"...Whisperers?"

  "A Whisperer."

  Hearing that name, Julian's finger flinched.

  "You are familiar with them, huh?"

  That subtle movement was easily caught by the chief. He asked, but he actually did not need an answer to his question. He already knew it, as anyone familiar with that society would react the same way.

  "We crossed path couple of times, yes. I know a bit about them."

  "By 'bit,' how much exactly are we talking?"

  "I am aware that they are nothing but mindless puppets."

  Picking up his cup of tea, Julian leaned on his chair lazily. His eyes drifted across the lightly decorated rooms, seemingly letting himself be taken away by his thoughts.

  "Those bastards, they wanted to have this village under them."

  "Well, that's not surprising. This region had long been under their jurisdiction." Julian said as if it were an obvious thing. With his eyes frowned, he asked, "What is the issue? You could refuse them, no?"

  "It's not that simple," the chief snickered. Tapping harder on the armrest, he said, "The other villages had already made pacts with them. It suffocated us."

  The chief explained that the merchants and traders had long stopped coming to their village. Clothes, spark stones, medicines, and most importantly, food, became more scarce as days went by.

  "And your village could not farm either, huh?"

  "Not much. We are too close to the Tainted Land."

  It was a regretful turn of events. They were completely out of options. However, even in that state, the chief's expression remained stiff. If one were to look at him, one might think the chief had nothing to do with that village.

  "So you made a pact with them?"

  "I am forced to," the chief said with eyes clenched shut. Through gritted teeth, he spoke, "To collude with the traitors of the Empire... what have I become?"

  The bear showed a different expression for the first time. It was one that greatly resembled the look of an enraged beast.

  "You truly love this Empire, don't you?" Julian asked, gazing at the glistening necklace on the chief's neck.

  "...It's my soul."

  Taking a deep breath, the chief clenched the necklace on his neck. The necklace held a silver pendant, carved with the sigil of the Empire. Just gazing into it seemed to have calmed the chief, as his face gradually returned to normal.

  "I had heard that line before."

  Julian recognized the pendant and the marks around it. He could tell that a man seated before him was an army veteran.

  [Barba(Peasant)]

  State: Unawakened[Barricade]

  Fate: 40

  'How old is this bear?'

  Julian believed the bear in front of him was at least in his 50s. He remembered that the Empire stopped taking unawakened personnel into their military around that time. It was fascinating, since Julian could not see any marks of time in that man's face.

  "What then? Getting rid of the village's messenger would do nothing. They would just assign a new one," Julian stated, taking the final sip of his tea.

  "Kid, do you know about their pilgrimage?" The chief asked after a prolonged silence.

  "...Right,"Julian froze. With a solemn expression, he muttered, "Now is that time of the year."

  Julian did not forget; he just chose not to think about it.

  The Purification. It was a sacred ritual for the Whisperers. It was a moment where they would be united with the sky. It was a moment where they would embrace their fellows' souls.

  "To the east, there is a small valley. They had taken the valley as a holy site for this region."

  'It's where that lunatic was headed.'

  The images of that Cold Steel-filled caravan flashed in Julian's mind. Considering the direction where Merchant was going, Julian could pretty much conclude that the valley was where Merchant's friends were waiting.

  It was not at all different from the story he remembered.

  However, that was not what Julian wanted to know.

  "So, what's it?"

  Julian was already tired of the chief beating around the bush. He wanted to know why the chief was following them out of the village. Surely, it was not just to justify why the village was dealing with heretics.

  Julian waited for the chief to speak, and fortunately, he did not need to wait long before the chief spoke.

  "Conversion. You must have heard about it, kid."

  "..."

  "Now that we are under their protection, we have to pay our parts."

  One member from each family. That was the price they needed to pay.

  That explained everything to Julian. From that pained expression, it was not hard to tell that the chief did not want to be converted.

  "You brought up the owner of this sword. Gerald, was it? How is he related to this?"

  "Gerald? Yes, his son had already left for their camp."

