After two rounds of bombardments, a white flag was raised within the fortress.

The knights cheered victory. These knights from Jisoleox Duchy had proudly formed ranks, eager to enter the fortress and display their might, intending to warn those peasants that betrayal would face the most terrifying punishment.

However, upon truly entering the fortress, the scene before them left the knights agape.

The fortress was filled with corpses, peasants’ corpses, those rebellious peasants lay dead, strewn carelessly, covering the ground within the fortress, slain, starved, frozen, visible everywhere.

About a hundred peasants huddled within the thatched houses of the fortress, barely clinging to life, each starving, faces yellow, skinny, bones protruding, every eye sunken — whether elder, woman, or child, they could only cluster together, using body warmth to keep from freezing. The room reeked, waste was everywhere, straw, a few tattered blankets, a few single garments, these were the only items the hundred peasants had to stave off the cold.

Seeing the knights charge in, the peasants’ expressions were nothing but numbness, deep numbness, many of their faces bore an indifferent expression, as if the knights’ judgments were trivial matters.

Sir Kelson entered the fortress filled with intense anger. He had wanted to question these peasants, why rebel? Why upheaval? Why, when the knights were fighting desperately at the front to resist the undead invasion, why, when knights sacrificed lives for victory, did these peasants choose betrayal!?

What right did they have to do so?!

Yet now, the knights felt somewhat lost, the twenty-odd Ranger Knights from Jisoleox Duchy walked forward numbly, the stench and rot from the corpses permeating the entire fortress, seeing knights appear, these peasants staggered, struggled to walk toward the troops, many peasants had deformed feet, bodies as stiff as the living dead, some peasants were thinner than poles.

Faced with knights, peasants showed fear then begged, several already skeletal peasants kneeled before the knights, pleading for forgiveness, more peasants were numb, retreated blankly, unsure what to do, evidently, the knights were here to quell rebellion, their fate was almost sealed.

Kaled walked among the piles of corpses, everywhere were starved peasants, this Expedition Knight opened his mouth, not knowing what to say.

Is this the Knightly Path?

What have we been defending?

"Where is your leader?" Bertrand sighed softly, found one of the peasants and asked: "Where is your head?"

"In the tower, exploded, Sir." A peasant looking about forty, his eyes black from hunger, knelt before Bertrand, crying uncontrollably.

"How did it come to this?! Why?" Furious, Remon rushed, grabbed the peasant’s single garment, and shouted madly: "How could you let your compatriots starve to death?"

"No way, no food to eat, winter has come, the grain brought earlier is long gone, we can only eat rats, gnaw bark, the remaining grain has been given to healthy men because they must shoulder defense, bandits, beastmen, greenskins in the mountains, this was our last fortress, we could only wait here, wait to starve."

"You could surrender to the Knight Lords!" Remon continued to shout.

"Rebellion is a capital crime, hanging, collective punishment, Sergeant." Peasant even laughed responding to Remon: "No matter what, death, my Sergeant, no matter what, death."

After speaking, this peasant couldn’t help but cover his face, crying so hard he couldn’t produce tears: "Just like this, Master Knights, deal as you see fit."

"...Lady above." Kaled said softly: "We must help them, I mean... these peasants need help."

"We need to distribute grain, boil water, also, find a way to get more grain from nearby towns... and blankets! Quick!" Belgar’s face turned grim, deeply regretting his order to fire: "Quick!"

"I want to tell the Duke!" Sir Kelson felt something shattered, he felt humiliated, regretful, as he paced anxiously inside the fortress: "Damn, damn! How did it become like this?"

Entire camp, all the escaped slaves were brought out, soldiers tried to open some wooden houses, inside only heaps of corpses, knights stood numbly together, silently.

Anti-bandit troops camped outside the fortress, boiled water, cooked porridge, chaos ensued, frantically hungry peasants fought for food, thinking it their last supper.

Blood-red eyes of hunger, trembling arms in cold winds, responsible Sir Kelson felt heart ache, he just muttered: "I want to tell the Duke, I want to tell the Duke..."

"Don’t let them eat too much at once! Too long starved, eating too much may kill them!" Bertrand loudly ordered his soldiers, looking at the tragic scene within the fortress, rebel peasants cried bitterly holding their loved ones’ corpses, Knight’s heart was a complex mix of emotions, after speaking he sighed heavily, wiping tears: "Ah~ Hurry, we must collectively handle burial for these corpses and prayer, or they will become undead!"