It was dark all around, and raising his fingers, he couldnât see anything. The little child sat in the narrow dark hole, hugging his knees with his chin resting on them.
He opened his eyes in the darkness, as if looking at the past through the blackness in front of him.
After this rebirth, he never wanted to think about the past.
He could vaguely see himself lying on the icy stone ground when he was a teenager, and the poison causing him to bleed from the corners of his mouth, eyes, and even nostrils.
Everyone stood around him, looking down at him as he fell to the ground in embarrassment, waiting for him to die.
Among these people was the teacher he once trusted so much, the Shamash priest, Ziemuer.
At the last second before losing consciousness, he saw Ziemuer approaching him in a trance, standing in front of him, and condescendingly looking down at him before his death with an emotionless gaze.
He would never forget that scene.
He would not forget the heart-piercing pain he felt at that moment when he should have been numb and unconscious in his limbs.
âŚ
The noisy clamor outside continued to resound, the twang of the sharp arrows being nailed to the house, the clash of weapons striking, and the sound of countless people yelling blended all together.
Mixed in bits and pieces, the noise penetrated the floor and entered his eardrums.
Garlan sat with his knees in his embrace, his eyes kept open in the dark, looking into the void in contemplation.
After a while, he closed his eyes, nodded lightly, and hummed, as if he had made up his mind.
En.
In any case, he was still the Prince of Aaron Landis.
Thinking of this, Garlan raised his hand and pushed open the door above his head.
Firelight shone into the pitch-black hole, and the only thing that could be seen was a pair of bright golden eyes that seemed to glow.
âŚ
âŚ
As soon as Ziemuer walked out of the gate, he saw another wave of arrows oncoming as soon as he raised his eyes.
He reflexively raised the sceptre in his hand and blocked all the sharp arrows that were shot at him.
âMaster Ziemuer?â
âLord Priest!â
âLordââ
Seeing Ziemuer go out, the five knights guarding outside all showed a look of surprise.
âI canât always stay inside for you all to protect.â
Ziemuer said in a deep voice, with a double meaning.
âIâm the only one, there is no need to search the house!â
He emphasised the part, âIâm the only oneâ, and the knights looked at each other and immediately understood what Ziemuer meant.
They said no more, silently raised the swords in their hands, and stood firmly on the ground.
At their feet, dozens of corpses had been laid. This place where they were was like an invisible barrier, no one could break through and penetrate their line of defense.
However, the price they paid was also great.
The knights were all wounded. They had bruises from sharp and heavy objects thrown at them by countless women, children, and elders, but the most serious injuries were the ones made by the sharp arrows.
At this moment, there were several arrows embedded into each of them. The knight who tamed the little black rat had an empty eye frame, because the arrow in his eye had been pulled out together with his eyeball not long ago and was tossed to the ground. Half of his cheek was already red from the blood flowing from the empty eye socket.
Obviously, after dozens of corpses emerged, the leader of the rioting refugees realised that these knights were not ordinary people, so he asked everyone to retreat and to only use their bows and arrows.
The town was close to the deep mountains, so it was not just a few local hunters, but there were quite a few people who knew how to use bows and arrows proficiently. Besides, as they had also obtained the bows which were only available in the army, they became even more powerful.
Regarding the five men under King Camos, although they were all powerful knights who followed Camos from the battlefield, their forte as knights was to charge forward on horseback. Now, in order to protect the prince, they could only stay here in the house and not ride on horses. Thus, their combat effectiveness had decreased by almost half.
They could have easily defeated the mob who rushed up, but now, faced with long-range attacks like sharp arrows in all directions, they had no solutions. In order to protect the people behind them, they couldnât hide and could only passively be beaten up.
This area of other mansions had already been taken down, and those wealthy businessmen and dignitaries who had always been arrogant were all caught, trembling on the ground, and being guarded.
At this moment, this lonely house was surrounded by what looked like hundreds or even thousands of rioting refugees. It was like a lone boat in the storm-ravaged sea, crumbling, and about to tip over at any moment, yet stubbornly holding on and refusing to collapse.
âFire!â
A command came.
Another wave of arrows rained like a hurricane.
Ziemuer was focused on the sharp arrow that was shot and suddenly heard a scream around him.
âAier!â
The knight who was missing an eye hugged his comrade who was lying on top of him and shouted his name in grief.
He was blind in one eye and could not see the sharp arrow shot at him from the side. It was his comrade beside him who used his body to help him block the deadly arrow.
At this moment, the knight whose throat and head were pierced fell on him, no longer breathing, and the blood flowing out of him stained his leather armour.
âŚThis cannot go on!
If this were to continue, even if they had a huge amount of power and energy, they wouldnât be able to use it. They would only be used as targets to be shot alive!
Ziemuer stepped forward and pointed the sceptre in his hand to the front.
âRebels, let your leader come out and talk!â he bellowed.
