Shadow of the Evil God

Cecia released her hand and brushed her fiery red hair back over her shoulder. "Come and have a drink. I'll pay. I personally prefer white wine that's been through noble rot. If you have any favorites, you can bring your own."

"It's so rare that you're polite for once."

"Stop being sarcastic and just answer the question."

"Then I'd like to know more about your drinking habits and preferences. That way, if I want to invite you to a banquet in the future, I can give you a gift that's more to your liking than anyone else."

"Tsk."

They sat down at the long table, and when the waiter brought the frosty bottle of wine, Cecilia skillfully removed the cork herself. She used a dagger to cut a circle around the seal on the bottle mouth and wiped off the mold on the top of the cork.

"This kind of mold can't be used," the mercenary captain said casually, "but there's a kind of blue mold on bread that you can scrape off with a knife and apply to the wound to bandage it. After learning this from the priests in Batiala, I haven't been infected since."

Penicillin? Sounds like

It wasn't exactly penicillin. He only knew the term antibiotics. The temple priests of this world had mastered this technology, and their knowledge was far more professional than his.

He had never expected that his fragmented knowledge would be useful.

"Also," Cecia poured him a glass of wine, "I have to apologize for what happened just now. I should have considered your feelings today."

Chapter 43 People shouldn't die like this

"It's okay, nothing wrong." Cesar lowered his head and took a sip of the wine glass in her hand. "I never ask others to consider my feelings. After all, everyone's world revolves around himself." He glanced up.

"I wanted to hand it to you..." Ceshia stared at him as he drank the wine in the glass, then raised her eyebrows, "You really know how to take advantage of the opportunity to climb up the pole, apprentice. Do you know what I usually do when I encounter such a thing?"

"I don't know, but since you're fine, that means I don't need to know."

"Maybe. But you can think of those extra hits as advance payment. I should have stopped in time, but it's hard to do that once you're in the zone."

"If you hit me twice more," Cesar pondered, "do you owe me one more?"

"Just by saying this, it's offset." Ceshia said with a forced smile, "Also, apprentice, I order you to shave yourself cleanly. You just pricked my finger." After saying that, she poured herself a glass.

"By the way, I know where that assassin came from," the mercenary captain added, and Cesar's hair stood on end. The thought of that silent and invisible killer made him feel uneasy. If it weren't for the fact that a dog's senses were so far inferior to humans' and could detect unusual phenomena, he wouldn't have noticed someone observing him in the face.

He let out a sigh. "Have you met one?"

"Kasar's spies," Ceshia said as she drank. "After hearing what the mercenaries were saying, I think it's probably them. When I was fighting in the Empire, I sometimes heard mysterious stories and legends. Since you actually encountered them, the legends may be true."

"There's no reason for people from the Casar Empire to come here... It's too far away and meaningless. However, a part of the Casar Empire that split off from it has hooked up with the Domini royal family, so it doesn't seem strange that they're exchanging what they have." He said thoughtfully.

Ceshia chuckled twice. "I told you back then that you weren't cut out for the front lines. There are plenty of soldiers filling trenches, but how many are like you? Back then, I knew nothing but martial arts, so I could only make money in knightly competitions. When I was exposed, I became a mercenary. Someone like you, even if you don't stay in Dominion, can still make a name for yourself in Olidan."

"You're kidding, teacher," Cesar clinked glasses with her. "I'm only good at discerning current events, not speculating and making fortunes. I can't be one of those bankers who make a fortune by lending money. With my abilities, could I really make a name for myself in a foreign land than a mercenary officer like you? You earn a little over a hundred livres a month, which would be over two hundred times the price offered by slave traders at the time. Whenever you go out and come in, you speak directly to city hall officials or high-ranking officials in the temple. And you're only in your twenties, so it's unknown how many ranks you can achieve in the future."

She downed her drink. "It's really boring when you say things so bluntly."

"Perhaps I'll even have to cling to you in the future, Master. If I ever get stuck, I'll join you as a mercenary." Seeing she was about to refuse, Cesar added, "And bring with you a musketeer with unerring accuracy and a promising young wizard."

"Tsk..."

Cecia frowned. The offer was so generous that it was hard for her to refuse, even subconsciously.

"I'm just leaving a way out," he said effortlessly. "I'm not asking for a favor, nor am I being sympathetic, so I have to lay out the conditions. You can figure it out by weighing them on the scales."

"Would those two really follow you? I wouldn't be surprised if the latter one came, but the former is clearly an exiled noble from Casar. Although she has a strange personality, she's clearly well-educated and definitely experienced with a gun. She even speaks two or three languages ​​fluently. It looks like someone will claim her and take her away at any moment."

