion and the others were warmly invited by Jeff and his wife, as well as Tewey and his son, to spend the night at Jeff's home.
The flickering candlelight danced across their faces. Jeff was a tall man in his thirties, bearing signs of weariness. His demeanor often displayed a brave and resolute character. Having heard the events from his wife and Chief Tewey, he now turned to thank Charmion and the others.
Charmion offered a slight nod in acknowledgment but quickly closed his eyes, remaining silent. His complexion appeared much better than it had in the afternoon, yet he still looked pale. The others, recognizing his exhaustion, refrained from disturbing him further.
Jeff glanced at the group and said quietly, "To be honest, I sneaked back."
At the surprised looks from everyone, he continued, "I was supposed to head to the battlefield, but I received a letter from Aili detailing the situation back home.
Humph! While I was bleeding on the front lines for them, those nobles were back here bullying my family. Why should I fight? The moment I thought about it, I rushed back without a second thought. Many of the men in the squad were villagers from here, and the others were also ordinary folk from nearby settlements. Everyone had grown weary of fighting pointless wars for those privileged officials, so they followed me back."
Aili's voice quivered, "Jeff, I'm just happy you're back."
Jeff gently pulled Aili closer, whispering words of comfort.
At this moment, Charmion suddenly spoke up, "What are your plans? Zack will certainly return with a larger force to retaliate."
The air in the room grew heavy with tension. Roderick couldn't help but chime in, "If that fat toad comes back, we'll confront him head-on."
Jim added, "Right! Now that Brother Jeff is back, we have a cavalry's worth of manpower. We shouldn't fear them."
Charmion coldly laughed, "Confront them? What will you use to fight? Do you honestly believe there will only be thirty infantry next time?"
Roderick and Wesley exchanged glances, sensing Charmion's unusually verbose demeanor. He pressed on, "What if next time it's three hundred, or five hundred?"
He stared intently at Jeff, questioning, "What will you do then?"
Jeff fell silent for a moment, finally responding, "Kerton City is the front line of the Marquez Kingdom, the headquarters of General Toran, housing over a hundred thousand elite combat troops. My escape with my squad today is a death sentence, and I know they will send troops after me. I'm at a loss for what to do."
Charmion closed his eyes, and a heavy silence enveloped the room, pressing down on everyone like lead.
Jeff gazed at Charmion, abruptly rising to his feet and bowing deeply before him. In the astonished gaze of the others, he spoke earnestly, "Mr. Charmion, I know you are young, yet you are a great sorcerer with unparalleled wisdom beyond our reach. Please, guide us and show us a clear path forward."
Charmion opened his eyes, studying Jeff for a moment before replying, "You may sit." Once Jeff took his seat, Charmion continued, "In such circumstances, the disparity in strength is too great. I can only offer some advice; hope for a great victory is slim. You should look after yourselves."
Jeff spoke respectfully, "Please guide us, sir."
Charmion replied, "Currently, you and your subordinates are deserters, and the army will certainly seek your lives. Although I killed those thirty soldiers today, the account will fall upon the villagers. You have no means of retreat or surrender; not resisting will lead to death."
The others nodded in agreement.
Charmion continued, "At present, your strength is insufficient; you are no match for the Marquez military. The only asset you have is 'the hearts of the people.'" Confusion spread among the group, except for Jeff, who seemed to understand. Charmion elaborated:
"What I witnessed today was truly a case of officials pushing the people to rebellion. I can only assume nearby villages share a similar plight. The reason everyone has remained silent is due to fear. But every volcano will eventually erupt. If even one person rises to resist, and they defeat the Marquez soldiers in battle, every oppressed soul will rally behind them, igniting a widespread movement. At that point, uniting the neighboring villages, recruiting the youth, and training them will call forth a formidable fighting force. It would give you a chance to stand against the Marquez military."
The villagers suddenly felt hopeful, as if a bright path had appeared before them. Charmion continued, "Once this momentum builds, as you mentioned, Jeff, there are still many locally conscripted soldiers within the Marquez army harboring resentment. If they can be persuaded to rebel, this could serve as a significant advantage. Afterward, we can strategize our next steps. But I must reiterate, talking about plans is easy; execution is the true challenge. The Marquez border army is extraordinarily formidable, and your chances of success are slim."
