Chapter 48: The Raven's Banner

On the seventh day, as the sun rose, Wade brushed off the snow and scattered pine needles from his body and stood up. 

This marked his seventh day on the icy plains. He didn’t know how much longer his avatar could remain active, but for now, he felt no signs of awakening – that hypothetical time limit hadn’t arrived yet.

Shouldering his deerhide pack, he watched as the villagers who had endured the freezing night gradually woke up. 

White puffs of breath escaped their noses and mouths as they shivered from the cold, rubbing their hands together for warmth.

After a brief rest to eat and gather their wits, the group set out again.

Wade still led at the front, with everyone maintaining silence as they marched.

Today’s weather proved far better than previous days – the clouds had dispersed, revealing sunlight in a clear blue sky.

They slowed their pace, considering the group had been traveling nonstop for twelve days now. Even the strongest men felt their legs going numb and weak, let alone the others.

The second day after mountain climbing always brought the most intense muscle reactions.

Some lifted their feet as if their boots were filled with lead weights, relying heavily on walking sticks to move forward slowly.

Fortunately, the terrain grew progressively flatter as they headed south.

After another day’s journey without encountering particularly difficult slopes – mostly downhill sections that didn’t leave them gasping for breath – they had crossed the mountainous region yesterday and now approached flat plains.

They were almost there.

Lucas recognized some familiar landmarks from his early years when he frequently took missions in Creek Forest.

Mostly gathering tasks back then, sometimes assisting other adventurer teams by carrying supplies or processing game.

He knew Creek Forest quite well.

In fact, when he first arrived in Alvado, he made his living through these very skills.

Using skinning techniques learned in his village, he helped other adventurers process their kills – ice wolves or whatever else they hunted.

He made many friends during that time – some happy memories, some not. At his lowest point, he’d been swindled out of every coin in his pocket, nearly sold into slavery.

Only after three years in Alvado, through daily training and seeking advice, did he master several basic combat skills and become a self-taught professional warrior.

He never had a proper mentor. Rather, every professional warrior he befriended during those years became his teacher in some way.

To Lucas, Alvado was a place filled with memories.

It marked the beginning of his adventuring career – he’d never stayed in any other town for three full years since.

In a sense, it became his second hometown.

Back then, many townsfolk recognized him on the streets, calling him by nickname.

Adventurers had dubbed him “Grey Claw” – meaning someone quick-handed but perpetually covered in dust and animal fur.

Close friends simply called him Lucas, while clients seeking his services used his surname Porter or the nickname Grey Claw.

But seventeen years had passed. Alvado’s population changed over and over. When Lucas returned last year and stayed at the Oak Tavern, he discovered even Uncle John had passed away.

Most of his old acquaintances had left Alvado. No one called him “Grey Claw” anymore. That young man who used to hawk his services in markets and adventurer guilds had been forgotten by the town.

Lost in these memories, Lucas paused at a fork in the road to check directions.

“This way,” Lucas said. “Through that ravine ahead, we should see the road. From the valley’s end, we can spot Prague River and Alvado’s buildings!”

Lucas pointed forward – Alvado Town lay just ahead.

Incredibly, they’d traversed Creek Forest in under two days.

As they entered the natural ravine, Wade suddenly stopped. He spotted flames within – there were people inside.

Not unusual so close to Alvado, really.

In fact, upon entering the valley, several imposing figures clad in full plate armor with visored helmets appeared before them.

“Are those Alvado’s guards?” Elder Bardel asked quietly.

Lucas didn’t answer, only frowned.

Full plate armor looked similar everywhere.

But this equipment seemed excessively fine – the steel plates and helmets appeared brand new. Lucas remembered Alvado’s guards wearing more battered armor with visible scratches.

Only the viscount’s personal troops stationed near the magistrate would have such quality gear.

Had the viscount detected the necromancer’s movements and sent scouts?

Lucas glanced at Wade, somewhat relying on the wandering knight’s judgment.

Wade showed no particular reaction. He couldn’t identify these fully armored figures – only that they were living humans. Besides the three armored knights before them, eight more waited further in.

An eleven-person squad seemed active in this ravine.

Don’t expect Wade to negotiate – he’s a skeleton who can’t speak, and not even Tanian.

So Wade remained impassive. After considering, Lucas stepped forward to greet these “guards.”

“Milords!” Lucas called. “We’ve come from Klavi mountain path to the north with urgent news for Viscount Quentin!”

“Viscount?” came a muffled, gruff voice through the helmet. “Which viscount do you mean?”

“Why, Viscount Colton Quentin of course,” Lucas replied, puzzled. Alvado stood within Quentin’s direct territory – why would guards ask such an obvious question?

“Colton Quentin?” The three armored “guards” exchanged glances.

One asked in surprise, “Are you Tanians? By Tyr’s beard, did you cross the forest?”

“By Tyr’s beard?”

Lucas’ brows knitted together. He subtly gripped his spear, signaling the others to retreat.

“What’s the hold-up, Weil? Hurry up with that ice bear and dwarf!” 

A shout came from further down the valley.

“With weather this good, we’ve no excuses left for unfinished tasks. Unless you want that necromancer turning us into zombies too.”

Another figure approached.

Lucas froze when he saw the banner behind them.

The Tanian national flag bore white ice lilies, symbolizing perseverance blooming through winter.

But this banner displayed no lily.

Instead, a black raven spread its wings against crimson fabric.

Legend said ravens accompanied Tyr, god of war – representing war, wisdom and omens.

This wasn’t a Tanian banner, nor pirate colors – but the war standard of the Ice King from across the icy sea!

Now he understood that lingering unease.

These weren’t Alvado guards or the viscount’s troops.

They were soldiers!

Elite forces of the Ice King!

“RUN!” 

Overwhelming danger made Lucas roar.

Veins bulged on his forehead as he gathered strength to unleash a combat technique forward.