It seems that the villain is targeting me.

This condition is time-limited. The longer they delay, the higher the ransom Xiao Niao will demand for the captives.

They must respond by tomorrow morning at the latest.

When Charles I heard this condition, he was so angry that his lungs almost exploded.

He was sitting on the throne in the meeting hall, with noble relatives on both sides who had stayed up all night with him.

After reading the conditions proposed by the bird, Charles was so angry that he almost lost his mind. He tore the letter into pieces and threw them on the ground. He then rolled over and over in the hall, cursing the traitor for five minutes.

Although the nobles present did not read the letter carefully, they could tell from Charles I's behavior that Butcher was probably going to join the other camp.

Charles destroyed the letters out of rage as much as fear.

Although he hated Xiao Niao, he had to admit that if this person stood against him, he would be the most terrifying enemy.

Charles stared blankly at the scattered paper scraps, then suddenly, as if waking from a dream, shouted, "That's right! That's right! The hostage, the Tudor kid!"

He ignored the increasingly grim expressions of the surrounding nobles and royal family members and quickly ordered his attendants, "Quick! Go! Go to the Prime Minister's Office and tell Butcher that if you want to get the child back, you have to let him come here as a hostage!"

The attendant looked up in surprise, his eyes revealing intense shock, but he did not dare to act rashly. He could only look cautiously at the several nobles with higher titles around him.

The faces of the royal relatives at the top were as black as the bottom of a pot. They looked at each other and saw the stupidity on each other's faces.

Finally, the Earl of Yorkshire lost his patience and took two steps forward, shouting, "Your Majesty, there's no way Butcher would agree to such an offer. Besides, the other party has hostages—your own uncle is in the hands of that traitor. How can you ignore their lives?"

As soon as the Earl of Yorkshire said this, many people followed suit, saying that they should first stabilize Xiao Niao and find a way to redeem those people.

However, who could have imagined that these remarks would cause a storm in the conference room.

Lord Fontaine was the first to speak out in rebuttal.

He firmly denied the ransom offer and insisted that Butcher must not leave the capital at this moment: "The letter requesting assistance has been sent. As long as we hold out until reinforcements arrive, Shrike will be completely destroyed!"

The Earl of Yorkshire angrily called him a fool: "Butcher has now completely controlled the outer city! If he wants to leave, who can stop him?!"

"We're the weaker party now!" The Earl of York slammed the table. "What if the negotiations break down and Butcher storms the inner city at all costs, or simply sets fire to our supplies, leaving us completely depleted of ammunition and food?"

This was indeed the most likely scenario. The nobles fled into the inner city in such a hurry that they had no time to take their stored food with them.

The Count roared until his voice was hoarse: "--And that strange weapon, what if Butcher has a lot of such weapons? What if he sends people into the city to assassinate us?!"

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The Earl of York actually worried too much about the flintlock rifle. The craftsmen had been studying this thing for some time, and they had produced countless scraps, and only about ten of them were actually useful.

Moreover, in the early stage, the flintlock rifle was not powerful enough to penetrate the knight's plate armor, and the existing muskets in Xiao Niao's hands could not form an overwhelming military advantage.

But it is very easy to use gunpowder to create a fire. If Xiao Niao is prepared to fight these people to the death, then there is a high probability that he will burn their already limited food and supplies in a fire, just as the count imagined.

Lord Fontaine hesitated for a moment but refused to give in, saying only that doing so would bring disgrace upon the Emperor.

There were many people who shared Lord Fontaine's idea: they did not want to pay for the ransom.

These people have been given PTSD by Xiaoniao, and they go dark when they hear the word "ransom". After years of torture, this has become a conditioned reflex, and even drinking Chinese medicine cannot cure it.

What relationship do those nobles who are in Butcher's hands have with them? They are not relatives or friends. Why should they spend money to redeem them?

These people had just received a sum of gold from the national treasury from Charles not long ago. They had just eaten two bites of steamed buns stained with blood, and now they wanted the nobles to spit out the money and use it to exchange for hostages?

There are factions and differences in closeness among the nobles. Among those captured people, there might be enemies of someone present.

Even though everyone looks sad now, someone might be cracking champagne in their hearts.

Prince Wilson is also used as an example here: he is the heir to his family's title, but he has not yet married and has children. If the baby is born in the hands of a bird, according to imperial law, the title should be inherited by a distant cousin.

The distant cousin never expected that this pie in the sky would actually be stuffed into his mouth like this. He was so happy that he could hardly stop smiling. If you asked him to pay money to redeem his brother at this time, it would definitely be more painful than killing him.

The reason for opposition is simple: no one is a saint, and no one wants to take out the money already in their pocket just to save a few nobles who have nothing to do with them or even have a hostile relationship with them.

But the calls for the hostages to be exchanged are equally strong.