His stern shout startled the people on the opposite side, temporarily stopping their attack, and they subconsciously turned their eyes to their leader. It was a middle-aged man with a tall stature, a square face, and a resolute silhouette. He looked like a taciturn man. At this moment, the leader of the refugees was squatting on the wall of the house, pointing his bow towards Ziemuer, obviously one of the archers.
After Ziemuer spoke, he was silent for a few seconds, put down the bow in his hand, and leaped off the wall, and landed on the ground facing Ziemuer.
âWhat do you want to say, Lord Priest?â
The middle-aged man asked, his expression was very calm and there werenât any emotions.
âListen, I know your reasons for doing this sort of thing.â
Ziemuer said quickly, trying to persuade the other party.
He knew that for this kind of refugee riot that gathered like a scorching fire, they all had a herd mentality. As long as they could persuade their leader, they would have a great chance to dissolve the riot.
âWe are not from the City of Vernal, but from the Royal City. King Camos already knows what happened here and sent us to help the refugees here. The food, herbs, and medicines you need will be delivered soon. Those powerful and corrupt officials who swallow relief items without authorisation will be punished by the Kingâso, halt your actions immediately!â
ââŚâ
The man was silent for a few seconds again, and then he replied.
âI know that you are from the Royal City; the civil servants we caught have already told me.â
He raised his head and looked at Ziemuer with scorching eyes.
âBut I donât believe you!â
His eyes were filled with deep anger, verging on hatred.
âYou nobles and officials are all the same! Whether it is from the Royal City or Vernal City, it is all the same!â
âYou joined hands to devour the relief that should have been given to us, took our wives and children, and drove us civilians out of the City of Vernal! You even captured them and sold them as slavesâyou nobles donât care whether we live or die!â
âThatâs not trueâŚâŚâ
What Ziemuer wanted to explain was interrupted by the man again.
âYou said no? What about this, Lord Priest? As long as you return the children you took away in the morning, Iâll believe you. How about it?â
â!!!â
Ziemuer was taken aback and then immediately reacted.
This civilian man referred to the group of children that King Camos took to Vernal City that morning. They were afraid if someone saw it by accident, these refugees would mistakenly think that they were also with the aristocratic officials in collusion with the An-Ki Cult, sending their children off to be sacrificed.
But this was really a misunderstanding!
He explained eagerly, âWait a minute, those kids were just being escorted back to the City of Vernal!â
âLord Priest, do you think I believe your words?â
ââŚâ
Ziemuer could not refute.
He looked at the hostile eyes of the refugees on the opposite side, and everyoneâs eyes were filled with intense anger and hatred, as if they were burning him to ashes.
He pursed his lips and then said, âDo you know how the rebellion will end? When the army comes, all of you will be killed.â
The man looked at Ziemuer. His pupils seemed to be enveloped by a very faint black mist.
His eyes were filled with bitter hatred.
He replied, âI have lost everything, what else do I have to fear?â
Death?
How could that be compared to the pain of losing his beloved wife and children?
âListen, as long as you stop now, you can stillââ
âEnough, Lord Priest. Enough. I donât want to listen anymore. What you noble officials who drink human blood and cannibalise on human flesh say, we wonât believe a word.â
The man said. Word by word, his eyes were determined, and his tone was cold.
Then, he waved his hand.
Another wave of arrows fiercely struck, and among them, there were countless large stones that were thrown at them from all directions by the angry refugees who had gathered around them.
Unprepared to prevent the corner of his eye from being hit by a stone, Ziemuerâs sight became black for a second, but it was this pause that made him unable to block the sharp arrows that were shot.
The sharp arrows pierced his chest, thigh, and ankle. Even his neck was dangerously brushed past by a sharp arrow.
But he did not fall.
In the dark night, Ziemuer touched the bottom on one knee, the sceptre in his right hand plunged deeply into the ground, and the back of the hand holding the sceptre violently supported his body.
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The priest of Shamash gritted his teeth and braced himself abruptly, refusing to fall in front of his enemies.
He raised his head. The blood from the open wound that was nicked by a sharp arrow on the side of his neck dyed most of it crimson, and the blood from the wound on his forehead that was smashed by the gravel stained his temples red.
By his side, the remaining four knights didnât fall, and even if they had a few arrows in their bodies, they still supported their bodies with much difficulty. They were panting violently, blood stained their leather armor, and every time they moved, a small amount of blood would spurt out of their bodies. The bloodied face of the knight who had lost one eye looked particularly terrifying.
But they were still standing, standing on the ground, holding the long swords in their hands against their enemies.
Opposite them, the middle-aged man who was the leader of the refugees silently looked at the few noble knights that he should have felt extreme hostility towards, but instead, he felt a little bit of emotion and respect in his heart.
Then, he drew the bow in his hand, and the sharp point of the arrow aimed between the brows of the priest in the opposite direction.
