Lorencos was the one who had followed the Iron-Blood General the longest. The two had known each other since their youth, Lorencos being only a few years younger than him.
Together they had taken their oaths, enlisted in the army, and slain enemies side by side, both ascending to the rank of legend on the battlefield one after the other.
Lorencos was the Iron-Blood General's most trusted confidant and right-hand man. They had shielded each other from deadly blades; it could be said neither was as close even to their own wives.
Yet as Rachel Angelo grew increasingly brutal, Lorencos began to feel lost.
The Empire's fanatical faith had once led Lorencos to believe that everything he did was righteous, a noble contribution to all humanity.
Without question, humans lived well in the Ryan Empire, far better than in other kingdoms. Unifying the continent to bring happiness to all humankind had seemed a great cause, one well worth fighting for.
Yet while some pushed this madness to its absolute extreme amidst bloody slaughter, others had that fanaticism quenched by the drenched blood.
Rachel Angelo grew ever more extreme, ever more ruthless, steadily lowering the age threshold for massacres. Lorencos had spoken with him about this once, but nothing could shake Rachel Angelo's resolve.
He was, after all, a paladin of the Oath of Conquest. If he abandoned his path, he would become an oathbreaker.
Lorencos had tried burying the confusion within his heart. If he refused to think or self-reflect, nothing would trouble him. This had worked splendidly—until Frodo was born.
Lorencos had never expected to father a child when he was nearly sixty years old.
Originally, he hadn't wanted children. Stained with boundless sins as he was, how could he bear bringing a life into the world? But under his wife's earnest entreaties, they eventually conceived Frodo. Thanks to the power of the Holy Light, fathering a child at nearly sixty was even possible.
Once he became a father, there were many things he could no longer avoid pondering. Yet just as Anbaixiu had said, the old veterans of Ryan had long been inextricably bound to the Empire.
Their relatives and friends were all fanatical followers of the Empire. If one alone woke up to reality, it was pure torment.
They struggled desperately to preserve what they had; that was their foremost prerequisite. Only after that could they think of changing the Empire.
And such a prerequisite usually ensured they could do nothing at all.
Lorencos was no different from James Watson. In the end, he still let Frodo become Rachel Angelo's subordinate, and one of his closest personal bodyguards at that.
And so, Frodo's hands had been stained with blood as well.
Lorencos had kept this guilt buried deep within his heart, showing no outward sign of trouble in normal times. But the moment Frodo was turned into an undead, that swaddled guilt cracked open its shell and broke free.
Had it not been for this, Lorencos would never have allowed Alan, a traitor, to stay with Frodo for an entire night.
When Alan spoke of an unjust war, Lorencos could hold back no longer.
"Alan, you are right. We have committed boundless sins. The Holy Light ought to turn to raging fire and consume me. Frodo, we will both fall into Hell."
Frodo was dumbfounded by his father. He had merely been shaken, but now his own father was agreeing with this traitor?
Alan also felt things were going almost absurdly smoothly. He had wondered how long it would take to find like-minded souls, yet here he had found two at once, and one was even a legendary paladin!
"It must be the blessing of the Lord of the Dawn!"
Alan firmly believed in this great deity.
However, while Lorencos agreed with Alan, he did not bow down in blind submission. Instead, he asked, "Alan, what do you intend to do?"
Alan hurried to answer, "First, we find more like-minded people. We are far too weak right now, not enough to stop this war."
Lorencos asked again, "How long will you search? Even with the havoc that lich caused and the curse's fallout, it will only buy a month at most. In that brief window, how many can you find?"
Alan hesitated. He had no answer to that.
"I don't know. I only recently realized how little I truly knew about Ryan. Before this, fanatical faith blinded our eyes and sealed away our hearts. In such a short time, how many can I find? Perhaps only a handful. But no matter how slim the hope, we must try."
Alan's voice grew firmer as he spoke. This was never going to be easy.
Even with the Lord of the Dawn's blessing granting him immediate allies, a few people could hardly multiply into hundreds or thousands within the next few days.
And if such a thing did happen, it would undoubtedly be a trap laid by the Iron-Blood General.
Lorencos wouldn't let Alan off so easily, pressing further, "If you lack confidence even in yourself, how do you expect to stop this war?"
Alan, however, was no longer lost. He answered frankly, "Regardless of the outcome, I will be on that battlefield. If necessary, I will stand with the Unholy Hymn and help them resist Ryan's invasion. I don't expect many to join me on the battlefield in just a few days, but I am not what matters. What matters is that someone shares these convictions. Even if I die on the battlefield, people will remember what I did, and soon others will make the same choice."
Lorencos sneered, "Are you truly that confident? Once you die, everything ends. I will never admit to this meeting; I'll even join the others in spitting upon you as a traitor."
