Chapter 100

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Chapter 100: Too Quiet

There were also many reunions that did not happen near the customs.

"I thought you were dead," Old Harriman said slowly, "Did they just let you come back like this?"

"As long as the application is authenticated, the visa will be issued," Little Harriman replied.

More than ten years later, the father and son met again. The retired veteran could no longer move much, the old wounds from battles with other races in his youth came back to haunt him in his old age, the scars would ache on rainy days. The old man looked at his son, who had come back to life, with a complicated expression. Little Harriman had more scars on his face now, but he looked gentler and calmer than before.

Old Harriman had been extremely proud when his son was promoted to an officer, and he couldn’t lift his head when news of his son’s defeat and capture in battle came. Later on, the news stopped coming, he thought Little Harriman had died under the Hybrid’s whip. He never expected to see his long-lost son again in his lifetime. The old man looked at him and felt somewhat unfamiliar.

"How have you been?" he asked.

"The initial days were tough," Little Harriman said, with a smile on his face, as if remembering something funny, "But it was all my own doing. There was no torture or interrogation, just work, and confinement and nagging when I refused to work."

"Then you compromised," Old Harriman blurted out, anger brewing under his voice, "You started working for those Hybrids! You betrayed the Aryans just to stay alive!"

"Each of us is a mix of different ancestors, confirmed on The Day of Red Rain," Little Harriman chuckled. "And Tasmarin is originally part of the Aryan lineage."

"It’s all a conspiracy!" the old man stubbornly shouted. "How can we be the same as those evil Hybrids?"

"Differences do exist, but they are not greater than the differences between the southern and northern Aryan residents," Little Harriman patiently explained. "Their factories operate like ours, their children are innocent and curious like ours, their soldiers are resolute like ours, their civilians have good and bad just like ours – not because of their birth but as individuals. Even if they change tribes, things will remain the same. We have had too many prejudices in the past, please don’t rush to argue with me, father, I have seen more diverse tribes in these years than you have."

"You have been deceived by them!" the war veteran grumbled. "Look at my leg! It was the claws of the Orcs that made me like this, these despicable Hybrids are still causing trouble all over Aryan!"

"Your adversaries have long been buried, your war is over," Little Harriman reminded. "Have you heard? Peace talks between the Empire and Orcs have begun, the current strife will not last long. The Abyssal Gates will open in the coming years, and the beings on the surface need to unite and fight for the complete Aryan and all its inhabitants, just like hundreds of years ago."

"What trickery have those people filled your mind with… ugh!"

Old Harriman angrily turned his head, his wife who had just returned from the kitchen stared back without hesitation, folding up the newspaper she used to hit him on the head. "Robbie has finally come home, what are you bothering about now!" the old lady complained to her husband. Old Harriman grunted and grumbled, turning his head stubbornly, as his wife turned to Little Harriman.

"Don’t mind him, your dad is always going on about outdated things. Come, taste the freshly baked pumpkin pie!" the old lady placed the tray on the table and nudged it towards her son. She joyfully examined the child, her happy smile filling each wrinkle. She asked, "You look quite handsome in that outfit, is that a military uniform?"

"No," Little Halite said mischievously, pausing to see his father breathing a sigh of relief as he started drinking water. "In fact, I am no longer a soldier. I am now a Pastor of Saro."

His father sprayed water on the wall.

Such scenes were happening all over the Aryan Empire. Most former prisoners of war had become civilians and were eligible to apply for returning home. Some prisoners of war who were still trapped in high-intensity factories became conditions for certain agreements and were transferred multiple times.

The Orc forces that had been conducting guerilla warfare in the heartland of the empire for years were growing rapidly like a snowball. Wild and untamed slaves from tribes and towns hidden in the wilderness kept joining them. Through continuous battles, they became a force to be reckoned with. Although their overall strength was not yet sufficient, the trouble they caused the Empire even exceeded the dungeons that had been recently revealed. Guided by Tasha, they sat at the negotiating table for the first time and participated in trilateral meetings.

Tasha relinquished control over the human prisoners of war in Tasmanian and handed them over to the Orc revolutionary army in exchange for some resources and manpower from the revolutionary army. The revolutionary army exchanged the human prisoners of war they received with the Empire, leading to the release of Orc prisoners of war and slaves. Many thorny conditions were difficult to reach a consensus on, but at least it was a good start.

Several months later, Tasha officially signed a ceasefire agreement with the Emperor of the Empire and the Orc leader, Terence.

Mavis’s spell concealed all non-human features on this new body and slightly adjusted the sinister face to a degree where it did not appear as if disaster was written on it. She signed the name "Natasha" at the end of the agreement. Over the years, the name Governor Natasha had become well-known both inside and outside of Tasmanian.

