For whom do I stand in the midnight wind and dew?

When Sanchez continued his conversation with the Baker brothers after they stepped out of the shed, his son, Kent, stood nearby with a deeply uneasy expression.

It took quite a while for the exchange between Baker and Green to conclude, and Sanchez then solicitously helped them back toward the makeshift hut.

The "door" of the shed closed once more, cutting off the longing, hopeful, and pleading gazes of Baker and Green. Kent immediately gripped his father’s arm tightly: "Father, these things—"

"Shh!" Sanchez jerked away from his son and firmly covered his mouth.

Maintaining this posture, Sanchez dragged Kent dozens of paces away, winding around a large thicket of trees before finally releasing his arm.

"Father! These things—"

"Shh! Don't say a word yet." Sanchez raised a hand to silence his son, then turned around, quietly poking his head out from the bushes to peer toward the shed.

Only after a long while, seeing no movement over there, did Sanchez let out a breath and pull his son along to walk quickly: "Alright, come with me now. You can say what you need to say."

Kent, having held back his words twice, finally let them out: "Father, we cannot do these things! We absolutely must not!"

"What are you panicking about? I didn't agree to their request to set fire to the livestock shed." Sanchez shook his head slightly.

"No arson?"

Even in the 21st century on Earth, arson was a grave crime.

In this medieval world, where the level of development was far more primitive, if there were even the slightest suspicion of such an act, the steward and the priest would certainly not spare their harsh gazes or their doubly cruel methods to uncover any hidden truth.

Without a doubt, the Brown family would be the first to be listed as prime suspects.

Moreover, Kent had little faith in Baker and Green's ability to keep a secret. It was entirely possible that before a stick was even laid upon the brothers, they would have already confessed and implicated his own family.

Just imagining what would happen next made Kent shudder. He hurriedly added, "Father, tampering with the fodder won't work either!"

The logic was the same. Oxen were such vital labor that any incident involving them would stir the hearts of everyone in Ekli Village, inevitably drawing the scrutinizing gaze of the masters.

Arson was like that; tampering with fodder was like that; any other method of causing trouble was the same.

The key was not the method itself. As long as it involved the oxen, no covert tactic could be foolproof; it was highly likely to be noticed by the masters.

"It won't work, it just won't work!" The more Kent thought about it, the more anxious he became, his voice urgent as he tried to persuade his father: "No method can be used! This—this is simply—"

"This is simply not wanting to live a good life, rushing—"

As he spoke, Sanchez gestured toward the shed behind them: "Rushing to join them living in a place like that! Right?"

"Exactly! Exactly!" Kent nodded rapidly: "So, Father, you knew all along!"

"Such an obvious truth, of course I am clear on it." Sanchez replied with a bitter smile: "Baker and Green, sigh—"

"They have truly gone mad!"

"Not mad. Just thinking too much of themselves and too little of others. Kent," Sanchez shook his head heavily: "Actually, before coming over tonight, I had already guessed they might ask for my help—but I didn't expect them to ask for this kind of help!"

"Father, if you ask me—" Kent said resentfully: "We shouldn't have come at all!"

"Sigh!" Sanchez sighed deeply—it was likely the most he had sighed in the first half of his life. He looked deeply at his son: "Kent, you are still too young. Many things in life are not as simple as wanting to do them or not."

"Why?"

Kent truly could not understand. It was just coming to this broken shed, not an order from the master. Why was this something he had to do even if he didn't want to?

How was he to explain this to his son?

Being a person is hard!

As the younger brother of the previous herdsman, Sanchez naturally occupied a position of suspicion. Whenever it involved the Browns, the Rodriguezes, the Loses, or the Mores, or anything connected to the position of herdsman, any decision Sanchez made was far more difficult than it was for other villagers.

If he showed too much favor to Old William’s family, he would be suspected of having ulterior motives.

If he tried to draw a clear line with the Brown family, he would be seen as cold and heartless—and that wasn't even the worst of it; it could be interpreted as "cutting off one's hand to save the arm," a sign of hidden, long-term resentment.

If he said nothing, it would be seen as having a sinister agenda.

If he went around explaining, he would be seen as guilty and cowardly.

If he dared to complain, he would clearly be tired of living!

"Sigh."

Listening to his father explain the intricate reasons, Kent gradually understood the feeling of being full of grievances. Sighing deeply along with his father, he suddenly realized something: "Wait, Father, if coming or not coming is trouble regardless, why are we here now? Is the trouble gone?"

"No, the trouble is not gone." Sanchez shook his head heavily: "It is to avoid even greater trouble!"

"How so?" The color drained from Kent's face.

"Sigh, it's all Baker and Green's doing!" Sanchez pointed toward a direction in the village as he walked quickly: "Do you think those two brothers only asked us? Don't you remember what Uncle Brown said earlier? Besides us, Baker and Green have likely asked many others! At the very least, Wright, Brown's old neighbor, must have been approached too!"

"What?" Kent widened his eyes: "Did Green talk to Uncle Wright about the arson too?"

"Who knows?" Sanchez said with deep helplessness: "But even if he didn't, it wouldn't be much better! This afternoon, I saw Wright near the Three Trees. I was just about to greet him, but he turned and left immediately—the old man must know something and was terrified I would try to plot something with him!"

