Chapter 883: Act 59 – The Last Two Members of the Embassy
When Brendel first set foot on the land of Gray Mountain, he felt a genuine sensation in his heart — ‘Wion mer vas Lit’. The mountains, like fangs piercing into the sky, were described in such terms by the locals. This was indeed the most exquisite rhetoric for these northern mountains with their steep, sharp gray limestone cliffs. The undulating ridges twisted the distant horizon in a similar manner, with a light gray sky above and vast, endless valleys below. Sunlight spilled onto the cliffs on the opposite side of the valley, casting shadows of the peaks surrounding them, while some unknown bird of prey circled far above, its sharp shrieks echoing faintly between the mountains.
The young prince quietly told them that the bird was a gray falcon, a raptor that only inhabits Gray Mountain. Brendel then remembered that they were very close to Haruze’s homeland.
If one’s gaze could traverse the vast mountains, it felt as if they could see the lowlands where the Brell family had lived for generations, and the endless plains stretching northward, dotted with hills and black pine forests, as well as a huge royal capital. He asked the young prince if this was the route they had taken during their escape. The young prince replied that it was, but at that time they had left under the cover of night in a coach, entering Gray Mountain in pitch darkness. It had left a deep impression on him. Now, being with his teacher, he naturally no longer felt anxious.
The young prince’s words made everyone laugh, the coach warm as spring. Besides Brendel and Romaine, there were Margadale, Dierphir, and Nemeses, with the nun princess and the countess being the original owners of this coach. As for the merchant miss and the young prince, they had squeezed in — not because the countess lacked her own coach, but Dierphir’s coach had a special charcoal brazier, so this sly young lady had her sights set on it from the start, devising ways to persuade the soft-hearted countess to invite them aboard.
Fortunately, the countess didn’t mind at all; she was more than happy to have more people to chat with. Little Romaine chattered endlessly, most of which were fabricated stories, but this served Dierphir’s purpose well, and before long, the two had become good friends who talked about anything and everything. Only Princess Margadale sat quietly beside them, wearing a faint smile and seemingly uninterested in intruding on the conversation, only occasionally speaking when asked, yet her words were always meaningful, reflecting the grace of the nun princess of the Temple of Fire.
After the coach had been rattling along for a while, there came a knock from outside. Brendel opened the door, and a cold wind rushed in, dropping the temperature inside the coach several degrees, causing some of the ladies to pale — with the exception of Nemeses, the lady knight who sat beside Haruze, her long eyelashes lowered as she counted the tassels on the coach’s curtains.
Outside, Uta’s frostbeaten face appeared. The former mercenary captain and current leader of the White Lion Guard was sitting on her horse, keeping pace with the coach. When she saw Brendel open the door, she slightly leaned in and said, “My lord, we have arrived at Tisco Fortress.”
So they had already reached it.
Brendel instructed the coach to slow down and jumped down to close the door. The moment his foot touched the ground of Gray Mountain, he felt something genuine again. This was the first time he had crossed Ampere Seale to reach this northern land since he had come to this world. He suddenly recalled the times he and the others had toiled and struggled on this land and couldn’t help but subconsciously glance back at the coach, but the misty window obscured his view of the expressions on the faces inside.
At that moment, the female mercenary captain had already led a warhorse to him. He silently took the reins from Uta’s hand, mounted the horse, and casually asked, “So, are you getting used to this northern land?”
Uta was a bit surprised at how her lord sounded like a master. She wiped the frost from her eyebrows and shook her head with a bemused tone, replying, “My lord, I am actually more familiar with this land than you.”
Brendel was momentarily taken aback, turning to look at his subordinate, as if just realizing he had never inquired about their backgrounds.
“You’re from Gray Mountain?”
“Sort of… Before my sister’s incident, we lived in Corvado for a time. Ah, that experience made me hate the nobility. Sometimes I think, if I had realized it sooner… But never mind, I don’t want to dwell on those matters…” Uta suddenly sighed, glancing at the undulating mountains with a hint of disinterest, speaking softly.
Brendel nodded slightly, choosing not to press further.
Uta was his chosen leader for this expedition, though she wasn’t the best choice. The most suitable candidate would have been Kuran, but the old man had firmly decided not to involve himself in matters concerning Toniger since Count Rendener was imprisoned. He had bought a piece of land around Mintai, seemingly resolved to become a leisurely landowner or a farmer. However, Kuran still recommended Uta. Among the five mercenary captains under him, Reitao intended to distance himself from the power core of Cold Fir Territory, primarily focused on ensuring the better life of the refugees he had brought from Ridenburg. Others like Carglis were privately calling him the refugee leader, and this Bronzesteeldragon was quite accepting of that title; while the bearded Balthom was engrossed in local security matters, appearing satisfied by merely becoming a constable and having once confessed he had no grand ambitions; the life he currently had was already his pursuit.
