Tải xuống ứng dụng
65.3% Nanotechnology: Reborn As A Prince Of Wales / Chapter 32: Chapter 31 Malice

Chương 32: Chapter 31 Malice

Bala, North Wales

The warband's encampment buzzed with quiet anticipation. A clearing in the woods had been transformed into a makeshift base. Rows of tents flanked by neatly stacked crates of supplies painted a picture of order amidst the wilds.

All eyes were fixed on Tarwyn. He stood a few paces away from a wooden target, clutching the sleek air rifle in his hands. His breath was slow, measured, as the world seemed to fall silent. The only sound was the soft creak of the trigger as he prepared to fire.

A chorus of murmurs rippled through the crowd of onlookers. Bets had been made, coins clutched in eager hands.

Tarwyn exhaled slowly, his finger tightening on the trigger.

Crack!

The sharp report of the rifle echoed through the woods. The projectile struck the target dead center, splintering the wood and leaving a clean hole in its wake. A moment of stunned silence passed before the crowd erupted into cheers and groans.

"By the gods, he did it!" someone shouted as those who had bet on Tarwyn cheered, their laughter mingling with the curses of the losers.

Callwen, sitting off to the side with his arms crossed, let out a wry chuckle. He slung his own rifle over his shoulder. "Still can't believe that smug prick is our commander."

Oswald, standing beside him, smirked and gave an exaggerated bow toward Tarwyn. "To be fair, he's a damn good shot."

Callwen rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. I'll give him that. But if it were up to me—"

Oswald cut him off with a pat on the back. "It's not. So quit sulking and start practicing, or next time you'll lose more than a few coins.".

---

Glyn trudged through the fields, his boots sinking into the soft earth. The early morning sun cast a golden light across the landscape.

His eyes widened as he dropped to his knees, running his fingers over the stalks of wheat that stretched across the sprawling 400-acre field. The plants were impossibly tall, their golden heads heavy with grain.

"This... this isn't possible," he whispered, his voice trembling.

Pwyll approached, his face calm but his eyes betraying a hint of unease. "Nothing surprises me anymore," he said, placing a hand on Glyn's shoulder.

Glyn grabbed a stalk of wheat, rubbing it between his fingers and sniffing it like a jeweler inspecting a rare gem. "The texture, the smell... I've never seen anything like this! It's perfect!"

Pwyll laughed, though there was an edge of disbelief in his voice. "Grown in two weeks, and enough to keep us fed for a year." He shook his head, muttering to himself. Word will soon reach the ears of vipers.... And when it does, i want to see how you react Lord Ieuan.

---

Three women emerged from Ethan's chambers, their faces pale and drawn. They clutched their clothing tightly, wrapping their nakedness in hurried modesty. Their eyes darted around nervously as they made their way down the hall.

Beca, waiting near the door, watched them with a mix of pity and unease. Her thoughts swirled. This devil… he hasn't stopped for days.

She pressed a small pouch of coins into their hands. "For your service," she muttered.

Inside the chamber, Ethan stood shirtless, his hair disheveled and his expression grim. He paced like a caged animal, running a hand through his hair.

"What is this hunger?" he growled, his voice raw. "I've taken woman after woman, like a damned beast, but it won't go away!" He slammed his fist against the table, rattling the room.

After dressing, he stormed out of the manor.

Beca followed after him. "Lord, are you going out alone again?" she called.

"Yes. I need air," Ethan barked over his shoulder.

"Where to?"

"Fishing," he snapped.

"Fishing? First it was sunbathing, now fishing?!" Beca's voice faded as Ethan disappeared into the bustling town.

---

The streets of Bala buzzed with activity. Workers toiled to pave the roads with the new cement, sweat glistening on their brows. Ethan passed by, his sharp eyes scanning the progress.

A ball flew as he let it hit him and he crouched to pick it up. A small boy came running after it, wide-eyed and nervous.

Ethan handed it to him, ruffling the boy's hair. "Be careful next time, some strangers won't like that."

The boy's mother approached, "I told you to stop playing and come wash!" She turned to Ethan, bowing her head. "I'm sorry, my lord."

Ethan smiled faintly. "Listen to your mother, lad," he said, watching them walk away.

As he approached the lake, a fisherman greeted him, holding up a net brimming with white fish. "Good day, Lord. Looking for fish?"

Ethan shook his head, tossing the man a few coins. "I'll rent your boat."

The fisherman eagerly cleared his catch and handed over the small vessel.

Ethan rowed out into the middle of the lake, the water shimmering like molten glass. He leaned back, gazing at the surrounding hills and forests. The serenity was short-lived as his mind churned.