Jeff sprang up, exclaiming, "A true man would rather die in battle than live in disgrace!" He then performed the highest knightly salute before Charmion, earnestly declaring, "Great sorcerer, your wisdom illuminates the path for us. But the fate of nearly a thousand lives in our village rests heavily upon my shoulders. I am not worthy of this monumental responsibility. Please, lend me your support."
Roderick was caught off guard, whispering to Wesley, "It seems the deadwood isn't entirely heartless after all. Look at how earnestly he's helping them." Wesley nodded vigorously, ready to echo Roderick's sentiment when he was suddenly silenced by Charmion's cool, cutting words: "I will not help you."
Jeff was stunned, about to implore when Wesley leaped forward, pointing at Charmion and shouting, "You cold-hearted fool! Everyone is pleading for your help, and you say such things!"
Charmion stood slowly, fixing a steady gaze on Wesley. The latter felt a flicker of intimidation as Charmion calmly stated, "Do you know why they are asking me for help?"
The villagers looked at each other in confusion.
Charmion began to grow agitated, saying, "Because in their eyes, I am a great sorcerer, a person willing to stand up for the common folk. But do they know my true identity?"
Roderick and Wesley exchanged worried glances, subtly taken aback by Charmion's unusual demeanor.
Charmion's voice grew near-hysterical. "Do you all know who I really am? Ha! Let me enlighten you! I am the dark-robed demon. I am the one who kills without a second thought. I am the fallen dark sorcerer, the man despised by justice! Ha ha! You, righteous souls, would have me lead you into battle? Ha ha ha, ha ha…"
The crowd gasped in shock and began to back away.
"So he is the demon! No wonder he's so formidable."
"Indeed, I heard he was merciless, killing thousands!"
"He must have some twisted dark magic propelling him to slaughter so many during the daytime!"
"Right! We cannot trust such a fiend…"
Suddenly, someone from the back hurled a small stone in his direction. In an instant, most of the villagers began to pick up stones, launching them toward the black-robed figure, marking his skin with smudges of dirt. Charmion simply stood there, unwavering, laughing maniacally, embracing the chaos with an almost self-destructive glee.
Tears glimmered in the corners of his eyes.
Roderick and Wesley watched this absurd scene unfold in despair, realizing that the villagers they had just saved were now pelting stone after stone at the very man who had resurrected them. An overwhelming sense of anger brewed in their chests, burning like fire, and they rushed forward, standing in front of Charmion to shield him from the incoming projectiles. They hurled stones back at the villagers, shouting in outrage, "You fools! You scoundrels! How can you treat him this way?"
Just as it seemed the situation was about to spiral out of control, a thunderous voice commanded, "Stop!"
The powerful shout hushed the crowd, compelling them to freeze. Only Charmion continued to chuckle softly, though his voice had turned hoarse.
Jeff, the source of the shout, stepped in front of Charmion and looked straight at him, drawing his sword. Charmion smiled at him and whispered, "You've come to give me the final blow? Fine, do it. I won't fight back."
In the furious gaze of Roderick and Wesley, Jeff swiftly drove his sword into the ground, determination etched on his countenance as the moon shone above, illuminating his resolve. "I know not if you are the fabled demon, but I have witnessed you saving my wife and child, preserving the lives of all in this village. I care not for your identity as a dark sorcerer, nor whether justice looks askance at you." After a brief pause, his eyes hardened with a resolve unyielding, he declared, "Justice belongs to the nobles and their defenders—it means nothing to me. All I know is that I fight for my wife and child to have a better life, for those I love to no longer live in fear of survival.
For that purpose, I would gladly descend into hell alongside a creature of darkness like you, without a single regret for my descent."
With this, Jeff suddenly knelt, pointing to the bright moon overhead, his sword held tightly. "I, Knight Jeff Cork, swear by the moon above and by my knightly honor, to pledge my loyalty to Prince Charmion, to follow him into battle, and to fight until I return to the dust, never regretting my decision!"
The onlookers stood in stunned silence.
Then, over twenty men emerged, members of Jeff's cavalry. They too solemnly pledged their allegiance to Charmion.
Next, Jim stepped forward. Kneeling before Charmion, he spoke with an unmistakable fervor, "Esteemed Prince Charmion, please forgive my previous doubts and my belief in those false rumors. Believe me, Jim has never felt such shame. From this day forward, allow me to fight alongside you; I entrust my life completely to you."
