Chapter 231: Everyone’s Past Has More Than One Side

Charlot Mecklenburg, though a layman in military matters, understood the importance of proper equipment. Under his leadership, every member of the West Wind Knight Order was outfitted with a rifle, a rapier, and a dagger. Some soldiers used a combination of long rifles and pistols, as those skilled in wielding the Knight’s Lance found rifles cumbersome and instead opted for weapons like the Magnum Mauler.

At his command, Baron Valentine and his men were met with a forest of black gun barrels. Those who dared resist were instantly riddled with bullets, their bodies turned into sieves.

The Valentine Knight Order, essentially Seagull City's local garrison, lacked proper discipline and training. Though the baron held the title to raise a knight order, he had been unwilling to bear the expense, leaving his forces poorly maintained. Furthermore, a crushing defeat in South Seraph had already broken their morale.

Faced with an "enemy ambush," many soldiers immediately panicked, dropped their weapons, and fled. These deserters were quickly captured by the soldiers of the West Wind Knight Order, restrained and pressed to the ground.

Charlot, true to his word, publicly awarded twenty centimes to every surrendering soldier. The disarmed members of the Valentine Knight Order, after receiving their coins, were searched thoroughly, and all possessions beyond the awarded twenty centimes were confiscated.

Charlot never shortchanged his own men. As a result, the West Wind Knight Order developed a custom of claiming small spoils of war for themselves, a practice widely accepted from top to bottom within the unit.

The surrender snowballed as more Valentine soldiers, oblivious to their comrades' fates, followed suit.

Baron Valentine was no renowned general. He had dared to launch an attack only because he had heard unsavory rumors about Charlot, whom he regarded with contempt. Now, cornered and overwhelmed, he hesitated, unsure whether to surrender.

While the baron wavered, a tall, slender youth made a subtle hand signal. Seven or eight companions surged forward, pinning Baron Valentine to the ground. The baron screamed in terror, “Don’t kill me! Don’t kill me! I’m a baron of the Empire, a high noble...”

Some eyes turned greedily toward the baron, hoping to claim the one-hundred-gold-écu bounty on him. However, the slender youth drew a pistol from his belt, and his companions followed suit, their actions intimidating any would-be challengers.

Keeping the baron subdued, the youth approached Charlot, weapon still in hand.

Charlot smiled as he prepared to issue the reward but froze when he saw the youth’s face. A memory from Charlot Mecklenburg’s past surfaced, and he couldn’t help but exclaim, “Are you Yan?”

The youth coldly replied, “I’m not.”

Charlot, visibly stirred, quickly suppressed his emotions and smiled again. “I must have been mistaken.”

He gestured for Gwen the Dappled Stag and Bancroft the Gale Wolf to take Baron Valentine away and personally led the group of seven or eight youths to a more private spot.

Charlot beckoned the tall youth, who hesitated before following him to the secluded area.

Charlot tried to suppress his turbulent memories but failed. These recollections held too much significance for Charlot Mecklenburg—they were engraved into his very soul. Finally, with a helpless sigh, he asked, “Yan, how have you been?”

The youth’s name was Yan Melianne. His elder sister had been Charlot Mecklenburg’s first love.

The two families had lived close to one another. Charlot and Talia Melianne, being of similar age, often played together as children. When Charlot was seventeen, Talia fell gravely ill and passed away.

Even with modern medical knowledge, the illness was incurable.

Yan Melianne had once been Charlot’s shadow, trailing him everywhere. But after Talia’s death and the subsequent ruination of Charlot’s reputation, the two lost contact.

“I’ve been fine,” Yan replied indifferently.

Charlot felt a wave of melancholy but could do nothing. He sighed again and said, “Now that I’m back, I’d like to visit your sister’s grave.”

Yan’s eyes briefly sharpened before softening. He replied, “It’s on the hill outside Seagull City, near the temple of the Dark Lady. You already know the place.”

Charlot sighed. The temples of the Nine Orthodox Gods often doubled as cemeteries. It was part of their divine duties. However, the temple of the Dark Lady outside the city was in ruins, maintained only by an elderly priest. The other clergy had moved to the city’s newer temple, leaving the old site a burial ground for the impoverished.

Charlot wanted to say more but found himself at a loss for words. Instead, he handed Yan his reward and said, “Don’t stay in Seagull City. I’m not going to kill Valentine, and he’ll remain the local lord. That man is petty and vindictive—he will seek revenge.”

Yan sneered, “We’re not afraid of him.”

After a pause, he added, “We were already planning to leave the area.”

Charlot glanced at Yan’s companions, a group of spirited young men, and asked, “Have you joined a local gang?”

Yan shook his head, a hint of pride in his voice. “I’ve founded my own.”

Charlot considered warning Yan that gang life held no future, but the grim realities of the Old Continent silenced him. For commoners, other careers offered little hope either.

With a casual wave, Yan led his group away. Charlot did not stop him.

In Charlot Mecklenburg’s memories, Talia Melianne had not been a particularly beautiful girl. Her personality was far from gentle—she was a tomboy, mischievously roaming the streets like a boy.

Together, Charlot and Talia had shared countless adventures, from wandering aimlessly to catching birds, playing pranks, doing odd jobs, and exchanging small gifts.

Charlot even had the sense that if Talia had survived, he might have led a completely different life. Perhaps he would have become a devoted family man like his brother, working diligently to support his family. Maybe he would have found a decent job in Strasbourg, brought Talia there, and built a modest but happy life.

Although Sylvie Martin had been Charlot’s fiancée, Talia Melianne had been his childhood sweetheart.

Charlot pressed his fingers against his eyes, feeling a dampness there. Though he was an eighth-ranked Transcendent, he could not stop his body from trembling slightly.

He knew.

Though the soul inhabiting his body had departed, taken by an evil god, the physical vessel could not help but mourn.

Everyone has a past. And no one’s past is one-sided. Life is complicated.

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