⚔️Serberia Auto-translated

-- See? They're afraid... -- the hunchback hissed, especially savoring the last word. -- Just give me the signal, commander...

-- What are you mumbling about, you painted harlot? Whose meaningless words are these, you fake pious slut? Your Regnylvian babble has been known to the world for eight hundred years. "Calm down, little boy, mommy's here." -- the hunchback mockingly imitated... No, such words didn't suit this person. Alessia herself imitated the inquisitor, in a different voice, but with the exact words that the young Airisufirian would say right now. -- Go suck your friend some more, right now, before he starts crying, it's the best use for your bread knife... And then we'll talk. Let the boy learn to answer for his actions, and for his words.
Sorry, (maybe some people aren't used to this kind of language) I haven't been in any IRL conflicts, even verbal ones, for a week, and then there's this character, it's better to talk to three Lydias.

Ah, well...

-- What were you mumbling, you painted hussy? Whose words don't make sense, you fake pious slut? Your Regnleivian babble has been known to the world for eight hundred years. "Calm down, boy, mommy's here with you." -- the hunchback mockingly imitated... No, such words didn't suit this person. Alessia herself imitated the inquisitor, in a stranger's voice, but with exactly the same words that the young Airisufirian would say now. -- Go suck your friend some more, right now, before he starts crying, it's the best use for your bread knife... And then we'll talk. Let the boy learn to answer for his actions, and for his words.

— Ha-ha, — the inquisitor smiled, — right now you remind me of a boy from the Moenian orphanage, with exactly the same foul language as he had!

-- Well, well, aren't we prickly. But besides words, can you do anything else?

— Hmm... Who knows? Besides, the lack of useful skills isn't a sin in itself, so even if I couldn't do anything but talk, it wouldn't change anything.

And if Anders were here, we would have already finished this quest one way or another 😎

"Enough," Calentia gave the hunchback a stern look, "that is not why we came here." After these words, the Argalian turned back toward Laurentia and met the inquisitor's eyes. "If you are unwilling to seek other ways to keep Rika from arriving in Mircoria, assuming your words are sincere, then I offer you one last chance to surrender. Your plan—the idea of overthrowing the count—sounds like something that will result in great loss of life, regardless of whether your and Tyros's stories are true. Such deeds never come without sacrifice and have far-reaching consequences. Therefore, this time it is I who ask you to show mercy and abandon your designs. Otherwise, our party will be left with no other choice."

A heavy, weary sigh is heard.
— And why do I have the feeling that you are desperately trying to justify your own actions? In a way, even this man — he nods towards Alessia — was more honest... At least, he wasn't deceiving himself. We have no intention of surrendering.

While his companions were engaged in tense negotiations with the band of inquisitors, Renold was lost in his own world. The image of Roheya falling into the bottomless abyss still flickered before his eyes. The duelist's hands trembled, and a wave of nausea washed over him. He tore his gaze away from the black stone wall and looked at the enemies, whose actions had led them to this accursed mine, and tried to listen to the conversation.
Taking a step forward, Renold slapped the goblin on the shoulder:
"Calm down a bit, hunchback. You're not our brother or sister, so don't overestimate your importance in this dialogue." He turned to the inquisitors:
"So, the secret informant who orchestrated all this mess remains unknown?" Renold suddenly laughed and clapped his hands: "Bravo! Simply bravo, gentlemen. But let's set aside the excessive familiarity, Sir Tyros, my lady." He nodded to the named NPCs and looked with disdain at the nameless grunts 1-5. "Let's leave the flowery language for high society; we are surrounded by darkness. We've become so engrossed in searching for enemies among our close ones that we've completely overlooked the unknown factor, the one whose actions have set all these events in motion. Tyros, you grew up and learned the art of the sword from Sir Rudger. Does your father, even if only an adoptive one, seem like a mad villain? And what about Countess Hecate, who replaced your mother? We've formed a similar impression. They may be manipulated, deceived, or acting for someone else... for a different, hidden purpose. As for the vividly described healing ritual, is this information reliable? The blood of a thousand fallen, the soul of a valkyrie, what else? All for what? To heal a couple of burns from a monster's stomach? And suddenly, Artoria expresses support for her de facto enemies from the church? You are either naive or blind," the young man said with a smirk, shaking his head. "We, gentlemen, have been drawn into a most intriguing game, whose mastermind remains hidden behind a veil of mystery. If this game were just beginning, I would suggest that we join forces and try to thwart his plans at any cost, even if it means destroying your 'tear,' if possible. Because I sense that such a large-scale bloodshed is not necessary for simple healing. Or perhaps, it's not Count Rudger who will be healed..." The duelist sighed heavily. "But, unfortunately, at this moment, the game is coming to an end, and all the moves have been made and calculated. Whoever emerges alive from this mine today will no longer be able to influence the situation. We have no chance of dissuading our 'superiors': the countess will hang us; the Arterians will execute you." Renold paused for a moment and continued: "I don't think that such righteous servants as you would lie. But our fate has long been predetermined. Let's set aside ideals, loyalty, and honor, the hostages of loved ones and friends: the situation will not change. You, Sir Tyros, will never become the ruler of Myrkoria. My lady, you will never return to your native Regnleyv. Grunts 1-5, you will fall first as cannon fodder. And what about us?" He looked at his companions. "We, like you, are standing with one foot in the grave. The one who started this game has already won, so I don't see the point in wasting time on empty talk. Alas, I am not a god and do not control fate. All I have is my rapier and my loved ones behind me. And all that remains for us is to see whose faith will prove stronger."

What a scoundrel this "leading" player is.

Added after 34 seconds
So, are you attacking?

My lady, you can no longer return to your homeland, Regnleyv.

— I'm from Anemon.

Added 2 minutes later
So, shall we attack and get destroyed?

yeah, I'm done, I can die now
it's a pity we didn't wait for Lok, but he's probably also rooting for us

Maybe.

So, are you attacking?

I did say I was "slowly buying," but according to my calculations, the battle should have started an hour ago.

Well... They aren't attacking, so I'm waiting for your move, but it's not coming...