Another World Witch Training Manual

103. Arrangement

Marquis Tanstin continued speaking, his voice growing softer and softer until Sinley had to put her ear right up to his mouth to hear him.

Those fragmented words contained the specific deployment of troops, the routes to the secret camp, the codes and methods of communication, and the soldiers' food and rations. Every piece of information was squeezed out of the Marquis of Tanstin's throat with his last breath; every piece of information weighed a ton.

Xinlai listened, her expression unchanged, but her heart was beating faster and faster.

If this army of 50,000 heavily armored cavalry falls into the hands of Simeon, Marquis Tanstin's treason charge will be confirmed even without evidence.

But if these 50,000 men could be used for my own purposes… A bold idea flashed through my mind, but was suppressed by reason. Now is not the time to consider that.

After uttering the last word, the Marquis of Tansten seemed to have all his strength drained away, collapsing onto the haystack, his chest rising and falling shallowly and rapidly.

His right eye looked at Xinlai, but the sharpness in it had vanished, replaced by pleading and entrustment.

"Eve... Eve, please, treat her well..." His voice was as soft as a wisp of smoke about to dissipate.

His voice stopped abruptly, not because he had finished speaking, but because he had run out of energy.

Xinlai straightened up, his knees numb from squatting for so long. He looked at the Marquis Tanstin, who was lying on the haystack, barely alive, and slowly nodded.

I promise you.

Four words, very light, very heavy.

The promise fell into the damp air of the dungeon, as if it had fallen into an abyss, or into a contract that could never be revoked.

Xinlai turned and walked towards the prison door. She paused at the door but did not look back.

He dared not turn back, nor could he bear to. Behind him stood the once majestic marquis, now nothing more than a pile of mangled remains, hollowed out by betrayal and torture.

Then he stepped out of the cell, his iron boots making a firm sound as they trod on the stone slabs.

Every step felt like a farewell, or like heading to another battlefield.

Simondo came up from around the corner, his face displaying a mixture of feigned deference and genuine probing.

His gaze swept back and forth across Xinlai's face, like a snake that had smelled blood.

"Your Highness, was the interrogation fruitful?"

Xinlai glanced at him, her gaze calm as still water. It was a calm that had been deliberately cultivated, revealing no flaw whatsoever.

"No," Xinlai shook her head. "He won't tell you anything."

Simondo's lips twitched, revealing an expression that said, "I knew it all along."

He was probably satisfied; the Marquis of Tansteen's silence only confirmed his stubbornness and the charge of "treason."

Simon rubbed his hands together, seemingly planning how to curry favor with Simeon next.

Xinlai stopped looking at him and walked out along the way she had come.

The darkness of the dungeon was left behind him step by step.

The torches on the wall flickered, casting his shadow long and short, like some silent omen.

A faint ray of light was already filtering in at the end of the passage ahead; that was the world below, filled with sunlight, the sound of the wind, and the breath of freedom.

His hand reached into his robes, touching the appointment document and then another piece of paper—a piece that didn't exist before he entered the dungeon. On it were a few place names and codes hastily written with charcoal sticks, the handwriting so illegible that only he could decipher it.

The writing was invisible in the dark, but he clearly remembered the direction of each stroke.

These words echoed repeatedly in his mind, like a boulder thrown into a calm lake, the ripples spreading in all directions and far from subsiding.

Fifty thousand cavalry, a secret camp, an unknown route—these pieces of information were pieced together in my mind like a jigsaw puzzle, gradually outlining a vast and dangerous picture.

Behind him, the iron gate at the deepest part of the dungeon closed again, and the three large locks were fastened one by one.

The sound of the locking spring engaging was dull and resolute, as if something was locked inside forever.

Marquis Tanstin lay on the moldy haystack, his swollen left eye still unable to open, but his right eye slowly closed.

A faint curve remained at the corner of his mouth, not a smile, but more like a sense of relief after a heavy burden had been lifted.

He handed over his most precious possession to a young man. As for how the young man would choose, he had no power to ask.

