Chapter 20: The Imperial Envoy

  After discussing with the villagers what to report to the envoy, Rodhart and Ethan went to the small wooden hut where the Imperial Envoy was being held—and finally met him.

  “Knight Rodhart pays his respects to you, Your Excellency,” Rodhart said the moment they entered. He dropped to one knee and performed a knight’s salute, his voice rising and falling in a dramatic, almost theatrical tone.

  The Imperial Envoy was a middle-aged nobleman with fair skin and a neat appearance—prosperous yet slightly frail, the kind of man Ethan had often seen in the capital at night. Usually, such men would be embracing a woman (or a man, sometimes the other way around) as they climbed into or out of luxurious carriages, entering or exiting grand mansions lit up like palaces. They had a common trait: even with their hands all over their companions, their expressions would still carry the solemnity of someone performing official state duties.

  And now, this Imperial Envoy looked even more pious. He was kneeling in the center of the hut, eyes closed in prayer. It seemed his status as a captive had not shaken him at all—his clothes were still neat, his demeanor solemn and dignified, as if he were in a grand cathedral. He did not react to Rodhart’s words, remaining focused on his prayer with eyes shut. Rodhart knelt there motionless too. Ethan stood at the door, watching them in confusion.

  At last, the Imperial Envoy slowly opened his eyes, as if his prayer had ended.

  “We have come to rescue you, Your Excellency,” Rodhart said, still on his knees. He was completely in awe of the man’s bearing. To remain so calm in such a predicament, to pray so devoutly—this showed unshakable faith and extraordinary magnanimity. Truly the demeanor of a great man.

  “I know,” the Imperial Envoy replied, looking down at Rodhart with the compassion of a prophet who held all things in his grasp. “As a servant of the gods, I have always believed those lowly bandits could not harm me. The gods will surely save those who believe in them.”

  He stood up and helped Rodhart to his feet. “Knight, you have been guided here by the gods,” he said. “You must be a man of unwavering justice, and a devout follower of the gods—am I right?”

  Rodhart nodded eagerly. “Yes! I am ready to dedicate my entire life to light and justice.”

  “What is the situation outside?” the Imperial Envoy asked, looking at Rodhart with the admiration one reserves for a hero. “Have you wiped out all those bandits?”

  “Well, the thing is…” Rodhart was thrilled by the Imperial Envoy’s attention, but also embarrassed. “They aren’t bandits. They’re actually…”

  After listening to Rodhart’s explanation, the Imperial Envoy looked slightly surprised. But after a moment’s thought, his expression softened. He nodded and said: “Very well. I will thoroughly investigate and address everything you’ve told me once I return to the city.”

  “Thank you, Your Excellency!” Rodhart was so grateful he almost cried. “To the common people, you are as noble as a divine messenger.”

  “Naturally,” the Imperial Envoy replied with an elegant nod, accepting the praise with perfect composure. “As His Majesty’s envoy and a servant of the gods, it is my duty to uphold justice. During my inspections, I have never shown mercy to heretics who defile the gods or bandits who disrupt the empire’s peace. But if pious believers or law-abiding citizens have been wronged, I will always fight to give them justice.”

  “You are truly magnificent,” Rodhart said, as if he had found his idol. “I will escort you back to the city at once.”

  Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

  The Imperial Envoy nodded, as if agreeing to a minor request. Rodhart immediately bowed and stood aside, respectfully seeing him out of the hut that had held him captive. From start to finish, the Imperial Envoy did not spare Ethan—standing by the door—a single glance.

  Outside, when the villagers saw the Imperial Envoy emerge, they all knelt on one knee and saluted him. This had been Rodhart’s strong suggestion; with the hope of returning home safely to their old lives, the villagers looked particularly deferential.

  The Imperial Envoy nodded with the posture and authority befitting his status, as if it were only natural. He even graced them with a smile, as if bestowing a favor.

  Rodhart had already fetched his horse and made it ready. He helped the Imperial Envoy mount, then walked ahead, leading the horse as he escorted the envoy back to the city.

