The first to stumble upon the bloody scene was a wandering poet. Poets accustomed to traveling between nations not only understood the customs and people of each country, but their keen instinct for danger was just as profound as their worldly wisdom. Therefore, merchant caravans traversing far and wide generally didn't mind tagging the lute-playing poets. Apart from filling the need for entertainment, this arrangement was also made out for safety considerations.
The first sense to respond to the abnormality was smell. Though the odd odor lingering in the air had considerably diluted by the time, both the poet and the mercenaries accompanying the merchant caravan recognized the unmistakable stench of scorched flesh. The entire caravan immediately came to a halt. The men unsheathed their weapons, encircling the horse-drawn carts loaded up with goods and female passengers, while the mercenary leader and the poet cautiously edged forward. Sharp-eyed, the poet spotted the first curled, charred figure, and immediately bent over, spilling the contents of his stomach onto the earth.
The leader of the mercenaries, hardened by the carnage of the battlefield, was not so weak, though he was on the brink of collapse. Burnt, torn, ripped, flattened, and crushed pieces of flesh littered the road and the roadside. The trees, bushes, wildflowers, fallen leaves, and mud were all painted with cruel vivid red and black colors. The scent of decay drew a flock of scavengers, and the animals, unfazed by the rules of dining, frequently quarreled over an arm or intestines, totally oblivious to the fact that someone was beholding their gluttonous banquet.
This was-
Leftover debris from a massacre;
The aftermath of a disaster;
A feast in the hell of death;
Unable to continue bearing the oppressively death-saturated air while fearing an unknown threat that might be lurking nearby, the caravan hastily retreated back to the city to report the horrifying incident to the local count and the Archbishop of the parish. Whilst there were many eyewitnesses, it was challenging to dismiss the incident as a fraudulent report. Even if it could be a collective hallucination, the thought of an unimaginable threat lurking within their territory spurred the count and the bishop to take decisive action.
The Count's cavalry and the Church's Knights of the Sanctuary set a precedent by cooperating. Lifelong rivals, these strong men set aside their differences to investigate the area together. The citizens watched in astonishment as the two diverse troops, in their differing attires, equipment, and allegiance, left the city. Their lingering mutual animosity, an unusual and rare spectacle, captured the local's attention.
As the people speculated about what had occurred and used this strange event as fodder for their gossip, no one would have thought that the last time they would witness this unusual joint force would be their last.
Having the advantage of being cavalry, their mobility much outbeat the sluggish caravan. It only took half a day to reach the location, where the trembling merchants had reported the incident. Several knights, who were familiar with law enforcement, soon established three pieces of information from the remnants at the scene:
The dead were members of a gang of bandits that had been plaguing this road leading to the north for years;
They were likely attacked by a dangerous creature capable of controlling fire magics;
The Bandit Chief's death didn't occur in the hellish blood-stained area; a few kilometers from the scene of the incident, a tattooed severed arm was found, confirming his identity.
Beyond this, there was a peculiar ravine, its cause eluding their understanding.
A smooth-bottomed trench-as if polished by metal or glass- the result of some unnatural magic. The ominous creature causing this, where might it be?
——Perhaps it was time to seek confess and pray to the great god Mafa.
This thought, born out of an uneasy foreboding, bubbled up in the hearts of more than one of the knights as a hair-raising sense of dread crept uncontrollably into each of their hearts.
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"Who'd have thought those scruffy folks were so wealthy? How about we just target bandits and pirates from now on, sir?"
"No one will investigate their origin. Even if they are hard-to-dispose-of jewels, I have the skills to alter them cosmetically. Of course, if they have them..."
With their minds clearly not functioning correctly, both Nidhogg and Alberish were amicably conversing on the same topic, causing the surrounding temperature to rise relentlessly.
——Money.
The intersecting point, the only common topic between the dwarf and the Black Dragon, can only be those shiny precious metals, crystal minerals, or other objects of[value]. Right now, the two wide-eyed creatures were cheering up for the bag full of Liffel, Silver, and various trinkets, and they were utterly oblivious of their exuberant states.
"Coincidental luck can't be used as a reference, and among the groups living by such luck, the majority are like penniless farmers, who have little more than a few Deniers, or even peasant slaves with nothing."
Throwing cold water on the two excited brains, Li Lin's ruthless laughter in the spring breeze seemed more like a smile.
"Among them, there are many such bandit groups, and they are part-timers who are supported by nobles and the church. If you want to extract money from them, you must be prepared to wage a war. Are you ready to confront an entire nation?"