The snow kept getting heavier.
The veteran tightened his cloak, leading the representative from the canning factory in the south of the city into the manor.
The children had already been sent back to the house, the manor’s security team confird the identity of the veteran, and checked the representative, before they finally opened the passage.
"At noon today, our people noticed that those who caused the conflict were not our people," the veteran turned to look at the representatives, "just now, the representatives from the armory and the foundry also confird that those people were not their people."
"Definitely not our people; those folks were all speaking with accents from the Central Provincial Empire, and we Northerners can’t stand with them," said the representative born in the North as a refugee.
The Central Administrative Province he spoke of was a matter from the previous epoch, and now, that place is the center of the Western Human World, the Holy Kingdom...of course, it can no longer be called holy, their gods are all dead.
"I’m very curious how they got in; there must be soone from our side... a traitor," cursed another local representative.
The veteran remained silent as he pushed open the doors of the central eting hall of the manor.
"Everyone has already arrived," said the veteran, stepping aside to let the representatives into the hall. After they entered, he took off his cloak and closed the door, "Soone wants to stir up trouble between us and Mr. Malin, to make us fight against the town hall."
"We need to find those people. I’ve already sent the more sensible kids to search the streets," said the manager of the slaughterhouse. He looked around at all those present, "We all owe Mr. Malin a great deal. Without him, I wouldn’t be sitting here, my children would go hungry, and my wife might have run off with soone else long ago. So, we must find those guys."
"Then what do we do?" asked the young apprentice, representing the accounting house, looking at everyone, "You all are mortals; if those guys co prepared, they definitely won’t be gentlen, can you really defeat them?"
"I have experience fighting against Chaos in the North, and I have trained three squads in our security team using military thods, all with the latest rapid-fire guns, explosives, and spell scrolls," the veteran said, looking at his colleague in the corner, "Jacob, what about you?"
"I have seventeen n, nearly the sa equipnt as you. In my youth, I hunted a Chaos Sorcerer with my teammates and have experience dealing with Transcendents. We have rapid-fire guns, explosives, and distance is our key to defeating them," said the one-eyed man.
This one-eyed man was a lieutenant in the Northern Kingdom, and after retiring, he returned to his holand to farm. But due to the Year of Great Famine, he had to move south along with everyone else.
After he finished speaking, he looked at the elf leaning against the wall, "Long-ears, how many people do you have?"
"I brought three apprentices, and my life is owed to Lord Malin," said the one with the iron mask, whose voice did not sound like that of an elf, but whose stature was unmistakeable, "as long as you have the courage, I don’t mind having so extra hands in hunting down those bastards."
"You only have four people, four rifles, and here I have hundreds of gunners," boasted the forr gang leader of the quick shooters in the Western District, now the head of the security team, curling his lips, "The issue now is not whether we have the power but that we must find those bastards as fast as possible, and then wipe them out. We didn’t want to start the conflict at noon, but now all the big rchants of the trade guilds and their dogs are pinning everything on us. We need to do sothing."
"What can we do?" The dwarven craftsman representative seed eager to try, "Shall we just burn down those rotten newspaper offices tonight? But then again, your human intrigues make us dwarves sick to our stomachs."
"Not many here aren’t human, could you think a bit before you speak, you idiot?" One of his companions slapped him on the back, then looked at the veteran, who was rolling his eyes, "Old soldier, you’ve been with Mr. Malin for a long ti, and he trusts you. Tell us, what should we do?"
"Yes, what can we do?" asked the half-human representative, while looking at the veteran and ’polishing’ his nails with the dagger in his hand.
"In my hotown, biting dogs are hanged. I know Mr. Malin’s bottom line, which is no bloodshed, but today that line was crossed at noon. Our kids who have studied at the Church say this must be soone making chestnuts out of fire, the ones who sparked the conflict want to see blood flow like a river... we’ll oblige them. The Light of Carterburg newspaper in the Eastern District says they want to drive out all non-Carterburgers, claiming that these vampires are stealing jobs from the locals. But in our eyes, only the lazy and the parasites don’t deserve jobs. Everyone who works for Mr. Malin is soone striving to survive. We don’t discriminate, regardless of where you’re from, skin color, united beside Mr. Malin... So, Barry, can your n have the owner of that newspaper accidentally fall into the sea while drunk?"
"Sure thing, but are we really going to do this?" raised his eyebrows the head of the security team.
"Will it work, or not?" the veteran looked at him.
"I’ll take care of it personally," the man nodded emphatically, "He’s definitely going to die in the cold sea."
"I didn’t tell you to kill him," the veteran shook his head.
This puzzled the captain, "In this weather, you’ll definitely die if you fall into the sea."
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