  The villagers stood together, watching Rodhart and the Imperial Envoy walk away. Thinking of that “gracious” smile, they felt their wish might really come true—and could not help but grow excited. They began to believe the Imperial Envoy was truly a good man; someone who had studied so much must indeed have a kind heart.

  For Ethan, the whole thing was utterly confusing. But at least it was over—and now he was surrounded by people who knew this forest well. He first found Levin the hunter, who should be most familiar with these woods. But when Ethan asked his question, Levin just shook his head in confusion.

  Ethan felt a surge of despair—frustration at all his wasted efforts. If Chris were here right now, he would punch her twice, blackening both her eyes to match the bruise she already had. He would yell at her: You didn’t know, fine—but why pretend you did? Why spout nonsense and mess everything up?

  Worse still, Chris was probably already gone with the merchant caravan her father had assigned her to—he had no way to find her to get a proper translation of the book. The memory made him regretful: if he had not been in such a hurry, if he had spent more time searching the library, he might have found a clue.

  Greed for money is the root of all evil. He remembered an old priest from his hometown who used to mutter that complaint. Now, he felt a strange sense of agreement.

  “There’s only the Turn-Back Forest here,” a faint voice said beside him. “No ‘talking forest’ like you mentioned.” Ethan turned to see the elderly man who had claimed never to have seen “justice” in his life.

  The old man’s toothless mouth lisped: “Deep in the south of this forest, there’s a patch called the Turn-Back Forest. Once you see it, you’ll want to turn around and leave. No ‘talking forest’ exists.”

  Levin seemed to be reminded of something too. He nodded and said: “Right, I remember now. There’s a strange patch of woods there—even wild animals won’t go near it, so I’ve never gone in. But lately, I’ve seen soldiers from the city using the meadow outside that forest as a graveyard. Sometimes I watch them bury bodies there.”

  “What’s that forest like?” Ethan asked, feeling a glimmer of hope. “Why would people want to turn back after seeing it? And why did no one in the city mention it when I asked?”

  Levin shook his head. “That forest gives people a bad feeling—locals hate getting near it. And that forest… it feels like… it feels just like…” He frowned, straining to find the right analogy. After shaking his head, he gave up—his vocabulary was too limited. “Like what… Anyway, it’s weird. We don’t even want to think about it.” Suddenly, he perked up. “Oh! It’s like a person you really hate, but you can’t do anything about them. So you just don’t want to think about them at all.”

  Ethan frowned, repeating his words. “Like a hated person? Don’t want to think about it?” The analogy was impossible to grasp.

  “Well… the feeling is just…” Levin frowned again, struggling to dig up more words from his meager vocabulary to explain. Afraid the hunter’s metaphors would only get more confusing, Ethan quickly said: “Never mind what it’s like. Just take me there tomorrow.”

  “Brother Rodhart’s back!” a child shouted outside. The villagers all ran out to hear the news he had brought from the city.

  Rodhart was surrounded by the crowd, his face beaming like a child who had won a village contest and rushed back to report. He could barely contain his excitement as he called out: “Lord Imperial Envoy said we must all gather at the meadow east of the forest tomorrow at noon! He’ll come with the local officials and publicly announce our pardon. He’ll even lift our taxes!”

  The crowd erupted in cheers.

  “I told you there’s justice in this world!” Rodhart said, looking around triumphantly, eager to proclaim the victory of his beliefs. The others were too caught up in their joy to pay him much attention.

  But the elderly man who had spoken to Ethan was not happy—and he had clearly heard Rodhart’s words. He shook his head, muttering to himself: “I’m seventy years old. Never seen such a thing in my life.” He turned to Ethan and emphasized: “Seventy years old.” Ethan nodded quickly.

  “The Lost Forest is there too,” the old man said to Ethan. His lisping voice was vague, and he seemed to hold back his words—as if a fortune-teller explaining an ominous prophecy.