Chapter 66: The Evil in the Shadows
Wade felt the vibration from Radiance. Even before entering Alvado, the Demon-Slaying Sword began warning him that a powerful enemy lay ahead.
However… the melted riverbed…
He glanced at the Prague River, confirming his suspicions about how the Icelanders were melting the icy sea and the frozen river. After his morning conversation with the gnome, he had formed some guesses.
When Radiance reacted near the riverbed, he became even more certain of his thoughts.
Of course, this had nothing to do with his current mission.
If he could avoid it, it was better not to provoke the evil lurking in the shadows. He had no desire to verify his guess—that might force him to retreat directly back to the wasteland.
He resolved to avoid areas with flowing water, especially where warships were docked.
As Wade surveyed the surroundings, Lucas made a gesture. Going through the main gate was definitely impossible; the main road was filled with Icelanders and guarded by death hounds.
Lucas waved to the left. To their right was the Prague River, and to the left were three windmill mills.
He pointed at the windmills, apparently planning to sneak Wade behind them, taking advantage of the Icelanders unloading cargo back and forth on the warships, inching forward bit by bit.
But Wade grabbed his shoulder and pointed above the windmills. In the darkness, it was not obvious, but all the doors and windows were tightly shut. Looking closely, one could see faint glimmers of firelight leaking through the cracks.
Someone was inside and near a window.
Wade saw a person approach the window. Suddenly, the wooden window flung open outward, and an Icelander stuck his head out and vomited an unknown fluid. The fluid stuck to the stone wall of the mill and some dripped onto the snow.
That guy looked like he had drunk too much. A burst of laughter came from inside the building, apparently mocking his drinking capacity.
There were four or five people inside, likely playing some kind of board game. They sat facing each other, holding wooden tiles, occasionally playing one and drawing another.
The Icelanders had occupied Alvado for five or six days. They set up camps and ceased advancing. Most nighttime guard duties were handed over to necromancers, so they had leisure to drink and play cards.
Alcohol was essential to them. In many countries, alcohol was considered a strategic resource, transported alongside bread to the front lines.
This was especially true for the Icelanders, tall people living in cold regions. They could not be happy without alcohol.
After clearing Alvado, the Icelanders gathered to drink and play cards.
Perhaps because their victories were so smooth and effortless, no tension showed on them. The presence of necromancers gave them great confidence.
A mysterious and powerful necromancer was terrifying as an enemy, but as a teammate, they felt relieved.
After all, with Tanians’ corpses supplied to the necromancers, they need not worry about being dragged to the dark dungeons for horrible experiments.
Lucas clenched his fists upon seeing this scene.
He remembered the mill belonged to Aunt Susan. Every harvest month, people would carry bags of rye grain in front of the mill, lining up in long queues.
During the days he couldn’t afford an inn, Susan’s family had taken him in. He slept on the cluttered second floor for half a month, just helping Aunt Susan move things and do odd jobs in his spare time, earning free lodging.
But now, none of the faces he recognized remained.
The mill was occupied by invaders, strangers laughing and drinking in someone else’s home, vomiting in the place where he once found rest and warmth.
Unnamed anger welled up in his heart. He felt an urge to rush upstairs and stab each of the Icelanders playing cards and drinking, then throw them out the window!
But he knew his own weakness and powerlessness. Behind him and Wade were the lives of hundreds of compatriots.
If it were only him, dying in battle would be acceptable, but if he impulsively died here, the light of hope would be extinguished.
He could only sigh at his own lack of caution.
If he had gone out just now, that drunk guy in the mill would probably have seen two sneaky figures quietly moving through the snow.
The Ash Potion only masked their presence; it did not render them invisible. If directly looked at, they could still be detected.
Although that drunk guy might not clearly see what was in the snow, Lucas did not want to test his eyesight at all.
He focused more on every blade of grass, every gust of wind and snow around them.
After the Icelander finished vomiting, unwilling to endure the cold wind, he closed the window again.
Lucas glanced back at Wade. Seeing Wade nod, the two resumed their stealthy advance along the edge.
They moved sideways, using the mill as cover, successfully passing by the arched bridge where warships were docked.
“Lord Wade, take this path down. There’s a small trail here,” Lucas whispered.
Fortunately, Alvado had no city walls, so there were many paths to choose from.
Besides the obvious main roads, many back alleys were known only to locals.
Guards only stood on main roads to collect tolls. If you had acquaintances in Alvado, you could find other ways to avoid the guards.
When Lucas first arrived in Alvado, he was just a penniless country boy. To save money, he did all sorts of jobs. Avoiding the guards once saved him five copper coins, and he never missed such opportunities.
Back then, he could avoid the guards with his eyes closed. After spending his first month in Alvado, he never paid a passage tax again. He calculated that he went out about ten times a month. Each round trip saved him ten copper coins, adding up to a silver coin a month. Over three years, he saved at least thirty silver coins.
That was a fortune to him at the time.
To evade guards in any situation, he memorized Alvado’s streets thoroughly, able to quickly find the nearest routes.
The path he led Wade on today was a seldom-used back alley. He guided Wade around the back of the town, climbing a small hill, weaving through dilapidated houses and fences.
This place was originally a brewery. Seventeen years ago, it was still operational, with hired workers brewing wine. Every visit brought the scent of malt and fruit wine.
The brewery’s fences were low and lacked spikes or defenses. With agility, it was easy to climb over. As long as they avoided the areas guarded by workers watching the wine barrels, they could easily reach the town’s streets.
But it seemed the owner had long abandoned the place. The wooden fences were rotten and cracked. Wilted vines grew through the stone walls, splitting the stones apart. Dust was everywhere. Wine barrels left behind lay overturned, many planks missing.
Lucas felt sad. Everything had changed from his memories. Time had withered the familiar things, and the Icelanders and necromancers erased the faces he once knew.
The once bustling streets would no longer hear the calls he was familiar with. Leaving the brewery, he would no longer see adventurers clad in armor drinking heartily by the roadside.
What he could see now were only those terrifying death hounds.
He did not expect necromancers to have stationed death hounds inside the brewery.
Damn, that creature seemed to have heard something!
As they passed a dead apple tree, they stepped on a branch, breaking it!
The creature slowly turned its head. Lucas heard the unique, chilling hoarse roar from the death hound.
It sounded like cold air squeezing through its trachea, the low growl tightening his chest.
Lucas tightened his grip on his weapon and took out the antidote potion Old York had given him.
He did not want to fight right after entering Alvado.
But it seemed they were about to be discovered.
Before he drank the potion, white mist seeped from Wade’s iron helmet, gathering into a small shadow in the dark corner.
Wade pressed down on Lucas’s hand, signaling him not to move, to hold his breath and remain calm.