Aside from its captain, who was at the intermediate second tier, this so-called "rescue squad" consisted of five ordinary first-tier Novice Knights!
How were these few men supposed to face an army of over a hundred Cultists?
But Feias dared not complain. They were the only hope he had managed to find.
"Captain, sir..."
Feias dragged his exhausted body over to the table, his eyes filled with anxiety and pleading.
"We've already spent an entire afternoon delayed here in Graycliff Town."
"The barrier at Fog Town could collapse at any moment. The Cultists' attacks are incredibly fierce."
"I beg you, let's set out at first light tomorrow! Hundreds of lives in Fog Town are depending on you!"
Upon hearing Feias's almost desperate plea,
The Novice Knights drinking at the table exchanged glances, then burst into unrestrained laughter.
"Hahahaha! Listen to him! He really thinks we're his saviors!"
"Say, Brother Feias, aren't you giving us a little too much credit?"
The knight captain swirled his cup with a mocking expression and spoke unhurriedly.
"Feias, I understand your urgency perfectly well."
"But as you can see, the men have been sleeping rough all along the journey. They're utterly worn out."
"How can we deal with those vicious Cultists if we don't get proper rest?"
"Don't worry. Since the archbishop gave the order, we'll certainly do our best."
The captain clapped Feias on the shoulder hard enough to nearly send him stumbling. "Go back and get a good night's sleep. Tomorrow's business can wait until tomorrow."
Faced with this utterly perfunctory reassurance,
Feias clenched his teeth, his fists creaking, but ultimately lowered his head helplessly and silently retreated to the corner.
As they watched Feias's despairing figure retreat,
the smiles on the Winterhold knights' faces vanished, replaced by the contemptuous looks one might