Bear School Astartes

Nanik has been in charge of this renowned Meretelli Temple for a long time, whether it’s a hundred years or several centuries, no one can say for sure.

She’s seen too many things in this temple.

Just as she herself claims.

Therefore, she handles these matters with ease.

With just a few words, she subdued the originally restless men and women.

Although the two sides still occasionally glance at each other during breaks in their meal, their gazes are at least not as brazen as they initially were.

However, the most noticeable presence in the entire great hall isn’t those strong yet rude mercenaries, or the frail ones seeking help at the Meretelli Temple.

Ten Ember Knights, having shed their armor and dressed in simple attire, are calmly seated at the table’s edge.

Their uniforms are uniform, and elf-style long blades are neatly hanging at their waists.

Apart from the differences in appearance and physique, their movements are almost like they were cast from the same mold.

Due to the rampant activities of the Squirrel Faction, people often reveal disgust when they see these elf-style long blades.

Their expressions are not very friendly even when looking at the Ember Knights.

However, there’s still no one daring to act recklessly within the Meretelli Temple.

At the noisy entrance of the great hall, a hooded figure strides in.

Initially, no one paid much attention to this figure, although he was extraordinarily tall.

However, many have seen the recently famous magic cloak outside.

The magic that conceals one’s form is something many still like and need.

People here just assume it’s another person who bought a magic cloak, nothing to really notice.

Until the figure, without slowing his pace, goes into the midst of the already eye-catching Ember Knights and sits in a seat long reserved.

"You all should just eat, I’ve never seen you this well-behaved before."

Lann laughed reproachfully.

And not until he sat down did Lincoln and the other Ember Knights finally begin to move.

"The past is the past." The young secretary explained while picking up a spoon, "In war and on the road, there’s not much formality; getting a full stomach and doing the job is most important, but here, it’s at least an open cafeteria."

Lann smiled without speaking, simply taking off the steel-plated leather gloves on his hands and temporarily placing them within the straps of his armor.

Then he picked up the hard-crusted bread on the table and tore it open, placing it into a wooden bowl filled with purple-red thick soup due to the inclusion of beets.

As he pressed down the floating bread pieces with a spoon, Lann quickly glanced at the people who, due to his presence, were looking over.

"There are thirteen people dressed as mercenaries or warriors in the temple, I counted earlier."

Lincoln also stirred the beet soup, the pure white sour cream gradually mixing into the purple-red thick soup, speaking softly without looking up, appearing exceedingly reliable.

"Among them, the female warrior is the most popular and seemingly the most capable."

Turning his head to look aside, Lann saw Sachia fiddling idly with her spoon at the dining table.

She was also looking in this direction, but upon Lann turning her way, she immediately lowered her head as if avoiding.

There were quite a few men sitting around her.

"She has her own ideas and some secrets, but shouldn’t be important in this matter." Lann calmly said softly, "I talked to her before, her name is Sachia."

The seated Ember Knights ate silently and efficiently while listening to the information, showing no sign of reaction as if they heard nothing.

Lincoln nodded; if Lann said it wasn’t important, he assumed it wasn’t.

"But there are still too many people here." Lincoln scooped a spoonful of beet soup into his mouth, speaking slightly unclearly, "I thought this matter should be kept secret. Otherwise, it might cause widespread panic."

"After all, it relates to the Ponta River Valley."

Lann gently shook his head.

"Veltrest and Demavi definitely want to keep it under wraps, at least for a while. Unfortunately..."

"Unfortunately, they can’t keep it hidden. Don’t assume everyone has the same qualities as an Ember Knight, Lincoln."

Lann then shared with the Ember Knights the information he had received from Nanik.

Lincoln and the other Ember Knights finally seemed to have a realization.

My vassal’s vassal is not my vassal.

This is the foundation and essence of the Western feudal system.

Veltrest and Demavi are kings in their own countries, but even a king, how much control can they have over the lower-level executors?

Seward wants to use cheap mercenaries as cannon fodder, thus he released messages to recruit on a small scale.

Even if Veltrest knows about this, what can he say? Could he possibly convict Seward?

Otherwise, not to mention the Ponta River Valley, even the Elrand Duchy would be in an uproar.

Originally, with their backgrounds, Lincoln and the others should have a clear understanding of such a lack of control.

But they’ve been deeply influenced and tempered within the Ember Knights, being part of such an efficient and determined system for so long that Lincoln kind of forgot.

Outside of the Embers Knight Order, how is the control and organization level of other countries?