"Ah!" Hearing this, Kent’s face, already pale, turned deathly white!

"What is it, Kent?" Sanchez asked quickly.

"Today—today this morning—"

On the ground, a fallen branch knocked against a stone with a *clatter*, because Kent, who had stopped abruptly, was trembling violently.

This morning, the sun hadn't risen very high. Kent had just finished working on one plot of land and was heading to another. Passing a bridge, he saw Mario—another old neighbor of Uncle Brown and the son of Carter. Just as he was about to greet him, Mario had scrambled down the slope, slipping and sliding, and vanished along the stream.

Thinking about it now, Mario's behavior was clearly a sign that he was terrified of being seen with him! He hadn't even waited to turn around and run; he had dived into the muddy banks to ensure, as much as possible, that his family wouldn't be dragged into whatever might happen in the future.

"Heavens! Carter knows too! And he told his son!"

After hearing Kent's description, Sanchez was so angry he kicked several stones and branches away. "Those two idiots, those bastards! They are reckless! They have no brains at all!"

"Green and Brother Baker, they weren't like this before! How could they do such foolish things?"

Even Kent understood the danger of loose lips and couldn't fathom the behavior of the two cousins.

"Sigh, this is my fault, and Wright's, and Carter's, we can't escape it either." Sanchez said helplessly: "When we first helped build the shed, and when we brought food a while ago, your uncle and your two cousins would always ask about the village herd and that new herdsman, Los. Sigh, to set their minds at ease, we might have talked a bit too much, praised their skills a bit too highly, and diminished Los's skills a bit too much. Who knew they would remember it! They kept obsessing over it! And they came up with the idea of arson and tampering with the fodder!"

"Then what do we do now?"

Pacing anxiously, after several deep breaths, Kent stood still, about to say something, but hesitated: "Should we—should we—"

"Speak!"

"Should we, Father, go find the steward?"

"What!" Sanchez looked at his son in extreme shock, as if he didn't recognize him: "Kent, how could you think that?"

"I—I—" Kent hung his head in shame.

Yes, how could he think that?

Regardless, the Browns were his uncle, the closest blood relatives outside of his immediate family.

Regardless, Baker and Green were his cousins, who had spent so many happy times with him in their childhood.

"I'm sorry, Father." Kent's voice was filled with repentance.

"If you know, then good! Did you not listen to what I told you just now?" Sanchez said, frustrated at his son's lack of resolve: "Can we go report such a thing to the steward? Is it appropriate for us to be the ones to inform? What if the steward or the priest thinks we are only doing it to prevent the Browns from actually committing the crime? What if Old William’s family and Los think we are intentionally helping the Browns leave a back door open?"

"Why are you so stupid!" In his anger, Sanchez smacked his son's head a few times: "Since so many people already know, do you think there will be no one to report it? Do you think no one is willing to curry favor with Los?"

"You must realize, this is the current herdsman, the future master!" Sanchez's words were filled with deep envy: "Sigh, if it weren't so inconvenient, I would have wanted to wait at Los's doorstep myself!"

"Then what about Uncle and the others—"

"Hmph! Brown! Brown! If it weren't for Father being biased back then—if he had let me be the herdsman, how could all this have happened?" Sanchez grew more indignant the more he spoke: "Hmph! If I were the herdsman, I would have taken good care of a smart kid like Los, and I would have already won him over. How could I have let the skill of tending cattle fall into the hands of an outsider!"

"Then Father, what should we do now?"

"Let's go, follow me." Sanchez walked ahead again: "Go to the master's livestock shed."

"Ah? Why go there?"

"Does that even need asking?" Sanchez strode forward quickly: "Although someone will surely go report it to the masters, what if someone has lost their mind? What if someone actually goes and sets a fire or tampers with the fodder? Then wouldn't we be the ones in trouble?"

"Oh." Kent realized, then thought of another place: "Father, there are also the beehives! What if the person who lost their mind doesn't dare go to the livestock shed but ruins the beehives instead? What then?"

"This—the beehives are also very important; this is work Los did for the priest." Sanchez stopped in his tracks. "Yes, son, you are right. Bringing you along tonight was finally worth something."

"In that case—" After thinking for a few seconds, Sanchez made a decision: "I will go watch the livestock shed, and you go watch the beehives!"

"Okay! I'll go right away." Kent nodded firmly, turned around, and prepared to head toward their own wooden hut, which was also the location of the beehive plot.

"You must watch carefully!" Sanchez grabbed his son and instructed him solemnly: "Call your two brothers and your mother. You take turns watching. You must guard the beehives well!"

"Ah, the whole family takes turns? How long do we have to watch?"

"Eh? Does that need asking?" Sanchez looked at his son strangely: "Of course, all night! Didn't Green say? Once Los finishes the beehives, he will lead the laborers and serfs to the livestock shed. Then I can come over and we can watch the beehives together. In short, until someone reports it, we must keep a close watch on the beehives. We must not give Los any reason to be angry!"

"And what if no one reports it tomorrow?"

"Then we watch until tomorrow night!" Sanchez's tone was resolute.