The party pressed swiftly onward in silence. By the time the first rays of dawn appeared, they had reached Durand's outpost.
Word of the expedition had long since reached the outpost. Durand did not dare make things difficult for them as he had last time, and obediently moved the barricade aside to let them through. He left Gordon standing to one side while he warmly greeted Darian and Whitemane.
Gordon did not hold it against him. Barriers and prejudices between people were never so easily erased.
After a short rest, the party set out again. A clear cry suddenly rang out from the sky overhead. Unas looked up to see a golden gryphon carrying its rider swiftly ahead. It soon vanished among the distant hills.
Gordon said to him, "The Gryphon Rider has set out. Lord Tyrosus should have left by now as well."
Unas, a mount-collecting fanatic, was a little envious of that eye-catching golden gryphon. He stared blankly at the sky ahead, thinking he had to get one himself someday.
Gordon paid no attention to his distraction. Raising his voice so everyone could hear, he said, "We have to pick up the pace. We'll be a laughingstock if Lord Tyrosus catches up to us."
"Full speed ahead!"
"Yes, sir!" The thirty-odd members of the vanguard answered in unison. Everyone sped up and cracked their whips, and the party's pace surged several notches.
After a short spell of forced marching, a stretch of green grass appeared before them. The plants of Tirisfal Glades had all been affected by the plague to some extent, their colors turning grayish. Venomspider Gorge, however, was an exception, its hills and grass still green. No one knew why.
As they passed the mouth of the gorge, Unas craned his neck to look inside. Apart from a deep expanse of green, there was nothing to see, much less any sign of the elves and dwarves.
Just then, Gordon suddenly raised a hand and made a gesture. At the same time, he turned his horse slightly, leading the party onto a branching path.
Unas had never asked Gordon where the Dreadlord's lair was. The terrain here was so different from the game that he would not have been able to find it even if he knew, so he only had to follow Gordon. Now, however, he could not help asking, "Where are we headed this time?"
"Lordamere Lake," Gordon replied. "There are few of us, so we can take a shortcut. We don't have to go back the way we came."
Unas could not help breathing a sigh of relief. It looked like they would not be passing the Ninth Squad's outpost. The equipment he wore and the warhorse beneath him had all been borrowed from Parrion, so not having to face that damned fat creditor was a good thing.
Lordamere Lake was a medium-sized inland lake in Galen County. The vanguard arrived before dusk.
There was not a breath of wind. A thin white mist shrouded the entire surface of the lake, and the still water seemed to give off a hazy green glow. Several dead fish floated belly-up near the shore.
Gordon raised a fist high, signaling the whole party to dismount and rest. They had been on a forced march for nearly the entire day, stopping only briefly at noon to eat some dry rations. Men and horses alike were exhausted, and the soldiers slumped to the ground one after another.
A soldier fetched two buckets of lake water. Unas's waterskin had long since run dry, so he hurried over. The water in the buckets looked fairly clear, but it was quite likely contaminated and had to be purified before it could be drunk.
The soldier took out a small vial of potion and added a drop to each bucket. "It'll be purified in a little while," he said.
Unas had some of the stuff too. During their rest stop, Gordon had given him a shortbow, a bag of iron arrows, three days' rations, and three vials of potion. He simply had not expected the potion to work so well.
Several soldiers started fires and began cooking. Unas also took out a tripod and an assortment of pots and bowls to prepare dinner.
Whitemane leaned against a boulder, her face pale. The forced march had brought back memories of several escapes long ago, and she was beginning to regret her rash actions.
She looked up at her target—the outsider of unknown origin. Yes, in her mind, Unas was an outsider. She had never seen a human who looked like him. He most likely had the blood of another race in him, and outsiders could not be trusted, not even those of mixed blood!
Cruel, evil Orcs and Trolls, fickle elves, and stubborn dwarves who did not know when to advance or retreat—humans had suffered too much at the hands of these outsiders. She would never allow one to slip in among them.
The man was chatting and laughing with the soldiers as they purified the lake water. Compared with him, her own performance had been rather poor. A self-deprecating smile appeared at the corner of Whitemane's mouth. After spending so long in the comfort of the monastery, both her body and her will seemed to have grown weak.
But this is a trial from the Holy Light. I will expose this outsider's evil deeds!
Unas was asking the soldiers about other uses for the potion when he suddenly felt a prickling sensation on his back. He turned around and saw Big White Legs glaring fiercely at him. He whistled, sorely tempted to tease her.
Whitemane looked away. Rising onto her tiptoes, she held the white cross-shaped staff in her hand high and recited sacred scripture aloud. Rings of golden light spread outward from her body.
When the golden light touched Unas, he felt his body relax and his spirits lift. The golden halos seemed to carry away fatigue and bring renewed energy, one ring after another.
The spell lasted about ten seconds, dispelling everyone's fatigue and aches from the day's march. The soldiers all bowed and thanked Big White Legs, and she nodded to each of them in return.
The spell seemed to benefit only others. Whitemane's face grew a few shades paler, but it was all worthwhile if she could earn the soldiers' affection. She could not help giving Unas a triumphant smile.
Unas completely missed her point. Receiving his first smile from the fap goddess, he foolishly smiled and nodded back at Whitemane.
Big White Legs did not see the frustrated expression she had imagined on Unas's face, and she nearly stamped her feet in anger. She dropped her staff and plopped down on the ground without any regard for appearances. Darian, who was standing nearby, thought she had fallen and hurried over to help her up.
For some reason, Unas found it funny and burst out laughing.
As evening drew on, it was difficult to march at night. After dinner, the soldiers began setting up camp. Unas poked at the shit-like mush in his bowl with a spoon, having little appetite.
Gordon sat down in front of him and started taunting him again. "I thought you were some picky noble young lady. Turns out it's Lord Unas, the one favored by the Holy Light."
This bastard must have been a protection Paladin before. He sure knew how to draw aggro. Unas rolled his eyes and ignored him.
"Army rations have only ever been meant to fill your belly, not taste good. If you don't want to go hungry, you have to force them down," Gordon cautioned him, then continued, "There's a fishing village another two or three li along Lordamere Lake. That's where I was attacked last time. Come investigate it with me in a little while."
Without waiting for Unas to agree, he got up and walked toward Darian.
Unas helplessly picked up his bowl. This bastard had him figured out.
Darian sat in front of a tent, lost in thought. Whitemane had turned in early. His elder sister Sally's stubborn nature had always given him headaches, but this time he had only been able to join the vanguard thanks to her.
Darian had long wanted to take the field and kill the enemy, but ever since his mother died, his father had poured all his love into him. He had been too well protected and had spent too long as a trainee Paladin. Like his eldest brother, he wanted to follow his father and fight at his side, and perhaps one day become a legendary hero like him.
His father always said he was not ready. This was a perfect opportunity to prove to everyone that he was already a qualified Paladin.
Just then, he noticed Joseph Gordon, the man who had discovered the Dreadlord and the vanguard officer for this operation, walking toward him. He hurriedly stood up.
Ever since they had set out that day, an invisible wall had seemed to separate the two sides because of Unas, and they had barely spoken. It could not have been better that the renowned "Flame Knight" was willing to take the initiative to break down that barrier.