Chapter 1372: Chapter 91: Rebuilding the Nation ()_4

“You… you… what do you mean?” The lumber merchant was utterly shocked.

“Have you never lied? Have you never broken a promise? Have you never done something that shames your conscience? If you were to die here today, standing before the gates of paradise, do you really think you could pass the gatekeeper’s questioning?” The bard paused for a moment, then added with a gleeful smile: “If paradise truly exists, that is.”

The lumber merchant was so overwhelmed with sweat that he couldn’t answer.

“Well then, dear Mr. Mikhail.” The bard turned the lumber merchant’s head, forcing the latter to lift his head and follow his gaze around the tavern, pointing at Majiya and his son, the Blonde Swordsman, and old Dusaack: “What do you think of them? Are they good people?”

“Who dares claim that this father and son never entertained the idea of taking advantage of you?”

“Who dares claim that this blonde with a sword never thought of robbing you?”

“And who dares claim that old Dusaack—the Emperor’s whip—never considered outright killing you?”

The bard pointed at the noisy and vulgar patrons around the tavern, leaned close to the lumber merchant’s ear, and asked in a soul-piercing way: “Do you think there’s truly any good person here?”

“Think bigger, do you believe there are really any good people in the world?”

The lumber merchant’s mouth was dry, and he couldn’t say a single word.

“Don’t count on it, Mr. Mikhail.” The bard patted the lumber merchant’s chubby face with pity: “None of us are good people; this world simply has no good people. If there truly is a Hell, we’re already living in it.

“It’s not the ‘Blood Wolf’ you need to worry about, but these bad people living around you.

“It’s the ‘Blood Wolf’s’ offering—order—that prevents them from invading your home, violating your wife and daughter, enjoying your bread and wine, and sleeping in your large bed.

“If you think the ‘Blood Wolf’ isn’t a good person and therefore don’t want to support him, it only shows you haven’t seen true evil.

“And the only thing standing between you and ‘true evil’ is the ‘Blood Wolf’s’ protection.”

“As for whether the Blood Wolf is a good person.” The bard shrugged: “What does it have to do with you? As long as he provides you protection, isn’t that enough?”

By the time he said the last line, the bard’s smile had already turned three parts wicked: “Moreover, do you really think a competent ruler… can be a ‘good person’?”

The lumber merchant was drenched in sweat, his body trembling, and he ultimately bowed his head.

“Ah.” The bard kindly patted the lumber merchant’s shoulder: “Now that’s the way, it’s good to understand.”

Beside them, old Majiya, who had been silent from start to finish but listened from start to finish, stood up and solemnly asked: “May I ask your name?”

“Makiyavelli.” The bard took off his hat and proudly extended his hand: “You can call me ‘Marvey.'”

“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Marvey.” Old Majiya shook Marvey’s hand.

Marvey was flattered; it was the first time he received such courtesy.

He embarrassedly shook hands with old Majiya, then returned to his companions’ side, gulped down the remaining wine from his large glass, and still unsatisfied, licked the glass.

“Alright then.” Marvey contentedly burped: “Today’s wine is finished, today’s boast isn’t lacking either…”

Hearing this, the nearby Blonde Mercenary sighed, also cleaned his glass of wine, and then walked to the staggering old Dusaack, supporting him.

“…it’s time for a grand tavern brawl to conclude today’s performance!” Marvey announced enthusiastically, feigning sadness: “Oh, I wasn’t planning to do this today, but—who made the tavern owner think of dodging my performance fee?”

As soon as he finished speaking, without waiting for others to react, Marvey grabbed his wine glass and jumped onto the table.

He took a deep breath and shouted loudly enough to shatter windows: “Brothers! The country bumpkins from the outer county are beating us Maplestone City folks!”

After that shout, Marvey forcefully threw the glass toward the corner of the side hall where a glass had just flown from.

A scream and curse were heard from the corner.

A vast tavern brawl was immediately ignited.

The already drunken patrons were like bundles of dry grass, with just one ember falling in, instantly consuming the tavern in a great fire.

Tables were overturned, stools were tossed, a fist landed here, a big foot landed there.

You hit me, I hit you, who hit me, whom did I hit?

Nobody knows.

The already drunken patrons were like bundles of dry grass, with just one ember falling in, instantly consuming the tavern in a great fire.

The tavern owner’s wife came running from the other side of the side hall; seeing the chaotic scene, she screamed loudly in panic, but besides screaming, she couldn’t do anything else.

The clever kitchen staff had already blocked the door leading to the main hall, ensuring “the flames of war” wouldn’t reach them.

Marvey laughed heartily, using his lute to knock out a drunkard charging at him, then eagerly rushed toward another who had heckled him the loudest earlier.

Siegfried, meanwhile, protected old Dusaack, supporting the latter as they headed for the door.

…

When Gerard woke up, he was already in his bed at home.

He opened his eyes to see his wife in front of him.

“You’re awake.” Eileen asked with concern: “Is there any discomfort?”

“No…” Gerard was somewhat bewildered, trying to prop himself up, but felt a dull ache in his back: “Just a bit on the back…”

“Our son is already married, yet you’re still behaving as recklessly as when you were young?” Eileen’s words were reproachful, but a smile played on her lips: “I’ll fetch some water for you.”

With that, Eileen left the bedroom.

Gerard didn’t know what his wife was talking about until he looked outside the window—the sky was completely dark now.

It was only then Mr. Old Mitchell realized he was at the tavern just a moment ago!

Eileen returned to the room with a cup of water.

“I… I…” Gerard slapped his forehead, urgently asking his wife: “How did I get back?”

“Two young men brought you back…”

“One had blond hair, and the other wore a hat.” Gerard interrupted his wife’s words: “Isn’t that right?”

Eileen nodded her head, putting down the water cup and sitting beside her husband, patiently asking: “What’s wrong?”

Gerard calmed himself, asking his wife: “Where are those two young men?”

“They left after escorting you to the gate.” Eileen asked with confusion: “What’s wrong?”

Gerard let out a long sigh of regret, weary as he collapsed back onto the bed.

…

Meanwhile, Winters Montagne’s residence was also brightly lit.

Because of the visit from a crucial figure.

No, not a visitor.

But a relationship far closer than that identity.

A classmate, comrade-in-arms, intimate friend, fellow comrade…

“You finally came.” Winters said joyfully: “Now that you’re here, we can begin.”

“Indeed.” Baldwin smiled warmly.