Free Web NovelChapter 378: Chapter 83: Living Is More Than Just Being Alive
The dust kicked up by the carriage slowly settled, concealing the faint, retreating shadow at the end of the road.
The intersection was empty once more, leaving only overturned flatcarts, scattered grain, and a group of farmers staring at one another, still shaken from the ordeal.
The tension broke. A buzzing murmur replaced the earlier shouts.
A flush from their earlier indignation and a pallor born of fear still clung to most of their faces, but what lingered most was a sense of bewilderment.
The crisis seemed to have been averted for now with the carriage’s departure. But what would happen next?
A few young farmers deftly gathered the scattered grain sacks and loaded them back onto the flatcarts. The older ones, meanwhile, crowded around a companion with a freshly bandaged forehead, murmuring questions about his injuries.
Yet, their eyes couldn’t help but drift toward the end of the road before quickly looking away, their expressions a mixture of awe and confusion.
The first to speak was Marian, the farmer’s wife who had rushed out to confront the Guards. She patted her chest, her heart still pounding with fear, and her voice trembled. "Good heavens... That scared me to death. Those thugs actually dared to hit us! It’s all thanks to that gentleman..."
She looked toward Deacon Byron, who was directing two adolescents to load the last few sacks of grain onto a cart. "Deacon, who exactly is that gentleman in the wheelchair? I didn’t see him say anything harsh, so how did those ferocious brutes end up scrambling away like rabbits that had just spotted a hawk?"
Her question immediately caught everyone’s attention.
Even the tight-lipped Old Hans stopped what he was doing and pricked up his ears.
Deacon Byron carefully set down a slightly torn grain sack, straightened up, and wiped the sweat and dust from his brow.
He looked at the fellow churchgoers who had gathered around, their faces etched with the relief of having survived a calamity and a burning curiosity.
He had already given an explanation, but it had been a rushed one, just to get them to clear the road. The farmers didn’t yet truly grasp Murphy’s standing.
So Deacon Byron walked once more to the front of the church steps. The ground there was slightly elevated, allowing everyone to hear him clearly.
"My fellow believers, the gentleman from before is the Lord of the Northern Monte Territory, Lord Melfield."
He paused, letting the name sink in, before slowly adding, "He... is the one they call the ’Thunder Sword’."
"The Thunder Sword?"
The young farmer, Thomas, scratched his head. He had heard the name just a moment ago. It certainly sounded impressive, but to him, it didn’t seem all that different from nicknames like "Iron Hammer John" or "Fast-legged Peter." It was just a bit more grandiose.
Deacon Byron saw the confusion in the eyes of Thomas and several other young people. He understood the disconnect.
For these farmers, who spent their lives working the soil, the world of Legends was far too remote—nowhere near as tangible as the harvest from their fields or the taxes demanded by their lord.
"That title means he is a true Legend," Deacon Byron explained, shifting to a more concrete example. His gaze swept over the older men. "Hans, Old Peter, you must remember—about ten years ago, there was a period of great unrest. The nobles were in a panic, dispatching troops to the East. The number of aristocrats coming to pray before the Icon Paintings swelled, didn’t it?"
Old Hans blinked his cloudy eyes, struggling to remember. "I think... I do recall something like that. They even levied an extra ’Eastern Territory Support Tax’ back then. Said it was to forge armor and buy weapons to fight some terrible monsters. According to the traveling merchants who passed through, it was over by Blackstone Fortress in the East. They said the sky itself had split open, and man-eating fiends crawled out? It caused a huge uproar. Even the birds around here were spooked back then, flying and screeching all day long."
"Correct," Deacon Byron nodded. "It was a widespread cataclysm that could have plunged the entire world into a darkness shrouded by Evil Power. But at the final moment, the Thunder Sword stepped into the Legendary Realm. With unsurpassed might, he closed the Plane Passage, crushed the monster army, and saved Blackstone Fortress. He saved the very land beneath our feet. He is a hero acknowledged across the entire Continent, a supreme powerhouse whom even His Majesty the King must treat with courtesy."
A collective gasp rippled through the crowd.
A Legend?
A hero who saved the Continent?
Someone even the King treats with courtesy?
These concepts were far beyond their everyday understanding. It was like listening to a myth.
But when they recalled how those Guards had scrambled away in terror, and thought of the Lord’s abyssal calm and his elite retinue, they had no choice but to believe.
After a moment, Deacon Byron hesitated, as if debating whether to say more. But looking at the suffering faces of his flock, he decided to add:
"Furthermore, according to the occasional news from merchants and travelers coming from the north, Lord Melfield is not only powerful, but he is also... quite adept at governing his Monte Territory. I hear the taxes there are transparent, the laws are just, and the people live far more stable lives than in many other places."
He paused, seeing the surprise and a flicker of inexpressible envy in their eyes. Finally, he spoke, his voice soft but clear. "You could say that he is... a Lord with a fine reputation. A rare and powerful man who genuinely cares for his people."
"A good Lord who cares for his people?" Marian murmured, her eyes brightening for a moment before the shadow of her reality fell over them once more.
She glanced at her own calloused hands and at the sallow, skinny child beside her. An idea began to form, one she couldn’t suppress.
She had always been bolder than most. Now, mustering her courage, she took half a step forward. Her voice was laced with a mixture of hope and apprehension.