This was more appropriate for Firth. After all, Cesar had no idea who her father was, what his origins were, or how he'd been able to teach her so many unusual spells. So, would someone come to claim her as their kin in the future? Thinking about it, it was certainly possible. But forget about the Faceless Ones. The true exiled nobility had long since become a breeding ground for evil monsters, and Gouzi was the alien creature that burst forth. His insistence on treating her like a human was simply Cesar's own whims.

The thinking structure of dogs and humans is very different, really too different.

"You can also speak Casar's language?" he asked.

"After a few years, it wouldn't be strange to help one part of the Empire fight another part of the Empire."

"So your men are no longer qualified to be interpreters?"

"I can do it myself."

Cesar thought that Ceshia was exaggerating when he said that the dog could speak two or three languages ​​fluently.

She acted as if nothing had happened, which conveyed a lot of meaning. As the commander and team leader, she had to take on the responsibility of negotiating terms with the locals. The recent entanglement with the temple's treasurer, Noyen, was a typical example. At this time, the verbal communication must not be a stammering and unclear communication. She said

She went on her own, proving that she could speak the languages ​​of the places she met along the way fluently.

Since she believed that Gouzi could do this, he must have received a good education and was probably a noble in the past. Obviously, the same thing could be applied to her.

"Did you experience similar things when you were in the imperial territory?" he asked.

Ceshia glanced over at him, and Cesar could only throw his hands up, expressing his deep concern. It might seem strange, but he didn't mind the bloodshed of wielding a sword. Even when he smashed a man's head with a hammer, piercing the floor, he didn't vomit or even feel any physical discomfort. Even so, when a single word caused a shell to collapse a house several meters away, he felt so dazed that he didn't even notice how he got back.

"Tell me what you think first."

"It's hard for me to say," Cesar replied. "When I thrust a sword into someone's body, when I smashed their skull with a mace, it felt very real to me, like I was fighting for my life. But watching the cannonballs fall from the bell tower felt so illusory. It was so far away, and those people were just thugs taking advantage of the chaos to loot."

Cecia gripped the rim of the glass, swirling it in mid-air. "There's a saying," she exhaled, her voice slowing. "The person you killed with your own hands disappears from this world, leaves. Their last breath stopped in your hand, and their last dying glance was imprinted in yours. These memories you possess are that person's final impact on the world. From now on, they will never be able to open their eyes again, and you use these memories to bear the weight of their death, the path they can no longer walk, the things they can no longer do. It's a burden. When you kill someone and carry it on your back, your soul becomes heavier, your steps become more solid, and your connection to the world becomes closer."

"And in one sentence..."

"People stand high up, using a single sentence to cause the ridiculous deaths of scores of people below, while they themselves only look upwards. It's actually quite unreal. I felt it was quite unreal when I was counting the bodies of the people who had killed each other in the city for Garcia. Although, in the end, this absurd drama set an example for other cities that stubbornly resisted, and we later helped them recover their lost territory without encountering any resistance or suffering the expected losses, the whole thing is still ridiculous. The deaths were like numbers, even though in the end, only the number of heads remained."

"You think people shouldn't die like this?"

"may be."

“But we still have to do it, and it feels weird.”

Ceshia snorted. "Of course I know. There are so many things I have to do. Living blindly is simple, but living with understanding is the real problem. Many people I met in the beginning didn't want to rob local villages and towns, but the money was always not coming in, so there was no other way but to rob as they went. Back then, the question wasn't whether to rob or not, but whether to rob in order to survive. Robbing a lot is normal, but if you rob less, you're a saint."

"Where's Garcia?"

"Garcia is certainly not a saint, but he can afford to pay people. With money, he robs less, and everyone follows him and becomes a saint. No matter how cruel he is to others, the fact that he can pay people is enough. All he needs to do is shout, and every mercenary will obey his call and follow him into battle."

"It's hard for me to imagine how much money the Dominican Kingdom has invested in this," Cesar said. "Judging from the recent salary arrears, they must be under considerable financial pressure."

"If the northern empire is unified and the rebellious beastman slave armies are recalled, it will not just be a problem of financial pressure. Everyone knows this," she said casually.

"From this perspective, Dominic will continue to put pressure on Noyen to get more money. What do you think? In order to deal with this unavoidable threat, Dominic is not a particularly good person to be loyal to..."

Cecia paused for a moment, then placed her hand on his shoulder and squeezed it firmly. "I don't want this possibility to be discovered. I don't want to tell anyone, and I don't want to hear anyone else say it. The most important thing is that no one knows I'm saying this privately. When you're somewhere, you have to be wary of the political risks there."

Her grip was so strong that Cesar's eyebrows twitched in pain. They were about the same height, so this was no problem for her. "Don't you think it's risky for you to teach me swordplay here?" he asked.

