The Traitor

"Brando, what Roman said might be true." Freya reminded him from the side.

Brando naturally knew that what Roman had said might be true. He had witnessed her keen Perception long ago. But inwardly, he thought, I was only joking to lighten the mood. If you're always so serious, Your Highness the future Valkyrie, you'll age quickly.

He couldn't help glancing back at Roman again. The Merchant's Daughter withdrew her gaze as well and looked at him. To be honest, her curiosity-filled gaze was sometimes truly embarrassing—especially for someone with a guilty conscience.

But Brando genuinely liked the girl, so he naturally saw her in a different light and instead found her exceptionally cute.

He thought for a moment, then turned back and replied, "We'll stop here for a while."

"Stop for a while?" Freya asked. "But Madara's army is right behind us. At most, they'll arrive two or three hours after we do. We don't have much time left, Brando."

But Brando pulled the Seal Ring from his pocket and waved it in front of them before answering, "It's the middle of the night, and the city will be under curfew. This alone doesn't actually prove anything. If they mistake us for Madara's scouts, we're finished. Understand?"

"Then what should we do?" Freya had originally thought that her efforts should at least have been of some use.

Brando glanced at her. He knew perfectly well that he was spouting nonsense. As for whether Ridenburg had discovered Madara's invasion—that was not necessarily so! How could the nobles neglect their own safety? They were simply more willing to hunker down in the city and hold out for reinforcements.

He remembered that during the Year of the Burrow Beast (342), the Blood Staff had swept across eastern Karasu, leaving not a blade of grass alive wherever the Undead Army passed. The lord of Silver Horse City had ordered the gates shut and ignored the eastern settlements' pleas for help, causing countless impoverished farmers to migrate westward. As a result, the area was still barren and devoid of human life to this day.

Yet even so, those lords had not received any blame afterward. Or rather, the royal family had already been powerless to interfere with the lords by the time Oberon VII ascended the throne. This had happened in Karasu Province, north of the Golan-Elson region. Roman and Freya knew nothing about it, but Brando knew it all too well.

He couldn't very well say that his actual plan was to help Roman rescue her aunt—though if he had the chance, he would do his best to save some other people as well. But as for reporting the news to Ridenburg's garrison, he had never placed any hope in that. Brando had never considered himself a savior.

Hoping that those nobles would understand plain speech was less realistic than hoping a sow would climb a tree. During the era of Old Eluin, players had clashed with those arrogant, conceited nobles more than once. Some players had even participated directly in the December Coup.

Brando had never held a favorable opinion of those people.

But then he reconsidered. Freya's opinion might not be the same as his. He couldn't help looking at her again. This country girl, clutching her sword and staring blankly at Ridenburg's lights below, still trusted the nation deep down. There was nothing wrong with that, but he was worried she would act impulsively at a critical moment.

Besides, even if he told her the truth, Freya might not believe him. It would only create a rift between them. Brando didn't want to argue. After thinking it over, he suddenly came up with a backup plan. Of course, they still had to make the necessary preparations.

He pretended to ponder for a moment, then answered, "I've thought it over. It seems we don't have much choice. After all, we're citizens of Eluin, so we can't avoid all risks."

"However..." He paused. "We still need to make thorough preparations."

Brando's high-minded speech left Roman and Freya with no choice but to agree. Even the Ponytail Girl, whose face was full of heroic spirit, inevitably softened a little. She looked at Brando with gentler eyes and suddenly felt that the fellow wasn't quite as shameless as she had thought.

Only heaven knew that Brando secretly let out a sigh of relief after finishing his speech. To his surprise, he seemed to have found a balance between the current Brando and his former self. He had never been someone who clung to rules, but in recent days, it had felt as if a giant hand were pushing him forward mechanically from behind, leaving him barely able to breathe.

Yet as his strength gradually grew, and after his soul had been tempered in the Golden Demon Tree's dream, those old feelings finally returned to him. He suddenly found himself handling problems with ease again.

His way of thinking even incorporated some of Brando's unique cleverness.

It felt good.

He took out the ebony gargoyle statuette. Only a tiny crack remained on it now.

He turned back and said, "You need to prepare as well. Freya, turn your ring around. That central fire agate is too conspicuous. Little Roman, keep your short sword close to your body. Those lazy guards won't search too carefully."

"Do I need to turn my ring around too?"

"No. No one would want that lousy ring of yours."

"Brando, those people are city guards! Why do you seem so... distrustful of them?" Freya couldn't help asking.

"It's not that I'm somewhat distrustful. I've never trusted them at all. You'll understand when the time comes. For now, just do as I say."

Freya had never entered a city, but she felt, more or less, that he was making a mountain out of a molehill. Still, Brando was the authority here, so she could only choose to trust him.

As Brando spoke, he took out the various odds and ends he was carrying. Most were small items he had found among the remains of that noble and hadn't had time to appraise. He discovered that the pipe was an ordinary trinket and casually threw it away. As for the dark-gray Stone Fragment, even he didn't recognize it—which was not strange. There were countless types of production materials, and it was perfectly normal for Brando not to recognize one mineral.

The glass bead at the end was more interesting. Brando discovered that it was the container left behind after a Soul Crystal had been consumed. Put simply, it was a spell-storage item. The spell inside should be the Ten-Foot Silence—a very suitable spell for bypassing certain monster nests during wilderness adventures.

