Chapter 41

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Chapter 41: Doesn’t Matter

"The weather is so horrible."

Sentry Warren spat on the ground, the cheap cigarette left a strange taste in his mouth. But if he didn’t smoke a little, he couldn’t muster the energy in this terrible weather.

It started snowing.

A few days ago, in the thick frosty morning, it announced the arrival of winter as the temperature dropped day by day. Today, the rain that fell finally turned into snow. It’s considered lucky to have snowfall around New Year’s Day, but the condition is to have the snow outside while you are inside. In previous years, this was not a problem at all. Even the stingiest employer would give the workers time off before New Year’s Eve. Otherwise, they believed their luck would turn worse next year. Stories about luck always touch people from all walks of life, and it was always like that.

But soldiers are different.

Since the War of the Republic, or maybe since the Aryan Empire was founded, soldiers have always had a higher status and a higher level of danger. And when facing enemies linked to the Hybrid, don’t even think about complaining when you have to work on days off, even if you have to go to a volcano, Warren is the unlucky one today, he’s on duty for New Year’s Eve and he won’t be going home tonight.

Located less than a hundred kilometers south of Ribe Lake, this new defense line has been standing for several months, almost half a year. Initially manned by a platoon, then reduced to a squad, and now there are six soldiers left guarding day and night. Warren doubted if the six of them could stand a chance against the Hybrid or even fire a signal flare. But they were ordered to continue monitoring, so they had to stay on duty. Soldiers do not question, soldiers obey orders.

"Don’t worry, it’s not our turn yet to complain," said the unlucky sentry Dennis.

Six people split into two shifts, and the ones currently on guard duty are from the other group. Warren and Dennis are now able to sneak away to a shelter to smoke a cigarette. They are hiding behind the lookout post, listening to the howling wind around them. Snowflakes are tumbling and swirling in the wind, landing everywhere with a soft thud. Just the thought of standing at their post later, letting snowflakes hit their face, makes Warren’s shoulders slump.

"Darn it," Warren complained, the last two words muffled by the cigarette in his mouth. He took another puff of his stinging cigarette, squinting his eyes to look into the distance where the defense line was also covered in snow, making it hard to see clearly. He reached for a hip flask filled with hot ginger wine, took a small sip, and couldn’t help but complain again.

"When will this job ever end?" he said. "I mean, we’ve been here for almost half a year, digging trenches, building barricades, shooting a few arrows at incoming folks, and then what? No one has visited all autumn, not even a bird. They say our people bombed the whole forest, cut off trade routes, so what are we defending? I heard the towns to the south were built to guard against the wasteland and hybrids in the woods, and supplies need to be transported from our side. It’s been nearly half a year! I reckon they must have all died over there… What’s wrong with you?"

Warren stopped and noticed his companion lost in thought, the cigarette in his hand untouched for a long time, almost dropping to the ground.

"There’s a county town to the south," Dennis whispered. "There are many people there…"

Warren shrugged and said, "It’s war."

Soldiers do not ask questions, but the sergeants use their brains and ears. Earlier, they heard they were going to deal with hybrids in the forest, and then the ones who escaped back described how trees grew feet and monsters wearing women’s skin wreaked havoc. Those who fled back were terrified, but they were still considered lucky. Unluckier ones who ran south were rounded up into a team on a later operation and encountered even more terrifying enemies, ultimately staying in the southeast corner.

It was said above that there was a Necromancer who could control the plague, and anyone in the southeast corner could potentially be infected, allowing them through the defense line was like inviting trouble. Earlier discussions of this nature would be severely punished, but after some time, soldiers could speak about it privately.

Now that there were no outsiders needing to show loyalty, Warren didn’t have to speak any formal patriotic words about bravely fighting the hybrids for the fallen. He simply glanced knowingly at his distracted companion and asked, "Do you know anyone there?"

"I have a distant cousin over there," Dennis hesitated, then admitted, "He got married two years ago, and recently he wrote to say his wife was pregnant … By my calculations, the baby should have been born last month."

"…"

"He used to take care of me when I was little. I was a fool back then, lucky that he looked after me," Dennis said, taking another sip, "His wife is nice, reminds me of my late mom who passed away over ten years ago … I haven’t visited them for a while, I really should have gone last year."

"Oh," said Warren.

What else could he say? Hopefully, they didn’t die in the Undead Sorcerer’s attack? If they didn’t become undead, they could have likely died from starvation due to the blockade, these sentinels were part of the problem. Hopefully, they died quickly and without suffering? If they died early, the child inside the mother’s belly would never get a chance to be born, never be able to meet their parents, never even see what the world looked like. If they died later, that baby would also perish, Warren knew how devastating it would be for parents to lose a child.

