Shadow of the Evil God

"People often mix a lot of fictional stories into their memories when they recall what they experienced during a panic, and even more so when they tell others about it. It's common for people to revise, evade, embellish, and selectively narrate in order to make amends and avoid self-blame. I'm just listening to the stories they want to tell, not interrogating anyone. Even if you want to get something from me, it's just a bunch of conflicting stories."

Cesar nodded. Her explanation was indeed convincing. "Did your training instruct you not to tell stories to others?"

"That's not true. But why should I tell you stories about soldiers?"

"Because I want you to do me a favor and listen to my story, and as I tell stories to others, I hope they will tell me some too."

"No, why would you..."

"I, too, am a poor man trapped in a difficult situation, forced to accept the duty of guarding Lower Noyen. I, too, have many stories I want to tell but cannot. You can listen to the soldiers' stories, so why can't you listen to mine?"

For the first time, Kallen frowned, clearly troubled. She wanted to refuse him, but his unconventional approach made it impossible for her to find the words to say no.

"I have certainly never seen anyone who can speak as well as you, Monsignor Cesar," she said.

"Well, will you promise to trade the soldiers' stories for mine, Brother?"

"How many soldiers' stories can be exchanged for your story?"

Cesar smiled faintly. "Let me put it this way. When I dream at night, I dream of many strange people and things. It's winter now, and people sit around the fire during the long winter nights, inevitably talking about something to relieve their worries and boredom. If I were to spend the long night with someone warming themselves by the fire, I could tell a story every night that no one has ever heard, and only when I grow old and die in my bed would these stories come to an end."

"Is it your habit to say sweet words to people you just met anytime and anywhere?"

He shrugged. "Do you know why I'm here eating vegetable porridge and nibbling on hard bread that tastes only of salt?"

"I don't know and I don't want to know."

Cesar scooped another spoonful of wild vegetable porridge and said, "I believe that excessive self-discipline will bring great harm, more harmful than excessive enjoyment. Any good thing, whether bitter or sweet, should be tried a little. Because nothing is inherently sinful, and it is obviously wrong to abandon it without experiencing it."

"Are you a Christian?" Kallen asked. She seemed to think he would continue with his previous speech with some useless love talk, but he interpreted the teachings of the scriptures. "No, you are a theologian?"

"I'm neither a Christian nor a theologian, but that doesn't affect my understanding of your scriptures," Cesar said. "If you disagree with my views, please let me know. If not, then I think we can start exchanging stories."

Kallen clasped her hands together in front of her abdomen, her fingers firmly interlocked. Though her face was expressionless, her emotions were clear. "I can't read yet, and I don't understand how to interpret the scriptures," she said. "If you want to talk, then go ahead. I'll use my limited knowledge to evaluate you and see if you're trying to trick me."

......

The first story ended. The mercenary captain who came in from outside the temple leaned against the wall, his hands hanging down, staring at the courtyard outside the window.

Lian sat quietly in her chair, and finally Cesar himself broke the silence.

"If you think this story is good, Brother Kallen, then I ask you to give Captain Ceshia the story she needs."

Ceshia was a little dazed at first, but she quickly showed her

Someone with a sense of duty and integrity responded, "I need information about the military mage. I can judge the authenticity of the details myself. I just want firsthand information—how the mage died, and why he died so suddenly."

"Your storytelling skills are unmatched by the soldiers, or anyone else in Noyen," Kallen said suddenly, "but your stories are no better than the simple ones I've heard before."

"That's the most banal story I know," Cesar replied.

"Most mediocre..." Cecia was surprised. "Why? Aren't you going to exchange them for information?"

"Yes, I do want to trade my story for information with her," Cesar said, turning to Kallen, "but I also don't want to disappoint you in the future or waste even a single moment of your listening time, Brother. If I can satisfy you and get a decent evaluation from you by telling you such a mediocre story, then I can be sure that I will never tell you a story that doesn't suit your taste, nor will I disappoint you even once in the future."

Chapter 60: Beast Man and the Devil's Son

"You always speak beautifully, Master Cesar," Brother Kallen said. "I have been a monk for so long, but I am no better at soothing people than you are. However, I will judge you by the stories you tell, not by the things you claim to know but don't tell."

Cesar nodded. "Of course, that's up to you, monk," he said. "If you don't like today's story, I'll come back tomorrow. If you don't like tomorrow's story, I'll come back the day after tomorrow, until you find a story that suits you."

"Does this mean it's over?" she asked.

"That way I can come here every day and get some stories about the soldiers from you."

“The soldiers’ stories aren’t many, and they can be told in two or three days.”

"You only see the present," Cesar glanced at the wounded scattered on the floor of the main hall, "but before the siege ends, there will be a constant stream of wounded and dead, and a constant stream of patients sent to this temple. You took over this place, and you also assumed its obligations until its mission is completed. Unless..."