Behind the man, nearly a hundred battle bows were also pulled apart together with him. The shining arrows were angled at the knights who were already covered in injuries, aiming at their throats or foreheads. They only waited for their leader to give out an order to fire the thousand arrows and completely kill these damned nobles.
Ziemuer let out a breath.
This time, it seemed impossible to escape this danger.
It was just that he didnât die on the battlefield against foreign enemies, but in the hands of these angry mobs, which made him somewhat unwilling.
ButâŚ
At this moment, he thought of the little figure in the dark hole, and his eyes softened a little.
At least Prince Garlan is safe. Thatâs enough.
In the night, the two sides confronted each other, and the heaven and the earth became quiet at this moment.
The air was stagnant, and even their breaths seemed to freeze at this moment.
Under the gaze of Ziemuer, the manâs calloused fingers moved slightly, and his eyes followed the tightest string that was about to let goââ
Suddenly, there was a creak.
This voice wasnât usually loud, but it was abrupt in the moment of silence.
Instinctively, almost everyone subconsciously cast their eyes on the place where the sound was made.
The house, who everyone thought was empty, had its door opened, and someone came out.
It was a young child who looked only seven or eight years old, with snow-white bandages on his wrists, calves, and even his neck.
The child who opened the door looked up at the crowd, and then walked forward, step by step.
In the midst of a battle that hardened all minds and the tension that made people breathless, the child suddenly appeared. He then calmly walked between the two fighting parties, showing an indescribably strange appearance.
It was so strange that no one could react for a while. They stared at each other, watching the blond-haired child approach them step by step in astonishment. Even the middle-aged man who was about to shoot an arrow was shocked, and his hand that was just about to let go of the string stopped.
The whole earth was inexplicably quiet at this moment.
Then, a high-pitched voice suddenly broke the strange silence.
âWhy did you come out!?â
Even facing the sharp arrow aimed between his eyebrows, Ziemuerâs expressionless face had not changed until this moment.
He wanted to get up, but his badly injured body could no longer stand up, so he could only stay on the ground. He suddenly reached out and grabbed the wrist of the child who was walking past, wanting to drag the other behind him with a frustrated expression on his face.
âHow can youââ
âStand down.â
A crisp and clean voice sounded in the dark, and Garlan turned his head and looked at the priest who was holding his wrist.
He held Ziemuerâs gaze at this moment, to the point of being terribly calm.
He continued, âZiemuer, stand down this instant.â
Ziemuer, who was kneeling on the ground, was stunned. He looked at Garlan, perhaps because he had never seen such a look on the childâs face.
Garlan also looked at him, his golden eyes were extremely bright, just like the brilliant sun in the sky.
With no explanation, and as if overwhelmed by the aura of those golden eyes looking at him, Ziemuer silently let go of his hand.
Garlan turned around, walked forward two steps, and stood in front of the kneeling Ziemuer, as well as the seriously injured knights.
He raised his face and faced the countless torches held in the hands of the mobs opposite, the light of the fire illuminating his face.
At this moment, the small body seemed to guard Ziemuer and the knights behind him.
âDo you want to use this boy as a shield?â
The middle-aged man who finally reacted from the sudden childâs appearance shouted loudly, and the bow in his hand was once again loaded and aimed forward.
âDespicable nobles! Do you think that Iâll let you off?â
âYou took our children. Do you think weâll show mercy to yours!?â
Thinking of his dead wife and missing children, he shouted angrily, and ruthlessly pointed the arrow at the blond-haired boy who stood in front of him.
âScram, Kid! Or Iâll shoot you to deathââ
The fiery flames flickered on Garlanâs face, as if a cluster of flames were lit in the depths of his golden pupils.
In front of him, the countless arrows pointed at him shined with a grim cold light in the dark night.
Perhaps in the next second, those countless sharp arrows would penetrate his body in an instant.
âPut down the bow and arrow in your hand.â
In the dark night, under the moonlight, the blond-haired prince stretched out his hand.
His hand pointed forward.
âI am Garlan; Brother of King Camos; Prince of Aaron Landis, the descendant of the Gods of Aaron Landis.â
Garlan stared at the man and the rest of the people, as if a cluster of golden flames were burning deep in the pupils, illuminating all the darkness.
âAs citizens of Aaron LandisâŚâ
The small body seemed to have an invisible and powerful will gathered around him, making everyone hold their breath.
He pointed his finger forward and pointed at the crowd, which inexplicably gave the people a strong sense of oppression.
âTell me, who gave you the courage to point at the Prince of Aaron Landis with an arrow?â
If I lose my momentum now, Iâll be dead ahhhhhhhâ
Facing the countless sharp arrows shining with cold light, the little prince, whose back was soaked in cold sweat, even if he was panicked inside, continued to stiffen his neck and pretended to be forceful.