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Chapter 78: The Tale of Turbulence and Fish Part 1
“How do you know?”
Brandon turned back, his gaze sweeping over Yura once more. She knelt on the thick layer of pine needles covering the forest floor. It didn’t take long for him to notice that her hair was a striking, pure black—unlike Antietta’s deep black with hints of purple.
A flicker of surprise passed through his eyes.
Antietta’s dark violet hues were a telltale sign of one of the bloodlines closest to the now-extinct Minarians—either the Tirisan or half-demon lineage. Though the Minarians themselves had vanished from history, their hybrid descendants endured, blending into humanity after centuries of animosity. The old hatreds had faded over time, absorbed into the vast tapestry of human society.
But this girl, Yura, clearly wasn’t of that heritage. Despite her similarly dark hair and eyes, something about her felt different.
“I can’t quite explain it, sir knight,” she said softly. “Perhaps it’s intuition. The mercenary company of Conrad has never been known to associate with the Blackfire cultists. Yet tonight, they appeared together. Maybe it’s coincidence—but I’d sooner believe it’s part of a calculated scheme.”
“Sir Brandon, correct?” Her voice remained calm, almost serene. “When under attack, most people would naturally seek refuge among their allies. Even if we’re not entirely trustworthy, surely we’re better than an outright enemy. And yet, without hesitation, your group chose to distance yourselves instead. That speaks to prudence—”
Yura paused, tilting her head slightly as though listening to the distant clash between the Gray Wolves Mercenary Company and the Blackfire cultists echoing through the woods. Her tone stayed measured. “But viewed another way, it also shows that Sir Brandon has already analyzed the situation thoroughly.”
“You must have noticed the other mercenary group trailing us all along.”
Her words carried certainty. “Given that, Sir Brandon still decisively chose to head east. A decision like that… it suggests you’re no rash individual. If someone truly wise advances despite knowing what lies ahead, that is courage. But honestly…” She trailed off for a moment before continuing, “I suspect you already understand the gravity of our circumstances. I don’t know what awaits us in the east, but is it truly an escape route, Sir Brandon?”
“As for why I called you a knight…” She smiled faintly. “Well, I happened to overhear the young lady addressing you earlier. Being blind since birth, Lady Marsha granted me heightened senses—including sharper hearing. Not that it’s anything to boast about.” The modesty in her smile softened her words.
Antietta gasped quietly, her guard rising instinctively as she studied Yura.
The blind girl tilted her head upward, unable to see Brandon’s face but still speaking earnestly. “So, if I were to plead sincerely… Sir Brandon, surely you possess the means to assist our mercenary company, do you not?”
Brandon drew in a deep breath.
If Antietta could be considered a competent advisor at best, this girl was nothing short of extraordinary. Her reasoning was simple, yet her instincts cut straight to the heart of matters with unsettling precision.
He scrutinized her closely—the glossy black hair, the deep brown irises tinged with warmth, the pale yellow complexion, and even the fine angles of her feathery brows. Each detail seemed steeped in the characteristics of a culture he recognized all too well.
“I have a question for you,” he said finally. “Your surname—it’s Feng, isn’t it?”
Had she been able to open her eyes, they would surely have widened in astonishment. Instead, she reached up to touch her chest, pausing briefly before exhaling in relief. This subtle gesture did not escape Brandon’s notice.
His brow furrowed slightly, as though recalling something significant.
After a moment, Yura nodded. “Yes, my surname is Feng. My full name is Feng Yu. You seem remarkably knowledgeable, Sir Brandon. My appearance cannot deceive those who are truly learned.” She offered a small, self-deprecating laugh. “But I prefer not to dwell on the past, Sir Knight. Might I ask you to let this matter rest?”
Brandon inclined his head. He had merely pieced together her identity based on external cues. After all, in this world, only those hailing from the distant eastern deserts bore such striking resemblance to the Han people of the old world. Specifically, the Nine Phoenix Kingdom—a realm shrouded in legend and mystery.
Stories spoke of the Nine Phoenix Kingdom’s governance by nine noble clans, each preserving fragments of an ancient art: the legendary sword technique known as ‘Infernal Lotus Flame.’ Yet these tales remained just that—legends. Countless adventurers drawn by curiosity returned empty-handed, their quests unfulfilled.
As for Eruin and Cruze, many descendants of the Nine Phoenix clans wandered abroad—much like northern elves venturing far from home. Whether driven by wanderlust, pilgrimage, or mere adventure, such journeys weren’t uncommon in this age.
Brandon rubbed his temple, vaguely sensing familiarity in the name.
Still, respecting Yura’s request, he shook his head. “I’m sorry, but we cannot help you. Let me be candid: these Blackfire cultists pose little threat to your commander. However, if Macaro—the Mane Wolf—is wise, or if I were in his shoes, I’d retreat immediately.”
“You…” Radi snapped his head up, glaring daggers at Brandon. “Our agreement—you can’t simply abandon us! According to the Mercenary Codex…”
Before he could finish, ‘Tiger Finch’ delivered a sharp punch to Radi’s stomach, doubling the white-haired youth over in pain. Shaking his head dismissively, he said, “Your commander likely doesn’t care about this agreement—not now, nor ever. You know it’s true.”
