A noble named Abel, leading ten fully armed knights, "escorted" Gunnhildr and her three attendants away from the temple.
Parsifal and the other two knights had sharp gazes, their muscles remaining perpetually tensed.
They knew full well this was no friendly tour, but a form of house arrest. The other party intended to use them as hostages to force the refugee group into submission. Their eyes met from time to time before quickly darting away, tacitly maintaining their vigilance while carefully observing Gunnhildr's subtle reactions and hints.
They firmly believed that their young leader would never simply wait for her doom. Although Gunnhildr maintained an expression of awe and admiration throughout the journey, it was undoubtedly a carefully crafted facade.
The noble Abel clearly enjoyed the process of displaying his "strength." He puffed out his chest and walked ahead, his every step and word oozing with obvious pride.
"Look over there," he said, pointing to a low-lying area enclosed by a stone wall, relatively sheltered from the wind. "Those are our granaries and storehouses. After years of accumulation, the dried rations and cured meat inside are enough for our entire clan of several thousand to safely survive any harsh winter."
Gunnhildr followed his gesture. The stone wall was built quite sturdily, but its scale wasn't particularly grand. There were numerous guards at the gate, a clear sign of the extreme importance they placed on their supplies.
They passed through a residential area. The houses here were mostly built with stone foundations and wooden structures on top, their roofs covered with thick thatch and waterproofed animal hides. They were much more orderly and solid than the simple wooden huts the refugees had once lived in.
The streets were reasonably clean. The people's clothes were mostly old and patched, their faces bearing the weathered marks of long-term labor.
"We possess the most fertile land in this region," Abel continued to boast, pointing to distant furrows covered with insulating straw. "Combined with our hunting and fishing yields, we are more than self-sufficient."
Gunnhildr noted that the so-called "fertile" land was actually quite small in area; acquiring food here was still a considerable challenge.
Next were the workshops. The clanging of hammers echoed from the blacksmith's forge, where artisans were repairing weapons and farm tools. The furnace fire illuminated their faces as sweat trickled down, leaving stark trails on their soot-covered skin.
Finally, they arrived at the knights' encampment. In this relatively open field stood several training posts and archery targets. About twenty to thirty knights were drilling, their movements synchronized and their shouts powerful. These knights were sturdy and had resilient gazes; they were clearly not pampered individuals and also participated in labor and construction.
Their armor and weapons were of a uniform design and reasonably well-maintained. Upon closer inspection, however, one could still see scratches on the armor and nicks on the weapon edges.
After this tour, Gunnhildr had a general grasp of the Lawrence Clan's true strength.
Everything the Lawrence Clan displayed, from their houses to their tools, from their food reserves to their forged weapons, was all built up over many years through sheer human effort.
They were better off than the refugees, possessing more stable dwellings and greater reserves of supplies. Everything was well-organized, but they could hardly be called prosperous.
Throughout the tour, she saw no trace of assistance from any supernatural power. The technology they used was no more advanced than what she had seen in the city of Mondstadt, a far cry from what one would call "divine favor."
She stopped at the opportune moment, turned to Abel with a look of reverence, and sighed softly. Her voice carried a gentleness, as if she had been thoroughly "convinced":
"I have seen the strength and prosperity of the Lawrence Clan with my own eyes. It is truly astonishing..."
"I believe my people, those who are still fretting over their next meal and how to weather the next snowstorm, need to see this strength for themselves. Only then can they completely dispel those unrealistic fantasies and unnecessary worries from their minds."
Then, looking at Abel with an "earnest" gaze, she put forth her prepared suggestion: "Why don't you personally lead this troop of mighty Lawrence knights and return with me to my camp? You can demonstrate your clan's strength and sincerity to my people face-to-face."
She leaned in a little closer and lowered her voice as if sharing a secret: "You know as well as I that we have fled a long way. Our supplies are scarce, and our people are anxious. If they can see absolute power with their own eyes, feel a prosperity they cannot refuse, they will naturally understand that accepting the divine decree is their best path to survival." She emphasized again, "Once all this is done, and my people are appeased, we can return here to discuss the next steps in detail. I'm sure things will go much more smoothly."
The noble Abel looked at Gunnhildr's "frail" and "sensible" demeanor and imagined the "squalid" state of the refugees.
After weighing his options, he decided it was indeed a good idea. It would allow him to directly pressure the refugees and display the irresistible power of the Lawrence Clan, while also keeping a firm watch on the key figure, Gunnhildr, to prevent her from suddenly changing her mind. His knights were well-equipped and well-trained; dealing with a group of starving and freezing refugees was absolutely foolproof.
"Very well." Abel nodded, a confident smile on his face as if he controlled everything. "We will make the trip with you. It will be good for your people to recognize reality sooner and stop their futile struggles."
...
The refugee camp was set up in a sheltered spot at the foot of a slope. It was simple, yet orderly.
The scout knights on watch at the perimeter saw a troop of Lawrence Clan knights approaching the camp from a distance.
And Gunnhildr, Parsifal, and the others were loosely surrounded in their midst.
"Something's wrong!" one of the scout knights hissed. He immediately turned and slipped back quickly and silently into the depths of the camp to report to the captains in charge of defense.
When the noble Abel and his squad of knights followed Gunnhildr into the refugee camp, the sight that met their eyes was one of "peacefulness" and even "disorganization."
Only a scattered few men who looked like knights were helping the residents reinforce their tents and move what little supplies they had. They weren't even armed.
The entire camp seemed quiet and weary, its lack of supplies clear at a glance.
A smug smile unconsciously tugged at the corner of Abel's mouth, his opinion of these refugees sinking even lower.
Gunnhildr still wore that gentle, almost ingratiating smile. "My lord," she said to Abel, "please follow me to the center of the camp. I'll have my people prepare some gifts. They may be meager, but they will at least express our sincerity."
Using this as a pretext, she guided the squad of knights deeper into the heart of the camp.
As they advanced, the surrounding refugees, who seemed to be busy or resting, cast scrutinizing glances, intentionally or not, at the uninvited guests.
When they reached an open area partially encircled by tents and supply piles, Gunnhildr stopped and instructed Parsifal and the two accompanying knights, "You three go on ahead and help with the preparations. We wouldn't want our distinguished guests to think we've been negligent. I will stay here with our lord."
The three of them understood. "Yes, my lady," they replied, bowing immediately. They then turned and walked off briskly in different directions, quickly disappearing between the tents.
Seeing that Gunnhildr remained where she was, Abel didn't stop the three from leaving. As long as Gunnhildr was under his control, the others were unimportant.
However, less than a minute after Parsifal and the others had left, Abel suddenly felt that the atmosphere around them was amiss.
The refugees, who had previously seemed so lackadaisical, had at some point stopped their work. They stood up straight, their gazes fixed in unison upon his small squad.
Their eyes no longer held any trace of their previous weariness or numbness. In its place was a cold silence.
The air seemed to freeze in an instant; even the sound of the wind seemed to vanish.
"You..." Abel had just begun to speak when a short, powerful shout came from an unknown direction:
"Now!"
In that instant, dozens of knightly figures burst forth like ghosts from the surrounding tents and the gaps between them! Moving as swiftly as leopards, they pounced in groups of two or three on every one of the Lawrence knights Abel had brought with him!
___
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