Back at the castle, Sinley told Eve everything about her father.

He didn't hide anything, nor did he embellish anything. He told everyone about the Marquis of Tanstin's miserable state, the smell of the dungeon, and his fragmented, almost dying words.

Some details were too cruel, and he hesitated for a moment, but still chose to tell the truth. Eve had the right to know the truth.

Eve sat slumped on the sofa, tears streaming down her face without restraint.

She seemed to have all her strength drained away, curling up on the sofa, staring blankly at some non-existent place.

Xinlai took out a handkerchief to wipe away her tears and gently pulled her into her arms. Her body was trembling slightly, like a leaf blown away by the autumn wind.

This action probably made Eve finally realize what was happening. She buried her head in Xinlai's arms and began to sob softly.

"Waaaaah... Xinlai... Xinlai..."

The pent-up emotions finally erupted.

She could no longer control her voice, her soft sobs turning into loud wailing as she clutched Xinlai's clothes, tears and snot streaming down her face.

The tears soaked Xinlai's front, and the sobs seemed to be squeezed out from the deepest part of her heart.

Xinlai gently patted Eve's back, his eyes serious. His hand stroked her back lightly and slowly, as if comforting a badly injured animal.

Although they had gained control of 50,000 heavily armored cavalry, Eve's side was also a factor that could not be ignored.

If the Marquis of Tansteen were to die in the dungeon or be taken to the execution platform, the impact on Eve would be considerable.

She will lose her last loved one, and this loss will be a wound in her heart that will never heal.

Judging from the current situation, it seems the Marquis of Tanstin has no chance of rescuing him...

Simondo and Simeon wouldn't give him a way out; the so-called trial was nothing but a performance, the execution ground was the real end. But at least, Eve could see him one last time.

"Eve." Xinlai gently put her arms around Eve's neck and patted her hair. "Let me take you to see him."

Eve's sobs gradually subsided, as if she were pondering something, then she shook her head: "What if..."

"It's alright. Your father is too badly injured, and as the judge, I have to find a way to save his life. I'll have Alaya send someone to treat your father in a bit, and you can blend in with them." Xinlai's voice wasn't loud, but it carried a reassuring power.

Eve looked up at Xinlai, sniffed, and asked, "Really... really will work?"

Her eyes were red and swollen, with tears welling up in them; her eyes held both fear and a faint glimmer of hope.

Xinlai reassured Eve, saying that he was there for her. He didn't say anything more, but simply squeezed her hand, the warmth of his palm conveying a silent promise.

Time was of the essence. Xinlai, with Eve by her side, rode swiftly to the Church of Light where Alaya was, and explained their purpose.

The wind whistled past their ears as they rode along. Eve sat behind him, clutching his clothes tightly, without uttering a word. The sound of hooves was rapid and monotonous, like some kind of death knell.

Even as a bystander, Alaya slammed her hand on the table in anger: "Simondo and Simeon are absolutely inhuman!"

Her anger was genuine; the teacup on the table shook, and tea spilled out.

Xinlai knew that although Alaya was in the church, she was a person who hated evil at heart. She couldn't stand such despicable methods, and she couldn't stand seeing an old minister treated like this.

Xinlai didn't reply, but said sincerely, "I would appreciate it if Miss Alaya could send a few priests to assist me."

Alaya looked at Eve, whose eyes were already red from crying, and nodded: "Don't worry, I will send the highest-level priest we have here."

Her tone was firm and unwavering, and she was about to get up to make the arrangements.

"Miss Alaya," Sinlai called out to her in time.

Alaya turned her head in confusion.

"Eve...can she go in with those priests?"

The question hung in the air like a taut string. Sinley knew the request was somewhat excessive—allowing a prisoner's daughter to infiltrate the treatment team would have dire consequences if discovered. But he asked anyway, because he had promised the Marquis of Tanstin, and because he didn't want Eve to have a lifelong regret.

Alaya remained silent for a moment, her gaze shifting between Sinley and Eve. Finally, she sighed softly.

"I'll try my best to arrange it."