  Julian took off his glove and picked up the chipped sword. Inspecting the sword with a deep gaze, he then ran the edge of the sword on his bare palm. Surprisingly, no blood was shed. Instead, a sound of metal scraping rang in that space.

  "Still sharp. What a fine metalwork," Julian praised. Putting the sword down, he said with a slight, "You don't mind me keeping this, do you?"

  "Since when does the owner need permission to keep their stuff?"

  "What a generous man you are," Julian said as he put the sword down.

  The chief nodded half-heartedly to the praise. His eyes were fixated on the white mark on Julian's open palm, contemplating whatever was in his mind in a short silence. It was untill the boy put his glove back on that his senses returned to his body.

  Perhaps it was his imagination, but Julian saw a strange light flash in the chief’s eyes for a short instant.

  "But again, getting rid of a single Whisperer would solve nothing. Or what, are you trying to kill their Acolyte?"

  "Kid, I never said anything about getting rid of someone, did I?" The chief asked.

  Julian's finger, before busy caressing the lip of the cup, came to a halt. A slight smile crept on his face. His bored eyes lit with an excited light.

  "Yes, yes... You never did," Julian said, his smile curled wider.

  "Another option, a replacement."

  The rain had not stopped hammering the earth. On the contrary, the downpour was only getting heavier and heavier. It was at a point where they needed to speak loudly to hear themselves.

  Yet, that room was eerily silent. The only sound in that room was silence.

  "You will help me, right?"

  The bear stood up. From his legs grew black roots. They swirled and spread around the floor, climbing up the walls and slithering under the furniture. The room shook. Everything was knocked down and encased inside the prison made of black roots.

  Soon, every corner, every surface of the room was covered by black roots.

  "You look calm."

  The chief lowered himself, immediately caught by several intertwined roots. With a cracking sound, the roots between him and Julian opened up, and the tea table from earlier was flipped back up by the roots.

  "I should look calm. There is nothing to worry about."

  "Oho, did you already expect this?"

  "Of course. This is the kind of world we are living in."

  Julian carefully observed the roots. At a glance, the roots seemed tough and rough. However, from the way they moved and slithered around, Julian would put them closer to a snake's composition compared to tree roots.

  Pui.

  Surely, once his thumb pressed the roots on his thigh, it left a deep dent in it.

  "I took back what I said earlier. You are far from being childish."

  "Do you want me to thank you?" Julian chuckled.

  Julian, unmoved from his chair, was casually running his slim finger on the handle of the cup. His legs, up to the chest, were tied to the chair. His two swords had also been tightly wrapped in their scabbards, looking impossible to draw.

  Only his two arms were free.

  "No need. I will be the one thanking you and your mother."

  The bear poured himself a new cup and calmly sipped on his tea. Perhaps feeling left out, Julian pushed his cup on the table. Though taken aback, the chief still poured the boy his tea with the usual stiff expression.

  "You are a confident man," Julian laughed. Taking another look at the silver necklace, he asked, "Is it because you served in the Imperial Army?"

  "It was the best time of my life."

  "Even just as a cart puller?"

  Clink.

  The cup in the chief's hand cracked. His eyes, widened, stared straight into the boy before him. His mouth trembled as if he wanted to say something, yet no words came out even after several breaths.

  "..."

  "I know the army much more than you, chief."

  "...How?"

  How? That was an interesting question. One answer was that he had lived his fair share of time in the Empire, to the point he could easily notice the different marks in their soldiers' sigil. However, the best answer was that he spent years clashing blades with them.

  "How indeed?"

  "..."

  "I will thank you, either way. Trapping this room so tightly... no sounds would escape, right?" Julian said, sighing at the end of his sentence. With a tired look, he whispered, "Chief, let us take our sweet time, shall we? The rain had yet to stop."

  He was in no rush. Even if he wanted to rush, the universe had already forced him to stay stuck in that place. It was such a bitter feeling, so bitter that he felt like puking right on the table. The talk about the Whisperer did not help, either.

  He hated how he felt in no control. It reminded him of his previous life.