"Unless what?"

"Unless you want to give it up early," he said.

"If this place is demolished and only ruins remain, then I will be here to look after the ruins. People who are used to eating wild vegetable porridge don't need more to survive." Kallen replied indifferently, "But it seems that what I said actually suits your taste."

Cesar wanted to say that given her situation, it was in his best interest for her to give up this place, but she could still do it if she didn't. There were plenty of ways to do it. It wasn't that he didn't have a more efficient way, but he found it interesting to bypass her psychological defenses, so he used her way to talk to her.

"So what's your assessment?" he asked.

“It’s a mediocre story, but your storytelling skills made it better than it was, and I’ve never heard anything like it before,” she said. “You win, that’s all.”

"Now it's your turn to tell us the story of the military wizard," said Cesar.

"I will tell you, but I have to state in advance that there are too many absurdities in the soldiers' stories. Some of them are no more credible than the Sassulai army riding horses into the city from the mine tunnel. Please decide for yourself which one is true and which one is false." Kallen finally said.

......

He had heard the story from the soldiers protecting the military wizard, a compilation of various accounts. To keep it a story, Cesar hadn't discussed its actual meaning with Ceshia until they left the temple. Perhaps out of guilt, or perhaps out of religious conviction, Granli didn't leave with them. He continued to help in the main hall of the temple with many attendants and servants, even preparing to sleep on the floor with the patient.

A militia of porters and miners served as a guard, accompanying the two of them back to camp. While there were certainly better soldiers available, judging by the opinions of the soldiers under the other officers, Cesar was more willing to trust the men he had personally recruited. Cecia had trained them for so long, they couldn't be incapable of defending the city, maintaining security, and maintaining security.

Gouzi was an inconspicuous figure in the group, a short, faceless musketeer wrapped in a cotton coat. To guard against those invisible assassins, Cesar would always have Gouzi follow him wherever he went.

It was already night. Although the entire day had been spent in tedious conversations, arguing with the treasurer about temple matters, and checking the military supply ledgers at Ceshia's suggestion and following, to see how many shells, artillery pieces, and gunpowder were on hand, the morning and afternoon conversations were over. In the afternoon, it was time to coordinate with the high priest's speech and appease the restless people of Upper Noien in the square.

Having just finished dealing with the troubles of the Earl's cronies, he was now caught up in the larger-scale troubles of the wealthy merchants and petty nobles. His duties, which had lasted almost a month, also included dealing with the troubles of the poor in Lower Neuen who had recently been rioting. He did these things very well. Intelligence Officer Canady said that he was naturally good at politics and local governance, like a spider in a web.

Go, but he himself feels that he is the fly trapped in the spider's web.

In general, Cesar did not like doing this. The only good mood he had that day came from the temple of Hier. Seeing the monk's dissatisfaction but unable to express it was worth recalling.

It tastes good and can be told to others as a story in the future.

They arrived at the canal that led into Upper Noyen. "So, are the stories of the beastmen true, Master?" Cesar asked. "A terrifying figure with a pale wolf's head leaped out from the riverbed, and in the blink of an eye, the wizard hiding in the army disappeared."

At night, Upper Neuen was quiet, unlike Lower Neuen, where the nights were sometimes noisier than the day due to the shift work at the mines. The light of the oil lamps attracted a flock of white swans, which swam over from the dark waters beyond the castle and craned their necks to peer in. César leaned over the railing, twisted some bread crumbs and tossed them over. Then he saw them silently skimming the surface of the water, swooping over to the crumbs and pecking at them.

"Haven't you heard about the beastmen?" asked Cecia.

Cesar had heard of them, of course, but sometimes hearing something wasn't the same as knowing it completely. "I only know they were slaves of the Northern Empire for nearly a thousand years and recently rebelled," he said. "Have you seen them?"

"I've seen beastmen before," Ceshia said, "but what I saw were only the vanguard troops in the far south. I've never seen them in the stalemate with the main force of the empire in the forests further north. Based on my experience with the army, beastmen are a group of exceptionally agile and strong humanoid barbarians with deformed bodies and twisted beast skulls. They have an innate hunger for violence." She paused, giving Cesar some time to absorb the meaning of this sentence, and then said, "Whether they are men, women, the elderly, children, or relatively intact corpses, after they cross the border, they will become something fragmented and unrecognizable."

"Apart from that, is there anything special?" Cesar asked. It sounded like a rather frightening barbarian.

"Compared to the artillery positions and musket volleys, they were nothing special."

Cesar nodded. "So is this kind of attack possible?"

"My personal experience says it's impossible," Ceshia replied. "Not only do military mages stay under the protection of the soldiers, they also cast a multitude of spells themselves, so many names you'd be dizzy. Some are omen spells, some are concealment spells, and some are triggered resistance spells. As long as an enemy approaches them with the intention of killing them, the noise will be so loud that it can sometimes be clearly seen from hundreds of meters away."

