Chapter 163: The Beginning of Turmoil
After another half month of traveling along crowded roads, they finally arrived at Oslo City.
Outside the city gates, tents and refugees were everywhere. Due to the drying up of the Milat River, numerous ships lay stranded in the river port before Oslo’s gates, and now even the parched riverbeds were completely occupied by people.
Though the gates leading into the city remained open, guards armed with real swords stood watch at all times. Those wishing to leave the city faced no obstruction, but entering was as difficult as scaling the heavens. Even nobles with titles had to queue on the side, waiting for messengers to notify the lord and issue passage orders before being permitted entry.
Only the White Wing Knights riding griffins could pass unhindered.
Not that they could be stopped anyway. That night, the White Wing Knights had flown directly from the sky into the lord’s castle, barging rudely into his private chambers.
Given both the church backing the knights and their own formidable power, the fifty-five-year-old Count of Oslo ultimately chose to compromise. He ceased having guards drive away refugees, permitting them to camp outside the city walls.
When the White Wing Knights arrived at Oslo City again with over a thousand refugees, the count even prepared a banquet.
The invited knights, gnomes, and kingdom knights entered the castle under the guards’ reception.
In the banquet hall, a long table draped with red cloth displayed white bread baked from fine flour, spread with honey and sprinkled with granulated white sugar. Glossy black grapes still attached to their green leaves were arranged on plates.
Servants poured premium Nidran estate wine into pure silver goblets, the liquid gleaming like rubies.
Peppercorn sauce drizzled over seared steaks, freshly roasted lamb ribs served alongside peeled baked potatoes – the entire hall was filled with mouthwatering aromas of meat and wine.
The count’s maids, footmen, and butler were all impeccably dressed.
The demon tide had filled the count’s coffers to overflowing. Passing nobles paid him toll and protection fees, while merchants’ goods were confiscated under the pretext of “emergency taxes.”
Having never witnessed the demon tide firsthand, the Count of Oslo now raised his glass cheerfully and approached the White Wing Knight.
His wrinkled face bulged with fat, his custom-tailored tailcoat unable to contain his corpulent belly. Layers of flab piled upon each other – this noble, fatter than any pig, required two footmen supporting him just to walk.
The glittering banquet inside the castle seemed a world apart from the famine-stricken wasteland beyond its walls.
Looking at that porcine face, Percival felt instinctive revulsion.
Yet he had no choice but to negotiate with the Count of Oslo. As a knight born of nobility himself, while no political mastermind, he wasn’t entirely ignorant either.
The Count of Oslo was a territorial lord with real power – his eldest and second sons commanded troops in the kingdom’s armies, while his third son had led over a hundred personal guards to join the allied forces in the northern war.
As an honorary member of the church, Percival had to maintain at least surface civility when dealing with him.
Though Percival’s method of storming the castle had been anything but friendly, he’d promised compensation in the name of both the Hundred Wing Knights and his own family, proportional to the number of refugees Oslo took in.
For the count, this was a guaranteed profitable venture. Confident in the knights’ ability to pay, he’d gladly opened the city gates, using his granaries to halfheartedly aid the starving refugees.
That stupid hog clearly still didn’t understand what the demon tide truly was.
He immediately began discussing accounts with Percival, having his steward calculate daily food consumption and management burdens for each refugee. Who knew how much sand he’d mixed into those relief rations.
“Enough, Count Oslo. Let’s conclude this discussion of accounts. I’ll naturally settle these debts in time!” Percival slammed the long table. “I didn’t come here to bargain with you like some merchant!”
“I don’t think you comprehend what the demon tide actually is. This isn’t some passing earthquake. Sooner or later it will reach your territories. When you’re forced to flee to others’ lands, will you also haggle with local lords over daily expenses and food rations?”
“Oh, Honored Knight, of course I know what the demon tide is,” the count replied in leisurely tones. “But quarreling here won’t stop it, will it?”
“However, if you wish to drop the matter, we’ll set aside the accounts. I’ll simply send the bill to your father, Count Elliot, and the White Wing Knights’ headquarters.”
Percival took a deep breath, suppressing his fury.
“Let’s discuss other matters, Count. Such as the bone dragon that appeared the night the demon tide erupted. Have you uncovered anything?”
“About that dragon… yes, I certainly remember.” The count paused. “After your last visit, I immediately dispatched my personal guard eastward to investigate rumors concerning the bone dragon.”
“Quite the mobilization. The urgency was such that over a dozen warhorses were ridden to death.” The shrewd count narrowed his eyes. “As expected, we uncovered some leads. However…”
“You may add those expenses to the bill,” Percival said coldly. “But remember this – that bone dragon is of utmost importance. It even suppressed the demon tide’s eruption. Both the church and your king will undoubtedly investigate it thoroughly.”
“Naturally, Honored Knight.” The count sipped his wine. “Regarding the dragon, my guards collected numerous eyewitness reports.”
“As you mentioned, it did indeed emerge from Helburg’s direction before flying south along the Hewitt Plains. Many witnessed its shadow – truly a terrifying creature. They say it stood hundreds of feet tall, blotting out the sky when passing overhead.”
“Where did it go ultimately?” the Hundred Wing Knight asked.
“We charted its flight path based on gathered intelligence, but scouts found no trace. Ultimately, we could only conclude from eyewitness accounts that it seemed to… vanish.”
“Vanished?” Percival frowned.
“Indeed, vanished.” The count’s steward presented the knight with a map. “In any case, this flight path is all I can provide regarding the bone dragon.”
The knight unrolled the map as a gnome stood on a stool to peer at it.
Starting from Helburg, a jagged black line stretched across the map before terminating with an X at the southern border.
The mysterious bone dragon and its equally mysterious rider had disappeared as silently as they’d arrived.
Yet wherever they’d gone, everyone who’d experienced the demon tide knew the times were changing.
Silently rolling up the map, the knight gazed at the gardens and blue skies beyond the banquet hall.
He knew turbulent times had come. From this day forth, finding peaceful sanctuary would be nigh impossible.
(End of Volume 2)