"Not all risks should be avoided. And what do you mean I'm here to teach you sword?" Ceshia raised her voice, "You talk as if Garcia didn't push you here. It's really a headache to tie salary payment and connections together to get people here, don't you think, apprentice?" She said sarcastically.

"It seems that getting the money is more important than the political risks."

"That's right." Cecilia waved her hand. "When you start to be short of money, you will realize that this is the most important thing in life."

Chapter 44 I Can Explain First

"You think I've never been short of anything?" Cesar asked her.

"It seems that there has been no shortage of it. Well, I guess there has been no shortage of it."

Cesar thought for a moment and decided to limit his story to Cesar himself, rather than his earlier life.

"Actually, I lived in the slums for a while. But even there, you still need a lot of money. Rent and living expenses add up to a lot. The jobs I can find nearby don't pay much, and I can't save much either."

"You heard

"What you hear isn't necessarily true, but at least the miners here earn a lot, right?" said Ceshia.

"No," Cesar denied. "I've done some research, and the rumor is that miners can earn around ten deniers per shift. With that simple calculation, some people think they can earn as much as one and a half livres a month. But in fact, this daily wage is for workers digging coal at the deepest depths of the mine. Miners' wages at lesser depths will be significantly reduced. Even for miners in the deepest parts of the mine, they are paid according to the quality and weight of the coal they dig. If you dig into a fault, such as rock, you will get nothing for several days. The average actual income - the highest earners - is less than one-third of the rumored income."

"Less than a third... Did you deduct too much?"

"Because there are other expenses that are more complicated, but they actually account for a significant proportion. There are fees for renting mining lamps, weighing the coal and iron, grinding and maintenance tools, maintenance and inspection of the mine clinic, and pensions for miners who die in mining accidents, which are also deducted from the miners' salaries."

Cecia thought for longer than him. It seemed that no matter whether she started to comment or remained silent, she would always inevitably touch upon some topics she didn't want to touch upon.

She held her cheek with her left hand, pushing the flesh up, and glanced at him for a long moment before finally asking, "Why are you investigating this?"

"Habit?" he asked himself. "Maybe it's just habit. Wherever you live, you should understand the lives of the people around you. Perhaps only when you are exiled to the wilderness do you not need money or care about other people's lives."

Ceshia didn't ask any further. "Do you think you can survive in the wilderness?"

"I can't do it alone, but two more people can."

She looked at the wine in her glass and said, "If you want to say everything you shouldn't say, you can go out into the wilderness and say it to animals. But I can't, and maybe no one can."

"I think it's very soothing to be open about everything you know," Cesar told her. "You just have to choose the right person to talk to. Don't you think you are?"

She smiled: "You are really good at talking, apprentice."

“Maybe I just know how to talk.”

"Let's not talk about the previous investigation. Askrid used the method you provided to quell the chaos. It's a bit too much for you to say so yourself."

"He doesn't even take the credit?"

"With your status, who would take the credit for your achievements?" Ceshia clinked her glass with his. "If nothing else, your deeds have spread among the upper echelons of Noien. Askerid now speaks highly of you, and perhaps your commander can also speak a few words about your relationship with your father."

"This is a complicated matter," Cesar said. He thought to himself that he couldn't say that he was an imposter, and that he was impersonating a non-existent illegitimate child.

What he did was similar to what happened during the reign of Catherine II, when a man named Tarakanova pretended to be the nonexistent daughter of the former Empress Elizabeth I and claimed to be the heir to the Russian throne. In reality, this illegitimate child did not exist, and his noble status was also fictitious. If it weren't for the temple's support, he would have been imprisoned and secretly returned to Count Thane's altar.

"Regardless of how complicated the matter is, I believe that with your demonstrated abilities, you can be a diplomat or govern a city. Even if you're not in Neuen, it wouldn't be difficult to recommend yourself elsewhere based on your achievements," said Ceshia. "Everyone has something they can do well."

"Do you think I can't do well in those competitions?" Cesar asked, "whether it's the knight's tournament on the road or the cousins ​​who will come to see me?"

"If you can excel at what you're good at, you don't need to care about irrelevant hostility," she said.

"I don't really care how well I can do something, because people are always more important. Just like when you proposed to take me to all the knight competitions on the road, I agreed, not just to make money and gain fame from knight competitions, but more to be able to partner with you for a long time," he said.

"Are you very confident in your ability to judge people? You spent the first half of your life in the castle, right? How many people could you meet? How many people could you really interact with?" The other party asked nonchalantly.

"You don't have to see people clearly before you can get closer. I think sometimes the two completely overlap. If you don't try more, you will never recognize others clearly." Cesar said calmly.

In order to express that he was not just talking, he held Cecilia's right hand holding the wine glass, bent down and kissed the tip of her index finger, stayed there for a while, and pretended to be nonchalant and raised his eyes to look at her.

