The leader of the Confessarrii, currently sitting inside the simple tent, naturally heard the commotion outside. After all, Patriot made no effort to quiet his footsteps as he walked; otherwise, the sound would have been audible from a distance.
However, he couldn't figure out what Patriot intended to do by coming here. At first glance, it seemed as if the old man intended to speak with him, but he couldn't imagine what they would have to discuss. After all, he felt there were no remaining topics for conversation between an attacker and the defender—one could hardly reminisce about the old days when Kazdel was besieged, could they? Such a thought was impossible.
While he was still lost in thought, Patriot's heavy footsteps reached the outside of the tent, and the sound of his weighted breathing was clearly audible.
"I suspect you are not yet asleep. I have things to say to you, which you may relay to Theresis when you return."
Patriot walked directly into the tent, his eyes fixed on the figure before him as he clearly stated his purpose for coming. As for Jeanne, who had entered with him? At this moment, she stood just outside the tent, her sharp perception constantly monitoring the situation inside to prevent any accidents.
Even Jeanne herself didn't believe that these disarmed individuals could harm Patriot in such an environment, or attempt to take him hostage to escape. Setting aside whether any of them could best Patriot one-on-one, even if Patriot performed far below his usual standard, he wouldn't be caught and used as leverage. Thus, she decided to give the two some space for their exchange.
"Speaking of which, have none of these guys rested at all? Pulling all-nighters like this every day—won't they just drop dead from exhaustion?"
Jeanne scanned the quiet area, yet she could feel gazes landing on her one after another; these Sarkaz had been peeking at her from the shadows. Jeanne had felt this for a long time; their eyes had hardly shifted away from her all day, watching her every move like security cameras.
However, what radiated from those eyes was not hatred or resentment, but rather a profound, deep-seated fear. They were secretly peering at this woman who, in their eyes, was utterly terrifying. This situation had persisted for a long while. It was said that this group hadn't closed their eyes last night either, fearing that the wyverns surrounding them might incinerate them with dragon breath at any moment.
And today, these Sarkaz were likely worried that this woman might be having a bad day and would come in to vent her frustrations on them. None of them could withstand her fists. Should she say she had terrified these "children" (?), or should she praise the legendary vitality of the Sarkaz for not dropping dead yet?
Jeanne didn't care about their stares; they couldn't kill her with their eyes, so looking at her until next year wouldn't achieve anything.
Meanwhile, the voices of the two men talking drifted out from the tent. Jeanne stopped worrying about the hidden onlookers and turned her full attention to eavesdropping on the conversation inside. Another reason she had come was curiosity: what did Patriot want to say to this guy? Was it a reunion with an old friend, or some kind of threat? As a Saint who was so bored monitoring these people at night that she could only play with her dragons, her curiosity had spiked by several percentage points.
"Coming to find me this late?" The man was surprised to see Patriot enter, unable to fathom why he was here. His first thought was that the old fellow couldn't sleep and wanted to reminisce, but he instantly dismissed that ridiculous idea.
This old man wasn't that type of person, and what "old days" did they have to reminisce about? He hadn't had much contact with Patriot in the past; Patriot would have more to say even to the Sanguinarch than to him.
"Naturally, it is about your purpose for coming here. The matter regarding the Golden Horn." Patriot's crimson eyes stared at the Confessarius, and only after a long silence did he speak these words.
These words instantly energized the previously weary Confessarius. Was this old man planning to reveal some details to him? He didn't believe for a second that this Wendigo knew nothing; after all, in Kazdel, the only beings who might be more knowledgeable than them were the Demon Kings.
They possessed the ability to imprint past memories onto their souls, and their descendants could use this power to dive into the tides of the soul to find the things the Sarkaz had experienced in the past.
"...Give it up. Do not obsess over the existence of the Horn any longer. That thing was never something we could control. It will only bring us endless calamity and pain."
A look of agony appeared in Patriot's eyes, as if he were seeing some unbearable images through the eyes of the Wendigos of the past. It was unknown which era of the past these images came from, but the only certainty was that the past narrated a sorrowful history of the Sarkaz.
In the moment he spoke, what Patriot saw were the scenes the Sarkaz had endured over thousands of years—all the incredibly unfortunate pasts they had suffered. He saw countless Sarkaz yearning for a happy future, only for that yearning to be shattered for some reason, leaving them with a past of wandering.
This was not the first time Patriot had seen this image. Ever since hearing that Theresis was pursuing that Horn, he had often dreamt of those tragic scenes. He knew his race was warning him—the other side was currently fostering the most foolish act in time, a folly that would push the Sarkaz into the abyss once more.
This was why Patriot had come to find him in the middle of the night. Having had the nightmare again tonight, he simply couldn't put his mind at ease. Otherwise, he wouldn't have said a single word to them even after they were released, nor would he have revealed a shred of information.
"Let us give up? Buldrokkas'tee, do you know what you are saying? You are asking the Sarkaz to lose the power to quickly build a homeland!"
When the Confessarius heard the other side demanding they give up this pursuit, the anger in his heart exploded. He looked as if he were ready to come to blows with Patriot.
"Do you not know the current state of the Sarkaz? As long as we have that object, we can rebuild a powerful nation and restore the scenes of the past..."
The Confessarius looked at this Wendigo who had long since left Kazdel, feeling that his current appearance was exactly like someone who "talked big because his own back didn't hurt."
You left Kazdel early and even gained a certain status in Ursus; even your clan has a settled location. But what about the other Sarkaz? We can only struggle to survive on that barren land where even grain yields are low, surrounded by a pack of hungry wolves ready to tear us apart at any moment! Even in this chaotic period of the war between the two monarchs, there is the shadow of more than one country! Because the nations of Terra do not wish to see a unified Kazdel.
"Our military strength cannot match Ursus, our industrial level cannot match Victoria, the richness of our land is inferior to Yan, and our people's cohesion is lower than Laterano—yet we must be prepared to be enemies with all these nations..."
He rattled off the names of Terra's great powers. These nations had, to varying degrees, interfered with Kazdel, even secretly supporting certain mercenary groups to make the battlefield more chaotic. Countless Sarkaz were forced to leave their homes, remaining the lowest level of existence in other countries, with a status even lower than that of the Infected!
"Being like this, if we do not use that Horn, what other way is there to rebuild the Sarkaz paradise!"
The Confessarius interrogated Patriot. Although he knew the other no longer belonged to Kazdel, he issued the questioning in the name of a Sarkaz.
This caused Patriot to fall into silence. He naturally knew how fragile Kazdel was. Perhaps just one storm would be enough to destroy the hard-won Kazdel once again.
"I know all of this. But I cannot stand by and watch you throw our race into the fire like moths, or watch you attempt to push all Sarkaz into the abyss again!"
Patriot stood up abruptly, his eyes looking down at the Confessarius as he argued back with equal volume.
"We are already in purgatory! Where else can we go but down? Buldrokkas'tee!"