For these two early followers, Brendel had no intention to push them, especially knowing Balthom truly had limited ability, and being a constable was already the limit of his competence, yet he often had Antinna complaining about him.
The three captains who joined later were even more ambitious. Crenshia, who was under Antinna’s command, was responsible for logistical matters of the land’s army and could almost stand on her own now; while Vurn had already made a name for himself in the White Lion Guard, thanks to his military experience in Karasu Heights, he proved the best fit among the three mercenary captains in Brendel’s army. After the autumn war, he became another important aide for Carglis, who intended to let him command a cavalry unit, though that army had yet to be formed.
Only Uta’s perspective seemed restricted by her mercenary experience. While she performed admirably as a mercenary captain, she was notably average after joining the White Lion Guard; Antinna, appreciating the seniorities and loyalty of these mercenary leaders, wanted to give them a better position, and both Vurn and Crenshia had the capability to accept it, while Uta’s situation was awkward. She was reluctant to be promoted just because of her relationship with her lord, so she remained merely an infantry captain in the White Lion Guard.
When Brendel received the mission of this embassy, he sought out someone capable of commanding a small team. Uta immediately entered his sight. Kuran also suggested that in commanding this diverse, mercenary-like unit, Uta’s experience would enable her to perform exceptionally well.
Of course, he actually had better options, such as Freya. However, making her the captain of the embassy’s guard felt like overkill, and the key was that she had just gained slight reputation in the kingdom and needed to remain to solidify her standing in the Southlands’ military. On the other hand, both he and Nemeses were going to the Empire, and it was crucial for the princess to have a loyal commander by her side. Thus, it was better for Freya to stay in Erluin, teaming up with Antinna, along with Carglis and Kewen, far away in Silman. This made him much more relaxed about the situation in the Southlands. Even if the old nobles attempted to stir up trouble, both the princess and Toniger wouldn’t be in immediate danger, and moreover, he had left the treants and the White Lion Guard behind, giving Freya sufficient military power to utilize.
From such considerations, he ultimately chose Uta, and the female mercenary captain’s performance satisfied him greatly. In this embassy, he brought along Medisa, Charles, and Himelam, along with Husher’s mercenary group, the one from Mars in the White Lion Guard, alongside hundreds of iron puppets, flying gargoyles, several witches, and four Valkyries. There was also a certain lady who preferred to remain inconspicuous. Uta, relying on her experience, arranged these diverse individuals, soldiers, and war machines excellently.
Aside from the apparent White Lion Guard and Husher’s mercenary group, Brendel hoped the iron puppets and gargoyles provided by Bud could remain hidden, and of course, it was best to conceal the witches and Valkyries as much as possible. That night, Uta divided these forces into two parts, specifically formulating a marching route for them. She was highly experienced in traveling through the wilderness and keeping from getting lost, and many of the routes she devised were ones Brendel had used in his previous life in the game, which made him praise her profusely.
After more than a week of travel, Brendel was completely certain that a position as an infantry commander would be beneath this lady. Some people were born to be mercenary captains, elite squad commanders, and Uta was undoubtedly such a talent.
Then Brendel raised his head to look at the long line on the narrow mountain path — primarily five coaches. The first coach carried the embassy of Aike and Earl Yanilasu; the second was the coach of Duke Karasu’s plump son; the third had the daughter of Duke Vieiro and the seven or eight-year-old little girl from the Golan-Elsen family; the fourth coach belonged to a certain business lady. All these coaches were inevitably followed by several attendants and the White Lion Guard for protection, causing the already narrow mountain road to become congested.
This was still thanks to Brendel’s wise decision to place the hundreds of members of the embassy guard at the back of the convoy, leaving a small cavalry unit in front to clear the way; otherwise, they would think themselves blocked along this mountain path.
In front of this bulky convoy, a shadow of a city wall had appeared, which stood across the mountain path, the dark castle tower pressed against the steep mountain wall on one side, and hung precariously over the deep cliff on the other. From afar, it looked imposing; this was Tisco Fortress, the most important stronghold from the province of Siphai to Corvado. Brendel had been to this fortress several times in his past life during the game, yet because of the presence of other players, this fortress didn’t feel so solemn in the game; it had been much livelier. He recalled that there should also have been a market formed spontaneously by players along this mountain path.