The Earl of York's son was in Butcher's hands, and Prince Wilson's family could not tolerate being occupied by a side branch. There were countless cases like this.

It's easy for you to say that. It wasn't your son who died, so you don't feel bad at all, right? And you're so righteously babbling about the dignity of the emperor—didn't the remaining two pieces of Charles I's face get crushed to pieces by the Shrike today?

The two groups in the conference hall were arguing with each other. At first, everyone was considerate of the emperor's presence and spoke relatively restrainedly, but later they began to argue with each other crazily without any bottom line.

The world is bustling with people seeking profit. When it comes to their own interests, everyone will start calculating.

People are complicated. There are no simple people in this world. Everyone present is a noble of pure blood, and no one is willing to accept anyone else's opinion.

Charles sat on his father's throne, completely dumbfounded.

He had never expected that the nobles who had supported him so well before would actually start fighting among themselves on the spot.

Closer still, Butcher's men were outside watching with eager eyes, and further away, those ambitious people who were planning to seek the throne might have already been preparing their troops and horses to attack.

However, this group of people did not care about the current critical situation at all, and they wanted to catch the people on the opposite side and stab each other to death.

Seeing that the quarrel in the hall was about to evolve into a bloody conflict, Catherine, who had been sitting quietly beside the throne, suddenly picked up a wine jug at hand and smashed it hard on the floor in the middle of the hall.

The sound of the wine jug suddenly smashing made the scene suddenly quiet, as if the stop button was suddenly pressed.

Catherine stood up, her face filled with anger. "Now, with danger lurking on every side and a formidable enemy at our doorstep, all you people do is fight among yourselves. Are you all crazy?!"

"Even a woman like me can see that," Catherine said, her fingers shaking with anger. "Is the money the Butcher Bird is asking for a ransom? That's the gold he promised to the legionnaires when he read his will!"

"If we don't hand over the money, the soldiers will rush in and take it! Then every noble present will be hung on the city wall, and no one will be able to escape from anyone else!"

These remarks successfully stunned all the nobles present, and no one spoke any more.

But some people were resentful and said indignantly: "You are talking so much nonsense, but it's because your own brothers were also captured."

Catherine glared at the man fiercely. "If you were captured, would you expect others to say the same thing? You're only here because you're lucky. Who are you to decide the life and death of those captives?"

Catherine stood beside the throne, not even glancing at her son who was still sitting there, and announced loudly: "In the name of the Emperor, this matter is settled. No further discussion is needed!"

"Everyone must collect the ransom before dawn!"

The people below didn't seem very satisfied, but under the pressure of justice, they had to bow their heads temporarily and reluctantly accept the result.

Queen Catherine saw what those people were hiding.

Dissatisfied, but unable to do anything to reverse the decline.

She knew that she had to redeem those people, not only for the reasons she had just mentioned, but more importantly to stabilize people's hearts.

Those captured were all supporters of Charles. If they fell into the hands of the enemy and the newly crowned emperor ignored them, how would the remaining vassals view him as the emperor?

Moreover, one of Butcher's conditions was that they hand over Tudor's youngest son. It was clear who this half-man was going to surrender to.

Just grit your teeth and get the money together. The most urgent thing for Butcher now is time. Once the conditions are met, he will not take the risk of fighting the nobles to the death, but will be more inclined to take people out of the capital and go to Highgarden.

In any case, this will buy his son a chance to breathe.

Catherine's mind was filled with thoughts of helping Charles retain his throne, and all her quick wits could be said to have come from her mother's instinct.

However, Catherine's efforts were destined to serve others.

In two days, after Xiao Niao leaves the capital, one of Charles' uncles will launch a new coup.

This uncle would place Charles under house arrest and proclaim himself emperor in the capital, then brutally purge his potential rivals, leading to a split within the Hamilton family.

Chapter 93 Reunion

For Gwyneth, all of this seemed like a nightmare with no end.

She traveled all night long, almost without rest, driving the horses until they foamed at the mouth, and only stopped for a short rest when everyone was exhausted. When Gwen was most tired, she couldn't even lift a finger, and could only force herself to close her eyes to recover her strength.

The group mostly took small paths. To avoid being ambushed along the way, they rarely took official roads, but basically they returned in the direction they came.

When Gwyneth came to the capital, she was accompanied by the old nanny who raised her since she was a child, her brother, her younger brother and her father Banur, whom she had always relied on and admired.

But when she set out on her way home, there was no one around her and she was left alone.

Gwyneth didn't know whether her mother who stayed at home had known the bad news, nor did she know how to tell her mother what happened in the capital.

She had to hurry on her way to temporarily forget those things. Gwen couldn't keep thinking about these things, otherwise her spirit would soon collapse under the high pressure.

Occasionally, Gwyneth would have fragmented nightmares. Since the night of the attack, she would have such nightmares every time she fell asleep, and would wake up with cold sweat on her back.

