A Glimmer of Hope

Panthonia stared at the bloodstained parchment on the table. Half an hour ago, a member of the Seventh with ten fingers cut off fell at the gate, and a dagger nailed this letter to his back. Through this, Travis admitted that he had kidnapped Mardias and demanded that Panthonia bring all the bribery information from the council members to meet him outside the Darkmoon Faire in Goldshire Town.

In his life, he had experienced countless ups and downs. Only after enduring all these trials did he attain today's position. But someone chose to challenge him at this time.

He allowed Bossia to leave Stormwind to disturb Benedictus's mind. Although the other party remained tough for a while, he eventually gave in, handed over all the materials, and admitted hiring Jorgen to clear Bossia's guilt. The two attendants were ordered to kill Jorgen and bring Bossia back. Panthonia was not worried about the success rate of this task. But failure to deal with Travis immediately was a mistake he had to admit.

Travis was once a vicious bandit, which didn't matter because such people were easier to control. However, Panthonia's negligence was that he did not expect Travis to work at the Seventh for so many years and actually become smarter. Whether the bribery information was exposed or not, Mardias was in his hands, giving him the upper hand.

Panthonia was always very satisfied with Mardias's growth. He saw Dalia's efforts to soften her son's character, but he thought it was futile. After a severe failure, he felt that he had finally cultivated a qualified heir. Although Mardias was still a nine-year-old child now, as long as the current situation continued, he would truly become Panthonia's own continuation and the future of Military Intelligence Section 7 in less than ten years. Now, a humble bandit dared to threaten this future with endless possibilities.

This must not be allowed.

Panthonia stood up, drew out the dagger at his waist, and placed it on the table, with his left and right hands pressing the tip and the hilt respectively, staring at the gleaming blade. He recalled that when he took his first assassination mission at the age of fourteen, he also stared at the weapon like performing a solemn religious ritual. Fifty-seven years later, although these hands were no longer as powerful as in his youth, he still remembered what he thought at that time: crush everything that hindered him into dust.

When Jorgen woke up, he was a little surprised that he was still alive. The fist that could smash the dagger into powder did not smash his five internal organs with one punch. He did not know whether this was luck, or the attendants controlled their strength, or the metal fatigue of the dagger had reached its limit. He suddenly realized that thinking about this was very stupid and simply showed that his head was broken. So he began to observe the surrounding environment.

This was an ordinary stone cell that could hold more than ten people. About one meter up the wall, there was a row of fixed shackles, but now only he was here, sitting with his back against the corner. He found that there were no restraints on his body, so he tried to stand up, but was immediately attacked by severe pain and could not move at all. His exhausted strength made it even difficult to move a finger. He would rather be stabbed a few more times by the undertaker with the steel needle than eat such a punch again.

This was not the Military Intelligence Section 7 or any of the prisons in Stormwind. Jorgen realized that he was still in Westbrook Garrison.

He thought of Bossia. The primary purpose of the attendants was obviously the golden key, but he did not know what happened to her after he fainted. He hoped she had already returned safely to Stormwind, which was the best outcome. Recalling the attendants ruthlessly pulling the rope and leaving a merciless bloodstain on her neck made him feel a burst of futile anger.

Jorgen soon became tired again and was about to lie down. As he was thinking about how to move effectively without causing severe pain, the prison door opened, and Lieutenant Colonel came in with a shallow dish in his hand containing some gray paste. He squatted down in front of Jorgen.

"You woke up earlier than I expected," the lieutenant colonel said. "Good body. When I came in just now, I thought you were dead, or at least half of your soul was gone. Want some?" He lifted the dish in front of Jorgen.

Jorgen did not know what to say for a while. This lieutenant colonel made him completely confused. He was obviously the one who had framed him, but now he behaved like an enthusiastic visitor.

"Don't want to eat? That's fine. I guess if you eat it now, you'll vomit it up." He put the dish down. "You seem to hate me a lot. Look at that look."

"No, I don't hate you because you just do what you're told. But if I have a chance, I will definitely smash your nose."

"Oh, I bet you will. But by the time you recover your strength, I won't be in front of you."

"I may not live that long. How's Bossia?"

"Don't worry, she's safe. She's sleeping in the big bed with fresh sheets right now. Her treatment is much better than yours."

"I didn't ask about that."

"Those two black guys didn't touch her. Not even a finger."

