Chương 17: Zent Village

The horse snorted and pawed at the ground as it advanced toward Adolin. Around him, riders moved into a half-circle, cutting off the road ahead of the caravan. They wore white steel armor, each chest marked with the same insignia, black spears in hand. A branching tree with a green orb at its center. Even the warhorses were armored, their barding bearing the same symbol.

"Count Armen's men," a voice beside him said. Master Eldritch stepped forward, placing himself at the front of the caravan. The rider at the center advanced to meet him. His armor matched the others, but his helmet was etched with golden patterns. The only one marked differently. Adolin's gaze lingered on him. He felt it immediately. This one was stronger than anyone he had met so far. At least physically. He still couldn't gauge the strength of higher-tier mages. Not enough information.

"State your business," the rider said. He bowed slightly.

"Merchant caravan, my lord. Heading north. From the capital to Blight Town," Master Eldritch said. The rider nodded.

"Notice anything off on your journey?"

"The caravan was attacked by goblins. At least a hundred. Ten hobgoblins." The rider rubbed his eyes.

"I suggest you leave the village as soon as you can. It was attacked last night."

"Attack?"

"Yes. Goblins, dire wolves, kobolds, trolls. Like the whole forest decided to lay siege to it."

"Not a dungeon break…" Eldritch muttered.

"What could be the cause?"

"We're not sure. A scouting party will head out in the morning." Clay stepped forward and bowed slightly, left hand extended to the side, right over his chest.

"Clay Varkos, of House Varkos. Lord Ashvale," he straightened, "may I join the scouting party?"

"That's Lord Edrin Ashvale," a voice beside him murmured.

"Flaming Blade," Edrin acknowledged him.

"You may." Flaming Blade. The insignia on his armor made sense. So not a dungeon break. Then what? Adolin frowned. He had seen things like this before. A few possibilities came to mind. The forest running out of food or mana. That didn't fit. A spell acting like a beacon, drawing monsters in. A high-tier beast claiming the forest as its territory. What else? Most of the other reasons pointed back to mages. Corruption. That could do it. Depending on the type, it could drive monsters to rampage.

Or force them to flee. He crossed out rampage. The goblins had ambushed them. Not bloodthirsty. Not that. He needed more information. Or this was nothing like the corruption in his old world. Revel moved past him and stopped a few steps from Edrin. She gave the same greeting as Clay.

"Revel of House Morcant, Lord Ashvale. I would like to volunteer as well." His party members were nobles. Adolin chuckled inwardly. He wanted to go too. But did he really need to step forward and bow for it? Too much effort. And he didn't like bowing. He would tell Revel later. That should be enough. Hopefully.

"Lady Morcant," Edrin said. He removed his helmet and rested it against his leg before bowing his head.

"I would be honored to have you." Revel's family was either a duke's or a count's house. From the respect Edrin showed her, it sounded powerful. She did say her family defended the north from corruption.

"Clear," he said, moving his hand in a circular motion. The riders moved to the sides of the path, clearing it.

"You can proceed to the village," Edrin said. Master Eldritch turned toward the caravan.

"On the wagons!" Stolen novel; please report. Everyone moved to their assigned wagons and climbed on. Adolin stayed where he stood. Revel and Clay moved to the side with Edrin, who dismounted his horse. Adolin strained to hear better.

"…heading to the capital. We arrived hours before the monster attack. I lost five men defending the village." The caravan started moving, and Adolin had to follow. He could use a spell to hear what they were saying, but it felt rude. He wasn't usually rude. But his level. He did plan to increase his level. And with the village this close, he wouldn't need all his mana. Yeah. Perfect time to try a new spell. He cast Eavesdrop. He cleared his throat. He needed a better name for it.

"…more waves will follow. My scouts are certain. We still need to find the source."

"Any guesses?"

"We had a few. None of them fit. This many monsters don't mix. It looks like a migration. But trolls don't move with lesser species."

"When we lost the Purple Forest, the first attacks came from the local monsters. Multiple species mixed and attacked the villages around it. But they stayed within their ranks."

"How did they act?"

"Like a normal raid. Nothing different."

"Dareth, wait up… Dareth." Adolin glanced back. Blaise was jogging toward him, waving. He stopped and waited. Too many voices. Revel and the others. Wheels grinding against stone. Guards talking. They overlapped. Blurred together. He barely heard Blaise call his name.