Tasha, as the leader of a non-traditional group, needed some non-human features to be relatable to the people of Tasmanian. Having a living dungeon that could easily pour souls into bodies was too much. It was necessary to have a fixed identity that was easy for people to understand, respect, and even despise.

The first agreement signed was not detailed enough, relatively primitive, and had many ambiguous areas, such as how to deal with the domestic Orc willingly living in wealthy residences. However, Rome was not built in a day, and even if there might be future conflicts, progress was always progress.

After the signing ceremony, the Emperor sought out Tasha alone. He expressed goodwill to Tasha, suggesting that the Empire and the dungeon should have further friendly cooperation. Both sides had equal strength and a responsibility to maintain peace and stability in the world. Such amiable words were surprising even just a few months ago. It was quite interesting how, after introducing the Orc, a troublesome force for the Empire, they started to extend olive branches more eagerly to Tasha.

Forming alliances seems to be part of human nature, when one side becomes dominant, conflict arises. Just like children saying "Be my friend, not theirs." This competition can sometimes lead to a stronger sense of peace. This is why people need rivals and why a group that is too singular becomes vulnerable. Being the only one in power can cause regression.

Next visitor was Terence, "I never imagined this day would come." Terence thanked Tasha and quickly bid farewell, leaving in a hurry. The Orc leader seemed more composed than before, still sincere but speaking less than the ruler. Shortly after he left, Marion returned to the room.

Diplomats were in charge of negotiations for months, Tasha only needed to appear for the final signing. Accompanied by Marion, she arrived here today, meeting long unseen kin and friends. The she-wolf appeared quite excited, with her shining green eyes, perked ears, pacing back and forth like an over-excited child or a joyous pup out for a walk.

Marion was just like this, even though she was far from being called a child, she remained as sincere as one. The better things got, the more naive and lively she appeared. The early departure of her childhood seemed to be fragmented into the rest of her life. Tasha sat in the chair watching the she-wolf move from one window to another, bare feet stepping on the carpet, claws digging into the fabric – the poor floor, marked by claws and dragon feet throughout the day.

"Is this it?" Marion said abruptly, swaying like a broomstick, "Are we, are we…?"

She couldn’t express herself clearly, perhaps unsure of her own thoughts. Tasha gestured for her to come over, and she crouched in front of Tasha, resting her head on her lap.

"Yes," Tasha said, caressing Marion’s hair and ears, "Now, you can walk proudly in every city of Aryan, without fearing any gaze."

"I remember," Marion said, "You said it would come true."

Her voice was both quiet and passionate, speaking with conviction, as if saying "Let there be light," and there was light. Tasha realized Marion had always believed in that promise made over a decade ago, she smiled and gently tapped the she-wolf’s ear.

"Don’t believe in me too much," said Tasha.

Tasha didn’t have the power to make impossible things possible. She just didn’t promise things easily. Her promises must have a chance of coming true, and then she would try her best to make it happen completely.

"What’s different for us?" Marion, after listening to her explanation, raised her head and argued, "Things you say will happen, will happen for sure."

That was a heavy trust indeed.

Tasha laughed and suddenly remembered Victor.

Maybe because it was too quiet, if Victor was still awake, he would definitely start insulting people again, from generous agreement terms to Marion’s matters. "Look at this silly little puppy, treating you like a god to worship. Ha, are you that kind of person?" He would probably say something like that, with a subtle sense of pride, trying hard to prove that his understanding of Tasha was far superior to the she-wolf’s by a millionth. Once this unsightly competitiveness was shown so vividly, like a foolish scheme, it became funny and even a bit lovable.

Tasha would explain to him one by one, "See, look at the Empire’s reaction, this is one of the reasons I haven’t taken the Orc group under my wing. It can be used for balance, to create thrust and shift blame. You don’t have to worry about them, the benefits of having allies far outweigh being their boss. What’s wrong, you don’t like Marion again? Sorry, let me be clear, in terms of touch alone, you can’t compare to her. Do you have a problem with that?"

Unfortunately, Victor was still sleeping soundly in the Magic Pool, unaware of anything that was going on.

Most of the time, Tasha didn’t rely on Victor, but his absence was still significant. The background music suddenly stopped, the constant was suddenly missing, and at this moment, Tasha felt a bit late that being alone at the top was cold. It’s not that she didn’t like being a leader, but no one appreciated cunning schemes, all achievements could only be enjoyed in secret, like stealing joy in one’s finery, inevitably causing some disappointment.

It’s too quiet, Tasha thought, please wake up soon.