On the training field, veterans who had just returned from the battlefield were using wooden sticks to teach new recruits how to form ranks and obey orders.
Cumberland stood at the entrance to the playground, arms crossed, his face full of worry.
“Even the little girls in our village who have just learned to walk can beat these men,” Brunhilde said, shaking her head as she chewed on a slightly blackened biscuit.
Cumberland glanced at the bag of snacks in her hand, frowned, and said, "Still eating Old Camp's handmade cookies? It's been about two weeks, hasn't it?"
Brunhilde stuck out her tongue and licked the cookie crumbs off her fingers, then tied the snack bag shut: "Twilight City is so big, but I can't find such delicious sweets anywhere else."
Cumberland recalled the figure disappearing into the fire, sighed almost imperceptibly, and changed the subject: "What are your opinions on the training of these new recruits?"
“Opinions?” Brunhilde heard the cries and pleas for mercy from the new recruits. She spat and said, “These recruits from the refugee camp are thin and weak. They can’t even hold their weapons properly. How can they go to the battlefield? According to the North Island’s practice, I will throw them all into the battlefield. Those who survive will be incorporated into the army, and those who die will contribute nutrients to the land.”
Cumberland turned back to the training ground and said in a deep voice, "Physical weakness is not terrible; a lack of faith is the root of all uselessness. The Knights of Twilight fight for the kingdom and freedom, while these people in front of you have joined the army just to make a living."
Cumberland turned and walked out of the training field.
Aren't you going to watch it anymore?
"There's no need to watch any longer. My immediate priority is to talk to someone about this."
Walking through the bustling crowd, Cumberland glanced at the teeming street and sighed inwardly. The war had only ended half a month ago, yet the city had returned to its former prosperity, as if nothing had ever happened.
The patrolling soldiers recognized the commander of the Twilight Knights and bowed in salute. Cumberland nodded and quickened his pace.
As Cumberland approached the door of a small building, a middle-aged woman carrying a bag rushed out and bumped into the old knight.
Upon seeing who was outside the door, the woman immediately cried out, "Sir! I can't do this job anymore! Even if you offer me a higher salary, I won't do it!"
Cumberland, enduring the other person's loud voice, finally asked, "What's wrong?"
"You'll see for yourself when you go inside!" The middle-aged woman tightened the straps of her bag and left the doorway without looking back.
Cumberland watched the other person leave, then turned and pushed open the door.
The stench of alcohol, mold, and vomit hit him, and Cumberland instinctively took a step back, steadied himself, and then went inside.
In broad daylight, all the windows in the room were tightly shut, and the thick curtains were deliberately secured with wooden clips. Cumberland stumbled through the dim light, kicking over countless empty wine bottles on the floor, until he reached the innermost bedroom.
"Old tortoise, what have you done now? This is the fifth servant you've driven away!"
Upon hearing Cumberland's reprimand, Count Emerson, sitting on the floor in the corner with a half-full bottle of red wine in his arms, his face gaunt and his eyes dark, waved his hand, signaling the other man to leave him alone.
Cumberland was furious when he saw his old friend covered in filth. He grabbed the bottom of the curtain with both hands and yanked it hard, pulling the entire curtain to the ground.
The blinding sunlight streamed into the room. Emerson threw down the bottle, shielded his eyes with his arms, and roared in dissatisfaction.
Cumberland crouched down, grabbed the other man by the collar, and said fiercely, "I rescued you hoping you would pull yourself together, not so you would spend your days drinking and slowly commit suicide!"
The unshaven Emerson looked into the old knight's eyes and said coldly, "Back then, no one came to you for help. It was all your own doing, you bastard..."
Cumberland's eyes widened as he grabbed Emerson by the collar, ignoring the man's protests and struggles, and dragged him along the floor into the back storage room.
Cumberland lifted the lid of the water bucket, scooped up some water with a wooden basin, and poured it all over Emerson's head.
The water was icy cold, and with his thin clothes, Emerson, who was nearly fifty, started chattering before he could even begin to curse.
Cumberland smashed the wooden basin in his hand to pieces with a punch, then squatted down again and roared at Emerson, "I saved you because you have value! If you really intend to give up on yourself, why don't you mount your horse and head south to the forest? The wolves there can help you get out of this situation much faster!"
Emerson looked at the enraged old knight and laughed: "I know what you want me to do. But have you ever thought that all kingdoms are the same, rising today and falling tomorrow, and in the end, they won't even leave a trace in the long river of history?"
Cumberland found a clean piece of linen in the storeroom and tossed it to Emerson: "I told you a long time ago that the Kingdom of Muxi is different. There are no hypocritical nobles here, and no racial discrimination. Everything here is well-organized and full of life."
"No, you're quite wrong. The Kingdom of Twilight is nowhere near as good as the Kingdom of Silver Ring." Emerson haphazardly wiped his hair with a burlap sack. "Tell me, what's most important to a kingdom?"
Cumberland glanced at Emerson: "The army?"
"Bullshit! Ever since we met, all you've ever done is talk of war! If a kingdom survives on war, it'll be doomed sooner or later! Economy, religion, people's livelihood, diplomacy, military—these are the most important elements for a kingdom to develop..."
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