As Breson took the found food and medicines back to the spot in Belredo Forest where Brand met the old soldier Madden—or rather the current Buqi Guard Captain Madden, the return of the youngsters from the third squad of the militia caused a sensation in the valley.
Markmi, Eke, Essen, Beisha, Little Phenix, and the Nipetto brothers, each of them was the eldest son or daughter of a family in the village. Their relatives had originally thought they had sacrificed in the battle that night and were even prepared to accept this reality—but now they have returned alive and unharmed.
The fleeing crowd boiled over, even though they were not all residents of Buqi. Some might come from Qing Village or Weibin, but the fervent atmosphere affected everyone, after all, this was the first good news they had received in two days.
A good omen might portend smooth days ahead, and what's more, there was food and medicine to follow. The starving and cold people could eat a warm meal, the injured could be taken care of, and everyone thought that hope seemed not far away. Even the afternoon's distress and miserable circumstances were somewhat forgotten.
People always yearn for a better life, even if it's just a little better than now, they would feel satisfied. Some say humans are insatiably greedy; they are indeed greedy, but they are also the easiest to satisfy.
Madden ordered the campfire to be lit. This old soldier of the November War was naturally brave and stubborn, and would never bow to Madara's few bone skeletons. He didn't care at all if Kabais and Rosco found them; according to him, they could come at them full force, for Erune had no cowards—
So many untrained people couldn't hide anyway, so they might as well be bold.
On the other hand, Frey, suddenly alone, received hero-like treatment. Initially, Brand was worried she might feel nostalgic, but he quickly realized this worry was redundant:
"Frey, thanks to you all!"
"Frey, don't be sad, you still have us. Everyone in the village will support you. You're a strong and good girl, everyone knows it!"
"Frey, are you hurt? Let Aunt Akasha take a look. How could you be so careless!" A plump middle-aged woman pushed through the crowd. Despite her rough hands and loud voice typical of country folk, her concern was evident on her face.
She parted Frey's bangs, wiped her face, and took a step back to scrutinize the girl.
"Aunt Akasha, I'm fine now."
"Really? Don't keep anything to yourself."
"Really, thank you all." Frey looked at everyone surrounding her, and a layer of mist unintentionally clouded her vision. These people hadn't had an easy time in the past two days. Each of them lived in fear, with bloodshot eyes, but at this moment, what they displayed was the most sincere affection between people.
Brand, sitting far away, couldn't help but feel a mysterious warmth in his heart as he watched.
The warm campfire, the connections between people, the aroma of food wafting in the air—all seemed to dispel the darkness and cold colors of the mountain, even if only for a moment, making one feel instinctively grateful:
What a wonderful scene.
Relationships between people should be this simple.
Brand leaned against the white jagged rocks, gazing up at the stars: one by one, timeless, like diamonds scattered across a deep purple curtain.
"Why don't you go over?" He saw Romantic sitting higher up, holding a backpack on her lap covered by a leather skirt, with round-toed shoes swaying back and forth in the air.
"They don't like me."
"Why?"
"My aunt and I are seen as weirdos by them. Besides, what ordinary girl would want to be a merchant? So it's normal not to be liked."
You know it too. Brand thought to himself, but he suddenly realized he had no impressions of Romantic's aunt, as the woman was always traveling—here today, there tomorrow, and occasionally coming back, bringing Romantic some peculiar trinkets she liked.
Perhaps it was this independent upbringing that shaped the unique character of this future Miss Merchant.