Gwyneth dreamed that she was walking on a hellish battlefield. All the buildings were burning and she would step on a dead person every two steps. In her dream, she ran for her life, her heart almost bursting, but she could not find a safe place to stay.

Once, Gwyneth dreamed of a red horse with beautiful fur, which appeared on the devastated battlefield.

The chestnut horse hurried past her, its mane as bright as a flag fluttering in the wind, like an elusive elf in the legend.

Gwen recognized it as Butcher's mount, so she called out and reached out her hand to stop it.

But the horse always ran past her like a hurricane, almost never stopping and never looking back at her.

Just like its owner.

When Gwyneth woke up the next day, her face was covered with dried tears. She washed her cheeks with cold river water, then continued riding without saying a word. She didn't dare to stop or think about it anymore.

After about ten days, the scenery on both sides of the road finally became what I remembered as familiar.

Gwen rode on her horse and looked as far as she could. The short distance seemed so long that it seemed to have no end. She could vaguely see the outline of Pembroke Castle and its iconic dark gray exterior walls.

A knight following behind Gwen couldn't help but shed tears: "Miss Gwen, we are here, we are home."

Gwyneth responded softly, letting go of the horse's bridle and letting it run the last few steps, allowing the mount to take her to the foot of the city wall.

From a distance, Gwen saw her mother standing at the city gate to greet her.

Gwyneth's eyes became moist in an instant.

Her mother had long, soft, slightly curly flaxen hair, but when Gwen looked at her now, she could only see the silver hair on her temples.

Gwyneth stumbled off the horse, exhausted and dusty, her boots caked with thick red dust.

A feeling of homesickness surged in Gwen's heart. She froze for a long time before slowly walking towards her mother.

"Mom?" Gwyneth called out hoarsely, her voice distorted by the intensity of her emotions. "It's me, Gwyneth. I'm home, Mom."

Gwen felt her mother's warm hand cupping her cheek, and she looked at her in a daze, as if she were still in a nightmare and had not yet woken up.

"Gwen," said Lady Tudor with great effort, "my child."

Gwyneth noticed her arms were shaking.

"My daughter," her mother patted her clumsily, tears dripping down her face like a broken string, "you're back, it's great to have you back..."

Gwyneth stared at her blankly.

In her mind, her mother had always been dignified and respectable, not as tired and uneasy as she was now, holding her hand tightly and refusing to let go.

In Gwyneth's heart, her mother has always been a symbol of wisdom and majesty, making everyone in the castle willingly obey her orders. When she was a child, she always thought that the Virgin Mary in the church's stained glass windows should look like her mother.

Mom seemed to have aged all of a sudden, Gwyneth thought. It turns out that people can grow old in an instant.

Gwyneth remained silent. Her throat was dry and the sides of her trachea seemed to be stuck together.

The strange thing was that she felt nothing now. The moment her mother's tears fell, it seemed as if something disappeared from her body. Gwen's arms trembled from holding the reins for a long time, but her mind was clearer than ever.

She reached out to support her mother, who was sobbing uncontrollably.

When everything was still uncertain, Lady Tudor was still able to keep herself calm. She closely received news from all sides, and with the help of her vassals, she tried her best to keep family affairs running, hiding the grief deep in her heart.

But now, when the mother saw her daughter appear alone on the horizon, the last vestige of hope that supported her was shattered.

The pain of losing her husband and son almost broke Lady Tudor. She had lived a respectable life all her life, but now, in front of a group of family knights and her own daughter, she stuttered and couldn't even speak a word clearly.

Gwyneth heard her mother mumbling her father's nickname, and she felt as if her nerves were numb.

She knew she had no time to cry, no time to sit there and mourn for someone who was already dead, and Gwen gritted her teeth to prevent herself from showing any sign of weakness.

There was another belief supporting Gwyneth, a rather confusing thought: she was now the eldest child of the Tudor family, she wanted to avenge her family by killing her enemies and wash away the pain with blood. She also had a promise that she had to fulfill -

I need you, Gwen.

The bird's low, hoarse voice seemed to still echo in my ears, with a hint of pleading.

"I'll take you back to your room to rest." Gwyneth's voice was soft, but her tone was unyielding.

She said to her mother, "You need to sleep. I will help you take care of the house. You don't have to worry about anything."

Gwen said this with great authority, much like her father.

Mrs. Tudor was completely immersed in grief and took her daughter's arm obediently without any resistance.

Gwyneth looked at the family knights behind her mother.

They were waiting here, perhaps still holding a glimmer of hope in their hearts, thinking that Duke Tudor or Master Eric would come back. These family knights were looking forward to the return of someone who could take charge of the situation.

There was sympathy and regret in their eyes when they looked at her. From these people's eyes, Gwyneth could see that the person they were expecting was not her.

The invisible pressure once again hit Gwyneth. She was very tired, so tired that she could almost fall down and sleep for several days.