Chapter 140: Chapter 140 - Rebellion or Justice ( Part 1 )
The news came to Greymane Castle well before dawn.
Not thanks to any spies.
Nor thanks to any magic.
It was delivered to the Lord through fear.
A merchant, pale and trembling, knelt before the throne of Lord Barthus Greymane.
"My Lord..."
"The villagers of Ashvale..."
"They no longer bow to us..."
Barthus slowly raised his head from the book in his hands.
He was a tall man in black silk and gold. His silver rings glinted in the early sunlight from the castle windows.
Everything about him spoke of money.
Except his eyes.
They were cold.
Calculating.
The eyes of a man who valued only the usefulness of others.
He calmly put down his teacup.
"...Explain."
The merchant gulped.
"They have repaired their houses."
"The trade road is open once again."
"The miners have started asking questions about the taxes."
"The villagers gather in the evenings."
"And they..."
He paused.
"They smile again."
Silence.
Barthus looked at him.
And then...
He laughed.
A soft laugh.
Free of any warmth.
"...They smile?"
The merchant nodded.
"Yes, my Lord."
Barthus got up and slowly walked to the castle window overlooking the western valley.
Far below, hidden behind the mountains, lied Ashvale.
A village which he had not visited in many years.
For there was no need for him to do so.
For fear controlled it for him.
Until now.
"A village does not forget the fear overnight."
He crossed his arms behind his back.
"Someone has reminded them."
A knight stepped closer to him.
"Our scouts reported three travelers passing through the mountains."
"A silver-haired girl."
"A young mage."
"And a white wolf."
Barthus’s eyes narrowed.
"So."
"They are the reason."
The captain nodded.
"Should we get rid of them?"
Barthus smiled.
"No."
"Perhaps later."
He turned slowly around.
"If I kill some wandering adventurers..."
"A new group might come along."
"But..."
"If I make them suffer before everyone..."
"The village will remember the reason for fear."
He smiled even wider.
"Fear."
"Has to be refreshed from time to time."
An hour later...
The castle gates opened.
Over one hundred armored warriors marched down the mountain road.
Their steel armor shone in the sunlight.
Their red cloaks waved in the wind.
Knights on horses were marching in the front of the line.
Archers and shield-bearers marched behind them.
At the head of them...
Captain Ron.
A veteran knight serving the Greymane family for over twenty years.
His orders were simple.
Restore the order.
Kill anyone who dares to resist him.
Meanwhile...
Jennie was repairing the cottage.
She was walking on the roof, changing broken wooden beams.
Snow was sleeping under a tree near her.
Roxy was mixing herbs inside the clinic.
The peaceful morning was disturbed by clanking sounds.
Clank.
Clank.
Clank.
Hundreds of armors marching through the valley echoed everywhere.
Snow opened one eye.
"...Visitors."
Jennie turned towards the mountain road.
The long line of soldiers appeared between the trees.
The villagers stopped instantly.
The children stopped playing.
The mothers pulled their children inside the houses.
The old men lowered their heads.
That feeling of hope that slowly started coming back...
Shook.
Harold went pale.
"They are here..."
Roxy stepped outside.
"So soon?"
Jennie got down from the roof.
She looked calm.
Captain Ron marched into the village square.
His horse stopped in front of the gathering villagers.
He unrolled a parchment.
"In the name of Lord Barthus Greymane..."
He began reading.
"The village of Ashvale is guilty of tax evasion..."
"Unauthorized gatherings..."
"Harboring dangerous strangers..."
"And inciting rebellion."
He rolled the parchment up.
"They will surrender immediately."
There was no movement.
The captain’s eyes fell on Jennie.
"You."
"The silver-haired traveler."
"Come here."
Jennie quietly did as told.
She bowed politely.
"You called?"
The captain frowned.
"You will come with us to the Greymane Castle."
Jennie tilted her head.
"...Could you tell me why?"
"You are accused of disturbing the peace."
Snow snorted.
"The peace?"
He looked around.
"I think I’ve missed that part."
Some of the soldiers pointed their spears at Snow.
Ron ignored the wolf.
"Surrender yourselves peacefully."
Jennie looked towards the frightened villagers.
Then back at the captain.
"I am afraid I cannot."
The captain sighed.
"I hoped that you would say that."
He raised one hand.
"Arrest them."
Almost thirty soldiers rushed forward.
The villagers cried out.
"No!"
"They will kill her!"
Roxy instinctively raised her staff.
Jennie gently stopped her.
"It’s alright."
Roxy blinked.
"What?"
Jennie looked around.
Nearby, a carpenter left behind a simple wooden training sword for teaching children.
She picked it up.
Snow stared.
"...Are you kidding me?"
Jennie lightly hit it once.
"It is balanced enough."
Roxy looked horrified.
"Jennie..."
"That is wood."