A stir rippled through the villagers, leading to a chorus of apologies, as more young people stepped forward, offering their loyalty to Charmion.
Roderick and Wesley observed the dramatic transformation around them, stunned by the sudden turn of events.
Charmion sighed, "You may all rise." Moving to Jeff's side, he placed a hand on his shoulder. "In truth, I should thank you. You have helped me understand something I struggled with for so long. I was trapped within my own barriers, burdened by the beliefs that those noble souls held as ideals of justice and light. Why should their definition of righteousness dictate mine? Are not the deeds done in the light equally grotesque? Ha ha ha, so what if I am one born of darkness? Ha ha ha…"
Jeff scrutinized the laughing Charmion, surprise etched on his face. "Prince, what do you mean…"
Charmion gazed up at the moon, declaring resolutely, "From now on, we shall fight together!"
"Yay~~~~!" The crowd erupted into joyous cheers.
Chapter 7: Aimbush
General Toran, one of the four dukes of the Marquez Kingdom, and the lord of Kerton City, sat calmly in the largest chair in the hall.
Toran was a close friend of King Edward IV, immensely trusted by him. At forty-five years of age, he appeared to be only in his thirties, with a commanding presence and a tall stature. With his handsome features and the king's favor, every time he returned to the capital, Chisu City, to give his reports, he became the center of attention among the elite.
At that moment, he was dressed in plain clothes, listening to the report of the tax collector, the rotund Zack, in the grand hall of the general's residence in Kerton City. Beside him was his deputy, Rayner.
"And that is how it happened," Zack lamented, his plump face reflecting desperation. "Those rioting villagers in Arshat disregarded the laws and the general's orders, violently defying the tax demands, and brutally killed thirty of your loyal and valiant soldiers. I risked my life to return and report the truth to you. General, you must seek justice for the fallen spirits and for me!"
Toran observed Zack's exaggerated expressions with a stoic face. Rayner, however, sneered, "By your account, it's entirely the villagers' fault. I've heard quite a bit about your oppressive behavior towards them."
Zack was taken aback and quickly knelt before Toran, exclaiming, "My lord, that is entirely fabrication! I serve you diligently, and I may have offended a few shameless individuals along the way. Please, my lord, investigate thoroughly!"
Toran smiled slightly but remained silent. Rayner, face like ice, spoke coldly, "Even if your words were true, how could unarmed villagers possibly kill thirty fully armed, trained soldiers and do so utterly without any survivors, yet you alone returned?"
Zack's mind raced. He knew that the deaths of those thirty soldiers lay at the hands of the unknown black-robed man. He feared that Toran would pursue that man and absolve the villagers of blame. With the deep animosity he held against them and the numerous grievances from neighboring settlements, he could not allow Toran to spare those villagers. If he did not leverage Toran's power to heavily punish the rebellious villagers now, he feared that they would somehow retaliate against him later.
Resolutely, he declared to Toran, "You didn't see the situation. Those rioters were armed with sharp blades and acted in unison, clearly with premeditation; they intended to revolt!"
Toran's expression shifted ever so slightly, but he remained noncommittal. Rayner stood up, furious. "Scoundrel! The villagers surrounding Kerton are nearly starving! Where are their sharp blades? If they exist, they've likely traded them for food!" The young general, unable to contain his anger, drew his side sword, pointing it at Zack's pale face. "Your ilk's abuses are the cause of this trouble. Today, I will—"
"Rayner!" Toran's sharp command halted the impetuous general. Rayner turned to look at Toran. "My lord, this villain's deeds are abominable. The events of today are filled with inconsistencies; you must reconsider."
Toran regarded this young, justice-driven officer, who had achieved the rank of deputy general at just twenty-eight. His future promised to be extraordinarily bright. Yet Toran recognized a reflection of his own youthful impulsiveness in Rayner's temperament, fearing that such a disposition might hinder his advancement.
After a thoughtful pause, Toran said, "Rayner, the taxes were decreed by me; Zack merely enforces my orders. Your fury—do you have any dissatisfaction with me?"
Rayner was taken aback; under the serene expression of Toran, a chill gripped him. He quickly sheathed his sword, replying, "I meant no disrespect, my lord. I was only furious at Zack's actions, and I would never question your motives."
