The walls of the Madir Outpost were not towering, appearing rather rudimentary. The weathered pine walls were stained with blood, evidently from recent fierce battles. As Panni and his companions entered the village, they were immediately surrounded by a group of villagers, eagerly inquiring, "Sbinir, have you found reinforcements?"

Sbinir's expression suddenly became awkward as he stuttered out the sequence of events. The villagers, observing the expressions of Panni's group, became visibly disappointed. "Only three individuals, what assistance could they possibly provide?"

Panni furrowed his brow. He hadn't come here solely to offer aid. In fact, after conversing with Aniel, he had already contemplated heading directly to Musangthir to seek out the witch. However, considering the unsafe environment, he decided to rest here temporarily. Yet, witnessing the villagers' indifference, he felt a twinge of dissatisfaction.

"Even with just the three of us, we will surely assist you," declared the Paladin, seemingly unfazed by the villagers' cold reception, rallying loudly.

"Another one who is all talk," muttered one villager disdainfully, "and a mere young girl at that."

"Three of you, come with us to see Lady Salfin," sighed Sbinir, halting Sela, his expression grave. "Forgive us, many of our kin have been lost in these past days, and our spirits are low."

"I understand," interjected Panni, "but who is Lady Salfin?"

"She is the witch commander of the outpost," replied Sbinir.

"The witch commander?" Panni's eyes lit up. "A member of the Witch's Council?"

"Yes, sir, in the various villages of Latheman, governance is overseen by these individuals," sighed Sbinir. "Since the troll attack on our village, Lady Salfin hasn't rested for several days."

"We might inquire of her regarding the Witch's Council," Aniel whispered to Panni.

Panni nodded in agreement, harboring such intentions.

Deep within the village, a small cottage emitted faint pulses of arcane energy. Sbinir quietly opened the door, ushering the trio inside. Behind a table sat a frail Latheman witch, her demeanor visibly worn despite the mask obscuring her face.

Panni could even surmise that this witch might have abstained from spellcasting for some time.

Preparing spells was a meticulous endeavor; any lapse in concentration could result in dire consequences. Hence, mages refrained from such activities when their mental faculties were not at their peak.

...

Indeed, the witch Salfin appeared fatigued, the deep shades under her eyes almost purplish if her mask were to be removed.

For half a month, trolls had besieged the village, with each sortie for aid akin to a futile cry in the wilderness. Those who returned did so with crestfallen spirits, bearing grim tidings—Musangthir refused aid, citing numerous justifications.

Yet, regardless of the reasons, one fact remained immutable—the Madir Outpost persevered under the relentless assault of a horde of trolls, the duration of which remained uncertain.

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In the battles of recent days, more than half of the village's original complement of warriors had perished, leaving uncertainty shrouding the village's endurance.

Engulfed in a frantic scramble to fortify defenses, bolster resistance, and withstand troll onslaughts, Salfin had foregone sleep for several days. As for spell preparation, she had scarcely attended to it in earnest for two days.

The three adventurers who claimed to come to help her were somewhat surprising, unlike the disappointed villagers outside, she believed that every bit of strength should be sought after at this time. Therefore, when she saw Panni and his companions come in, she greeted them warmly, "Welcome, guests from afar, but I'm sorry there is no fine wine and delicacies to welcome you here, as you can see, the situation in our village is very dire."

The witch's kindness slightly improved Panni's mood, feeling that perhaps she was someone they could deal with.

"In fact, we are here to alleviate your plight," Sela spoke up.

"Wait a moment, are you the Paladin of Tyrel? Wasn't the Witch's Council inviting your church a few days ago? Why are you not on the battlefield in the northwest but appear here?" The witch seemed to recall something, staring suspiciously at the holy emblem on Sela's breastplate.

"We did come in response to the invitation, but a lady named Mius Delan told us that the Sixth Euryslo had reneged on the alliance," Sela shook her head. "But I think it would be unproductive to return to the church empty-handed. Upon hearing that there is a conflict here, we wanted to come and see what we could do."

"It's strange... The agreed-upon matter actually reneged, which damages the reputation of the Witch's Council," Witch Salfin lowered her head, rubbing her eyes beneath the mask, wearing a pensive expression.

"In fact... we also find that lady's behavior... very peculiar," Panni pondered for a moment, speaking out, "Misleading allies to this place, still unclear about the situation, I suspect... her intentions are ill."

"This may be a misunderstanding, this... wizard, sir?" Salfin's gaze shifted to Panni, furrowing her brows, perhaps the fatigue made it difficult to suppress her emotions, her tone carried some distrust, "I believe your suspicion is unfounded."

Panni and the bard exchanged a glance, a tacit understanding evident in their eyes. Clearly, compared to the three individuals they met initially, Witch Salfin seemed more inclined to trust her companions.

"cough." The bard suddenly coughed, "Madam, in fact, our suspicion is not entirely baseless. I would like to ask you a question."

"Please, go ahead," the witch nodded.

"I heard from Captain Sbinir that you have dispatched several teams for aid, yet why hasn't Musangthir sent reinforcements until now?" the bard continued, "I believe, despite the numerous trolls, gathering a few dozen elite warriors and spellcasters would not be difficult to defeat them. I find it hard to believe that Musangthir, being so close by, cannot spare any assistance. Moreover, the relief effort wouldn't take much time, and it wouldn't hinder the preparations against the northern rebels... I wonder why Musangthir is indifferent to the situation here?"

"This..." the witch opened her mouth, appearing at a loss for words. Clearly, Aniel's words struck a chord.

With consecutive failed requests for aid, she too harbored some doubts, which Aniel's statement only exacerbated.

Panni glanced at the bard, filled with admiration. The wandering bard, with his silver tongue, truly earned his keep.

"So I believe the situation in Musangthir is quite peculiar," Aniel concluded.

"Perhaps, maybe the Witch's Council indeed has other considerations..." Salfin was somewhat convinced, though her deep-rooted trust in the organization still gave her hope.

"Even so, you should personally investigate, perhaps there is indeed a serious issue," Panni continued, realizing that this witch might provide a pathway for him to delve deeper into the affairs of the Latheman Witch's Council.

"You make a valid point," Salfin pondered for a moment, finally persuaded, "However, I cannot leave here just yet, as you can see, the trouble has not yet been resolved."

Outside the village, the distant howls of trolls could be faintly heard.

"We will do our best to help you resolve the trouble," Panni thought for a moment, finally speaking up.

This was an opportunity not to be missed, whether they could accomplish it or not, Panni mentioned a word, "effort".

"In any case, thank you for your assistance," the witch smiled, about to say something when suddenly, sharp horns sounded from outside, "Enemy attack!"