They lay quietly in the bushes, breathing softly, not daring to make a sound.
When the mournful howls of wolves finally faded into the distance, Samar pulled out a tin pot and handed it to Giles. Giles took it and greedily swallowed the water inside. The liquid flowed down his cracked lips and into his collar, leaving dark stains on his clothes.
Wendell whispered, "We should still be about 30 miles from safety."
Samar asked, "A safe spot? Are you sure it's safe? What if the Yankees' soldiers get ahead of us?"
Wendell took off his glasses and wiped the fog that had formed on the lenses with his clothes. "Of course, this is assuming that the Royal Army's hounds didn't block the mountain pass. Otherwise, we would have had to take a long detour through the mountains."
His words inevitably dampened everyone's spirits.
Just as Samar was about to speak, Grand Duke Giles suddenly covered his mouth.
Danger has struck again.
The mountain wind carried intermittent sounds, the nearest noise less than a hundred paces from the crevice where they were hiding. Samar felt the calluses on the Grand Duke's palms, honed from years of sword-fighting, chaf his lips, and the taste of blood mixed with the smell of earth filled his mouth.
He saw the deadly creature ahead—a large, black-spotted tiger sniffing the ground with its nose.
The climate in the southern region is suitable for vegetation growth, providing abundant food for herbivores, who in turn feed a large number of carnivores, extending the food chain step by step. As a result, the ecology in the mountains and forests is very rich, and large predators are common in addition to wolves, jackals and other wild animals.
Normally, Giles would be delighted to see such a massive tiger, as he would be surrounded by a large retinue of hunters armed with all sorts of weapons. Such a large beast would add another exciting chapter to his hunting career.
His favorite thing was to have his men surround the beasts, making the prey bump into walls in the encirclement. His men would gradually tighten the encirclement, leaving the prey with less and less room to maneuver.
The fearful and helpless expression of the prey and its eventual surrender was one of the most beloved sources of inspiration for His Highness Greedy Wolf Grand Duke.
But Giles only felt fear now, because he only had five people with him, including himself. Facing a large beast like the Black-spotted Mountain Tiger was a near-certain death situation; one wrong move and they would become its food. Five people! Enough for that beast to eat for a month.
"God bless you..." Giles usually just used this prayer as a catchphrase, but now he prayed very devoutly, praying that the legendary supreme being would send down a miracle.
Giles, a seasoned hunter, knew that the black-spotted tiger had an incredibly keen sense of smell. At such close range, it would be easier for it to find them than for him to find a fragrant roast chicken in the kitchen.
It seemed a miracle had truly occurred; the beast, sniffing the ground, gradually walked away.
Everyone's hearts gradually calmed down, and Giles realized that his other hand, which was holding the sword, was covered in sweat.
Only when there was absolutely no movement nearby did they dare to continue moving.
Giles's deerskin boots were already soaked, and every step felt like walking on rotting corpses. Suddenly, he tripped over a tree root and fell into a pile of cold mud.
Several subordinates quickly pulled the Grand Duke out of the mud. Wendell suddenly frantically groped his body, letting out a wounded beast-like whimper.
"What's wrong with you?"
"Damn it, my pocket watch fell into the mud. It's a family heirloom, made by the finest watchmaker in Five Rams City. I'll look for it first, you wait a moment…"
"Save your breath, you fool." Giles twisted his soaked cloak. "Even if you pulled out the royal seal now, you'd only get a few coppers from those stupid mountain folk."
"Sir, I didn't use it to exchange for money!"
Giles said coldly, "We won't wait for you. I don't want to stay here a second longer!"
He turned around and stormed off, while the others glanced at Wendell and followed Giles.
A feeling of sadness gripped Wendell's heart, but he still reluctantly followed his companion.
Giles was walking along when he suddenly remembered someone.
Paul Greiman!
It's strange that I hate someone I've never even met.
Greedy Wolf, the Grand Duke, felt that his rise and fall were all caused by this person, and that if he could overcome this difficulty, he would definitely take revenge a hundredfold, a thousandfold, and ten thousandfold.
...
Faced with overwhelming pressure from the enemy ahead and a dead end with no way to retreat, the defenders of Eagles Beak Pass quickly surrendered.
The news of the victory was quickly relayed back to Crystal Radiance Royal Capital, and Rodney XVIII was greatly excited.
Unable to contain his excitement, he immediately informed his ministers. At their suggestion, the palace would hold a ball to celebrate the victory.
The crystal chandelier illuminated the banquet hall as if it were daytime, and the light from numerous candles refracted back and forth between the gilded mirrors, making the diamond medallion on Rodney XVIII's chest shine brightly.
The king raised his sapphire-encrusted glass, the champagne bubbles dancing merrily within, like the swirling skirts in the hall at that moment.
"Cheers to victory!" Rodney XVIII's voice echoed under the vault, and the musicians played a rousing tune at the right moment. The nobles raised their glasses, and the ladies unfolded their fans at the same time, like a group of colorful butterflies suddenly taking flight.
The king wore a newly cast medal on his ceremonial robes, a small gift from the front-line troops, forged from captured rebel weapons.
"I heard that Giles fled into the mountains like a stray dog."
"This villain has finally met his end."
The ministers crowded around the king, happily discussing how pathetic the great enemy who was supposed to be splitting the country must be.
For countless years, the nobles of Crystal Radiance had hated Giles with a passion, yet they were powerless to do anything about him.
Suddenly, a commotion arose from the doorway. Attendants pushed a huge statue into the hall; it was a statue of the goddess of victory, also cast from captured rebel weapons.
Rodney looked at the statue, his expression turning serious. "Cheers to Aldor! Cheers to the heroic soldiers on the front lines!"
The king raised his glass and loudly gave a toast!
The musicians immediately began playing the newly composed "Victory Song," and the nobles in the dance hall raised their glasses to the king.
As the midnight bells rang, a grand fireworks display—a toy from Northwest Bay —lit the night sky above the capital and the path to the distant south.
Rodney XVIII stood on the edge of the terrace, the wine glass in his hand reflecting the bursting fireworks, as if he were holding a leaping flame of victory. Behind him, the ball continued, laughter and music intertwining into a triumphant hymn that lingered beneath the palace dome.