Bear School Astartes

The special ration, when boiled with water, has the flavor of barley porridge. Lann painstakingly concocted this flavor, considering the taste to be somewhat acceptable.

However, according to the Qilin’s taste, gnawing on the dry ration without boiling it feels like eating a small biscuit, providing more chewiness.

Under the roasting flames, the moisture in the firewood that hasn’t dried yet crackles with a ’pop’ sound, not noisy but offering a sense of comforting tranquility.

The Ember Knights seemed to have returned to their former glory days, living together with their leader, Lann.

Lann leaned back against the Qilin’s side, quietly watching the campfire flicker and dance before him.

After filling itself, Rong Buqiu eagerly began pulling out beddings from its small leather bag, hopping around to set up beside the Qilin’s head.

It has been continually using the space expansion bag during this time, finding the equipment utilizing space magic novel and amusing. It never tires of it.

In this quiet and peaceful atmosphere, Lann suddenly spoke up.

"Regarding the Squirrel Faction, which has been causing more trouble in recent months..."

The moment Lann spoke, all the Ember Knights immediately snapped out of their relaxed demeanor and turned their attention to him.

Lann himself, however, remained undisturbed.

"Lincoln, tell me what you think. And also..."

"What does the Knight Order think?"

The dry wood in the campfire continued to crackle with ’pop’ sounds, but the atmosphere was no longer comfortably tranquil.

The Qilin tilted its head, looking in the direction of the campfire.

Only then did Rong Buqiu clumsily put down the task in its little paws, raising its head to look around blankly.

"Meow?"

The soft call broke the silence.

"Our thoughts depend on yours, my lord," Lincoln said calmly, rubbing his freshly shaved face, which stung a little.

"But I’m asking for your thoughts, so just speak them."

Lann remained unmoved by Lincoln’s statement, still insisting.

"Well... alright." Lincoln frowned before reluctantly speaking.

"Without a doubt, the Squirrel Faction must have been funded and instigated by the Niflgaard Empire to achieve its current prominence."

"Otherwise, the timing is too coincidental. The treatment of non-human species hasn’t deteriorated just in recent years, yet before the North-South war, things hadn’t escalated to this extent."

"Even if they saw hope for rebellion from the human civil war, such an overwhelming emergence of courageous and ruthless non-human species shouldn’t have happened all at once."

"Therefore, regarding their relationship with the Niflgaard Empire, we consider them enemies."

"In other words," Lann calmly summarized Lincoln’s statements, "they aim for total annihilation."

The Sintra People’s hatred towards Niflgaard makes it natural for them to want to eradicate Niflgaard and its affiliated forces.

This is what Lann meant earlier by saying, ’This isn’t a problem that can be solved with force alone.’

Even though the Ember Knights under his command are loyal, they too have their own thoughts.

And even the Ember Knights, who have been heavily influenced by Lann, think this way, let alone other people’s views on the Squirrel Faction.

"Yes, my lord. This is our collective thought."

Lincoln confirmed Lann’s summary.

For some reason, even though Lann showed no sign of emotional expression, Lincoln felt... disappointed.

But then, Lincoln ignored this feeling, looking past the flickering campfire, and seriously at his commanding officer, making a supplement.

"But my lord, our judgment is purely based on the stance of friend vs. foe."

"Hmm?"

For the first time, Lann’s cat-like eyes, slightly glowing in the dim light, shifted from the campfire to Lincoln, and his gaze intensified.

Lincoln, younger than Lann by four or five years, at only seventeen or eighteen now, looked serenely at those cat eyes.

"You said... the stance of friend vs. foe?"

"Yes, our judgment is based on the stance of friend vs. foe," Lincoln stated without reservation. "Not related to species."

"On Sodden Mountain, we met the Dwarf Legion fighting against the Niflgaard people. They were brave and fearless, never retreating. Fighting alongside them made us feel secure and comfortable."

"So it’s not about species, my lord. At least on Sodden Mountain, the dwarves we encountered were decent."

Lann tilted his head, becoming intrigued.

"You seem to know... what’s the point you want to make?"

"I can guess, my lord." The young face of Lincoln showed some amusement. "The most notable characteristic of the Squirrel Faction is that it’s made up entirely of non-human races, followed by their torture and cruel methods, isn’t that right?"

"It seems you are indeed as smart and full of potential as I thought, Lincoln." Lann smiled at him with appreciation. "But why?"