"I know."
"They have steel swords!"
"I noticed."
Snow sighed.
"...Almost pity them."
The soldiers attacked.
The first soldier swung his sword.
Jennie sidestepped.
Tap.
Her wooden sword lightly hit his wrist.
Crack.
His weapon was thrown into the air.
Before it reached the ground...
She turned.
Tap.
The second soldier’s helmet was knocked off his head sideways.
He fell unconscious.
The third soldier stabbed his spear at her.
Jennie calmly deflected it using the wooden sword.
The spear was thrown out of the soldier’s hands.
She lightly hit his shoulder.
He fell.
The villagers stared.
"...What?"
Ron’s eyes widened.
"How is that possible!"
More soldiers rushed her.
Jennie moved as gracefully as water.
Every move was graceful.
Every strike was precise.
She did not hit twice.
She did not need to.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Wood met steel.
But it was the steel which shattered.
Swords broke.
Spears splintered.
Shields were cracked apart with perfectly timed hits.
Soldiers stumbled over each other trying to attack her.
None of them managed to do so.
She was not overpowering them.
She was simply...
Better.
Snow counted lazily.
"Twenty-three."
"Twenty-four."
"Twenty-five."
Roxy blinked.
"You are counting?"
"I’ve seen this before."
Another knight rushed her from behind.
Without even looking...
Jennie hit him on the forehead.
Bonk.
He fell unconscious instantly.
Snow burst into laughter.
"She bonked him!"
Jennie looked confused.
"That was the safest place."
Minutes later...
The village square became silent.
One hundred armored soldiers lay around in the square.
Groaning.
Disarmed.
Unconscious.
Not one of them was dead.
Not one of them suffered a mortal wound.
Just bruised pride.
Jennie calmly brushed away dust from her sleeves.
And then she looked down at the cracked wooden training sword.
"...You made an effort."
She smiled faintly and put it away carefully against the fence.
Captain Ron remained sitting on the horse.
Silent.
His sword remained in its scabbard.
He did not have time to even draw it.
Jennie looked up at him.
Her voice was polite as usual.
"Do you want to continue?"
Ron looked at the unconscious soldiers all around him.
And then at the silver-haired girl with the cracked wooden sword in her hands.
For the first time in decades...
Fear came into his heart.
Around the village square, the villagers of Ashvale looked on in shock.
The invincible soldiers of the tyrant were defeated by one girl holding only a wooden practice sword.
In this moment, the villagers realized one thing which they never dared think of before.
Lord Barthus was not invincible.
The survivors escaped.
None of them dared to look back.
Captain Ron rode in the front, his horse running faster than ever as the other soldiers followed behind.
Behind them...
Ashvale remained untouched.
The village which they were supposed to destroy still stood calmly under the shadow of the mountain.
Not a single villager was harmed.
Not due to the mercifulness of the soldiers.
Because of one lone silver-haired wanderer who managed to stop an entire company using nothing but a wooden practice sword.
Ron looked back one last time.
Jennie was already helping an old woman pick up the vegetables that spilled during the fight.
As if defeating one hundred soldiers was just a small inconvenience to her.
"...Monster."
He murmured.
"No..."
Another knight said.
"...Hero."
Both of them didn’t know what scared them more.
Above the valley...
The proud Greymane Castle stood on the cliffs.
Its walls had always stood guard over Ashvale for generations.
Inside the main audience chamber, servants were busy running around between rows of marble pillars.
The atmosphere was quite tense.
Nobody was daring to talk louder than a whisper.
Word has already spread.
The soldiers failed.
The huge oak doors opened.
Captain Ron entered the throne room.
His armor was damaged.
His cloak was tattered.
He knelt immediately.
"My Lord."
Barthus Greymane slowly looked up from his throne.
His expression was calm.
Maybe...
Much too calm.
"You’ve returned."
"Yes, my Lord."
"Where are the prisoners?"
Ron lowered his head.
"...There are none."
Silence.
"So."
Barthus rested his chin on one hand.
"My soldiers have been defeated."
"...Yes."
"How many enemies?"
Ron hesitated.
"...One."
Silent.
"So."
Barthus tapped the armrest of his throne.
"Interesting."
Ron continued.
"She used..."
His voice wavered.
"...wooden practice sword."
One of the younger nobles chuckled.
"A wooden sword?"
"Impossible."
Ron’s expression became stern.
"I’ve seen it myself."
"My finest knights couldn’t even touch her."
The chuckles immediately died down.
Barthus slowly got to his feet.
He went to the enormous window looking out to the western mountains.
Clouds floated below the castle.
The valley looked peaceful.
But somewhere below those clouds...
A threat unlike any of those which Barthus faced before emerged.
"A wandering swordswoman..."
He muttered.
"...No."
"Someone trained."
"Someone disciplined."