Alan replied with conviction, "Of course I am confident. For over a thousand years, Ryan has revered the Lord of the Dawn. I believe in the Lord of the Dawn; beneath His radiant light, there will never be a shortage of brave souls. I am merely the first, the one lighting the fuse. Even if I burn out, others will follow in my footsteps, wave after wave, to save this empire."
This was the truth Arthur Ryan had imparted to him: men die, but ideals do not.
Among the Empire's hundreds of millions of people, Alan did not consider himself special. The brave champions of this empire were simply lost; they did not know what to do, nor did they know if there were like-minded companions around them.
Alan would show these wandering souls that many had already seen through the Empire's rot, willing to give their lives to save this country.
Lorencos fell silent for a long time after hearing Alan's words, until Frodo could not help asking, "Father, what... what's wrong?"
Lorencos told Frodo, "Child, you still have a chance at redemption. If you don't want to fall into Hell, follow Alan."
Frodo still couldn't wrap his head around it. How had it suddenly come to throwing his lot in with this traitor?
It made no sense. Even if there were truly something wrong with the Empire, was it really necessary to commit outright treason? Couldn't they remain in Ryan and look for a way to change things?
Frodo couldn't resist arguing, "Father, perhaps there's another way..."
"Perhaps there is, but you won't live to see it," Lorencos sighed. "Just as it is impossible for Alan to gather sufficient strength before the war begins, if you hesitate any longer, you will have no chance at atonement. Do you truly think that curse has simply vanished?"
Frodo recalled the sensation of gradually transforming into an undead, and that indelible dread once again gripped his heart.
Was this truly his only option left?
Frodo looked at Alan in confusion, but Alan shook his head at him. "Though I do not know what sins you have committed, I must tell you: if you change your stance merely to seek redemption, it is entirely meaningless. This is a sacrifice, Frodo, not a transaction."
Alan's comprehension of the Holy Light was growing ever deeper. In the past, he too would tally merits and calculate right from wrong.
Now, he no longer indulged in such calculations.
Fulfilling one's oath and fighting for justice bore no tally of gains and losses, nor did the magnitude of merit matter. None of that held any importance.
If Frodo only acted to atone for his sins, he would never receive the Lord of the Dawn's forgiveness.
Lorencos sighed. "You're right. I was mistaken."
"So no matter what I do now, I'll still go to Hell?" Bombarded by so much information, Frodo felt as though his brain had ground to a halt.
Alan nodded. He would not deceive Frodo just to gain another helper.
"Frodo, go back and think it through thoroughly. But if possible, please don't report me. I need more time to gather more support. And if you make up your minds, come find me here. I will wait here until the war begins."
Two days later, Alan met the father and son again, along with several paladins they had brought with them.
At first, Alan had thought Frodo and Lorencos had changed their minds and brought men to capture him, but the numbers were far too small.
As it turned out, these paladins had all been swayed to defect by Lorencos.
Just as His Majesty the Holy King had said, there were many among the Ryanians who shared Alan's thoughts. It was just that they dared not show it, nor did they know if anyone around them felt the same.
Now, Alan was a torch, bound to attract countless moths ready to plunge into the flame.
Lorencos said, "In truth, it isn't just these few. At least thirty people in Liuyan City are willing to follow us. They are all my subordinates, and I know them well. However, they are too weak. Our defection will certainly draw pursuers; taking them along would only send them to their deaths for nothing."
Alan strongly agreed with Lorencos. Like-minded people did not necessarily have to huddle together.
Rather than letting Liuyan City hunt them down and wipe them out all at once, it was better to leave behind some sparks. Sooner or later, they could ignite a raging conflagration across the land.
Everything progressed with astonishing smoothness. In just a few days, Alan had six high-ranking paladins under his banner, along with a legend.
Including Alan himself, this was already an extraordinarily formidable force.
Small in number and entirely elite, their advantage quickly became apparent as Alan easily evaded two waves of pursuers from Liuyan City.
Yet right then, Alan noticed a peculiar situation. While evading the pursuers, he saw several tieflings sneaking into Liuyan City.
Disregarding the danger, Alan stayed behind outside Liuyan City.
After waiting half a day, he saw those tieflings emerge smoothly from Liuyan City.
With no limbs missing or visible wounds, they left entirely in one piece.
This did not fit the Iron-Blood General's style at all. He was ruthless enough to wish for the extinction of other races; the custom of sparing emissaries during wartime meant nothing to him.
For these tieflings to leave unharmed, there was only one possibility: they had brought news that greatly pleased the Iron-Blood General.
Were the tieflings surrendering? Or did some tieflings want to turn traitor? Or perhaps they were moles planted by the Iron-Blood General in the first place?
Regardless, this intelligence had to be of the utmost importance.
Alan couldn't help weighing a dilemma: should he find a way to get to the bottom of this intelligence, or should he first go warn the key figures—such as that lich whose very thought made one's skin crawl?
Chapter 333