"...What do you mean?"

Facing the slightly bewildered Lincoln, Lann crossed his arms and leaned against the Qilin.

"Let me put it clearly: I remember Sintra is not known for its tolerance towards non-human races, whereas Temeria has a comparatively better reputation in this regard. But that’s only relatively better."

"So why do you, and your people, not care about race?"

The young Lincoln opened his mouth and frowned. Lann kept watching his reaction.

Yet, Lincoln eventually spoke up.

"Because of you, and Hacksaw Chief, my lord."

Familiar names, feelings from memories surged up in Lann’s heart for a moment.

"Hacksaw." He softly repeated the name.

"Two years ago in that war, most of us were young aristocrats trapped in Sintra Castle."

Lincoln seemed not to notice Lann’s reminiscing expression, as if discussing another unrelated topic.

Meanwhile, the other Ember Knights also fell into a nostalgic, reminiscent look.

"At that time, the noble parents of Sintra made their children drink poison that would peacefully lead them to death, while they themselves committed suicide with short swords. Our parents were not in the castle, and people thought they had no right to take our lives."

"Thus, we, utterly at a loss, fled with Hacksaw Chief and joined Stuart’s knight formation along the way, following his orders."

"Along the way, we foolishly saved many people and witnessed the deaths of many others. Ultimately, we witnessed sacrifice and completed self-sacrifice."

The young face that had just been shaved looked seriously at Lann.

"My lord, to speak the truth, although those knights in the order who were born commoners, ordinary soldiers, are now as close as brothers to us, like Henrywell."

Lincoln extended his hand to the side, while the Ember Knight who had led Lann into High Hill Castle also sat on his blanket, looking at Lann and Lincoln openly.

"But two years ago, before we endured the trials and tribulations of war, my lord... Do you think, in the eyes of us, the noble descendants, was there truly a significant difference between common humans and non-human races?"

Lincoln recounted calmly, even coldly.

"No, my lord. Before we became today’s glorious Ember Knights, in the eyes of the nobility, common humans, and non-human races were just the same kind of ’property.’

"It’s just that due to individual thinking differences, some noble lords would be particularly prejudiced against non-human races. Some would treat all equally. The latter would earn a reputation like that of today’s King Veltrest."

"Those who agreed with him would say he was tolerant and kind. Those who opposed him would say he lacked human glory, bewitched by non-human races, and completely untrustworthy."

"Yet, those inherently brutal noble lords, when dealing with the farmers within their territories, would they stop and show mercy just because they were human?"

The young face of Lincoln shook silently in the flickering shadows of the firelight.

Expecting no response from Lann, he provided his own answer.

"No such thing exists, my lord."

"Hanging a disliked farmer makes no difference whether that farmer is human, elf, or half-elf."

"So at the beginning, in the eyes of us nobles, commoners were just commoners, whether they were elves, half-elves, or humans. At most, they’d curse non-humans a few more times."

Lincoln laughed self-deprecatingly: "Isn’t this a kind of ’impartial treatment’?"

But after the self-deprecating smile, in the young eyes reflecting the firelight, a look of reminiscence and... admiration appeared.

His eyes overlooked the campfire, looking towards the lord who sat calmly, yet that gaze seemed to go beyond Lann.

"But disaster and chaos bring challenges and change, my lord. Hardship is not worthy of praise, but the spiritual growth and broadening of understanding it brings are concrete."

"When Hacksaw Chief led us away from the fallen Sintra City... he did his utmost to save anyone he saw within his abilities."

"When we joined forces with the remnants led by Stuart, he did the same as his father."

"I believe back then, regardless of whether there were non-human races in that tiny, insignificant refugee group, they would make the same choices as those that had already occurred."

"In his last letter to you, Hacksaw Chief said that in the peaceful, prosperous days of the past, he seemed to never care much about those insignificant commoners, but after these difficult days, he realized that we are actually the same people."

"He gave a sincere reflection on this towards the end of his life, and so did we, my lord."

"From that day on, we clearly understood and remembered one fact..." Lincoln’s eyes met the slightly gleaming cat eyes without dodging; the reflection of the firelight blossomed in his eyes like the process of forging steel.

"We are all the same life, my lord."

"Whether non-human race or human, we don’t care about that; we care about... fairness and morality! Just like you."

"Would you have ever thought, after reading that letter and leaving, whether there were non-human races among that insignificant refugee group?"