Chapter 54: A person cannot just go to waste like this

Margaret's situation was somewhat different. The army she led, even the soldiers culled from the ranks of the Huscarls, possessed a high degree of combat capability and loyalty.

These soldiers were elites who had undergone rigorous screening and training, and their very existence constituted a formidable combat force.

Therefore, when preparing to deal with the insubordinates, she needed to give more consideration to how to utilize these soldiers' abilities and loyalty rather than simply executing them.

She might adopt a more meticulous and differentiated approach to handling the offenders, achieving the dual purpose of maintaining discipline while preserving combat strength.

...

The sky was just beginning to brighten, and the stables were shrouded in a faint morning mist. Ralph, his face covered in scars, was deep in peaceful slumber alongside the clattering donkey, his snores echoing at intervals.

Suddenly, a flurry of footsteps shattered the tranquility. Ralph's body gave a slight jerk as he slowly opened his eyes.

In the hazy light, he saw a figure gradually coming into focus, walking with an arrogant gait, her golden hair exceptionally striking amidst the white mist.

"The Mist Woman?" He widened his eyes, slowly straightening his torso and lowering his head, rubbing his eyes in disbelief as if doubting his own vision.

Yet as Margaret drew closer, his expression gradually turned to disappointment, and he lay back down.

He murmured softly, "You filled my entire past, yet you are permanently absent from my future..."

His voice was laden with endless regret and sorrow. Afterwards, he pulled the blanket over his head, reverting once more to the ordinary, lame stableman.

"Hey, cripple!" Margaret easily scaled the fence, sat atop it, and called out to Ralph.

A hint of banter laced her voice, as if she thoroughly enjoyed using such an intimate, familiar moniker.

Ralph was clearly not yet fully awake from his slumber; his voice was muffled and hazy, tinged with sleepiness: "Little blonde brat, what are you here for again?"

Margaret replied with a smile, "I've come to borrow your donkey for a spin!" As she spoke, she reached out to stroke the donkey's approaching head.

She had no intention of returning it whatsoever, for the donkey's presence only served to remind Ralph of unpleasant past events without casting him into the shadow of death.

Ralph immediately sat up, widening his eyes and speaking to Margaret in a resolute tone: "Kid, absolutely not. No one is taking it away!"

Margaret responded with a smile: "You should know that it belongs to the House of Gotland! It is not your private property!"

Ralph insisted, "But right now it belongs exclusively to me, and no one can snatch it away!"

Margaret continued to test the limits of his bottom line: "Fine, but it will die sooner or later. Even if it temporarily belongs to you, how long can you protect it?"

Ralph fell silent. He gazed deeply at Margaret, a complex emotion coloring his tone: "The way you speak, so confident... you really are just like her!"

Curious, Margaret asked, "Who?" A flicker of interest crossed her eyes as she feigned curiosity about Ralph's past.

Ralph answered briefly, "An old friend!"

...

Margaret did not press further. Instead, she hopped down, picked up the reins, and began hitching the donkey's neck, preparing to leave. Since she could not quite reach, Ralph leaned on his cane and stepped forward to help.

He likely assumed she merely wanted to take it for a casual ride.

In the midst of this, the donkey suddenly let out a clattering sound.

The noise amused Ralph, and he smiled as he said to Margaret, "Listen, you can only ride it right here!"

However, as Margaret unlatched the gate, she retorted, "I'm afraid I'll disappoint you; it's not going for a stroll today!"

In her mind, she was planning a feast for the Huscarls: dragon meat from the skies (hazel grouse) and donkey meat from the earth. She had been craving donkey meat for a long time.

Donkey meat in a sesame seed bun—utterly fragrant!

Margaret slapped the donkey's rump hard and bolted away with the beast, glancing back to stick her tongue out at him, as if deliberately aggravating his nerves.

Ralph's astonishment and anger erupted beneath Margaret's teasing smile. He widened his eyes, his voice adopting a commanding tone: "Stop, you little brat, stop! Give it back to me!"

