Mercenary System: I can increase innate potential !

Chapter 79 Baron Edrin

Charles looked at Andrew's face in profile with astonishment and emotion. Discover more stories at My Virtual Library Empire

Andrew felt Charles's gaze, but he had no desire to confront it with his own.

"Getting too attached to others could be too painful."

A middle-aged man approached them accompanied by two small children.

The two little ones hid behind their father's legs while casting curious glances at Charles and Andrew.

"Respectable mercenaries, I have a room with an insulated bed for the injured young man and I can also set up an extra bed for you sir."

Not knowing the mercenaries' first names, the man used his gaze to let Charles and Andrew know who he was talking to.

"It would indeed be great if we could stay with you," Charles replied with a smile.

"We'd be very grateful," Andrew added without too much emotion.

If a bed was suddenly available, it must have been occupied before.

Otherwise, the room would have been rearranged.

Similar scenes occurred again and again.

Every family in the village had lost one or more members, whether children, parents, cousins or grandparents.

But thanks to this, Maxime's little mercenary troop was easily accommodated despite the many destroyed houses.

Terry, Izo, Piedro and James settled in together in a house to which they had been invited.

The premises were modest, but a fire crackled in the fireplace, casting a warm glow over the fighters' slightly tired faces.

Even for them, walking for 3 days outside and then directly confronting orcs was rather exhausting.

An elderly woman, who appeared to be the matriarch of the house, approached the group.

She had arranged a few chairs in front of the fireplace and placed steaming dishes of soup and still-warm bread on the table.

"Thank you very much for the meal."

James thanked the woman with a smile, while the others nodded gratefully.

"Thank you for stepping in."

The woman's expression was at once very grateful but also very sad.

"Thanks to you my little baby and I are still living, even if it will be complicated without my husband and my two teenagers."

James, visibly moved, clenched his fists as he looked at her.

"Don't thank us, ma'am... No one should have to go through this, not you, not anyone."

Terry, her gaze tranquil, laid a friendly hand on James's shoulder to calm him.

"It's precisely because things like this happen that we have to help people in need as much as we can," he said, turning his gaze to the old woman with a reassuring smile.

"If we do our job well, maybe one day we can achieve eternal peace in certain regions."

Piedro, his face impassive, also gave his opinion.

"This is our mission. And when you've got a mission, you don't give up. It doesn't matter how many there are, or how strong they are. We're here to protect."

Beside her, Izo remained silent, watching the woman's face. He said nothing, but his unyielding gaze seemed to reassure her far more than long speeches.

He seemed particularly reliable.

They'd all given a lot of thought to becoming mercenaries, their goals, what they wanted to become and, above all, they'd also thought about Maxime's behavior.

If his behavior was really bad, then no matter how talented he was, they would leave and live their lives in a different way.

But so far, Maxime was doing a surprisingly good job in his choice of missions, in his strategic thinking, in the values he transmitted and in the way he preserved his men.

As a result, they were all very loyal to Maxime, and even if his talent disappeared, he would stay by his side and continue to follow them.

The day passed quickly in the village, with discussions, tears and emotional moments.

For the evening, a large table had been set up in the village square, where the little food available was gathered for a generous meal.

After songs, toasts and stories, a moving ceremony took place to honor the dead.

The old woman in the brown dress, respected by all, stepped into the center of the village, carrying in her hands an earthenware bowl filled with ashes and twigs.

The villagers had gathered in a silent circle, while the mercenaries stood back in line, observing the scene with respect.

Their faces, still scarred by previous battles, were imbued with an unusual solemnity.

The old woman slowly raised her arms and murmured an ancient prayer, her husky voice echoing in the silence, punctuated by the rustling of leaves and the crackling of the first stars.

A few villagers in turn intoned words in a low, almost hypnotic chant, echoing the healer's voice. The air took on a palpable gravity, and even the mercenaries, unaccustomed to such rituals, froze in deep reverence.

She placed the bowl on the ground and began throwing dried herbs into it, invoking the memory of the dead who had fallen to defend the village.

Wisps of bluish smoke rose up, carrying with them prayers of protection.

At that moment, each villager, from the youngest to the oldest, stepped forward in turn, throwing a handful of earth or a flower into the bowl, a symbol of their gratitude to the mercenaries and their fallen loved ones.

Andrew, arms folded, watched the scene, deeply moved by the simplicity and power of this rite.

Maxime, at his side, remained impassive, but a glint of gentleness passed through his eyes as he observed the respectful gestures of the villagers towards their dead.

Henry and Ultia also seemed absorbed in the gravity of the moment, despite their youth and lack of experience.

Terry, James, Piedro and Izo stood side by side, each staring into the steaming bowl as if the ashes contained all the suffering and courage of those they had lost.

In particular, Peter, Alessandro and Ronny, who had sadly passed away during the battle of Plouta, and their family, who had tragically died in Quessoi.

Rodrigo also observed the scene, his thoughts mixed.

Romuald's gaze was deep; he'd known many ways to honor the dead.

And during his career as a soldier, he had honored many in different ways.

But all were highly respectable, as long as those present had sincere and compassionate thoughts for the dead.

After a final chant murmuring the names of the departed, the old woman raised her hands to the sky, her gaunt fingers drawing shapes in the air.

Then, in a slow movement, she poured the contents of the bowl into the flames of the brazier at the center of the circle, creating a great flame that lit up the faces of all present.

This fire symbolized the passage of souls to a place of eternal rest. The villagers watched the flame in silence, while the mercenaries felt for the first time the depth of this communion.

Finally, the healer addressed the mercenaries with a gleam of gratitude in her tired eyes.

"You have taken up the burden of battle for us, and our dead rest in peace thanks to your bravery. May this flame grant you the protection of the elders."

A respectful silence settled, broken by a few words from Maxime:

"We are honored to stand among you tonight."

His tone, humble and sincere, echoed in the hearts of the villagers, marking this ceremony with a sense of closeness between villagers and mercenaries.

As the flame began to fade, a sense of peace permeated the air, as if the souls had found their rest.

In the days that followed, the presence of the mercenaries reassured the village, and little by little, trust grew between the two groups as the traumas of the previous day were slowly hidden deep in the hearts of the villagers.

The villagers enjoyed hearing tales of past battles, fascinated by the endurance and bravery of these men who had come from afar to defend strangers.

On the morning of the fourth day, horses were spotted on the horizon. An imposing, noble-looking man, surrounded by apprentice knights, entered the village.

It was Baron Edrin, who had come to check on his people and the mercenaries who had saved them.

He dismounted and went first to speak with a few villagers.

After listening to the villagers' stories, he rode over to Maxime and his companions, a grateful smile lighting up his tired face.

Edrin bowed slightly in respect.

"Maxime, you and your men have accomplished what I thought impossible. My duty should have been to protect them, and yet it was you who saved my village. For that, I am deeply grateful."

Maxime, humbled, bowed his head slightly in respect.

"Monseigneur, we simply did what we felt was right."

The baron nodded and, touched by this rare humility, laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Few mercenaries can boast such loyalty to those they protect. You have my eternal gratitude. If you ever need an ally, Baron Edrin will be at your side."

Laura, not far away, watched Maxime, wanting to laugh.

"Maxime likes to play modest, but all he has in mind is improving his impression of Baron Edrin to increase the reward he can receive from him."

Standing next to Maxime, the baron addressed the assembled villagers and mercenaries.

"My friends, this village will rise and prosper again, thanks to the bravery of these men and women. Together, we will rebuild what has been lost."