Unfortunately, Brando was embarrassed to discover that, as a warrior, he lacked the ability to activate spell-storage items. After hesitating, he tucked all those things and the cards securely against his body, lest the greedy city gate guards feel them out of his possession.

He looked up at the sky. It was still early.

The three of them descended from the eastern side of Findex Mountain. Along the way, scattered buildings began to appear. Most were farmsteads immersed in the wilderness beneath the night, along with the isolated houses of tenant farmers. Farmland stretched along both banks of the Yusong River, one plot after another. There were also several inns out in the wild—places frequented only by passing adventurers and people engaged in illicit businesses.

Of course, aside from players, most adventurers were not exactly clean-handed either. And as for players, most NPCs lumped them together with grave robbers.

They walked through the wilderness for about an hour before Ridenburg's towering walls suddenly appeared in the darkness ahead. Braziers burned on the drawbridge beneath the tower, their light reaching dozens of meters away. Brando told Freya and Roman to slow down, then gradually stepped out of the darkness at the edge of the firelight.

The guards on the gate tower were chatting with one another, and there was even a faint snoring sound. Brando was unusually sensitive to such noises. He frowned slightly, guessing that there were about seven or eight people in the tower.

The moment the three of them appeared, the conversation stopped.

"Who are you?" Their vigilance lasted for a short while before a soldier wearing a pointed helmet poked his head out from the tower and shouted down at them. Roman raised her head and narrowed her eyes. She saw a black pine emblem on the pointed helmet.

Brando had said that the black pine emblem indicated a local unit. The soldiers of that White Mane Legion were supposed to bear a wolf-feather insignia. Brando really does know everything, she thought.

"One man and two women. We came from the forest, sir. We saw something strange. My wife and I were terrified, so we want to enter the city and take shelter!" Brando raised his hand and shouted up.

Freya listened from behind, both embarrassed and angry. *One man and two women? How vulgar! When he said that they were his wives, she finally couldn't help quietly jabbing Brando hard in the back with her scabbard. That detestable fellow must have done it on purpose.

She thought so.

Roman, on the other hand, didn't care. She probably thought being Brando's wife wasn't bad either. After all, Brando would protect her, wouldn't he?

Brando was unable to voice his bitter plight. He could only put it that way to make the guards lower their guard. As for the explanation afterward, he, Freya, and Roman all looked different. He couldn't claim they were siblings—other people weren't fools.

"Are you carrying weapons?" the tower asked again.

Freya tightened her grip on her sword nervously when she heard that. But Brando remained calm and answered in a louder voice, "How could I travel through the forest without a weapon? Besides, I used to be in the Militia, sir."

The tower fell silent. Only a long, drawn-out snore remained.

After a while, a basket was lowered, and the guard shouted, "Remove your weapons and put them in the basket. Then we'll haul you up one by one."

Brando nodded to Freya and had them follow his instructions. His Gleaming Thorn was somewhat exquisite, but as long as he didn't activate its spell, no one could tell it was a Magic Sword. After all, Elven Treasure Swords had circulated to some extent in the human world. Once the weapons had been handed over, they lowered a lifting basket and brought them up one by one. Brando was worried that Roman and Freya might suffer, so he went up first. For the second trip, Freya had Roman go first, then she was pulled up last.

However, the moment she was hauled up to the tower in the basket, she saw Brando and Roman held at swordpoint, while two guards were drawing the longswords at their waists and walking toward her.

"What's going on?" Freya was stunned and asked in shock. She instinctively looked toward Brando, but to her surprise, he turned his gaze aside and did not respond to her question.

The Ponytail Girl immediately panicked. She had always regarded Brando as the backbone of the group, but now it seemed that the decision rested solely in her hands. What should she do? Should she let these people hold them hostage? Were they simply following standard procedure?

Brando, answer me! What are you thinking? Damn it!

"Arrest them all. These people are scouts from Madara!" But at that very moment, Freya suddenly heard someone issue an order from the corner. She was startled and blurted out, "You know that Madara's army has invaded?"

Brando's face became a picture of despair. Freya had grown, but she was still an inexperienced girl. A few words were enough to throw her into disarray. She might have thought there was nothing wrong with that sentence, never realizing that Ridenburg's garrison feared nothing more than people bringing news from the direction of Buchi.

Those people wanted to suppress the news within the city so they could shirk responsibility when the time came to settle accounts. Brando understood it perfectly. They thought that, relying on Ridenburg's high walls and sturdy defenses, they could rest easy. They had no idea that the war was developing in an unpredictable direction.

"Wait, we're not scouts!" Freya couldn't help explaining. "We're Buchi's Militia! We have a token from the Buchi Guard Detachment!"

But the voice ignored her completely and shouted, "Take her down! What are you waiting for?" The speaker emerged from the darkness, clad in a suit of dark chainmail. The feathers on his pointed helmet proved that he was the leader of this group.

However, the lecherous middle-aged man was leering at Freya, thinking that he had unexpectedly found a real prize this time. He naturally believed what Freya said—the Militia armband was still properly fastened around her arm.

He had never expected such an outstanding woman to come from a backwater like Buchi.

He stroked his chin.

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