Chapter 104: Return

Under Kraft's strong insistence, William temporarily abandoned the idea, and the team quickly withdrew from the mine tunnel.

"We can't just go back like this; after you ask your questions, we still have to go down." William shook his head at his inexplicable caution, looking back at the cave entrance with reluctance, knowing that returning next time would mean enduring another climb as treacherous as a mountain of knives. "And a cult in a small village—do you really think there's any significance to it?"

"Nothing more than foolish men and women using some trick to fool another group of people who know nothing."

He extinguished the torch in the sandy soil on the ground, calming his emotions slightly, and realized he had been too impulsive; the possibility of encountering intersections further down was merely a guess.

What puzzled him, however, was that Kraft's attention had shifted from the original target, his behavior dominated by inexplicable caution, even to the point of rejecting further exploration as soon as possible. Two voices with differing opinions had suddenly emerged within a team that had previously cooperated well.

But William was quite accustomed to this situation; he had encountered it before. On the contrary, it was quite common; some people believed that certain small events were interconnected and represented an undeniable revelation.

You cannot openly refute him, because logic cannot defeat something whose source cannot even be explained, just as the profit from two silver coins would not make the locals take two more steps downward.

The best approach is to go along with them; once this phase passes, things will naturally continue.

"The mine isn't going anywhere; let's go down first." William took the lead, walking back the way they came. This time could be used to find a local in the village willing to guide them downward, which would not be a waste.

"I'm sorry."

Kup followed Kraft, who was looking around the village, and muttered an apology while lowering his head. He seemed to have hesitated for a long time, waiting until they returned to the village and separated from William's group before speaking alone.

It was quite rare; since this new squire's appointment, he had spent most of his time catching up on lessons, knowing nothing about what he should do, and naturally understanding nothing about what actions were wrong, so opportunities to admit mistakes were scarce.

And Kraft's communication style was mostly in the tone of suggestion, rarely issuing accusations, so Kup's solemn apology seemed rather abrupt.

"Why do you say that? I don't recall you making any mistakes." He quickly reflected on recent interactions, wondering if some deviation in expression had led Kup to misunderstand his attitude.

"Because of some of my nonsense, your and Captain William's decisions have become... somewhat inconsistent."

"You don't need to think that way; my attitude does not favor one side's account over the other." Kraft understood his meaning; Kup probably felt that his uncertain feelings had negatively impacted the decision-making, or even caused the minor disagreement within the team.

He turned to the two behind him, looking at Kup and Yin Feng. "Additionally, everyone should clearly realize that now, and for a very long time in the future, we are a single unit, and you will sooner or later have to take on parts I cannot manage."

"So, I am very glad you can openly express your discoveries and views, whether certain or not; this is a very good step."

"Thank you, I understand." Kup nodded, seeming to understand and not understand at the same time, and continued following Kraft as they strolled toward the center of the village.

As long as the terrain allowed, the construction and deployment of these villages generally revolved around a single line and a single point: the road cleared for mineral transport, and most importantly, the water source.

Given the village's scale, the actual distance might not be many steps, but the site selection for new houses still aimed to be as close to Jingkou as possible, almost forming a custom related to subtle status competition or other reasons, which no one had yet deeply investigated.

This actually made it convenient for outsiders to save time asking for directions; one only needed to walk straight inward to easily find the well's location. The circular, narrow well rim built from dusty yellow rocks didn't look very appealing, but since everyone came here, it was still very suitable for charlatans to preach.

A half-grown boy was struggling to pull the rope at Jingkou; his chest barely reached the well rim, and he couldn't find a suitable angle to lift the water-filled bucket up.

It was obvious; this was not Old Gori.

"Need help?" Kraft said, reaching out to give him a hand, lifting out a full bucket that was hardly smaller than Jingkou itself. It was only because Jingkou was so small; otherwise, it was hard to say whether the bucket would come up or the person would go down.

