"My mother... she... four years ago..."
"Because she couldn't bear this life without hope... she left me... she left."
Hearing this, Karl was silent for a moment.
This young man's life experience was in many ways similar to his own—the lack of family love in childhood.
But the difference was that his mother had died of illness, and he had been cared for by Jack.
And Raymond had finally taken him back, giving him a belated love.
But the boy before him had been actively abandoned by his mother and had truly become a helpless orphan.
Karl took a deep breath, obvious pity on his face, and asked in a deep voice: "Do you have a name?"
The boy was stunned for a moment, as if trying to remember. It seemed no one had asked his name so formally in a very long time.
After a few seconds, the boy looked up at Karl and answered seriously: "My name is Vernon Roche, my name is Vernon Roche."
Karl heard this, and his body froze almost imperceptibly. Vernon Roche?
He immediately thought of the blue-striped shirt, the persistent and loyal commander of the Blue Stripes in the game.
That phrase left a deep impression on him: "First, save the Witcher!" It seemed to echo in his ears.
He looked at the young man before him—bruised, swollen, dressed in rags, with a determined gaze clutching a silver coin—
it was hard to connect him with the future commander, calm and resolute.
But the stubbornness and perseverance etched into his bones could not be faked.
The trajectory of fate seemed to have unexpectedly brought the future soul of the Blue Stripes to him.
Karl snapped out of his brief recollection and overlapped the image of the future blue-striped guardsman with the confused, stubborn teenager before him.
With a soft and sincere smile on his face, he extended his hand to Vernon—not for the silver coin, but as an invitation.
"Vernon, do you want to come with me to a place? There, you won't have to worry about your next piece of bread."
"There will be plenty of food, a warm place to stay, and teachers who will teach you knowledge and martial arts."
Vernon's eyes flickered, and he didn't immediately agree with the ecstasy that such a temptation might bring to ordinary children.
He looked into Karl's eyes, as if trying to discern sincerity from hypocrisy.
He was silent for a few seconds and asked in a cautious tone, beyond his years: "My lord, what will this cost me?"
This question made Karl's eyes flash with approval; he knew how to weigh and understand that nothing comes for free.
Karl didn't evade and answered directly, his voice smooth and clear: "Your loyalty."
Loyalty, not freedom, not a soul.
This was a relatively specific requirement, containing countless possibilities.
When Vernon heard this, he almost didn't hesitate. He wiped the still-bleeding nose with the back of his hand.
He endured the pain in his body, straightened his thin frame, and solemnly knelt on one knee in the dust before Karl.
He lowered his head and said in a clear and firm voice: "Vernon Roche, I am willing to serve my lord and offer my loyalty!"
No beautiful oaths, only the simplest promise, but it was as solid as stone.
Karl nodded and reached out to help him up. "Very well, remember what you said today."
Then, under Vernon's surprised and curious gaze, Karl raised his hand and waved it in the air.
Inside the quiet alley, a portal appeared, glowing orange and swirling like a whirlpool.
Vernon had never seen anything so magical before; his eyes were full of shock, but he seemed to trust Karl implicitly.
After Karl whispered "Let's go," he took a deep breath and stepped into the whirlpool of the unknown without hesitation.
Karl followed, and the portal quickly closed and vanished behind them.
......
Terra, inside the El family manor. With the familiar hum and energy fluctuations, a portal appeared in the courtyard.
Vernon's figure swayed slightly, followed by the calm Karl.
Dalton and a few guards heard the commotion and immediately rushed over.
They saw the last traces of the portal vanishing, as well as Karl and a strange, bruised boy who had suddenly appeared.
"Lord Karl!" Dalton and the others hastily saluted, then their curious gazes fell on Vernon.
Although Vernon was injured and tattered, he looked at these adults, who were clearly guards with a strong presence.
He not only showed no trace of cowardice but also straightened his chest and looked at them without fear, even with a slight vigilance in his eyes.
Karl gently placed his hand on Vernon's thin shoulder, smiled at Dalton and the others, and said: "His name is Vernon Roche. From today, he will be your future companion."
He paused and deliberately added: "Don't underestimate him. Before I left, he was being set upon by several boys older than himself."
"Even knowing he was outnumbered and could even be killed, he never begged for mercy."
When Dalton and the others heard this, their eyes suddenly lit up.
They were all people who had undergone training and knew that courage and will were far more important than temporary strength.
They looked more closely at Vernon's bruised, bloodstained, yet still stubborn face, and all expressed their approval.
"Good lad! There's something to him!"
"A tough kid!"
"The guards welcome you!"
Dalton stepped forward and patted Vernon's healthy shoulder on the other side.
"Come on, boy. First, we'll get you cleaned up and your wounds bandaged."
"You don't look like a future warrior right now."
Vernon turned his head to Karl and saw him nod slightly.
He hesitated no longer, took the initiative to follow Dalton, and went with them.
......
A few days later, in the forge in the manor's courtyard.
The sound of clanging rang out from time to time.
It wasn't as dense as when Karl was forging, but it held the seriousness and effort of beginners.
Karl stood to the side, watching Phillip and three other slightly stronger young guards clumsily swinging hammers, forging red-hot iron ingots.
The things they were forging were somewhat strangely shaped; the curved bends looked more like horseshoes than plate armor components.
Moreover, as the iron plates were beaten thinner and thinner, they almost lost their thickness and protective power as armor.
Dalton stood beside Karl, reporting on recent developments.
"Lord Karl, following your orders... over the past half month, we have recruited men and boys of suitable age and good health from the territory."
"There are fifty-seven men and twenty-six boys. That's already all the suitable people in the village."
Karl frowned slightly and asked: "Are there really only this many middle-aged men in the whole village?"