Toran smiled slightly, turning to Zack, "You may leave for now. I will contemplate today's affair and make a decision."
Zack eagerly accepted the dismissal, hurriedly excusing himself.
The hall fell into a heavy silence as Toran paced thoughtfully, glancing at Rayner, and eventually sighed, saying, "You may sit down."
Rayner nodded, quietly taking his seat.
Toran continued, "Do you hold any doubts regarding my actions?"
Rayner lifted his head, anxiously replying, "My lord…"
Toran interrupted, "There are no outsiders here. You have accompanied me for many years; I hold you in high regard. Speak freely."
Rayner met Toran's gaze, his resolve hardening as he said, "My lord, your policies of heavy taxation on villages and towns nearby, coupled with Zack's tendencies to exploit common folk, have filled the populace with grievances and outrage. The conditions have become intolerable. If you continue down this path, you risk sparking a rebellion. If word reaches the capital and falls into the hands of your political enemies, the repercussions could be dire for you."
Toran remained silent for a moment, contemplating the words, before finally acknowledging, "You are correct. However, I have my own burdens. Do you think I squander these funds on luxuries?"
Rayner quickly shook his head, wanting to speak, but Toran waved him off. His voice lowered, "The Marquez Kingdom may appear prosperous on the surface, but beneath that facade lies a perilous crisis. King Edward IV has been ill for years, unable to govern, while treacherous ministers have taken the reins. The treasury is nearly empty. For the past three years, we have failed to adequately pay our soldiers, and delays have become commonplace."
Sighing deeply, Toran's usually steady countenance revealed a hint of turmoil. "I owe my loyalty to the king for his great kindness, having entrusted me with the heavy responsibility of border defense. Yet now, the Nasda Empire is on high alert," he continued, "and the renowned generals Skale and Raman within 'Cangyun City' are shrewd and formidable tacticians. Despite my utmost efforts, I can only maintain a stalemate. However, if soldiers reach the point of not receiving their wages or even food, not even a divinity could rectify that situation. I recognize that imposing heavy taxes on the people is unwise, but I see no alternative. Even if I am cursed by the populace, as a servant of the Marquez Kingdom, I owe my loyalty to the king. I cannot let the opinions of a few sway me, as my life is at stake."
Rayner blushed with respect and stood up, his eyes filled with admiration as he exclaimed, "My lord, you sacrifice so much for the state! I was ignorant, and I misunderstood your intentions. Please, I beg your forgiveness."
Toran smiled and patted Rayner on the shoulder. "No need for concern. You are young and ambitious; your future is bright, but remember to consider your actions carefully."
Rayner nodded earnestly, "Of course."
Toran added, "However, you have a valid point. Zack's arrogance has grown far too great. Once this matter is resolved, I will find an opportunity to deal with him, as a way to appease the people's anguish."
Rayner felt a chill run through him but struggled to find the words. He could only agree with a nod.
Toran watched him carefully, choosing his words. "Regardless, the villagers of Arshat have killed thirty soldiers, and I must hold them accountable for this act."
Rayner's heart raced. He immediately said, "My lord, I completely agree with investigating this matter. But please, do not let the tragedy of the 'Cotton Farmers' repeat itself. Such a course will undoubtedly stir unrest among the people, and if news of it reaches the capital, it will become leverage for your political enemies."
Toran furrowed his brow, his expression contemplative. After a long pause, he finally spoke, "You're right. Here's what we'll do: send three hundred men to apprehend the ringleaders and intimidate the villagers, but refrain from committing any further massacres."
Rayner beamed with delight, "Thank you, my lord!"
Toran smiled lightly, "You may go now."
As he watched Rayner exit, Toran's dignified demeanor returned. Yet, the image of Rayner lingered in his mind, and he couldn't help but find a resemblance to someone long gone.
Toran closed his eyes and whispered, his voice barely audible, "He does resemble you, Charmion."
***
Arshat Village is situated fifty miles from Kerton City, connected by a road. Traveling forty miles from Kerton and passing through Moonlight Valley leads you to Arshat Village.
Pierce, a cavalry squad leader under Rayner, had been assigned a force consisting of one cavalry squad and nine infantry squads, totaling around three hundred men—essentially a full-sized company. According to the Marquez military hierarchy, a cavalry captain outranks an infantry captain by half a rank, thus establishing Pierce as the commander of this operation.
