Chapter 84 - 30: [Night Journey Chat]

Chapter 84: Chapter 30: [Night Journey Chat]

"Selena and Ruby are in their tent. Ruby’s exams are coming up soon, so she’s still reviewing her Magic Potion Science textbooks."

"Talan is..." He hesitated for a moment. "A little further away—praying. You know, it’s... our religious custom. Prayer requires a quiet place—"

"No, no, Samo Cultivator, there’s no need to explain that to me." Randall waved a hand and plopped down next to Samael, setting his hunting bow aside.

"It’s rare to get a chance to rest. We’ve been on edge for a long time." He looked at the warm sunset on the distant horizon and the noisy, bustling scene in the large camp of nearly three hundred people.

"By the way, after Glad pitched the tent, he went back to the carriage alone," Samael paused. "Maybe... you should pay a little more attention to Glad?"

"Hm?" Randall looked up.

"I mean, he always seems rather withdrawn," Samael explained. "He doesn’t seem to get much attention in your group, so he looks a little..." Samael hesitated.

"Glad can’t read," Randall said, gazing at the distant sun. "That might make him feel a bit inferior. He isn’t exactly smart, nor is he particularly talented. Aside from swinging a sword with brute force, he can barely do anything else—lately, he’s been trying to teach himself how to read.

"Actually, Eliot barely knows any words either, but Eliot is very optimistic. He thinks it doesn’t matter if he can’t read. Being a roughneck is perfectly fine to him. After all, slitting throats and stabbing people don’t require literacy."

"Oh." Samael nodded. "As long as I know you’re looking out for him, that’s fine—after all, as a leader, or rather, the person in charge, you have to try your best to be considerate and take care of everyone in every situation..." He trailed off, not saying any more.

"You are always surprising, Samo Cultivator." Randall turned to glance at Samael’s helmet. "Were you also some kind of leader in the past?"

Samael was silent for a moment.

"I used to be, yes," he reminisced. "Looking back on it now, it feels like a very long time ago. At that time, I was studying in a higher academy in my hometown. The academy allowed students to form their own societies, and I used to be the head of one—in charge of organizing gatherings and activities."

He chuckled softly.

"Most of the students at my hometown academy came from years of lonely, grueling study. Because of that, they were often reticent, alienated from one another, and repressed. During our gatherings, everyone would just sit in silence. To liven up the atmosphere back then, I would deliberately spout nonsense, tell jokes, and look out for whoever in the crowd was being left out—I tried to care for everyone equally."

"I’ve gotten used to it." He looked toward the carriage.

Glad was sitting inside the carriage, holding a small notebook and a piece of charcoal. With a deep frown, he painstakingly traced out words, stroke by stroke. The notebook and charcoal were identical to the ones Randall usually used, clearly a gift from him.

"Don’t tell Talan about this," Samael said.

"Why?" Randall was slightly taken aback. "Doesn’t Talan Cultivator know about your past?"

"She doesn’t need to know." Samael shook his head. "She has a lot of difficult things weighing on her heart, which leaves her feeling repressed, exhausted, and constantly anxious and on edge. Even though I feel the same way, I can never show it. In front of her, I have to maintain a relaxed and happy state at all times. It’s like—like how the person bearing the responsibility can never show fear or nervousness when things happen. You have to maintain a confident, breezy posture. Otherwise, if others see you looking tense, they’ll panic too."

"My god, you won’t tell Talan Cultivator all this, yet you’re willing to chat with me about it?" Randall laughed as he pulled out a notebook to jot down this advice. "Thanks for the wisdom, Samo Cultivator. I heard Uncle Carlisle mention that an old officer of theirs in the Imperial Army would always tell dirty jokes when the situation was dire—maybe it’s the same principle. You must have been an excellent leader."

"It’s no big deal. I also know you can keep a secret, Brother Randall." Samael spread his hands. "This is a conversation between men. You’re also the person in charge of a squad, so we can both understand this kind of situation. There’s no shame in talking to you about it."

"Actually, I used to study at the Clero Mage Academy in the Ederic Empire, and I was also the head of a society there." Randall put away his notebook. "Looking at it from that perspective, you and I have some things in common."

He gazed at the sunset gradually disappearing over the horizon.

"My father was a very stubborn man, but he lacked vision and missed every opportunity to change his fate," Randall said. "My grandfather was a farmer who left him a plot of farmland. So, he toiled away with that land, struggling for half his life, only to end up as a farmer with more farmland.

"However, when he was young, Ederic and the Supar Empire went to war. He stayed with his farmland instead of enlisting in the army, missing the chance to earn a Military Rank.

"Later, when Mages and Alchemists rose to prominence—being few in number and exceptionally precious—he still didn’t spend his savings to seek an education. Instead, he used all his savings to buy even more farmland.

"The townsfolk who had courage went out to make a living. Relying on their savings, even if they had to work part-time while studying, some enlisted and earned a Military Rank, while others succeeded in their studies and became veteran Mages and Alchemists.

"Only my father stayed tied to his farm. He never left the small town his entire life. He could only watch jealously from within the town as his peers returned home with wealth and glory, while he was left sitting by his fields in a daze."