"I wouldn’t hesitate if they really turned into enemies," Dennis added, trying to conceal, "If I see them attacking, I wouldn’t hold back. Don’t tell anyone about this, okay?"

"Of course," Warren said, patting Dennis’s shoulder.

The sentinels were all outsiders, when selecting troops for garrison, those who had relatives in the southeast corner were screened out. After that, the screened out soldiers were in a very awkward position, with colleagues and superiors watching them suspiciously, they had to try hard to show full support for this decision, otherwise their loyalty to Aryan would be questioned. Dennis must have been holding back for a long time, he slipped today, blaming the magic of New Year’s Eve.

Actually, not having relatives there doesn’t mean they have no thoughts about the blockade.

In the tavern of Red Gum County, there is the best fruit wine. Warren felt a bit embarrassed to order it at the Ribe Lake tavern, afraid of being seen by his colleagues enjoying this fruity drink. So he could only go to the South where no one knew him during holidays to quench his thirst. He helped throw out a few drunken brawlers for the tavern owner, who then gave him discounts.

He also went to the edge of Angaso Forest, where a hunter in Deer Horn Town taught him how to hunt. He didn’t catch any rabbits, so he had to spend some money buying wild game to satisfy his hunger. The hunter used a beautiful knife to skin the animals, chatting with Warren about how rich people are fools. The hunter also hummed a catchy but wordless tune. Warren should have asked him to teach him instead of being too proud to do so.

Warren spat out the unsmokable part of his cigarette, patted Dennis on the shoulder, and told him it was time to go back.

Not long after they changed shifts, a carriage arrived at the outpost.

The person who got off the carriage was Colonel Benson, and the guards quickly stood at attention and saluted. The Colonel saluted back and had someone take a strange bird out of the carriage.

What a strange bird it was! Its wingspan was as wide as an adult’s outstretched arms, covered in gray feathers that seemed painted on, with no visible skin between them. It had additional wings on its wings, head, and tail. Its flat and odd-shaped head reminded people of a Red Setter. As they thought about it, the bird’s eyes suddenly lit up, startling the guards.

The strange bird, held up by several people, took flight.

Its outstretched wings remained still, while the auxiliary wings on its wings, head, and tail began to rotate, not flapping up and down but spinning. The guards watched in amazement as the strange bird gracefully ascended until it became a distant black dot, resembling a normal bird from that distance.

The bird crossed the defense line and flew south until it returned only when the sky darkened. It landed steadily on top of the carriage, its bright red eyes shining even brighter. All the guards noticed Colonel Benson’s face turning pale and grim as if he had seen something on the bird that deeply troubled him.

Okay," Warren secretly thought, "Nobody can have a good New Year’s Eve, fair enough.

——————————

The southeast corner was very lively on New Year’s Eve.

Starting a few days ago, the New Year atmosphere made people restless, like high school students eagerly anticipating their winter break. "New Year’s Day is coming soon!" "Just three more days until the New Year!" "Two days left!" "Tomorrow is the day!" People couldn’t wait to talk about the new year in their greetings, swiftly turning the conversation towards the upcoming celebrations.

"Do you celebrate New Year too?" asked the resident on the ground.

"Who doesn’t celebrate New Year!" replied the dungeon’s resident.

Then they began chatting, sharing their own New Year customs and listening to each other’s holiday activities. Tasha listened from the side, smiling at the commonality of intelligent creatures. New Year, a time to wear new clothes, eat good food, make noise, and have fun! People from all over the world, different worlds, and non-human beings all seem to look forward to the festival. Tasha suspected that the result of these interactions would be adopting each other’s New Year customs as an excuse to eat more and have more fun.

Thankfully, celebrating the holiday requires money, so many people who were tight on cash worked hard to save money for the New Year and aim to receive extra bonuses. Because of this, the overall work efficiency in the southeast corner increased instead of decreasing.

The daily marketplaces were bustling, with housewives eagerly eyeing the exotic produce, ready to pounce as soon as today’s ingredients were brought out. Before the day’s menu was even announced, long lines had formed around the square, with people wanting to buy everything, making Tasha limit the amount each person could purchase.

The Amazonian lacked patience for the service industry, while the Craftsman Dwarf lacked nerves in the economic aspect. Now, the one working at the trade window in the dungeon is a human hired by Tasha. Tasha enjoyed the treatment of a monopolistic business owner, effortlessly digging up useful employees and resources. She was the sole member of the board, holding all the power with ease.