Hydroelectric power… harnessing the flow of the River Dee. But damming it..Llyn Tegid is the symbol of this place

He was jolted from his thoughts by the sight of an eagle swooping low, snatching a fish from the water with talons as sharp as daggers. Its wings beat furiously as it ascended, the catch clutched firmly in its grasp.

Ethan's lips curled into a smile. He had an inspiration.

---

Father Solomon stood by the church steps, his sharp eyes narrowing as carriages rolled by, heavy with sacks of grain. The golden wheat peeked through the burlap, gleaming unnaturally in the morning light.

The clerk at his side muttered, his voice low and incredulous. "How, in God's name, have they grown wheat in the eastern plains so quickly? It's unnatural…"

"It is," Solomon hissed, his lips curling. He spat on the ground, the gesture sharp and angry. "And it has to do with that heathen. Haven't you heard the rumors?"

The clerk looked uneasy, shifting on his feet. "The strange weapons his men use?"

"Not just that," Solomon snapped, his voice laced with contempt. "The boy defies God's order. He refuses to kneel in church, rejects our invitations, and preaches change. He encourages peasants to bathe, to use soap! What's next teaching them to read and write!? " He laughed bitterly, the sound cold and hollow. "Do you know what that does? It undermines the natural hierarchy—God's hierarchy."

The clerk swallowed hard, his unease growing. Solomon's eyes burned with a cold malice as he turned to him. "Send word to the Bishop in Bangor."


Chương 33: Chapter 32 Departure

Llangollen - North Wales

The camp buzzed with the sound of men readying for battle. Steel clanged as swords were sharpened, and horses snorted in the air. Gwilym ap Tudur stood tall among his soldiers, his dark eyes scanning the line of 800 men preparing to ride out. Determination hardened his jaw as he turned to Gruffudd, who paced restlessly.

"Gwilym," Gruffudd said, his voice tense, "let us wait. The canons are nearly ready. If we wait just a little longer, we'll have a real chance. Rushing in now—it's madness!"

Gwilym snorted, gripping the hilt of his sword. "It's already summer, Gruffudd. Every day we wait, their supply lines grow stronger, their garrisons swell. If we don't strike now, we'll have no chance at all."

Gruffudd threw his arms out in frustration. "And what if we fail? What then? More lives lost, just like before. These men—our men..."

Gwilym stepped closer, his voice low but firm. "Have faith, cousin. God is with us. He wouldn't let us falter when the English stand before us."

Gruffudd's shoulders slumped as he sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "Faith won't stop their arrows or their gates."

Gwilym said, his tone softening. He placed a heavy hand on Gruffudd's shoulder. "This stronghold needs you if we fail. You're the one who can rally the people, keep hope alive. That's why you're staying."

Gruffudd tried to speak, but Gwilym raised a hand to silence him. His gaze drifted, distant, as if imagining the battle ahead. "Tell my brother..." he paused, his voice catching, "tell him I fought with everything I had."

The solemnity hung between them as Gwilym patted Gruffudd's shoulder once more before mounting his horse. Gruffudd watched as his cousin led the riders into the fading light, their banners rippling in the evening breeze, the heavy thud of hooves marking the march toward Chirk castle.

---

The eastern plains towards Bala stretched out before them like an endless sea of grass, the wind brushing against their faces as they marched in silence. Two hundred men moved as one, their boots kicking up dust as they made their way from Corwen to Bala. Peter rode at the front, his eyes scanning the horizon, his mind consumed with thoughts of Ieuan.

"Talog," Peter called, his voice cutting through the murmur of the march. "What do you think of this Ieuan? I want to know everything you know."

Talog, riding alongside him, looked back at the men, as if weighing the gravity of the question. His gaze darkened, a flicker of unease in his eyes. "Well, lord... I watched him kill my men, using a human body."

Peter's brow furrowed in confusion. "A body? How?"

Talog's lips curled into a grimace, the memory still fresh in his mind. "Like a hammer," he said, his voice low. "He used a man's body to crush the others, he..."

The soldiers around them snickered, the absurdity of it almost too much to believe. But Peter didn't laugh. His gaze sharpened, a spark of suspicion flickering in his chest. Could he be telling the truth? He thought.

Talog's voice broke through his thoughts. "I heard he saved a witch, and he also spends his time alone in the sun. No guards, nothing."

A soldier, eager to break the tension, teased, "Who is he, Lleu?"

Peter ignored the comment, "If we capture him alone, there's no need for any more bloodshed," he said, his voice firm, but his heart heavy with doubt.

