Our Family Has Fallen

Taking advantage of the pitch-black darkness, when everyone was too exhausted (from being scared) to pay attention, he reached out to the corpse beside him, but there was only a pocket the size of a palm left; no money, only food.

Who among serfs has money? Everyone was aware of these conscriptions, so they all brought some grain when they came. Inside were two strips of jerky the size of fingers.

He had no idea what kind of meat was dried into jerky; anyway, it looked blacker than the night and felt like wood to touch—trying to bite it would break one’s teeth.

But the slight meat flavor in his mouth made him secretly smile.

This person probably couldn’t bear to eat it all at once, which turned out to be fortunate for him.

No need to go hungry tonight!

”Damn barbarians, haven’t seen you kill a single one.”

”You’re all like sickeningly useless mud.”

”Damn it, get up and move!”

Just as he rejoiced, he heard those veteran supervisors shouting, urging the new recruits fallen all over to move the corpses, while he quickly pocketed the jerky, and got driven by the veterans to open the gate.

”Get that gate open quickly!”

”Damn it, hurry up!”

No one dared resist the barrage of urging, for if anyone attempted to flee, they would face a swift sword; the soldiers slain by the Barbarian Tribes weren’t as numerous as ones killed by these supervisors.

As he and many others vigorously lifted the gate, they immediately sensed the earth rumbling vibrated by the dense galloping of horses, compelling him to look that way.

Under the firelight, fully armed knights charged forth, a scene that shook him powerfully—nothing could withstand such force.

”I want to become a knight too...”

...

Night falls, Hamlet.

Grendel knew the new fruit wine from Lance’s box was to be reviewed, and her feedback alone would be worthless, it needed more opinions.

So she invited some people over to her place for wine tasting because this wine targeted a female audience, those already having exposure in this field.

Thus, not many suitable targets could be chosen.

Paracelsus had no interest in such matters, busy at the sanatorium with research, engrossed in overtime these days, ignoring everything else.

So the ones free to come were Tiffany, Amanda, Margaret, and Gina.

Tiffany was Walter’s daughter, now the accountant of Hamlet; before Walter fell, she was a wealthy young lady in Ovando City, exposed to much business being a merchant’s daughter.

Amanda was even further detached from common folks, a little rich lady under organizational sanctuary, well versed in eating, drinking, and entertainment.

Margaret, being the Baron’s daughter, naturally had such exposure, along with a gesture of cordial inclusion.

As for Gina... well, she’d been casually rescued by Laura.

Originally, when Grendel inquired Lance, he couldn’t even recall her name.

Her presence here was merely because when Grendel approached, she was with Margaret looking very friendly, so it was difficult to invite one without the other.

At the table, everyone discussed the wine, primarily offering evaluations of it.

Lance underestimated the people of this world; in reality, the leisure activities here were too few, while alcoholic beverages had a high reach.

The wide variety of wines drank by the nobility naturally spun off numerous renowned alcohol types within other categories.

Such things weren’t often seen in rural areas, but in populous cities, similar products had been introduced.

”Very subtle feeling, preserving the sandy texture of fermented wine, with even stronger stimulation, indeed quite novel.”

”I prefer this sweetness; honey’s used to suppress beer’s bitterness, enhancing fruit aroma with floral fragrance.”

”In Bastia, I’ve sampled similar fruit wine, though this one’s sweeter, its aroma richer, more like fizzy juice than wine.”

Margaret’s personality was straightforward, never needing to consider others’ feelings within her father’s domain, speaking her mind freely.

Such straightforwardness might be manageable with tolerant folks, but with those who aren’t, the outcome is uncertain.

Like now, in the presence of more than one smart individual, Amanda, accustomed to numerous extraordinary potions, surely tasted the wine’s merits.

Her statements obviously sought positives first, only adding more depending on the situation.

Tiffany, refined by experiences, seemed considerably more mature overall, her manners no longer awkward, her speech naturally diplomatic.

While others praised the wine, Margaret bluntly pointed out its reality, challenging, ”What’s this supposed to be?”

Margaret’s words rendered the scene somewhat awkward, though Grendel merely smiled and responded.

”This wine is distinctive; indeed lacks somewhat, that’s why everyone’s here offering suggestions for improvement.”

Right now, Hamlet’s brewery was a small workshop of three persons, lacking technical accumulation or raw material advantage, dreaming to brew a universally loved wine was laughable, even they didn’t believe it.

Lance and Grendel understood this, hence the reliance on essence and alcohol blending.

Adopting a marketing approach was the plan; quality only needed passing.

Thanks to Grendel’s mediating, the atmosphere calmed slightly, yet restarting the topic required a pivot.

At this moment, Grendel’s gaze fell upon Gina, holding a glass silently.

Previously, Lance mistook Baron’s daughter healed her head wound, removing bandages revealed striking beauty.

Even Grendel acknowledged Gina’s charm; her curvy figure had huge allure for men.

While Margaret mingled well with everyone, Gina shared no words, seeming somewhat out of place.

”Gina, what do you think?”

Grendel’s words drew collective attention to Gina who appeared not to grasp until prompted.

”Gina?”

”Ah! Oh~” Gina nodded, suddenly cautious.

”But it lacks fizz, sandy texture isn’t strong, sweetness’s fine, but weak wine flavor renders taste shallow, should raise alcohol level slightly for bittersweet aftertaste.”

”Such enriched layered taste better aligns with the wine ’Maiden’s Dream’ name—immersed in sweet dreams, but waking always leads back to bitter reality.”

Gina’s gentle swirling glass accompanied by slightly sorrowful expression conveyed a sense of melancholy.

Grendel pondered, evidently immersed in her explanation’s meaning of wine.

...

”I killed at least two!”

”Hahaha! Those Empire pigs wouldn’t dare leave the walls.”

”Damn it, had they not hid inside, they’d be slaughtered by now.”

”If they were chasing us, I’d finish them off...”

After completing their mission, the Barbarian Tribes reveled.

These barbarian mercenaries, while serving in Bastia City, were often ill-treated, bullied by anyone; yet, for their tribe to survive winter, they tolerated to earn supplementary income.

Finally, released after prolonged suppression, their revenge fared more brutal than other Barbarian Tribes.

Most barbarian tribes aimed to plunder while occasionally engaging in massacre; general populace being resources, males as slaves, females for breeding, aside from the unnecessary elderly or young.

Barbarian Mercenaries pursued slaughter alone, setting fire everywhere in Bastia, exhausting the army.

The raids over time served as fatigue tactics, as surrounding villages have been looted by Barbarians, further ”autumn hunts” require penetrating the camp, reaching Bastia’s truly fertile center, avoiding detours.

Mid boast, suddenly sensing tremors below, experienced veterans swiftly cried out.

”Knights are coming!”

”Damn it!”