Finally, tonight is New Year’s Eve.

All the shops had closed with a sign, civil servants stopped working, and employees happily went home. Children ran around in open spaces, leaving footprints in the thin layer of snow, preventing it from piling up. Parents chased these mischievous little ones, trying to draw a smiley face on their thumbs as a symbol of a healthy and happy new year. The dye used for drawing the smiley face was a mixture of syrup and fruit juice, likely ending up in the children’s bellies before New Year’s Eve arrived.

In the forging room of the dungeon, the Craftsman Dwarf lit the furnace extra bright. They had a custom of burning the furnace fire for good luck in the new year. Previously, they had to calculate the fuel required for the night, but now with magical flames, they were thrilled. The chieftain Hogan excitedly hammered the anvil, his beard neatly combed into several braids with a Chinese knot hanging from his chin.

Housewives started preparing dinner early in the morning, with appetizers being the first to be made. Stews and broths were simmering, and there were new dishes to try this year. The elf-like cooks cooked openly and even started a weekly cooking class after noticing the curious looks. With new ingredients from the exchange, teacher’s guidance, and new recipes, this year’s New Year’s dinner was bound to be more sumptuous.

Perhaps only one person was not very happy.

Saro Saint Child Samuel wore his ceremonial attire today, tirelessly spreading the message of Saro’s fasting on New Year’s Eve. Unlike the secular people, the Saroism sect advocated fasting from food and fire on New Year’s Eve, welcoming the first sunlight of the new year with a pure body. Samuel’s missionary work suffered a major setback, as none of the usual listeners seemed persuaded by his words.

The people of Aryan believed that if the cabinets on New Year’s Eve were not filled with wine and delicacies, and if the children’s pockets were not filled with sweets, the coming year would not be good – especially when the eager mouths and stomachs did not agree! Some rudely closed their doors, while others kindly stuffed food into their hands. Samuel tried to persuade the children, but they giggled, ran away, made faces, licked their thumbs, ate candy, and sprinkled shiny candy wrappers on the priest’s head.

The Amazonian were preparing for a bonfire party in the forest. Most of the forest had been cleared, and the Amazonian, who preferred living on the ground, were rebuilding their homes in the forest even though it remained desolate. The captain’s army received their invitation, not at the behest of Tasha, but as a spontaneous act of the Amazonian.

Ever since regular people started doing most of the forest clearing work, the Amazonians and soldiers have returned to training and security duties. They often train together, even though the soldiers used to bully the Amazonians, their relationship has improved a lot. Now, their rivalry is turning into friendly competition.

As night fell, all the soldiers who couldn’t go home were invited.

A huge bonfire lit up half the sky. Meat sizzled on the grill, fruits and raw vegetables were on plates for anyone to take. Glasses were filled with wine, a sweet elf-made wine for the kids and a stronger one for the experienced warriors. The Amazonians sang without any musical instruments, but some soldiers played harmonicas.

The soldiers were surprised to find that some fierce tigresses in fights had sweet voices, and the Amazonians discovered that some unassuming soldiers could play complex tunes or dance lively dances. They took turns performing, singing old songs about battles and homelands. Soldiers who couldn’t go back home and Amazonians who had lost loved ones cried quietly.

"Let’s go!" the Amazon Queen suddenly stood up, holding a torch. "We’re going to find the Golden Bells!"

Just like the Amazonians searched for deer herds to bless on New Year’s Eve, the Aryans would go out together with torches on New Year’s Eve to find the "Golden Bells" in the nearby forest. These fruits, resembling golden bells, grew in early winter, hidden among snow and bare branches. Finding one was believed to bring great luck. But with the forest still not fully grown back, what could they find?

Despite this, the captain smiled and nodded. The soldiers and Amazonians stood up, grabbed torches, and set off like on a picnic. Many of them wore mysterious smiles as they crossed the dark wilderness, stepping over each other’s stones and branches until they finally reached the forest edge with trees.

"Look!" someone exclaimed.

There was a golden shimmer among the trees.

A strong wind started blowing, making the leaves rustle in the wind. But the sound wasn’t coming from the branches, it was actually the golden bells hanging between the branches. Craftsman Dwarf made these golden bells a few days ago, and today Amazonian hung them on the trees in the early morning.

"You all seem very lucky," said the Amazon Queen with a smile.

The soldiers burst into cheers and whistles, the captain was surprised for a moment, then burst out laughing.

Just then, a group of deer approached them with the sound of hooves. Upon closer inspection, it was clear that the "deer’s" antlers were tied with ropes to their heads, their sizes were not right, and you could even see the markings of warhorses on their behinds. These "deer" expertly walked towards them, paused for a moment, then trotted away with small steps. Amazonian realized what was happening and cheers and laughter erupted among the crowd.