"Someone who didn’t kill anybody."
He smiled slightly.
"How annoying."
One of his advisers stepped forward.
"My Lord."
"Should we ask for help from our neighbors?"
Barthus immediately shook his head.
"No."
"If people learn that Greymane Castle needed help from others to defeat just three travelers..."
"Our authority would fall."
Another noble nervously asked,
"What are your orders?"
Barthus was silent for a moment.
Then...
He started moving further into the castle.
"Follow me."
The servants of the castle watched anxiously as their lord was descending into the bowels of the castle.
Passing by the wine cellar.
Passing by the treasury.
Passing by the prison.
Finally...
He stopped in front of the enormous iron gate.
Unlike the rest of the castle...
That corridor looked quite ancient.
Its walls were filled with fading runes.
Everything was covered with dust.
Everything looked forgotten.
Barthus took the small silver key hanging around his neck.
The lock clicked.
The iron gates slowly opened with an unearthly squeak.
Behind them...
Huge underground chamber stretched into darkness.
Numerous ancient weapons were hanging on the walls.
Broken spears.
Rusty shields.
Torn banners.
The remnants of a forgotten battle.
In the middle of the chamber stood an enormous suit of armor.
More than three meters tall.
It was made of dark green metal unlike regular steel.
Countless glowing lines were running across it like veins.
It stood perfectly still.
But...
The air around it was stirring constantly.
Like invisible winds endlessly circling around it.
Ron looked in awe.
"...What is this?"
Barthus slowly approached the armor.
"My family’s greatest secret."
He tenderly dusted it off.
"My ancestors found this relic almost eight hundred years ago."
"It’s older than the kingdom itself."
One of the court mages stepped closer.
"...Impossible."
"I believed it to be just a legend."
Barthus smiled.
"So did everybody else."
The design of that armor was not similar to anything created by modern blacksmiths.
Elegant.
And frightening.
The helmet of the armor was resembling the face of a hawk.
Plates of its back were extending like wings.
The gloves of the armor ended with razor sharp claws.
And most frightening thing of all...
A faint emerald glow was shining from the chest of that armor.
Almost...
Like heartbeats.
The air around the armor started to swirl even faster.
Servants instinctively moved back.
Temperature sharply decreased.
Curtains started to flutter furiously despite there being no windows in that chamber.
Roland gripped his sword tighter.
"...It creates wind."
Court mage nodded slowly.
"Not ordinary wind."
"Wind magic from Ancient times."
"I only heard about such spells."
Barthus looked quite satisfied.
"In the records, it was called..."
"The Armor of the Tempest Guardian."
He put one hand on the chest of that armor.
The glowing core of it glowed even brighter.
Ancient runes were illuminating across the floor.
Chamber shook.
Whoooooosh!
Strong gust was rushing through the room.
Several servants fell to their knees.
Flames of nearby torches bent sharply toward the ceiling.
Even court mages could hardly stand up.
Ron stared in awe.
"...This power..."
Barthus smiled.
"With this armor..."
"I won’t have to fear wandering heroes anymore."
One of the scholars carefully approached.
"My Lord..."
"The inscriptions..."
"They say something."
"What?"
The old scholar looked closer to the glowing core of the armor.
His eyes widened.
"I’ve seen this symbol before."
Everybody looked at him.
He pointed to the emerald crystal in the chest of that armor.
Inscribed on it was an elegant emblem consisting of a spiral surrounded by two sweeping wings.
Ancient.
Elegant.
Quite hard to decipher.
"I found this same symbol..."
The scholar muttered.
"...in the ruins of a temple many years ago."
Barthus frowned.
"What does it mean?"
The old man slowly shook his head.
"I don’t know."
"But..."
"It was not the symbol of any kingdom."
"It belonged to something much more ancient."
Much more powerful.
Miles away...
In the village of Ashvale...
Jennie suddenly stopped fixing the wooden fence.
Her hand instinctively went to Excalibur still resting at her waist .
"...Do you feel that?"
Excalibur said.
"Yes."
Small breeze passed through the village.
Not a natural one.
Ancient.
Familiar.
Snow lifted his head.
His ears rose.
"...Someone has awakened something."
Roxy looked around with confusion.
"What happened?"
Jennie’s silver eyes slowly turned towards the Greymane Castle standing high in the mountains.
For the first time since she came to Ashvale...
Her calm expression became serious.
"An old relic..."
She murmured quietly.
"...has been awakened."
Deep inside the bowels of the Greymane Castle, the emerald crystal in the ancient armor glowed again.
Beneath layers of dust and forgotten history, the emblem on it looked similar to one Jennie saw long ago during the Great Demon War.
Not just some ancient symbol...
But the insignia of one of the Seven Divine Swords.
The Sword of Storms.
Tempest.
And somewhere deep inside the armor...
Something ancient has been awoken.