A sturdy soldier, Pierce was fiercely loyal to Toran and Rayner, which was why Rayner entrusted him with this responsibility.
This was Pierce's first experience commanding nearly a full company, and as they set out, he felt a surge of pride. However, upon reaching the penultimate section of their journey and seeing Moonlight Valley, his anger flared. It was the first time since he had enlisted that he had to navigate such a slow pace. Though fifty miles isn't far for infantry, their speed was painfully slow compared to that of cavalry.
Pierce, despite his strong physique, had little tolerance for delays. Ten miles after leaving the city, he began to complain; by fifteen miles, he was nearly shouting; and by the twenty-mile mark, he finally compelled the infantry to run. Unfortunately, even a fully armed unit running could not meet his expectations.
Pierce glared at the more than two hundred breathless soldiers trailing behind him, feeling frustrated. In fact, every cavalryman in the Marquez army looked down on the infantry.
"What a bunch of fools," Pierce muttered under his breath, yet he found himself slowing down. At the same time, he couldn't help but feel relieved they were dealing with some weak peasants; had they confronted real soldiers, his worn-out troops would surely have faced disaster.
Lost in thought, he was suddenly stirred by a commotion from the rear. Pierce halted his horse and turned around, just in time to see a squad of cavalry and an accompanying squad of infantry catch up to them. The leading cavalry captain approached Pierce, placing his hand over his heart and declaring loudly, "I am Jeff Cork, cavalry squad leader under General Brom, here to offer support." He handed over his identification badge.
Pierce took the badge and examined it carefully, confirming its authenticity before returning it to Jeff. Confused, he asked, "Captain Jeff, this operation was arranged by General Rayner; what brings you here?"
Jeff gave a mysterious smile and leaned closer, whispering, "Pierce, we hadn't planned to come, but General Brom learned that General Toran had entrusted an important task to General Rayner and insisted on meeting with him. And so, we arrived."
Understanding dawned on Pierce, and he laughed heartily, his suspicions fading. The soldiers of the Marquez border army often exchanged knowing glances over a widely accepted secret: the rivalry between the two deputies, Rayner and Brom, was well-known, fraught with political maneuvering. Brom, who was older and looked down on Rayner, believed he was merely a sycophant rising through the ranks. He frequently "reminded" General Toran of Rayner's ambition, resulting in an ongoing battle of wits that hindered the cohesion of their forces.
Lately, their antagonism had escalated, with each attempting to claim glory for any military successes. Though today might not have seemed like a significant event, Brom's character and animosity towards Rayner suggested that sending a few squads to stake a claim was entirely plausible. Most likely, he had spoken to General Toran, who, weary of Brom's protests, allowed him to send a few soldiers along.
As Pierce and Jeff rode side by side, Pierce complained, "It's good you showed up; look at the ragtag group I've brought. They can barely keep up after a short distance."
Jeff laughed, "Not at all. By the way, I came here in a hurry, only to receive orders to aid you. What is the task at hand?"
With an ironic twist of his lips, Pierce replied, "Peasants causing trouble, as always. A rabble from Arshat Village killed thirty of our brothers. I originally proposed to eliminate those miscreants, but General Rayner insisted on merely punishing a few. Nonetheless, when we reach the village, I intend to take out the leaders first; as for the rest, we'll see if anything can be gleaned from them."
Pierce spoke with enthusiasm, entirely unaware of the resentment flickering in Jeff's eyes. As Jeff's cavalry squad started to disperse, mingling with Pierce's men, the units gradually formed a more integrated formation.
Meanwhile's infantry troops fell behind.
Soon, this disparate group of soldiers made their way into Moonlight Valley.
Moonlight Valley itself consists of two small hills enclosing a narrow path. The winding road within takes a large bend, resembling a crescent moon, thus its name.
Both Jeff and Pierce had served in Kerton City for years and were well-acquainted with the geography of the area. Without much thought, they led the way. However, the heavy breathing of the infantry remained evident, each man appearing utterly spent.
Pierce cursed under his breath and glanced at Jeff with a wry smile. "Look at this sorry excuse for a military force. Thank the heavens we aren't facing Nasda; if we ambushed a few hundred here in this valley, we'd be finished!"
