Chapter 64
Those who heard him simply stared in silence with their hands half-raised, the tips of their fingers gripping the document tightly as if it did not want to be taken away.
"I don't know who he is, but thank you for easing the tense atmosphere here," Cathal thought. His expression remained flat, yet a faint smile of relief was hidden within.
Every second mattered, and he was trying to finish all of this before sunset and before the arrival of an important figure at this place.
He stood up immediately, realizing that the remaining letters containing important documents were still scattered across the table right in front of him; he quickly gathered them one by one. Five crumpled letters, yet filled with crucial information, were now in his grasp.
Cathal pushed two letters to the left and right, and one straight toward Fererra.
Across the right side of the table, Zaharon caught it swiftly as the letter shot toward him, followed by Evan sitting beside him. Opposite them, Albert and Arvrenda noticed the incoming documents and immediately took them, trying to help search for information about the mastermind behind the city that had become a depiction of "Hell."
The two who had previously voiced their thoughts felt guilty, taking the documents again and sitting down to search for information as a sign of apology for their earlier mistake and rudeness.
Inside the tent, the rumble of thunder and the roar of wind outside did not make Feyne and Luke flinch even slightly. Unaware of the previous discussion, they focused entirely on what was in front of them.
The first time they arrived in Tezny, together with Albert, they were shocked as their eyes swept over a horror that made their skin crawl and nausea rise.
More than a hundred people, with appearances that could barely be called corpses as usual, lay scattered across the city square, surrounding the wide circular road, while the water in the fountain had turned blood red.
And not only that, the road they stood on was no longer as it had been when they last visited before leaving for Forgenate.
The place where they stood to witness that horrifying sight was covered with charred bodies that had turned into black ash, fused with uneven ruins, some mixed with pools of lava that still bubbled as if seeking to kill again.
.....
Around the time the documents brought by Aurora arrived at the tent, the two of them had already read together from the first page to the fifteenth, covering dozens of words.
The effort was not in vain. Upon noticing a particular line on page sixteen, about a group consisting of approximately ten people suspected of being responsible for Moran's destruction.
But only five names were recorded; Kharensya Zorca, Vabian Roca, Febrica Ademose, Mizofra Mivoras, dan Norwich Arnolheim as representatives of the group.
Realizing this was important information, the two of them immediately reported it as if they were not afraid that those people might come and steal the document.
"Sorry to interrupt," Feyne said clearly. "The two of us have found information related to what all of us here, including everyone present, are looking for to bring justice upon their atrocities."
Zaharon and Evan raised their eyebrows, acknowledging their attentiveness despite the earlier commotion.
'As I thought, people from Tezny are quite useful. Unlike that blue-eyed woman,' Evan thought, subtly mocking Natasya.
"That lady has been very helpful," Fererra said with a relieved smile. "Could you hand that document to me? And thank you for your cooperation."
Luke lowered his gaze to hide his nervousness, glancing at Albert who gave him a thumbs-up as praise for his effort.
'Thank you, it seems I'm still not used to crowds like this,' Luke thought, straightening his gaze with a forced smile.
The reason he completed the document search was simply because he didn't know how to join their conversation, and it felt strange to suddenly speak to unfamiliar people.
Feyne stood up and handed the document to Fererra without pushing it.
As soon as Fererra fully grasped the document and pinned page sixteen with his index finger, a louder thunderclap and strong winds erupted simultaneously.
The atmosphere suddenly fell silent. Fererra, who had been holding the document tightly, covering his mouth as those two sounds echoed.
'What is this feeling?' he thought in confusion, then opened it with the help of his index finger pushing from inside.
As Fererra fully gripped the document and held page sixteen with his thumb, the increasing thunder and violent wind shaking the tent made his heartbeat seem to stop for a moment.
The atmosphere turned eerily still, the air felt suffocating, every breath like a grip tightening around his throat. Fererra realized the document in his hands had closed by itself.
'What is this feeling?' he thought again, confused, reopening it with his thumb pushing from within.
