Chapter 57: The Gnome's Secret

Wade spread out the sketches depicting human bodies, organs, and skeletons. He looked up at the rough cave walls covered in irregular patterns. 

This limestone cave was far from Alvado Town, in a place rarely visited by people. 

When they had rescued the gnome from the Icelandic soldiers, it wasn’t yet dark. But the gnome had led everyone on a winding path through the forest for a long time, only bringing them to this hidden place after sunset.

Old York, didn’t he think this secret warehouse was built too far from town?

If Old York were to travel from Alvado Town to his secret warehouse, he’d probably have to climb mountain paths for half a day, then search alone along the edges of Creek Forest, moving aside a bluestone that would be quite heavy for someone of his size.

When they first met, Wade hadn’t thought deeply about it. 

But now, removed from the tense atmosphere, with quiet surroundings and time alone, various strange details began surfacing.

What exactly needed to be stored in a place so far from town?

How “valuable” was that thing, making the gnome go through such trouble, completely sacrificing convenience for the sake of concealment and safety?

Wade recalled the details he’d seen after following Old York into the cave – dust-covered alchemy equipment, the vast empty cavern, many locked doors…

Finally, his gaze settled on those sketches.

Wade had a suspicion. If this suspicion proved correct, perhaps there was still a slim chance to turn things around.

…

The eighth day.

Awakened villagers sat on the ground, taking out dry black bread and jerky from their packs.

They tore strips of simply roasted mutton or beef, pairing them with the coarse bread and washing it down with water, chewing mechanically with blank expressions.

Some beat their calves, unable to bear the soreness and pain.

The cave had only dim firelight. Looking up, there was nothing but rock.

The cave was large, but with over a hundred people gathered, it still felt crowded.

An oppressive atmosphere spread invisibly. Even the small children had lost their vitality, clinging to relatives’ sleeves and hiding in their embrace.

Though over a hundred people were gathered, there were no cries, laughter or conversation – only the sounds of mechanical chewing and gulping water echoing.

Some who got up simply lay back down, covering their heads with clothes and pressing hands tightly over ears.

No one spoke. Though they’d slept, everyone seemed exhausted, as if even lifting a hand or opening their mouth required too much effort.

After most had awakened, the gnome pushed open a door and emerged from a room, walking up to Lucas.

Lucas looked like he hadn’t slept all night, his hair a bird’s nest, face covered in stubble, hunched over as he added a log to the cauldron.

“Porter, you look like a filthy vagabond now,” said the gnome.

“It’s Old York,” Lucas turned to look at the gnome. “Did you rest well? I have bread and jerky here. Want something to fill your stomach?”

Lucas opened his leather pack and took out his food.

“No need, Porter. York has eaten. York isn’t hungry.” The gnome looked around. “Where’s that outsider? Where did he go?”

“You mean Sir Wade?” Lucas scratched his head, trying to remember. “Didn’t you take Sir Wade for appraisal? Maybe he’s still sleeping? Did you give Sir Wade a separate bed?”

“York only gave him the study key.” York’s gaze shifted to the study door. “Perhaps… perhaps that outsider is still in the study.”

“What’s wrong, Old York? You seem a bit off,” Lucas said.

“Porter, you’re the one who seems off,” York said. “You don’t seem like Porter at all. The Grey Claw Porter York knows always greets York energetically.”

“Do I?” Lucas laughed weakly.

York didn’t look at Lucas, his gaze fixed on the study door, clearly preoccupied.

But who among them wasn’t preoccupied?

The Tania survivors faced such cruel fates.

Anyone confronting life-and-death matters between nations would be preoccupied.

Lucas turned back to tend the fire as York sat down beside him.

Though seated, the gnome never took his eyes off the study, as if waiting for that door to open.

As Lucas added the sixth log, the wooden door creaked ajar.

The wandering knight emerged from the study, stooped, carrying an oil lamp one-third burned.

The gnome stood up, meeting the knight’s gaze.

“Good morning, Sir Wade,” Lucas greeted, though he didn’t even know if it was morning.

Wade nodded in response, placing the study key in the gnome’s hand.

The gnome pocketed the key, then secretly checked his palm.

With complex emotions, he looked up and asked, “Did you see York’s sketches?”

Wade nodded.

The gnome looked at Lucas and sighed deeply.

“York always feared someone discovering York’s secret,” the gnome said. “So yesterday York hoped you wouldn’t find those sketches. But you did.”

Lucas looked up puzzled. “What are you talking about?”

“Porter, call that Bardel fellow too. Come to the study – York has something to discuss with you all,” the gnome said.

Lucas looked between the gnome and wandering knight, completely baffled by their cryptic talk.

But seeing the knight nod at him, he stood and went to fetch Bardel.

Wade, Lucas and Bardel followed the gnome into the study, seating themselves around the small stone table.

The gnome set down the oil lamp and took a deep breath.

With solemn expression, he suddenly declared: “The necromancer who came to Alvado is named Casimodo Vic. Twelve years ago, he was just a mage apprentice in Thorn Bay, Tania’s northern neighbor Sornvic. But after his mentor discovered his private study of necromancy, he killed his mentor and vanished, evading capture across various regions.”

“From what York knows, Casimodo Vic is a fifth-circle necromancer, most skilled in corpse poison, flesh stitching and corpse explosion spells.”

“With enough corpses at his disposal, Casimodo Vic’s power could reach sixth-circle – roughly equivalent to high Silver-rank among professional warriors. But average Silver-ranks would be no match for him. A well-prepared necromancer could essentially be considered Gold-rank.”

“Wait…” Lucas interrupted. “Old York, how could you know all this? You’re not just spouting nonsense, are you?”

“York isn’t spouting nonsense,” Old York said. “York knew Casimodo Vic fifteen years ago. York and Vic corresponded regularly for three full years.”

“But… how could you know a necromancer?” Lucas looked astonished.

“Nothing strange about it, Porter,” Old York said quietly. “Because York… has also been secretly researching the mysteries of life and death.”