The Final Consolation

His voice was calm and steady, without a trace of panic, as if the current predicament was already within his expectations.

This unusual calmness, like a contagious Magic Power, quietly dispelled the last fears and anxieties in the soldiers' hearts.

Yes, there's no way out.

Even if the inner city falls, their last home will be right beneath their feet. After the city falls, the Sauron will leave no survivors.

Rather die kneeling than standing and dying in battle! The Lord's presence rekindled a tragic and heroic strength in their nearly exhausted will, a strength to live and die with the city.

After carefully inspecting a section of the city wall's defenses, Karl turned and walked down the wall.

He found himself walking to the foot of the inner city's main gate, the massive gate that symbolized Carnford's past glory. Since the castle's reconstruction, it had been locked by a huge cast-iron gate due to rusted hinges and structural problems, and had never been opened.

The massive iron gate, like a heavy shackle, lay across the back of the gate, reflecting a cold gleam in the torchlight.

Karl reached out and touched the cold, rough, and weathered iron gate, a helpless, bitter smile appearing on his lips.

He once dreamed of one day restoring it, allowing Carnford's main gate to open again, welcoming merchants and glory from all directions.

Now it seems... we no longer need to.

Tomorrow, either we defeat the Sauron, or this gate will be buried with them.

The relatively narrow side gate, which was built later, was now firmly bolted shut with huge doorposts, and behind it were piles of sandbags and stones.

Karl trudged wearily through the crowded makeshift camp in the inner city toward the Lord's castle. The road was lined with makeshift shacks hastily erected from tattered canvases, sticks, and even thatch.

Many more huddled against the cold walls or in the open air, shivering in the howling wind.

A few bonfires, barely lit, struggled to emit a faint light and heat, but they were utterly unable to dispel the bone-chilling cold.

The air was filled with the pungent smell of blood, the bitter scent of herbs, and the suppressed groans of the wounded soldiers.

In a relatively clean open space near the castle gate, in a makeshift treatment area for the wounded, Lina and Morian were constantly healing the wounded with healing spells. Their faces were pale from exhaustion.

Konrad was also working intently, his forehead covered in fine beads of sweat. In his hand, a soft and pure white light gathered, like warm water, gently brushing over a young soldier's thigh with a gruesome wound that almost revealed the bone.

Under the influence of the magical energy, the bleeding from the wound visibly slowed down, and even tiny granulation tissue began to slowly twitch at the edges, demonstrating a powerful healing effect.

As Karl approached, Konrad looked up, a barely perceptible worry flashing in his deep eyes, which were slightly tired from excessive Magic Power exertion.

He didn't say much, but simply raised his other free hand, his fingertips twitching slightly, and a cool and gentle energy wave swept over Karl's body like a breeze.

Karl immediately felt a refreshing stream flow through his body, dispelling most of the heavy fatigue and mental tension accumulated from days of fierce fighting, and clearing his muddled mind.

He stopped, turned to Konrad, and nodded very solemnly and deeply, his voice hoarse but full of sincerity. "Thank you, Konrad, really... thank you so much."

He knew better than anyone that, given Konrad's status and power, he could have stayed out of it, and even safely left the sinking island with his cherished students at any time.

But he chose to stay, and with his precious Magic Power and knowledge, he did everything in his power to save every life that could be saved.

Konrad paused slightly in his therapeutic movements, turned his head, glanced at Karl out of the corner of his eye, and gave a soft, almost inaudible "hmm" in response.

A heavy, unspoken tension hung between them; any words seemed inadequate in the face of their desperate situation.

Karl took a deep breath, breaking the silence, and said in a low voice, "Konrad, I have some important matters to discuss with you. Please come with me to the Lord's Hall."

Konrad nodded, whispered a few words to Lina and Morian beside him, then wiped his hands and silently followed in Karl's footsteps.

Karl then took a detour and found Edgar, the steward who was organizing people to distribute food, and Brendan and Richter, who were forcing themselves to count the remaining weapons and assign sentry posts in the barracks.

Roland remains bedridden due to his injuries, while Old Morrell has fallen into a coma due to overwork.

Night had completely fallen, and the cold wind howled like a mournful cry through the castle corridors.

As the group entered the Lord's Hall, a desolate and dilapidated atmosphere enveloped them.

In order to provide shelter for the refugees, Edgar followed Karl's orders and removed many of the hall's ornate decorations and even some of the non-load-bearing wooden and stone structures, making the once magnificent hall appear empty and dilapidated.

The cold wind poured in through the window openings without glass, rustling the few remaining tattered tapestries on the wall, making a sound like a sob.

In the center of the hall, beside the long table that symbolized the core of power in Carnford, only a few large tallow candles were lit on the wall candlesticks.

The dim, flickering candlelight cast swaying, ghostly shadows on the cold, dusty, and gravelly ground, adding to the desolate atmosphere of impending doom.

Karl sat in the battered, high-backed chair at the top of the long table, a chair that now felt more like a heavy shackle.

His face appeared unusually pale in the flickering candlelight. The continuous fierce battles, huge casualties, and heavy pressure had almost drained all his energy, making him look haggard.

Only in the depths of his sunken eyes, two unyielding, cold flames still burned, proving that his will had not been destroyed.

Seated on either side of the long table were the last remaining core members of the Carnford Territory who could be gathered at this moment: Brendan, Richter, Edgar, and Konrad.

A heavy, unyielding expression hung over everyone's face, and an almost tragic silence filled the air.

Everyone knew that this was very likely the last Lord' Council in Carnford.