"But in Brother Kallen's story, nothing happened and he disappeared. How do you think this is possible?"

Cecia shook her head. "I'm not sure about the military mage's skill level, but I don't think it's very high. Even so, it's ridiculous that he doesn't even have a protective spell."

"There's always a reason." Cesar recalled Brother Kallen's story. "If I can't find a reason on the military mage, then I'll find one on the terrifying figure with the pale wolf's head."

"I have heard some legends from further north."

Cesar threw down some more bread crumbs and waited for her to continue.

"Some older Imperials say some Beastmen are called Demon Children," said Ceshia. "It's said that just like a queen is born in an ant colony, some special Beastmen emerge without warning within the horde. They are more terrifying in appearance, more cunning in mind, and display more incredible abilities. The Empire regularly identifies these suspicious individuals and kills them prematurely, but it seems they've been busy fighting among themselves in recent years, so the matter has been put on hold."

"It sounds more like a folk legend," Cesar said.

Upon hearing this, Cecia spread her hands and said, "I'm just sharing with you the stories of the rural villages in the empire."

"You've left out so many details," he complained.

"I can't tell stories," she said nonchalantly.

"So what do you think of my story?" Cesar suddenly asked. "I really care about your opinion, teacher."

Ceshia raised her chin and looked towards the canal, as if considering her words: "Very good, or rather good? Anyway, it's worth listening to."

"Could you give your only student some more encouragement, my good teacher?" Cesar asked her with a smile.

"Tsk, what more encouragement do you want?"

"Think about it, when you're on a campaign, you'll inevitably have to sit around a campfire during a long march. Sitting around a fire with the best storyteller is definitely a better way to relieve boredom than sitting with anyone else. You can encourage me this way - if I have to choose someone to spend the long nights by the fire with, then of course I'm the most suitable person. What do you think?"

Seshia was shocked. "How many times has the meaning of this sentence changed? From keeping vigil around the bonfire to sitting around the fire, and then to secretly getting married?"

"If you still want to emphasize that you don't understand poetry and rhetoric, you should have just pretended you didn't understand."

"I'm used to your speeches." Cecia waved her hand and said, "Stop the useless sweet talk and go back to think about your story. Tomorrow I want to know the details of their ambush on the mountain where they crossed the river."

"Teacher Ceshia, the way you speak is like you are holding a sword to ward off your only student at any time." He threw down some more bread crumbs.

"If you throw bread in there again, you'll only have porridge to eat at night, my only student."

"When you look at these swans, don't you think of the place we just came from?" he asked casually.

Cecilia paused. "That's too much to think about," she said.

This is too much, because in this dark and gloomy city, perhaps full of sin, the young monk

Like the swans in the canals that the wealthy merchants specially brought into Upper Noien to decorate their shops, they were beautiful and pure, but useless among the watchtowers, barracks, artillery piles, gunpowder magazines and prisons where prisoners were tortured.

Chapter 61: The City Lord is Performing a True God Ceremony

Then again, the residents of Lower Neuen have been restless lately, and the atmosphere in Upper Neuen has become oppressive and heavy. Some high-ranking officials have inexplicably taken a liking to the swans there. Normally, they're rarely seen around here, but lately, people have been coming here to feed them, seemingly freeing themselves from the worries of official duties, war, riots, politics, and espionage.

Cesar had to admit that the feeling he gained from exchanging stories with people in the Temple of Hier was actually not much different from people feeding swans.

......

Although it was already night, Cesar still had to deal with official business in the barracks, and discussed combat readiness with the clerks that other officers should have dealt with. Now he was not staying in a hotel, and returning to his sleeping place did not mean rest, that was about it.

"Is there anyone who understands the detailed ballistics, mathematics and mapping?" he asked the people standing throughout the corridor.

The clerks were silent for a long time, and from this silence, Cesar had a rough idea of ​​Noyen's current situation. The steppe people this fortress faced were very old-fashioned and conservative, so the city's war preparations were also outdated. Even if artillery had been brought in from the north, there were no bastions or fortifications that emerged with its widespread use, and there was a lack of young officers who had received professional training in military academies.

The walls of Noien are very old, and the quality of the officers is like that of officers from more than a hundred years ago. Although the cavalrymen are equipped with muskets, they lack professional military training, so the crushing defeat in the first battle is not particularly surprising.

After a long silence, two people finally stood up. One said he was the chief architect of Noyen, so he knew surveying and mapping. The other was the chief engineer of the arsenal, and because he maintained the artillery, he knew detailed artillery data. The "knowledge" here was not the same as the gunners' knowledge.