"We… should. I… night reading… only two hours before the quest." This wasn't going to work. The spell was low-tier. It didn't drown out the noise like his better ones. Talking with Blaise while listening to everything else was impossible. He dropped the spell. Blaise kept talking. Adolin didn't catch a word. Blaise stopped, waiting. Adolin had no idea what to say. He avoided his gaze and scratched the back of his neck.

"Can you repeat that?" Blaise tilted his head.

"Just wanted to apologize." He smiled awkwardly.

"We didn't really meet properly." Rubbing his eyes, "And didn't get enough sleep." Adolin chuckled, "I don't mind it." Did the boy stop his— training for this?

"Anyway, thanks for earlier. I was lost. Didn't know what to do. There were too many of them." He rubbed his eyes.

"I thought I had it handled, but then more showed up, and I—well, yeah." Blaise kept talking. Adolin caught about half of it. The village drew closer. Adolin could finally see it clearly. The palisade was damaged, breached in several places. Monster corpses were scattered outside the walls, some still lodged in the gaps. Goblins. Kobolds. Wolves—two, maybe three species of them. Trolls. Orcs. Others he didn't recognize. Guards and villagers dragged the bodies into a pile. The pile was already large, and piling up.

Some of Ashvale's men were helping them. Two archers stood on each watchtower, scanning the forest. Massacre. If Ashvale had lost only five men, the villagers wouldn't have been as lucky. Blaise stared at the corpses, eyes wide.

"That's…" Hundreds of monsters lay dead.

"…no chance we survive against that. We'd run out of mana long before we made a dent." He could probably take half of them. Maybe more if he pushed it. Using his mana control instead of spells to conserve mana. But it wouldn't be enough. Maybe the monsters were stronger than he estimated. He would run. That was the best action he could take. He had enough mana for that. Lira joined them. They stood there, staring at the aftermath. No one spoke. There wasn't much to say.

"Let's go. You need to get some rest," Eldritch said. They followed him toward the gate. Above it, a wooden board read: Zent Village. Four guards stood at the entrance. They only nodded and let them through. The caravan was already inside. The village was in motion. Everyone. Even the kids. Even the elderly. Three old men dragged a tree trunk. Children carried wood and buckets of water. Cries came from somewhere ahead of him. It was a mess. One thing he liked about it, everyone was too busy to talk to him.

He clicked his tongue. He turned his gaze right, toward the section of the wall that was attacked. A dozen men were working with hammers and tools, repairing the breaches and throwing the corpses out. Blaise kept swallowing as they moved through the village.

"I'll go help them burn the corpses. So disease doesn't spread. And… make it easier for them. Right." Lira smiled.

"I'll come with you." She glanced at Adolin, questioning.

"Go. I'll catch up later." Adolin and Eldritch continued through the village. Eldritch looked uneasy the whole way. Adjusting his cuffs, running a hand through his hair. The cries were getting closer. They passed several buildings and reached the village square. Dozens of bodies lay on the ground, their families crying over them. Most still had the spark, but it was fading. If they didn't receive healing in time, at least five or six would be dead by morning. Adolin clicked his tongue.

"Is there no priest in the village?" he asked. Eldritch shook his head.

"I don't think so." He looked ahead and called out, "Boy." A boy, maybe twelve, ran toward them.

"Sir." He was barely standing. His hands were cut and bleeding. A plank in his hand.

"Any priests?"

"No. They are three months late for the visit."

"Potions?"

"Everything was spent during the battle." Eldritch frowned.

"Get going." The boy turned and hurried back toward the wall. Eldritch cursed.

"I only have two. We were supposed to stock up along the way. In the alchemist village." His fists clenched.

"Those corrupt…" he muttered. Adolin didn't say anything. But he approved of Eldritch's curses. They sounded sweet. Looking at the wounded, he clicked his tongue. Why did this kind of thing always happen to him? He didn't want to heal them. It would be a bother and cause more problems down the line. He couldn't even level up if he healed them. Eldritch started moving toward the wounded, then stopped.

"How do I choose," he muttered. His gaze moved from one to another. Letting out an exasperated sigh, he called, "Mage." Adolin walked toward him.

"Which ones would the potions save? I only have two. Choose wisely." Adolin cursed. Why was he putting all the pressure on him? Two of the wounded were at death's door. The potions wouldn't help them unless they received enough lifeforce for them to work. From the rest, the potions were best spent on three of them. They would make a full recovery if they received one, and wouldn't be left as cripples. Fuck. What do I do?