He moved forward alongside Uta, parting the crowd until he reached the foot of the city wall. Medisa and Charles were already waiting there, alongside the second heir of Duke Karasu, whose rotund figure waddled as he walked. After so many days, Brendel had finally figured out how to pronounce that mouthful of a name — Afram or August. As soon as Afram saw Brendel arrive, he couldn’t help but loudly complain about how this remote place was filled with some ignorant country bumpkins who wouldn’t let him in until they saw the count.
Brendel had long since become immune to such complaints, though he felt puzzled. Generally, the soldiers below would not easily offend nobles, especially given the few who dared impersonate nobility like he had before in this era. According to Afram, either someone was deliberately being difficult, or something was amiss within the fortress.
He cast a questioning look towards Medisa and Charles. The Elf Princess frowned and gently replied, “From their tone, it seems there is a thief inside the fortress.”
Upon hearing this response, Brendel almost believed he was being deliberately delayed by the local viscount. This excuse seemed rather poor; the fortress wasn’t just filled with soldiers and officers; their families and nearby mountain residents also lived there. It could be considered a small town if not a large one. If they had to be on high alert for a couple of thieves, then they would likely need to maintain that level of alertness for all three hundred sixty-five days of the year, twenty-four hours a day.
However, Charles, clearly more familiar with the local customs, quickly explained with a smile, “My lord, I inquired and it appears Mr. Afram may have some misunderstandings. I heard it’s because that thief stole something from this lord, which is why the current situation is as it is.”
Now it made sense. It stood to reason that a noble, especially a military one, would be furious if some petty thief had made their way onto his territory. Although many of the countryside stories in Erluin inflated tales of righteous thieves and nightingales, who seemed to exclusively create troubles for nobles, absconding wealth and aiding the needy, in reality, those who truly understood this trade knew that the gray area of existence in certain places was often deeply intertwined with the nobility. It wasn’t that nobles secretly supported these people, but precisely to protect their own interests from being trampled. Therefore, how many thieves were in a locale and what their identities were tended to be well-known within noble circles, with nobles occasionally purchasing goods from them. Outside of that, both parties typically left each other alone.
Thus, the thief must have been an outsider, but Brendel was growing curious about who dared to be so bold.
Soon, the guards verified their identities, the drawbridge squeaking as it was lowered, and the gate was opened for them to enter the fortress. Brendel stared at the slowly rising city gate, knowing well that the identity verification was merely a pretense; the time they had taken before was likely spent reporting to the viscount, as the guards below didn’t want to take responsibility and had the viscount personally speak to let them in.
What Brendel didn’t know was that the audacious thief he had speculated about was actually a local, not some outsider.
Within Tisco Fortress, two coaches parked underneath a tree — albeit the tree only possessed a few lonely dry leaves that had barely not fallen. Numerous attendants circled outside the coaches, clearly not resembling the lackadaisical attendants of wealthy bumpkins, though appearing polished on the surface, they exuded a lazy demeanor that suggested they still retained their habits from before they became servants to nobility. These attendants were well-trained; as long as their master did not open the coach door to alight, they stood in two lines beside it, silent and unlooking, like two rows of puppets rooted to the ground.
As for the two coaches, one had its insignia removed, while the other bore a shield emblazoned with a black running wolf, a sigil that was enough to halt anyone within Tisco Fortress because it belonged to the family of Gray Mountain.
Inside the coach sat two young individuals.
To be precise, they were two young women.
Or one could say a noble lady around seventeen or eighteen years old, and another girl with curly hair tucked under a large scholar’s cap and thick glasses, looking quite like a young scholar. However, she was very short like a little dwarf and hadn’t yet begun to mature, appearing quite plain, clearly showing signs of being a genuine little girl, also seemingly around eleven or twelve years old.
It was evident that they were conversing, but what was surprising was that the one dominating the conversation appeared to be the one who looked hardly old enough to have lost all her baby teeth.
Listening to her say, “So slow, it’s maddening! I can’t stand people who aren’t punctual.”
The noble lady seemed a bit concerned, cautiously asking, “Qiyala, it seems they’ve discovered something is missing.”
“Of course they would notice,” the little girl replied nonchalantly, “That viscount isn’t an idiot.”
“But will we get into trouble?”
“Trouble? Naturally not,” Qiyala said, playing with a card-like item in her hand, curiously examining the little gadget. “I’m merely a bit interested in this thing. Do you think if I asked him to give it to me he’d dare refuse? I just didn’t want to owe him a favor, hence had to take matters into my own hands. And as for messing up — such things have yet to appear in my dictionary.”