"Nice to meet you two," Cesar said. "Let's start with Engineer. I need the artillery's initial velocity, effective range, destructive power, firing rate, hit efficiency, and all other indicators that can accurately describe how it will be used. If the Sassulai people bring out an old-fashioned trebuchet from over a hundred years ago, or a cannon of questionable origin, I need to know the damage they can inflict on the city walls, and the distance at which we can use the artillery from high above to destroy the enemy's siege equipment. Do you agree with me?"

The other party nodded in agreement.

"Next, architect," he said, straining to recall his past life's historical memories. "Work with the engineer. First, provide detailed data and structures for each tower on the outer wall. Then, work with the engineer to calculate the range of fire from all the deployed city defense artillery. Using this range, calculate blind spots that can be covered by refortifications and additional artillery. As for funding, I'll ask the treasurer for assistance. If there's a certain area that simply can't be covered, deploy additional personnel nearby and prepare some alchemical bombs, fuel oil, and other projectiles that can threaten siege engines at close range."

After sending the two men to work, Cesar asked someone to notify all the artillery captains to come to the barracks to see him tomorrow.

"I need to understand the combat capabilities of the Noyen artillery team. This threat is unprecedented. If the artillery captains truly have limited knowledge of ballistics and mathematics... then the accuracy of our artillery strikes will also be very limited. I don't know much about ballistics, but I know a lot about mathematics and geometry. Have them prepare paper and pens and be prepared for class." He thought for a moment and added, "If I find anyone wasting ammunition during the battle, they can go and plead with Inquisitor Canaday themselves."

Cesar knew that he was just making things up, relying on vague historical memories to make up some ambiguous statements, but the atmosphere in the corridor had changed. At first, there was doubt, then curiosity, and now there was a willingness to accept the instructions he was giving to everyone.

To be honest, this feels very strange, because he really has no military experience, and his so-called understanding of mathematics and geometry is also questionable - after so many years, who would still remember the advanced mathematics he was taught in school?

Fortunately, he still has the Faceless One.

Gouzi has his old memories, and although she has no idea what they mean, it is not a problem for her to copy a few mathematical manuscripts for him overnight.

Even so, the situation was still strange. Their obedience to his words could only mean one thing: before the war, the people of Noien had never seriously considered any countermeasures. Now, if someone in a high position stood up and said something that sounded respectable, they would take it seriously.

So, if Noien was clearly a military fortress, why hadn't its people considered countermeasures? The reason was simple: this place hadn't faced war in years. After starting out as a mining powerhouse, Noien had become a commercial port city, everything centered around commerce, trade, and the economy.

So what about the city lord? What is the city lord doing?

The city lord is performing a ritual to worship the true god.

Cesar could even say that everything in Noien serves business, trade and the economy, and the reason why tax revenue has been increasing year after year is actually because the city lord wants to hold a ceremony to worship the true god.

Military supplies, food rationing, and downtown security issues

, and so on. Not only were there matters that he had not handled before, but even matters that he had handled, people came to him with trivial questions to ask for instructions, which made Cesar almost unable to hold back his expression.

Do these people really think he knows everything?

After the corridors had been cleared, Cesar found his mouth dry. He racked his brains to dismiss all the idiots who had come to him for instructions on every little thing. If he hadn't established his authority with his soothing speech in the square and established a professional image in the initial combat instructions, it would have taken more complicated rhetoric to send them away. Skirt 6"949:361;45

In fact, most people present did not need instructions from him as an outsider, but they just wanted him to give them instructions, as if they would be like headless flies if they didn't do so.

Even if Cesar's instructions were just nonsense, they were eager for him to come up with a piece of nonsense that sounded good.

After the corridor was cleared, a servant from the barracks came over, carrying a kettle. He was the son of a miner. Since both his wife and he worked in the mines and were strong, after they were drafted into the army, their two children also came over to do odd jobs. Cesar waved him off to fetch water for someone else and told him not to bother him. It wasn't that he was wary, but he had no intention of hiring a servant and was not in the habit of leaving personal matters to servants.

A fictitious aristocratic identity was not worth him integrating himself into it and changing his original lifestyle habits.

A pot of water suddenly hit him head-on.

Cesar held no weapon, only a quill. His one-handed sword hung from the right side of his belt, and his mace was hidden at his waist, too late to reach for it. Using muscle reflexes honed by long-standing attacks from Cecia, he twisted his body outward and reached out his left hand without a second thought. He still had the gauntlet on his left hand, hoping to use it to grab the dagger that was following the kettle.

He did hold the blade, but not quite firmly. The next moment, the dagger cut through his hand nail and went down through the center of his palm, tearing away the flesh and breaking the bones, and blood splattered far away.

His left hand was useless. It split sideways from the palm, and half of the palm, along with the ring finger and pinky finger, flew out and hit the floor covered with footprints. Fortunately, the assassin's dagger didn't cut his brain open, so he could still be saved.