Yunzhou.

Standing on the walls of Yunzhou, Mo Si clearly saw the filthy shantytown huddled between the causeways. Fires so small as if they were about to be extinguished rose in tents and huts, and scrawny pigs and goats shivered in crumbling enclosures made of branches and thatch.

Sometimes, a white light flashes from the dirty place, the robes worn by the priestesses of the Temple of the Goddess of Life when they inspect the sick. Weeks passed, and the priestess was seen less and less. Moth tried to tell himself that it was because they were so busy in the barn-like infirmary. He was reluctant to admit that it was because they were being conquered by the plague they were trying to stop.

Every day miserable caravans of poor people trudge through the snow. Most people accepted the arrangement of fate and only added to their own misery in the squalor of the shantytown. However, there are some people who have made the long journey to the causeway. The letters requesting access to the city were returned outside the fortress, and Yunzhou was warned to be closed to all outsiders. Some refused to accept the disillusionment of all their hopes, and they desperately ran through the fortress and frantically stormed the city gates.

Moth always turned away before the crazy fools were killed by the archers. A family of lepers living in a cave at the foot of the mountain would then come to clean up the bodies.

What made him sick was that he could see what was going on below, so close to him, but he couldn't do anything. His father forbade him to intervene even the slightest, telling his son that the best thing to do now was to imagine the refugees as a bunch of dead people. He had to be hard-hearted towards them. This is the only way to ensure the safety of all the people of Yunzhou.

But Moth refused to succumb to this cold pragmatism. His own father may have an obligation to the people of Yunzhou, but he has another, greater obligation to his fellow citizens. Ignoring these people makes him small and makes him less like a human being in his own eyes. He had always been close to his father, but now Mo Si almost didn't recognize the man who sat on the throne and wore the white wolf crown.

A vague movement on the edge of the shantytown caught Moth's horrified attention. He saw a group of black, furry things jump down from the tree and rush straight towards a group of children who were playing. Before the adults could react, several children were grabbed by their furry paws and taken to the forest. Moth sobbed and prayed to Nagam, asking those who could stop the brutality of the beasts to arrive in time.

For a moment, his prayers seemed answered. When a burly refugee grabbed a goat-headed monster and knocked it to the ground, Moth cheered as if he were victorious. The screaming girl was rescued from the stunned monster. Before the beast could stand up, the enraged man stepped over it and grabbed it by the horns. With a savage twist, he broke the beast's neck.

But the victory was short-lived. Another orc lunged at the heroic refugee, while a ragged half-human, half-human man circled and grabbed the fleeing child. The hero clenched his hands into fists and refused to run away in front of the goat-headed monster. The shrill roar of the beast reached the mountains. The orcs wielded stone axes and hacked the refugees to the ground.

Moth forced himself to see the tragic end, watching the beasts retreat back into the forest with a shout of joy, dragging the dead into the darkness with them. None of the refugees pursued them, and they stopped at a great distance from the trees, waving their fists weakly.

Over the past few weeks, such scenes have played out again and again. At first, these orcs were easily frightened, and only when their prey was alone and darkness obscured their movements, they would rush out of the trees. However, each success emboldened them, and their raids on shanty towns became more frequent.

Realizing that the refugees were too weak to defend themselves, it was only natural that the beasts would use this place as their private hunting ground. Every hour they rush out to grab some children or drag sick old women out of bed. The horrific effort to appease monsters with the corpses of dead people only increases their desire for human flesh.

"Do you expect these filthy things to die of the plague?" Moth roared loudly.

"They're not going to go extinct anytime soon, they're not going to do those people any good." Avasitz, the leader of the White Wolf Guard, said expressionlessly. Like Moth, the knight often patrolled the battlements, staring alone at the pile of shacks at the foot of the mountain. "A beast's belly is the hardest thing in the world," he added, twisting his face in disgust.

Moth clenched his fist in his palm. "If we could give them weapons......"

"Your Highness, with all due respect, it won't do them any good." Noah said. "Even if most of them knew how to use swords or hammers, they were too weak to use them against those beasts." He nodded sadly. "The people below already know their end, and they're just waiting for that end to come." The Grandmaster's gaze turned to the long forest. The fir trees are covered with snow, and icicles drip from the branches. It's hard to imagine that there is such evil hidden beneath this beauty.

"The brutes won't wait long." Noah said. "Those brutes don't know what patience is. They only understand their own strengths and the weaknesses of their enemies. Once they realize that the old guardrails of the shantytown can't stop them, and that we can't help them, they will split everything in half like the second coming of Nagam's Blood Axe. ”

The thought of such a massacre sent chills down Morse's heart. "We can't let that happen." He stared into Noah's eyes. "You know, we can't let that happen."

The Grandmaster scratched his beard. "These monsters are the scum of their tribe, a bunch of cowardly rubbish who are not accepted by the herd. Any real show of force would be enough to crush them. Just lure them out of the forest, and fifty good men on the battlefield will be enough to send them back into the valley. ”

"Then you'll find me fifty good players." Mo Si looked at Noah with a serious face and said. The knight's cheeks flushed instantly, as he understood what he had just said and what Moth understood of what he had said.

"Your Highness, I was just talking to myself." He pointed to the causeway below, "The lepers there are cleaning up the bodies, and no one who goes out can come back, and we can't let that damn plague get inside the walls." ”

"I just need some ordinary soldiers." Moth said. "Some soldiers who understand the risks." He pointed to the fort on the causeway to the east. "Once the beast is repulsed, people can take refuge in that fortress. There is enough food and drink there for the winter, and it is not dangerous for them to stay there. Defenders can stay on the top floors of the tower and avoid any contact with the people who are rescuing the camp. ”

Noah nodded helplessly. "I'll call for you. They can indeed live there, and their cattle can be kept in stables. A sly smile appeared on the Grandmaster's face. If we're careful, we should be able to keep your father from finding out. ”

Moth gripped the old knight's arm tightly. "You and I both know that it's only right to do it," he told him.

The Grandmaster smiled. "I know, Your Highness. And I also know that sometimes, the measure of a person is not his wisdom, but his courage. ”

Hearing these words, Mo Si sighed. This is the exact opposite of his father's philosophy. For him, calm rationality is the only thing that governs the behavior of a leader.

Moth only wished he could show his father how wrong he was.