Person from Another World

Aurelian wore a look of relief, while Hume's eyes were filled with nothing but curiosity.

The few serfs all widened their eyes, their bodies trembling; to them, in their cowardice, every so-called unknown creature represented danger.

"Wuya, wuya."

The burlap sack containing the wheat seeds was shrinking at a speed visible to the naked eye.

"Wuwuwu—"

The bag shook violently, then quickly bulged out once more.

The serfs nearby covered their mouths, faces full of horror, as if witnessing something inconceivable, gesturing wildly with their hands and feet.

Aurelian looked toward Hume, who also had his eyes rounded, and said softly.

"Go and soothe them, lest word spreads to the town and causes a panic."

"Ah, right away."

Fat Hume was roused by Aurelian's voice and hurried forward, coughing dryly: "Ahem, don't be nervous. This is a divine beast the Lord brought back from the Spruce Forest to help us. Whether you can survive your first winter here depends on this divine beast, so be quiet!"

"Really? This is a divine beast brought back by the Lord? Heavens, my Goddess, we are saved!"

"That's right, that's right! Quickly, pray to this divine beast, perhaps it will bestow blessings upon us!"

"Praise the Goddess!"

Once fat Hume finished speaking, the serfs instantly grew agitated, then prostrated themselves on the ground, kowtowing repeatedly toward the bulging sack in a display that was utterly ridiculous.

Anything bearing the word "divine" would incite the worship of these ignorant people.

Aurelian shook his head and sighed. The lower classes of this world did not strive to improve themselves, but instead prayed for the gods to protect them, yearning for divine grace to suddenly descend and save them—how could that ever be?

Little did they know that the only one who could save them was themselves.

For a high noble like Aurelian, the gods were already a very unfamiliar term.

The monarchs of this world also followed the divine right of kings, touting themselves as the spokesmen of the gods, though naturally, the gods served by each monarch differed.

There were seven such gods in total, known as the Seven Gods.

But these gods, who had been revered for so long, had not manifested any miracles for many years. Now, the authority of their temples was growing weaker, and the kings and nobles of the seven kingdoms were all beginning to stir.

The Star Kingdom was quite special; even the temple of the Goddess of Night within the Star Kingdom held no authority and could not interfere with the King's exercise of power. The King's authority stemmed from that legendary weapon, the Holy Sword of Stars.

It was the testament of the Star King; only those who obtained the recognition of the Holy Sword of Stars could be crowned king, provided, of course, that they possessed the Star-Forging Bloodline.

Regrettably, the Holy Sword of Stars had been lost following the fall of Arthur Archmond, which had caused centuries of turmoil in the Star Kingdom.

The position of king could not be legally established and could only be held through force. Otto Archmond, Aurelian's father, was one of the most prominent among them.

This had caused the families of the Star-Forging Bloodline to bleed countlessly, their numbers gradually withering away.

The Roundball crawled out of the sack, puffed up its little face, turned its head toward another bag of wheat seeds, and hopped inside.

Seeing the Roundball emerge, the kowtowing serfs knocked their heads even harder against the ground; two of them had already begun to bleed.

"Hume, take them away!"

Aurelian clenched his fists, his face expressionless, his tone laced with irritation.

"Yes, My Lord!"

Fat Hume was adept at reading the room; he knew the behavior of these serfs had annoyed Aurelian.

Though he did not know why the Lord, known for his good temper, had suddenly become angry, he understood that he only needed to follow his master's orders.

He hurried over, running step by step, and finally dragged away the serfs who were kowtowing until their heads were bloodied.

Yet those serfs were still pleading bitterly, murmuring, "Begging the divine beast to save us."

Aurelian sighed deeply. He knew well that this was not his original world, and he could not view them with a perspective that transcended time and space, for that would be immoral.

But then, his gaze turned firm, and he tightened his fists.

This was his territory; his people should not be like this!

Turning his gaze toward the wooden cart, the Roundball had already crawled sluggishly out of the final bag.

Its large tongue hung directly from its mouth, its face wearing an expression of utter listlessness.

Its entire demeanor screamed that it was exhausted and needed a rest.

"Good work, Roundball. You'll have all the biscuits you want tonight."

Aurelian hurried forward and scooped the Roundball into his arms.

"Wuya, wuya."

In his arms, the Roundball called out softly and slowly closed its little eyes.

"Don't worry, I won't leave you. Sleep now."

A wave of emotion stirred in Aurelian's eyes, for through his mental connection with the Roundball, he had actually sensed a profound sense of loneliness within its heart.

It was the isolation of being gestated for hundreds of years, with no one to greet it.

So, the Roundball is this lonely.

He stroked the fuzzy little head of Roundball with his hand and spoke in a soft voice.

He suddenly felt that he and Roundball were very much alike; drifting through the void, he was just as lonely in this world. No one could understand him, yet he had to pretend to be strong.

Little did he know, perhaps in this world, he was the only one of his kind.

It was a loneliness that no one could comprehend.

Perhaps as time passed, this loneliness would only deepen, buried in the furthest reaches of his heart.

With a slight curl of his lips, Aurelian cradled Roundball in his arms and began to walk toward Winter City at a steady, unhurried pace.

When Hume rushed back, the place was already empty.

His eyes fell upon the bags of wheat seeds emitting a blue glow, and his mouth hung wide open.

"Mr. Will, have the head chef bake several extra loaves of bread tonight."

Aurelian smiled and instructed Old Will, who was waiting outside the castle gates.

"Very well, My Lord. I shall see to it at once."

He bowed with elegant decorum, perfectly embodying the poise of a high-ranking butler.

Aurelian opened his bedroom door, gently placed the sleeping Roundball onto the soft bed, and turned to walk out of the room.

Only to find Jeanne standing at the doorway, though he had no idea when she had arrived.

Aurelian was slightly taken aback; this woman of his was truly far too elusive.

Among the various kingdoms, there was an assassin sect known as Assa, and Aurelian strongly suspected that Jeanne had graduated from there!

"Problem solved?"

Jeanne asked with a blank expression; she was always so cold and indifferent.

"Haha, just about."

Aurelian laughed it off and walked over to Jeanne's side.