He hopped on one leg, trying his best to pursue her, but soon collapsed in exhaustion, wiping the sweat from his brow while leaning against a pillar of the shed. Breathless, he simply slumped onto the ground in apparent resignation.

Yet at that very moment, a surge of strength welled up within him. Struggling to his feet, he led a horse out from a nearby stable, vaulted onto its back, and gave chase.

When he reached the corner, he saw Margaret standing with the donkey, leaning against a wall as if waiting for him.

"How pathetic!" Margaret shook her head.

Ralph reined in his horse before Margaret, his expression a mix of anger and helplessness. He shouted at her, "Give it back to me!" Urgency saturated his voice.

Yet Margaret calmly stroked the donkey's head, looked at him, and smiled: "Let's make a deal!"

Ralph dismounted on one leg, but due to his unstable center of gravity, he flopped onto his backside. He hurriedly snatched the reins from Margaret's hand and gently stroked the donkey's head, his movements betraying a deep and lingering attachment.

One would think it was no mere donkey.

"The donkey is mine. Next summer, I will send men to retrieve the remains of Field, fulfilling the wishes of Uncle and Aunt Ouniy!"

"Never!" Ralph glared furiously, turning as if to leave. However, his steps came to an abrupt halt the next second.

"I can let you see her one more time!" Margaret's voice acted like a spell, compelling him to turn back against his will.

With her hands clasped behind her back, her smile carried a trace of mystery. Fear and evasion flashed through Ralph's eyes.

"No need!" he attempted to mask his feelings.

"Ralph?" Margaret called out softly.

As if the deepest of secrets had been touched, Ralph whipped his head around, his voice trembling: "How do you know my name is Ralph? How could you possibly know my name is Ralph?!"

...

He hurried forward, attempting to grab her.

Margaret merely smiled, stepping back a few paces to evade his reach without uttering another word.

turmoil raged within her own heart as well. Though she had no intention of revealing her true identity, seeing Ralph's panic stirred a sliver of reluctance within her.

At the very last moment, she restrained herself and chose to conceal who she was.

As an immortal being, she would outlive the extinction of humankind, whereas the lives of Ralph and his companions were as fleeting as shooting stars.

She could neither grant them eternal life nor bear the agony of watching her loved ones depart one by one, leaving her with no choice but to harden her heart like stone.

Perhaps this was her selfishness. Yet to preserve a semblance of unperturbed peace within her soul, she had to endure this solitude.

Such is the helplessness of existence!

"Can you really make me see her again?" Uncertainty and yearning filled Ralph's tone. "You're not lying to me, are you?"

"That depends on whether you are willing to trust me." Margaret extended her hand toward him, a gesture that sent Ralph into a momentary trance.

Amidst Margaret's patient silence, he slowly placed the reins into her hands.

Margaret could not help but sigh inwardly; Ralph was still as gullible as he had ever been. Perhaps someone of her nature was destined to walk the path to Helheim.

"You have to do me a favor!"

"What favor?"

"As one of the two founding commanders of the Huscarls, I need your prestige!" Margaret looked at Ralph, whose gaze was evasive. "You ought to step out into the open. If you remain forever under the damp eaves, you will never experience the dry and refreshing air!"

"Huh?" Ralph turned his head to look at Margaret, his expression bewildered. He suddenly clutched his head and sat heavily on the ground.

"Help me make the renown of the Huscarls and its founder shine like the sun across all lands, known to all the world!" Margaret removed her necklace, slipped the ring onto her finger, stepped forward, and extended a hand filled with encouragement.

No one else in this world could persuade Ralph, but Margaret was different—she was Ouniy herself.

Ralph seized her hand and kissed the ring: "I swear my allegiance to you, my lord, Margaret Robertson Dutti, the heir to her testament!"

One cannot be a general without a ruthless streak. Before Alexander established his footing, the Huscarls still needed to summon Ralph to take command.

Her core followers were mostly still alive; a person could not simply be allowed to waste away like this.