Chapter 301: Chapter 61: Legend! Legend! (Part 9)
"No wonder..." the scrawny man murmured, looking down at his rough, filthy hands. ’So my life... it wasn’t just spared. It was... saved in passing by someone that important.’
"May Oriane bless that great man," the old man said softly, his hands forming a crude prayer gesture over his chest.
The others silently followed suit, their expressions incredibly devout.
Just as the small group under the hovel prayed in hushed tones, the sound of dense, rhythmic footsteps drew near, shattering the area’s brief tranquility.
The refugees were like startled birds, instantly thrown into a panic.
The scrawny man shot to his feet.
The woman holding the child turned deathly pale. She clutched the child tightly to her chest, cowering as she shuffled toward the deepest part of the hovel.
The young man subconsciously reached for his waist, where there was only a hard, cold stone.
A flicker of terror crossed the old man’s cloudy eyes. The scenes from a few days ago—of soldiers brutally driving them away, even killing them on the spot—were still vivid in his mind.
"What’s happening?"
"Are they going to drive us away again?"
"I hope it’s not monsters..."
Frightened whispers and stifled gasps quickly spread.
From nearby hovels and corners, more sallow, emaciated figures in ragged clothes poked their heads out, only to shrink back in terror like startled rats in a burrow.
The footsteps stopped on the main path near the hovels.
A troop of about twenty Peric Clan soldiers appeared. Their armor was relatively clean, their formation orderly, and they held Long Halberds. Their expressions were stern, but they didn’t show the obvious ferocity or annoyance they usually did.
They blocked off the main path from the hovel area, forming a loose, semicircular cordon.
The refugees’ hearts were in their throats, not knowing what this group of soldiers intended to do.
In an atmosphere so tense it was almost solid, the soldiers suddenly parted to the sides, clearing a path.
A slender, petite figure, accompanied by two Female Knights with Longswords at their hips and several Maids carrying simple items, slowly walked forward.
It was Elizabeth.
Her attire today had clearly been chosen specifically for venturing into the Lower District. Though still befitting the Royal Family, it was far more simple and practical.
Her jet-black hair was meticulously woven into an exquisite braid, coiled at the back of her head and secured with a simple, elegant silver hairpin, revealing her smooth forehead and the graceful line of her neck.
She wore a moon-white, ankle-length dress made for ease of movement. The fabric was a thick, durable, fine linen, tailored to fit perfectly. Only the collar, cuffs, and sash were embroidered with a simple Vilt Royal Family emblem in silver thread.
Beneath the hem of her dress was a pair of soft, dark brown calfskin boots, cinched at the top for easier walking.
Her stockings were made of thick, white cotton. Though opaque, they still outlined the slender curve of her calves.
This attire, stripped of the courtly splendor she had worn when receiving the Great Knight yesterday, instead gave her an air of refined, almost ethereal beauty and crisp efficiency.
Her skin seemed especially fair and luminous in the dim surroundings. Her dark eyes, clear and bright, held a deliberately maintained calm and gentleness as she swept her gaze over the dirty, haggard, and bewildered faces before her.
Her presence was a stark contrast to the environment, like a Pearl lost in a mire, instantly capturing the dazed gazes of all the refugees.
However, after the initial, fleeting stupor caused by her beauty and bearing, a deeper sense of unease and confusion took hold.
’What was this well-dressed, stunningly beautiful noble lady doing here?’
’Were the soldiers guarding her, or...’
Some of the quicker-witted refugees already subconsciously started to kneel.
’In their experience, what else could one do but kneel and beg before a great personage like this—one who came to such a place with a military escort and such fine clothes?’
"Kneel... Hurry, kneel..." the white-haired old man stammered, struggling to push his trembling body upright.
The woman with the child also shivered as she tried to bow.
"There is no need to kneel." A clear, gentle, young woman’s voice sounded, reaching the ears of every refugee.
Elizabeth took a step forward, stopping several feet from the hovel. Her gaze was calm as she looked at the terrified commoners before her.
The two Female Knights, one on her left and one on her right, took half a step forward. Their hands rested casually on their sword hilts as they vigilantly scanned the surroundings.
"I am Elizabeth Stuart Purple Eagle, Princess of the Vilt Kingdom." Elizabeth’s voice wasn’t loud, but it was clear enough for the refugees in the immediate area to hear.
She paused, seeming to gauge everyone’s reaction.
Sure enough, the word "Princess" was like a stone tossed into a still lake, sending out even greater ripples.
The blankness in people’s eyes was replaced by shock, followed by a deeper awe and helplessness.
’A Princess?’
’A Princess from the Royal Family came to a place like this?’
Most of them didn’t really understand what the Royal Family actually was.
They only had a vague impression that it was something greater than a Duke.
The title of Princess represented a distant, unattainable nobility.
Elizabeth took a deep breath and continued in a voice that, while still tinged with a hint of youthfulness, she tried to keep steady and composed:
"I know you have all suffered greatly these past days, enduring unimaginable fear and hardship."
"But please believe me, this darkness is not eternal. In just these past few days, we have witnessed a true hero, a miracle. There was the Knight on the eastern ridge, who swept away the infiltrating monsters like Thunder. And there was the Guardian at the Central Tower, who, with supreme bravery, slew the Giant Earth Rock Worm and turned the tide—the Governor of Melfield."
Her voice rose unconsciously. "It was he, along with the other heroic Knights who ventured into danger with him to close that terrifying passage, who won us this precious respite and pulled us back from the brink of total collapse."