The mercenary captain took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled, bringing with him the rich aroma of alcohol. However, since both of them were enveloped in the aroma of alcohol, it didn't matter. Ceshia's full chest rose and fell, and her heartbeat fluctuated. Of course, this was indeed a flirting game, just not very explicit. However, if there was a little bit of affection, it wouldn't be surprising to have some throbbing.

Strange.

"You're kissing the finger that just broke your nose," Cecilia said more calmly, but that was just as well, because her attitude had changed: she had seemed too nonchalant before.

"This feeling is very uncomfortable." Cesar pretended to be embarrassed.

"But it's quite novel. Just think of it as kissing it to express that I forgive this finger that hurt me. Of course, I still hate you for hitting me, teacher, but I only forgive this index finger that was forced to follow its master to hit people. It has nothing to do with you personally."

"Your mouth is still as irritating as ever."

"Well, can you forgive it alone?"

Cecia smiled gently at this, then pressed her index finger into his mouth, clasping it with her thumb. She tugged at his lip and pulled it upward, straining it until the skin was deformed. "No, but I can punish it separately." She put on a bright, sunny smile as she pulled his mouth away. "I'm not punishing you, apprentice, so don't complain about your lip. Do you understand?"

"I understand, teacher, you are right. I apologize to you on its behalf."

......

The last curfew bell rang, and everyone returned to their rooms except for the night miners who worked around the clock in the Goukeng Mine and some illegal workers.

The wind in the courtyard was biting. Cesar walked Cecia to the other side of the hotel building, then bundled up tightly and shivered as he walked back along the garden path. Among the bushes by the roadside stood a small white flower called the moonflower, known for its color changing under the moonlight, becoming a faint blue. He felt it strangely resonated with the Faceless Man staring blankly at the moon in the middle of the night, so he picked one and took it home.

Gouzi asked what the meaning was, and Cesar thought for a moment, saying it was a way people expressed their love. Gouzi then asked him what the point of expressing his love to her was, and he was stumped, unable to answer. Honestly, saying this to a being without a gender or human mind was absurd. To Phils, he might as well be expressing his love to a sea anemone that could mimic human speech. He pondered this for a long time, then placed the flower in Gouzi's hair, held her hand tightly, and said, "Don't ask questions, just feel it."

Cesar didn't know what he was doing, maybe he was just drunk.

After the dog continued to stare at the moon, he turned and walked away, intending to wash off the sweat on his body. As he walked around the screen, he saw the person huddled in the basin.

The dark circles under Phils' eyes seemed even darker, or perhaps her expression even darker. Strands of wet hair fell haphazardly on her shoulders and arms, floating on the surface of the water. Although they had both been out and about, he was covered in dust and turmoil, while she appeared spotless and radiant. Her deep blue eyes, like a siren in the lake, were unconcerned with the annoyance of others and other things. But when she saw Cesar enter, her expression suddenly changed, as if she had suddenly found a way to direct her hatred.

He raised an eyebrow, stopped in his tracks, and turned back, but she, perhaps using some kind of spell, leaped out and pounced on his back. He was already tired, his muscles sore, and she threw him forward, throwing him to the ground. She wanted to punch him, but hitting someone so tough felt like tickling, so she opened her mouth and bit his ear.

This time, it looked completely different from before. It was as if he was trying to bite his ear off. Cesar immediately grabbed Phils by the waist, lifted her up, and held her in front of him. As her legs kicked and thrashed, he spun her around, grabbed her by the scruff of the neck and her hips, and lifted her up. The woman cursed him loudly in a language he couldn't understand, kicking her legs in the air, but she couldn't hit anyone.

Finally, when Phils could no longer struggle, Cesar breathed a sigh of relief, put her back on the bed, and stared at her in silence.

"Well, I can explain first..."

Before he could organize his words, she said, "Turn around first."

Cesar turned around, suspecting Phils was about to kick him, but he suddenly heard the sound of running water from behind him. Was there really a basin of water next to the bed?

Chapter 45 A Little, But Not Much

"Uh...Fils?"

Cesar heard Phils muttering a spell, the sound gradually lengthening and then shortening, and he didn't know what she was doing. After waiting for a few breaths, he glanced to the right and saw a translucent ball of water floating past his ear, which made his eyebrows twitch.

It may not be accurate to call it a water ball, because it has a smell. It is not pungent, but it does have a smell.

He watched it drift through the air, shimmering in the moonlight, about the size of a fist. It drifted slowly, its form unsteady, as if an old man were carrying it shakily forward. When it finally reached the window, the cold wind blew, and it suddenly exploded with a snap, spilling directly into the garden.

"Isn't it morally wrong of you to throw your urine out like this?" Cesar asked her.