Jeff smiled faintly but remained silent.
The group quickly rounded the bend and came upon the valley's exit. There, they found three men standing—two dressed like ordinary travelers, while the man in the center wore a black robe and held a dark staff, clearly a sorcerer.
Pierce furrowed his brow as the man on the left shouted, "Listen up, Marquez soldiers! We come on behalf of the oppressed villagers of Arshat, as members of the strongest mercenary group in the continent, the Klam Mercenary Company, to eliminate you! Presenting before you is the charismatic and debonair Captain Roderick, adored by all, particularly by beautiful women, along with… his trusty aides, A and B."
Pierce was still processing the string of words when the man on the right shouted back, "Bah! You scoundrel! If you dare insult the dead, at least have the decency to leave me out of it. Ridiculous!" He then turned toward the soldiers and bellowed, "Listen here, you lot on the brink of death—pay close attention! I am the embodiment of kindness, justice, and loyalty, the most noble gentleman, the good man Wesley. From now on, whoever pays one hundred gold coins will have me dig a grave; for two hundred gold coins, I'll provide you with a straw mat; and for five hundred gold coins, ha-ha! A premium offer—a fine coffin from Marquez, guaranteed to remain intact underground for a year! Hurry, supplies are limited. Act fast!"
Pierce was furious, about to explode. Suddenly, Jeff leaned in and said, "These individuals might be allies sent by Arshat Village. It appears they are genuinely in revolt. Perhaps we could capitalize on this moment to eliminate those three lunatics and then unleash chaos in the village afterward. What do you think?"
Pierce nodded eagerly. "Yes, let's do that." He turned to issue orders.
With a cold smirk, Jeff drew his sword with a swift motion, raising it high as he called out, "Soldiers!"
"High!" his cavalry unit responded in unison, swords drawn.
Pierce was taken aback, a hint of admiration creeping into his expression. "Man, your men are quite well-trained!"
Jeff cast a brief glance at him and then shouted, "Kill!"
With that commanding cry, swords clashed with a sharp cry of steel through the valley. "Crack!" came the sound of Pierce's head sliding down.
In an instant, dozens of blades echoed throughout the air as Pierce's cavalry squad was nearly obliterated. Meanwhile, a commotion erupted in the ranks behind them as twenty infantrymen were also cut down, due to a squad of villagers dressed in the deceased soldiers' uniforms from Arshat.
The remaining soldiers, caught off guard by the sudden upheaval, were left bewildered. Jeff, brandishing his bloodstained sword, shouted, "By order of General Brom, Pierce and Rayner are conspiring to rebel and will face execution. All accomplices shall be executed!" As he spoke, the cavalry charged into the fray, cutting down those who dared to stand in their way.
The soldiers, still stunned and confused, barely had time to cry out "Innocent!" or "I didn't rebel!" before receiving fatal blows. As the realization set in that Brom's soldiers intended to annihilate them, more than half had already fallen.
At that moment, a figure emerged at the valley's entrance—none other than the black-robed man, Charmion. He watched the battle unfold, expressionless, and observed the soldiers attempting to resist. He made a subtle gesture towards the slope.
"Boom!" A resounding gong echoed throughout the valley. In an instant, countless villagers—actually only a few hundred—charged down the slopes, men and women of all ages, drawn by the fight, desperate to survive.
These villagers rushed down the hill, arming themselves with the fallen soldiers' weapons, while others wielded farm tools like hoes as weapons, eager to join the battle.
The soldiers, already lacking spirit, were exhausted from Pierce's earlier pushing twenty miles. They stood little chance against the villagers, who soon gained the upper hand. It didn't take long before a significant number had fallen, while those calling for surrender were heartlessly struck down by the vengeful villagers.
Time seemed to blur until the last Marquez soldier collapsed. The stench of blood filled Moonlight Valley, with over three hundred corpses littering the ground. Those once derided villagers shared incredulous glances, unable to believe that they had defeated the elite of the Marquez army.
In the ensuing silence, Jeff, drenched in blood, walked up to Charmion, his eyes filled with admiration. "Mr. Charmion, your plan was truly ingenious! We… have really won." Unable to contain his elation, he turned to the crowd and shouted, "We have achieved victory!"
"Hurray!" The villagers erupted into cheers.
The first spark that could ignite a wildfire had finally been lit.