"Look, you are also very lucky," the captain said.

Tasha looked down at the town of New Year’s Eve from the top of the clock tower in Red Gum County.

The clock tower had been transformed into a watchtower disguised as a dungeon. With this watchtower, Tasha could oversee the entire town below her. She climbed the outer wall of the clock tower in the snowstorm and sat on the edge at the top. Victor asked, "Why did you come here?"

Tasha could oversee everything from the watchtower, there was no need to climb up using the body of a wolf for the view. Tasha wasn’t there just to enjoy the view, it was more about training. She had been training rigorously for months, her archery skills were average but her agility had improved greatly. At least now she could climb all the way to the top of the clock tower in one go.

"Do you miss home?" Tasha asked.

"What’s so great about the abyss," Victor said irritably, "You miss home? Hah, a dungeon longing for home, you’ve never seen the abyss before."

Tasha’s home is not the abyss, but another world. The festive atmosphere made her feel a bit nostalgic, but it was just a slight emotion, not a heavy homesickness.

The past is gone, the future is full of possibilities. In her ambitious plans, there is no place for melancholy.

Hearing the wind behind her, Tasha did not turn back, she just patted the spot next to her and said, "Come here."

The girl with animal ears and a hood sat down next to Tasha, her expression quite conflicted, without eavesdropping, you could guess what she was thinking.

"I don’t want to go down there anymore," Marion finally managed to speak, "I hate them looking at me."

Tasha asked the Craftsman Dwarf and Amazonian to regularly trade in human towns, and also asked Marion to go. She complied, but was always very anxious each time. On this New Year’s Eve, Tasha suggested Marion not to stay cooped up in the dungeon – for this obedient girl, a suggestion was as effective as a command.

"Why?" Tasha asked, "Marion is so adorable."

Marion’s cheeks flushed with red, her skin appeared a shade darker. She touched her nose and said angrily, "I don’t want them to look, they have ill intentions!"

Half-orcs are more common than elves and face worse situations, because people are used to calling these beings with beast ears or tails derogatory terms like "half-beasts," and treat them as slaves. Having a pair of beast ears often attracts malicious stares, and Marion always despises it when humans stare at her ears, even innocent gazes make her nervous.

"Do you want to go back underground?" Tasha asked.

Marion nodded.

"But why should you hide when it’s clearly others being rude and disrespectful?" Tasha remarked.

Marion widened her eyes, clearly never having thought about this question before.

"Are you something to be ashamed of? No, I think Marion is very beautiful," Tasha said, removing Marion’s hood, "You are also a child of this land, descendant of wolves, your parents’ child. You deserve to stand tall anywhere, nothing to hide. If they look at you, let them look, just as you look at them; if they behave rudely, let them learn manners. Where I can see, I will ensure you have ‘justice’."

Marion trembled slightly, even though she couldn’t explain what was stirring in her.

"Marion, why do you think I want you to enter human towns?" Tasha asked again.

The Worgen girl struggled to think, saying, "You… want them to get used to my presence?"

"I’m not showing off in front of you," Tasha smiled, "This is a practice, a practice that will be performed in a larger area. Marion, look below."

Every house was lit up, the smell of food and the sound of laughter filled the streets. Pastor of Saro was dressed up like a fancy white rabbit – his hat was on point, but he couldn’t shake off the nickname – his fasting advice was met with jeers, but no one went up to confront him, only children craving sweets teased him. In the distance, there were bonfires and torches in the forest, Tasha and Marion shared the view, seeing the Amazonian and soldiers singing together. When the clock tower struck twelve, everyone exchanged blessings. A drunk soldier hugged a tree and shouted "Happy New Year," the oak tree he hugged had just awakened from a long slumber and opened one eye, saying, "And a Happy New Year to you too."

"Wow, I think I really am drunk," the soldier mumbled, chuckling, "Happy New Year, wood!"

It was a scene of unparalleled festivity.

Marion seemed to understand something, yet still remained puzzled. She turned around, locking eyes with the flickering fire in the eye sockets of a skull.

"One day, I will make this happen in every corner of Aryan," her master said, "One day, Marion, you will walk proudly in every city of Aryan, without fearing anyone’s gaze."

What would that sight be like? The Worgen girl couldn’t imagine, she couldn’t see that far, but it didn’t matter.

It didn’t matter, Marion thought, as long as she knew one thing –

The future that this adult could see would definitely, absolutely be a stunningly beautiful new world.