He didn't seem surprised by the help from others; he handed the rope to the newcomer without turning his head, only realizing when he wanted to thank him that this wasn't a familiar neighbor. "Someone from outside?"

Beneath the dust-covered hair on his forehead, his eyes, slightly cloudy like discarded glass beads in Vichem's workshop, held vigilance and a faint but perceptible hostility, as if mineral impurities had solidified within them.

It was regarding the identity of "outsiders"; his young age was not enough for him to conceal this rejection, which he displayed blatantly, far more than the implicit xenophobic attitude felt in other villages.

While the boy hadn't left yet, Kraft tried to trade the "merit" from just now for some information. "Do you know where Old Gori is? Someone told me I could find him here."

"Why do you want to find him?" The boy stepped back to increase the distance, seeming ready to run away with the bucket at any moment.

Kraft fumbled for a while at his side and left chest; half of his soul instinctively wanted to pull a small trinket from a non-existent large pocket to build rapport, such as a shiny little tube or a pen barrel that clicked when pressed.

However, the empty pocket only provided a copper coin casually stuffed in during the last payment and a scrap of waste paper.

He handed over the copper coin. "We are very interested in the painting on that stone at the village entrance, but unfortunately, we can't understand it at all. That Old Gori who painted it—do you know where he is?"

The boy brushed aside the grass-like hair in front of his eyes; dust and gray-white flakes fell down in a rustle. His eyes narrowed and then opened again, finally shifting away from the copper coin. He didn't take it, but his furrowed brow relaxed somewhat.

"I know."

"You know?" Kraft took back the copper coin and folded the paper scrap. Fortunately, the paper's fibers were still tough enough to have some room for maneuvering.

"That is the Messenger!" He answered the question with a tone of pride, just like most children in the otherworldly soul's knowledge who had memorized the content to perfection.

"Very smart." Kraft had thought the boy would know Old Gori's location; this village looked like no place where a Messenger would ever come, and he couldn't understand how any part of the painting could be related to a Messenger. "You actually know about the Messenger?"

"Old Gori said the Messenger delivers things, bringing them from very far away, and can also bring my father back."

"Your father?"

Kraft's hand movement paused, almost tearing the edge of the paper, as a voice from behind popped up, asking the question a step ahead. Kup, unusually, interjected during his conversation, his questioning tone trembling slightly with disbelief.

"Yes, he was trapped in the cave for years by those two outsiders. Old Gori said the Messenger would bring him back."

Kup fell silent; it seemed his earlier interjection was just a sudden whim.

The paper scrap took shape in his fingertips. Kraft naturally took over the conversation, smiling as he showed the boy the technique, successfully reducing some of the vigilance in those eyes. "That's wonderful. Did he say how long it would take?"

"I have already seen him!"

"Oh? Where did you see him?"

"In the cave, of course." The boy answered matter-of-factly, surprised that this outsider was so forgetful that he had to ask such a question. "Didn't I say he was trapped in the cave?"

"I see. Sorry, I was too stupid." Kraft shaped a pointed beak on the finished product in his hand and handed it to the boy. This small gift was not rejected. "For you."

"What is this?" The small hand accepted this unfamiliar greeting gift.

Thanks to the dictionary consulted while compiling the book, he actually found the corresponding Norse vocabulary. "You can call it a paper crane, a kind of bird."

"I've never seen one."

"To be honest, I haven't seen one with my own eyes either. Anyway, I wish your father... safety and peace."

Kraft bid him farewell. The boy walked away holding the small toy, hoping it wouldn't get wet from the water in the bucket before reaching home. "By the way, did you see Old Gori again today?"

"No! He used to be here all the time." The figure turned into the wall behind and disappeared.

The laughter from obtaining the new toy had not yet faded when the smile froze and died on the face of the person who had just given away the paper crane. Turning around, his expression solidified into a solemn countenance. "I have never seen a Messenger like that either."

And Kup, this squire who had suddenly interjected, had not looked very good in color since a moment ago, just as he had stood before that rock painting last night, facing a "familiar" face.