"I’m all set," Lincoln said straightforwardly, "When are we leaving?"

"Tomorrow. Tonight, check your equipment again and replenish supplies. Once we leave the outskirts of Elrand City, it’s basically wild terrain along the way."

Lann placed the soup-soaked bread in his mouth along with the vegetables, chewing slowly but steadily.

The unique flavor of the beets and the sweet and sour seasoning mixed with the texture of the boiled meat and vegetables all burst together.

Indeed, the plants grown in the Meretelli Temple seem to have excellent quality.

This definitely can’t be explained by ’attentive care and suitable soil’ alone.

The Demon Hunter glanced up at Nanik, who was eating dinner unhurriedly among the many priests and priest apprentices.

The kindly plump grandma seemed oblivious, adding another spoonful of sour cream to her soup.

"The mercenaries in the temple now should be the last batch. I heard when I passed by earlier that they were told to head over by tomorrow."

Lann concluded.

"Once they arrive, Seward should be heading straight into the depths of the Ponta River Valley once he feels he has enough manpower."

Lincoln nodded, but then subtly expressed a low-pitched comment.

"Ah, the Demon Hunter’s senses are truly remarkable. Conversations thought to be private by others can’t be concealed with such hearing."

Lann was well aware of what his subordinates were thinking, so he cast a sidelong glance at Lincoln.

"We’ve already discussed the matter of improving the mutation process, don’t try to blindside me now."

Lincoln’s expression remained unchanged, only a slight lift of the corners of his mouth and a shrug. The Ember Knights continued eating their meals in an orderly manner.

"As you say, sir."

-----------------

Within the Meretelli Temple, the rooms provided for outside visitors are not luxurious, not even Nanik’s room is luxuriant.

This seems mainly because of the intention to help more people.

The rooms here are mostly cramped.

However, fortunately, although the Ember Knights highly respect Lann, the relationship among them is not that of a feudal knight and lord.

They had been living and fighting together for a long time on the last battlefield, so they are well accustomed to each other.

Just to avoid drawing too much attention, Lann released Qilin, allowing it to play around the temple area throughout the night.

Rong Buqiu, on the other hand, stayed inside, organizing his spatial expansion pack in the room arranged by the temple.

The next day at dawn, Lann already heard a series of horse hooves striking the ground outside the main gate of the Meretelli Temple beyond the canopy path.

It was Seward’s team arriving to pick people up.

Early in the morning, the once tranquil temple began bustling.

People being called out, things being moved, horses being allocated...

On every matter, disputes broke out, followed by arguments, reconciliations, and continuing work.

The loudest and seemingly highest in authority was a knight on horseback.

He appeared to be the main executor responsible for taking away the mercenaries and warriors this time.

"You have ten minutes left!"

His armor was resplendent and ornate, with a bright peacock tail feather inserted in his helmet, commanding with a whip in hand.

"In ten minutes, we’ll depart immediately! Anyone not mounted can get lost! Prince Seward wants warriors who can respond promptly, not a bunch of slackers struggling to prepare and mount!"

"Prince Seward’s team is waiting northeast of Elrand, and they’re getting impatient. If you delay further, you won’t even get there in time to eat crap, let alone collect the commission or earn a reputation!"

The dogs reared outside the temple barked loudly due to the knight’s shouting and the morning commotion.

A soldier holding a line of horses shook his fists at it to quiet it down.

Typically, using a carriage to transport people is most economical, but it’s clear that Seward is in a hurry and wants this group to catch up with the main force quickly.

So, so many horses were brought out.

Though not warhorses, it was still quite an expenditure.

"Alright, stay away from my dog; it’s far more devout to Meretelli than you are, kid."

The clamor at the temple gate eventually woke up Mother Nanik.

As soon as she stepped over and spoke, the soldier who earlier scared the guard dog immediately stood at attention, and the dog growled at him without even blinking.

The knight who had been so haughty hurriedly dismounted, holding his helmet, trotted over to Nanik, and respectfully saluted.

"Knight Samarish." After he finished saluting, Nanik shook her head and asked, "How old are you now? Still so frantic in the temple? When your mother gave birth to you here, she wasn’t as jumpy as you are now."

The knight awkwardly chuckled, but the plump lady tying a knot in her headscarf continued speaking non-stop.

"And don’t mimic those White Rose Knights, flattering Seward by calling him a prince. You’re a local knight, not one of those without roots. How would people in Vizima talk if this gets out?"