Our Family Has Fallen

In the room, both the doctor and the Butler had already left, leaving Laura lying weakly on the bed.

Damn it, surgery without anesthesia! The agony almost made her faint several times, but she was afraid! Afraid that if she fainted, she might not wake up, or she might say something uncontrollably. So, she had to endure it without a sound, nearly biting her teeth to pieces.

Towards the end, she even became numb, feeling as if she had lost sensation in half of her body. Fortunately, she finally endured through the surgery.

However, the current wait was torturous. No one knew if the next to open the door would be fully armed Guards or…

Just then, the door opened. Laura subconsciously tried to move, but this pulled at her wound, contorting her face into an uncontrollable grimace.

Thankfully, it was not the Guards who entered, but the Butler and a maid.

”There’s no need to be nervous. This is Bastia Castle, and you are very safe,” the Butler said with his usual smile, gesturing for the maid to come forward.

”I don’t need help; I can move on my own.”

Although it seemed she had passed the test, Laura still rejected the maid’s offer of support. She struggled to her feet, picked up her belongings, and walked out.

Her heart did not calm when she stepped out of the castle. Instead, she grew more anxious. No one knew what would happen when she returned to the Eagle Flock.

”If anyone asks, just say you failed the mission and ran back. You can’t discuss the details with a second person, not even with your leader,” the Butler instructed.

Upon hearing this, Laura’s pale face showed a troubled expression.

Even though the Eagle Flock had joined Bastia and was influenced by the Empire, at its core, it retained a strong tribal style. For a deserter who failed a mission… it definitely wouldn’t end well.

”Relax, Lord Earl has high hopes for you. I’ll escort you back; he wouldn’t dare lay a hand on you,” the Butler added soothingly, as if sensing Laura’s distress.

”I understand. No second person will know,” Laura replied, having no other choice but to agree.

Everyone knew the Butler’s status in Bastia, likely surpassing even that of the Barons. Yet now, he was personally escorting a seemingly insignificant soldier back.

Laura didn’t know what had transpired. Soon enough, the Butler left the Eagle Flock’s quarters, and she finally met their leader.

Laura looked up. The main hall of the quarters bustled with people in various outfits. Some wore metal armor, others leather, and some even carried rifles. Some had bird-head masks, while others did not. Their garb appeared quite casual and had a distinct mercenary style. It was evident that almost everyone here was different, much like walking into a Mercenary Guild. Only the feather adornments and the capes, worn by nearly everyone, indicated the Barbarian Tribes’ style.

Among these individuals sat one person wrapped in a black robe, with only feathered ornaments visible. His face was shrouded in the darkness under his hood.

This was the leader of the Eagle Flock, accompanied by several tall, bird-masked elite guards.

”Ten were sent out. Why have you returned alone?”

An oddly pitched voice rang out. It was difficult to imagine how it was produced, for it sounded less like a human and more like the deep, grating call of a Night Hawk.

The Barbarian Tribes never hid their emotions; dislike was shown openly.

The silence following the question quickly stirred agitation among other Eagle Flock members. Soon, insults flew, and the entire hall seemed to erupt into a tumultuous argument.

”Weakling!”

”A deserter doesn’t deserve to stand here!”

”You disgrace! You should have died out there, not come back…”

Laura could feel the anger from those around her, but she couldn’t say anything.

And, to some extent, she was no different from a deserter.

”Carry out the punishment!”

A sudden voice, like an eerie shriek in the night, instantly drowned out the cacophony.

From among the Eagle Flock members, two armored elites wearing masks stepped forward, as if prepared, and advanced on her with an oppressive air.

”No!” Laura instinctively tried to resist, realizing what was about to happen. But injured and severely tormented, how could she possibly escape? She was easily caught.

One man pinned her arms behind her back while another kicked her down to her knees. A third lifted her hood, revealing Laura’s terrified expression, as his right hand took a razor passed to him by someone nearby.

”Do it!”

The leader’s voice commanded. The man grabbed her hair, yanked it up, and then, with the razor, sliced off locks that scattered as he released his grip.

”No!”

In contrast to Laura’s desperate scream, the surrounding Eagle Flock members burst into hearty laughter, mixed with all sorts of insults.

It was as if they were watching not a punishment, but some sort of entertaining performance.

Soon, Laura’s punishment was over. Strangely, only half of her long hair had been shaved off; the other half remained.

However, because of her struggles, her scalp, aside from the remaining uneven tufts of hair, was covered in numerous cuts. Blood oozed from them, streaking her face and making her look even fiercer.

Along with the blood, two lines of clear tears streamed down.

Indeed, Laura—who had gritted her teeth through immense suffering on her journey, even stabbing herself with an arrow, digging at the wound until it festered, and cauterizing it with gunpowder to save herself, all without crying—was now in tears.

Her sobs weren’t heart-wrenching; instead, she was numb, as if her spirit had died. Her eyes had lost their light.

”Take her away and lock her up! Damn it! Because of a piece of trash like you, even that old dog dares to be arrogant in front of me!”

The leader’s words were mixed with the Barbarian Tribes’ language, incomprehensible to most. However, they subtly hinted at his reasons for treating Laura this way. He felt the Butler sending her back was a slap in his face, a mockery of the Eagle Flock’s incompetence. Otherwise, why would the Butler personally escort a deserter from a failed mission back?

The warning, however, had been effective. The leader of the Eagle Flock didn’t kill Laura; otherwise, she surely wouldn’t have survived.

But the punishment he chose inflicted more psychological trauma than physical harm.

Back when the Eagle Flock was still a tribal group, they worshipped the Spirits of Nature, particularly those of birds.

For birds, feathers are crucial. By extension, for the people of the Eagle Flock, hair held great significance, even representing status, power, and so on.

And now, having her red hair shaved off—and only half of it at that—was akin to plucking half the feathers from a bird, a severe form of humiliation.

Laura was dragged away. The onlooking Eagle Flock members dispersed as if after a festival, as though nothing had happened.

Only the red hair scattered on the ground, mixed with drops of blood, attested to the reality of what had just transpired…

CLANG!

The sound of iron clashing rang out as the prison gate was shut.

Laura was tossed into a filthy, squalid cell reeking of a strong stench.

But it was only here, at this moment, that her taut nerves finally found release.

The pressure that had been building in her heart throughout her journey uncontrollably gushed out, instantly overwhelming her reason.

Low sobs soon emanated from the prison cell.

What exactly had I done wrong?

The surge of emotions brought intense mental pressure. It even made her forget the wound at her waist that had just torn open again and the still-bleeding gashes on her head. Only humiliation and pain remained, threatening to consume her.

In such despair, Laura bore not the slightest resentment towards Hamlet or Lance.

If Lance had coerced Laura back then, making her freedom a condition for her release, then the resentment she had accumulated would probably have all been directed at Lance or Hamlet.

But with a slight twist, Lance had released her first and even thoughtfully helped her conceal the fact that she had been captured.

And then what?

Laura herself then had to proactively lie, even self-harming to maintain this fabrication.

Because this was not for Lance’s benefit but for her own. Once she started down this path, events spiraled out of her control, and she had no choice but to continue.

But throughout this period, all her decisions were her own; Lance had not influenced or interfered with her actions at all.

Killing without spilling blood. One could only conclude that Lance was the most terrifying…