“So do you understand?”
Yura nodded solemnly.
“What do you want, Sir Brandon?” she asked. “Money? Power?”
Brandon hesitated, then shook his head. “While I’m interested in both, I prefer avoiding unnecessary trouble. Allow me to offer you one more hint: behind the Blackfire cultists lies the Treeminders. Do you know of them?”
Both Yura and Radi visibly paled.
“How could they possibly target us?” Radi muttered, disbelief etched across his face.
Yura’s expression shifted again, her gaze dropping.
From behind, Antietta nudged Brandon gently, whispering, “Sir Brandon, aren’t you pushing them further into asking for your help? Won’t this backfire?”
Brandon shrugged. “I wouldn’t dream of deceiving anyone.”
Under the skeptical gaze of the noblewoman, he elaborated, “Helping them isn’t impossible, but I won’t entangle myself in their affairs. I’m merely stating my position.”
“And how should we proceed?” Roma chimed in, blinking curiously.
“They’ll handle it themselves.”
“Is that even possible?” Roma sounded incredulous.
“Absolutely.”
“Sir Brandon, what should we do?” Yura interjected, having listened intently to the exchange. She understood perfectly that Brandon was offering guidance, albeit indirectly. Hesitating briefly—as if weighing whether to trust him—she finally spoke.
Brandon knew the mention of the Treeminders carried weight. Compared to the covert operations of groups like Ouroboros Society, the Treeminders had once singlehandedly ignited the First Holy War—a bloody chapter that haunted generations. Most living today grew up hearing bedtime stories of its horrors.
Though tangential, Brandon saw no reason to elaborate on the Treeminders’ fearsome reputation. Yura might grasp it somewhat, but Radi? The white-haired youth undoubtedly harbored no fondness for such a name.
Glancing back, Brandon saw Radi frozen in place, his face a mask of confusion.
“Didn’t I say?” Brandon replied coolly. “Tell your commander to withdraw immediately and leave this area. From what I gather, the Treeminders have taken an interest in you. However, they share a trait—they’re cautious. Once they sense you’ve uncovered their intentions, they’ll likely retreat to regroup and revise their plans.”
“This buys you precious time. As for what comes next, I trust your commander will act accordingly.”
Brandon’s analysis wasn’t groundbreaking—it was practically textbook. The guide he recalled outlined the broader strokes clearly, even if specifics were trimmed. The Treeminders targeting the Gray Wolves Mercenary Company was undeniable. Why? That part eluded him.
Ignorance, however, didn’t mean helplessness. His dealings with the Treeminders rivaled his encounters with Madara’s skeletal forces. He had methods aplenty for handling such adversaries.
Yura and Radi exchanged glances—or rather, attempted to, given Yura’s blindness.
“How can we trust you’re telling the truth?” Radi frowned, muttering under his breath.
“I’m not forcing you to believe me.”
“You’re being awfully irresponsible…” Radi sneered.
“We owe you no obligation. Understand your current predicament, mercenary. It’s generous of Sir Brandon to aid you at all. Of course, you’re free to reject his advice—if you’re so principled.” Antietta, who’d grown increasingly irritated with Radi, couldn’t resist cutting in with biting sarcasm.
Realizing her tone, she faltered momentarily, glancing apologetically at Yura. “Forgive me, I didn’t mean…”
“No need to apologize,” Yura murmured, keeping her head bowed. Lost in thought, she asked, “So, Sir Brandon intends to leave this troubled land regardless, yes?”
Brandon nodded.
“Even if we beg you to stay?”
Another nod.
He had his reasons. Already embroiled with Ouroboros Society, taking on the Treeminders as well would spell disaster—even beyond death itself. Moreover, he knew Buga and Macaro wouldn’t perish in this storyline. Though he lacked the strength to subjugate them now, showing goodwill was prudent.
Besides, walking away held no guilt for abandoning the Gray Wolves Mercenary Company. Their fragile alliance hung by a thread anyway; severing ties now complicated future interactions, but as a seasoned player, Brandon weighed risks meticulously. Forging connections with two powerful figures—and securing the upcoming ‘Courage’ questline—demanded careful diplomacy.
Whether the benefits outweighed the dangers, Brandon had long since decided.
“Will Sir Brandon allow us to leave?” Yura asked.
“I never intended to detain you. Earlier actions were meant to save you, Lady Yura. Surely you understand that.”
She nodded. “But aren’t you worried we’ll expose your whereabouts once freed?”
Brandon chuckled confidently. “You won’t catch up to us.”
This wasn’t bravado. The guide detailed multiple shortcuts and hidden paths crisscrossing the region. Though crude, the map posed no challenge to a veteran like him.
Radi shot him a sidelong glance, silent but clearly unconvinced. His defiant demeanor suggested he dismissed Brandon’s claims as mere bluster.
Though initially startled by Brandon’s revelations, Radi soon recalled the earlier spectacle—the insistence on heading east, which struck him as amateurish. Clinging to this thought brought some comfort. Resolving to persuade Yura later, he vowed silently: No way will I let this charlatan deceive her.
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