"How many men did he kill when you confronted him?" Peter asked, his tone almost distant, as though testing the limits of the man's story.

Talog was silent for a moment, the memory clearly weighing on him. "Fifteen."

Peter's eyes narrowed. "One man, with his bare hands, killed fifteen armed men!?" He could barely wrap his mind around it.

Talog simply nodded, grim and unflinching.

Peter's thoughts churned in a swirl of disbelief and fear. He had seen the horrors men were capable of, but this was something else. What is he, really? Peter wondered, unease creeping through his bones.

"I'll go ahead," Peter said suddenly, shaking off the weight of the conversation. "I'll investigate. I will send a signal with a fire in the woodlands south, when we're ready to attack."

Without waiting for a response, Peter spurred his horse forward, riding ahead of the group, his mind focused on the task at hand. But deep down, a knot of dread tightened in his chest. Something about Ieuan didn't sit right with him.

Peter dismounted his horse as he kicked it in the back, and dirtied him and walked. He straightened up, taking in the sight of the walls being built around Bala—a tower rising in the distance, guarded by men wielding strange, long weapons. The sound of hammering echoed through the air, the rhythmic pounding of nails marking the day's labor.

The gate loomed ahead, guarded by men in stiff armor, their eyes scanning. As Peter approached, one of the guards narrowed his gaze.

"Identify yourself?" The command was sharp.

Peter raised his hands in surrender. "Friend, I haven't eaten in days. My village was sacked by the English, and I seek refuge."

The guard's expression softened, a flicker of pity crossing his face. He stepped forward, taking a good look at Peter. "You're in luck. There's plenty of work here. You look like you could use a meal."

With a coin pressed into his hand, Peter nodded gratefully. "Thank you."

As he entered the town, he couldn't help but notice the contrast. The roads were being paved, the marketplace vibrant with activity. The air smelled of fish, spices, and the faint hint of fresh bread. He made his way toward an alehouse that stood on the corner, no one tells a tale like a drunk man, he thought.

Inside, A woman stood behind the counter, eyeing him as he took a seat at an empty table. She poured him a drink, her gaze inquisitive. "Not from around here, are you?"

Peter took a long drink, the cool liquid soothing his parched throat. "No. A traveler. The name's Arawn. "

She smiled knowingly, her eyes glinting with a mixture of warmth, "Well Arawn, you've come to the right place. Drinks are on me."

Peter leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. "I thought this town would be in ruins after Waladr's death....but its seems the town is prosperous and everyone is....generous which is such a rare sight in these harsh times."

Before she could answer, he overheard two men at a nearby table.

"The lord's looking for people who can read and write," one man said. "Pay's outrageous."

The other snorted. "Can't read for shit. But who cares? I'm off to the bathhouse. You coming?"

The first man scowled. "Baths are for women! A man must smell rough. You faggots want to smell like flowers, is that it?"

Peter's curiosity piqued, he made his way over to them. "Good day lads."

One of the men eyed him warily. "Mmh"

"I overheard you talking about the lord needing literate folk," Peter said smoothly. "Tell me more, I'll buy you a drink."

The man hesitated, then, with a nervous glance toward his companion, leaned in and whispered. "Lord's been asking for scribes, especially those who can write and read Welsh, for special work... pay's good, real good."

Peter leaned back in his chair, his mind racing.


Load failed, please RETRY

Tình trạng nguồn điện hàng tuần

Đặt mua hàng loạt

Mục lục

Cài đặt hiển thị

Nền

Phông

Kích thước

Việc quản lý bình luận chương

Viết đánh giá Trạng thái đọc: C32
Không đăng được. Vui lòng thử lại
  • Chất lượng bài viết
  • Tính ổn định của các bản cập nhật
  • Phát triển câu chuyện
  • Thiết kế nhân vật
  • Bối cảnh thế giới

Tổng điểm 0.0

Đánh giá được đăng thành công! Đọc thêm đánh giá
Bình chọn với Đá sức mạnh
Rank 200+ Bảng xếp hạng PS
Stone 0 Power Stone
Báo cáo nội dung không phù hợp
lỗi Mẹo

Báo cáo hành động bất lương

Chú thích đoạn văn

Đăng nhập

tip bình luận đoạn văn

Tính năng bình luận đoạn văn hiện đã có trên Web! Di chuyển chuột qua bất kỳ đoạn nào và nhấp vào biểu tượng để thêm nhận xét của bạn.

Ngoài ra, bạn luôn có thể tắt / bật nó trong Cài đặt.

ĐÃ NHẬN ĐƯỢC