Jorgen breathed a sigh of relief. After a while, he suddenly remembered something and said immediately: "What about the attendants?"

"They are still in the castle. Listen to me carefully, Jorgen. They may kill you and take Bossia away because you are of no use to them."

"Oh, big news. I woke up once just for you to announce this to me."

"Jorgen, believe me, although I have to obey the old man, I don't want you to be killed."

Jorgen, who had originally looked away to face the corner, returned his eyes to the lieutenant colonel's face. "Why?"

"Do you remember what I said when we first met? 'I have heard a lot about you and am glad to meet you.' That was sincere, although at the time I was not sure if you were real."

"I can't hear anything special from such clichés."

"Dean Shawl saved my life," he said. "Nine years ago, on the eve of his disappearance from Stormwind, he saved me from a group of bandits. I will never forget the scene I saw that day. He defeated nearly twenty people but did not kill anyone or even seriously injure anyone. It was incredible."

At the beginning of this sentence, Jorgen still thought the lieutenant colonel was trying to show his superb acting skills to deceive him twice. But when he mentioned Dean's characteristic of not killing, Jorgen immediately understood that this was not a lie.

"When I found out that the man in front of me was Panthonia Shawl's heir, I immediately decided to work for the Military Intelligence Section 7 and voluntarily became the old man's eyeliner stationed in Westbrook Garrison. How naive. Now I feel that everything around me has been gradually controlled and I can't quit this job."

"You can't blame yourself. Dean was different. He didn't belong to the Military Intelligence Section 7 at all."

"I have long heard that you were his best friend, as well as the rumors about the Southshore incident. Did you really see him there? Asking these really makes me feel like a child."

"I can't tell you."

"I understand. So... can you answer me, is Dean still alive?"

Jorgen looked at the lieutenant colonel's earnest eyes and hesitated for a moment before deciding to trust him. He shook his head.

"I see...I understand."

"For your own sake, it's best not to ask anything else."

"Since you are willing to tell me this, it means you trust me to help you. I cannot directly betray the old man, but I also don't want you to be killed by the attendants, as if you died at my hands. So I decided to help you. I talked to Bossia. She said you buried her armor and weapons somewhere in Goldshire. "

"Yes, I buried it with her..."

"No, not true. From now on, she doesn't know where it is buried, only you know. That's what I told the attendants."

"You told them..." Jorgen was suddenly unable to accept the fact that the attendants could talk.

"They don't talk much, but they can naturally understand my meaning. It seems that the old man does want the attendants not to harm Bossia, I guess out of concern for the cathedral..."

Jorgen thought the lieutenant colonel made sense. Since the old man had grasped their whereabouts from the beginning, now bringing Bossia back instead of harming her was likely due to some compromise with the Archbiship.

"If so," the lieutenant colonel continued, "I tried to persuade the attendants to dress Bossia like a paladin instead of a huntress when entering the city. That would be very disrespectful." They agreed and decided to take you with them to dig out Bossia's things."

"So at least I can live to Goldshire."

"Find a chance to escape, Jorgen. That's what I hope you can do. Dean saved my life. I cannot let the witness of his life die in front of me. I don't know why you stayed with the Archbishop's maiden or what kind of situation you got into, but as long as you can stay alive and enter Stormwind, I believe you can get asylum from the Archbishop through Bossia. The horses are ready."

This was limited help rather than pure dedication. Otherwise, he could have secretly sent Jorgen and Bossia out of the castle, but that would surely endanger himself. And this limited help was what Jorgen needed. He never demanded so much from others.

"Thank you," Jorgen said. "I will make good use of it. Can you tell me your name?"

"Renner Marvin."

"I'll remember that, Lieutenant Colonel Renner. I hope we can meet alive again."

"We will."

Six hours later, when the mist around Westbrook Garrison had just dispersed in the early morning, Jorgen climbed onto the horse. Although his hands were tied with rough hemp ropes, along with the reins of the horse, pulled in the attendants' hands, being able to breathe fresh air again cheered him up a lot. Bossia, who was not restrained, rode her own horse anxiously, looking at Jorgen. The attendants believed that even if she had the idea of escaping alone, she could not achieve it. They did not doubt the possibility of their tracking skills. Lieutenant Colonel Renner stood outside the castle, anxiously watching the four-man team disappear into the distance on the avenue.