He shook his head briefly and exhaled to clear his mind from the burden he and everyone here had carried for nearly two months.
Finally, Fererra read the contents of page sixteen carefully, his eyes scanning every line so as not to miss a single word.
"This name seems unfamiliar, and I think I've seen one of them before, a woman around 25 or 26 named Kharensya Zorca," Fererra thought, trying to recall where he had seen her.
There were simply too many people in the field, now filled with hundreds of tents and crates containing supplies for survival, even before the tragedy. Fererra met dozens, even hundreds of people each day during his working hours.
That made it difficult to remember, and he didn't care much about them, focusing only on his duties. He could only sigh deeply to push away his regret.
As he wrestled with his thoughts, he occasionally glanced to his right, where the three of them were exchanging opinions about the document he carried.
Across from them, he saw five others doing the same, searching for information and hoping the document would provide answers so Moran's reconstruction could begin.
But something felt off. That was what troubled him.
"Thank you for this afternoon's meeting," he said hesitantly, yet without losing authority. "This information is the most important, what the Viscounts and Barons seek. The rest, leave it to me and Mr. Baleska."
As he saw them all stand, he placed the document into an envelope as usual and set it on the table. Fererra wanted to convey something important that might help them all.
"Find someone named Kharensya Zorca, and for the rest, read what's written in these papers. It's too risky to explain it here directly."
Fererra threw about five folded pieces of paper, given by his superior who had anticipated irregularities, and he had been instructed to distribute them.
Five pieces were more than enough.
They all slightly shrugged, curious about what was written inside the folded papers.
"That's all. Be careful and stay alert out there."
After saying that, Fererra stepped away firmly, stopping beside his seated colleague and giving a small signal to move.
As the tent flap opened, a gentle breeze quickly slipped inside, brushing against everyone within, causing the hair of the person standing at the front to sway like ocean waves.
Their minds felt calmer as if the wind was soothing them; they stayed silent for a few seconds, enjoying the moment, until it faded with another rumble of thunder that shook their chests.
Finally, they decided to leave the tent with grim expressions and head to their resting places.
At the southern corner of the field, once farmland for root crops, where stacks of logistical crates were placed, a man named Reynald sat calmly with three others; two men and one woman, sharpening a small piece of wood with a dull knife.
Their black and brown hair was covered in dust, just like the other refugees, and he wore oversized worn-out clothes provided by the central authority.
He didn't speak much, but he was always there when needed, whether carrying heavy sacks of grain or keeping the fire alive in the rain. He never complained. The same went for the kitchen workers nearby, tending large pans over blazing coals.
"Tea, sir?" he asked politely when he saw a cook looking exhausted, offering a steaming metal cup.
The man in worn clothes only nodded briefly, unaware that the hand offering the cup bore burn marks at the base of the index finger and thumb, not the calluses of a laborer, but those of a sharpshooter who had pulled the trigger thousands of times before ending up in this miserable place.
"This helps a lot, thank you," he said with a bitter smile, trying to bear the weight he had carried for so long with his fragile body.
They both sat on a piece of wood that was long enough and comfortable enough to sit on for a few hours.
He immediately left his work for a short break, having recently realized that working nonstop was very bad, especially at his advanced age. The man, dressed in a shabby brown shirt and trousers with the left side rolled up, blew gently on the tea before taking a slow sip. He sighed to release his disappointment. "For that, I apologize for having to rely on your friend."
The man turned to the man in the broadscap hat, who was kneading bread dough with his reddened hands.
"Never mind that. So, what about your family? Have they been found?"
"By the way, I heard that from him." He pointed to his friend, as he had been the one to reveal the information to him.
"For that... their bodies have been reduced to ashes, and I didn't get to say goodbye in their final moments."
He paused for a moment, realizing how strong the guilt still deeply rooted in his mind at that moment.
"I wondered if they were scared when they saw that horrific incident?" he asked, closing his eyes.
The man next to him, was thoughtful for a few seconds before answering him in a deep voice, "That... is definitely it, sir."