Chapter 138
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A blade-like wind swept over the frost-covered earth.
Feeling the tiny ice particles drifting in the air scrape sharply past his cheeks, Tyrone frowned.
As the white, rippling air settled, the full view of Argand Forest once again filled his sight.
He tightened his grip on the reins and sharply scanned the path sunk in gray shadows beyond the robe pulled low over his head.
At the entrance of the silent forest path, where stillness flowed, fine frost powder was slowly floating while holding a faint light.
At first glance, the scene looked almost peaceful, and he could not tell what about it had drawn his attention.
Tyrone, who had been studying the surroundings with narrowed eyes, soon turned his gaze over his shoulder.
Lowell, the guildmaster of the giant merchant association that held influence not only in the East but also in the North, was following slowly in formation with his subordinates.
Tyrone carefully looked over their pale faces, which seemed somewhat tired from the long journey, then checked the two baggage wagons at the very rear of the line and the eight of his own subordinates positioned around them.
Finally confirming that nothing was wrong, Tyrone drove his horse forward along the road again.
At that moment, a rustling sound came from ahead.
Tyrone instinctively realized it was not the sound of the wind and immediately drew his sword.
At the same time, arrows flew in from between the trees.
“Ambush!”
Tyrone barely deflected an arrow and shouted, and the warriors drew their swords all at once.
However, the enemies were a step faster.
Dozens of masked attackers sprang up from the ground thickly covered in fallen leaves and looped snares around the legs of the horses they rode.
The startled horses reared violently and let out loud cries.
He put strength into his thighs to avoid falling from the saddle and instinctively swung his longsword.
With a slicing sound, hot fresh blood splashed over his face.
Beyond the chaotic view, he saw a masked attacker clutching his blood-soaked forearm and retreating.
The man wore a helmet made of an animal skull over his face.
“Zram people?”
Tyrone, his face twisting fiercely, spurred his horse after the retreating man.
But this time, a long spear stretched out from the left.
Tyrone barely prevented the horse’s body from being pierced and violently pulled on the reins.
His excited warhorse, Elak, tore apart the rope binding its ankles and lifted its front legs high.
Immediately after, the skull of the man who had attacked him was shattered like a soft pumpkin beneath the hooves of the massive warhorse.
The enemies who saw that sight hesitated and withdrew.
Not missing that opening, Tyrone turned his horse’s head and checked the rear.
The northern merchants were somehow hanging onto their saddles and resisting the enemies with their swords drawn.
However, those without military training could not possibly respond properly to a surprise attack.
Soon, one merchant was knocked from his horse by a raider.
Recognizing him as the guildmaster of the White Silver Alliance, Tyrone immediately spurred his horse and extended his long blade diagonally.
The longsword stretching out like an eagle’s wing cut off the head of the enemy approaching the person he was guarding in a single stroke.
After trampling the body spewing blood beneath his horse’s hooves, Tyrone turned his head to deal with the next enemy.
The enemies had already widened the distance and hidden themselves among the trees.
When the raiders vanished without a trace in an instant, he ground his teeth and shouted to his subordinates.
“Do not chase them! Reorganize the formation and take a defensive position around the baggage wagons!”
His subordinates immediately surrounded the wagons.
However, the enemies did not seem inclined to launch a second attack right away.
Tyrone looked around the silent forest, quiet as death, then dismounted and helped the man sprawled on the ground to his feet.
Fortunately, he did not seem badly injured, and the man groaned and staggered upright.
“Damn it, what in the world is this disaster?”
“Get a hold of yourself and get on your horse quickly! We need to get out of this forest!”
The man, who had dark brown hair unlike a typical Balto person, grumbled something and climbed onto the saddle.
After confirming the man could ride, Tyrone approached Elak again.
Just as he was about to mount, something rose up right beside him.
He instinctively rolled his body.
Thanks to that, he narrowly avoided the blade flying toward his side, but he had no choice but to be helpless against the attack that followed.
Before he could regain his stance, Tyrone was kicked in the abdomen and collapsed to the ground with a groan.
Before him, a golden-eyed man wrapped in animal hide approached like the wind and raised a crescent-shaped sword.
Sensing death, Tyrone stiffened his entire body.
At that moment, a long spear tip rose through the attacker’s chest.
“Gah!”
The golden-eyed man coughed blood and looked back.
Tyrone, who reflexively turned his gaze after him, discovered a pale, shining blond man seated atop a gray warhorse and opened his eyes wide.
The man, whose cold face made it hard to believe he was a living person, lifted the spear shaft with one hand.
Then the body of the masked attacker, whose abdomen had been pierced, rose into the air like a fish impaled on a harpoon and sliced through the air in a large circle.
The axe blade of the halberd, swung at frightening speed, cut three raiders positioned around him in half at the waist.
No matter how many times he saw it, it was an unbelievable monstrous strength.
“What are you standing there dazed for? Take defensive positions at once.”
The man, who ruthlessly slammed the corpse hanging from the spear tip onto the ground, gave the order in a dry tone.
Only then did Tyrone snap back to his senses and hurriedly rise.
However, the enemies seemed to have already lost their will to fight and were retreating quickly.
Varkas gestured with his head to the knights who had followed him.
“Track them at once.”
No sooner had his command fallen than dozens of knights rushed between the trees.
The ruler of the East, who watched the scene with an expressionless face, lowered his gaze back to him.
Tyrone, finally regaining his composure, hurriedly showed proper respect.
“You saved my life, Your Grace.”
“You were lucky, Drakan. If we had not been conducting a search after receiving a report that a group of raiders had set up camp in Argand Forest, you would have suffered a great disaster.”
The answer came not from the Grand Duke of the East, but from Daren Dru Siarkan, who served as his aide.
He led his horse out from between the trees and looked over the corpses scattered across the ground.
“Still, I did not expect the Zram people to be causing trouble all the way near Kalmor.”
The man clicked his tongue and turned his head toward the ruler of the East, asking a question.
“Would it not be better to begin a subjugation before the cold wave strikes?”
“…The timing is not good. For now, we will handle it by widening reconnaissance and controlling the roads.”
The man who had handed his blood-soaked poleaxe to his squire turned his gaze toward the frozen northern merchants.
Each and every one of them wore an expression as if they had encountered a ghost.
The ruler of the East led his horse toward them and offered a greeting in a dignified tone that did not suit the situation.
“Welcome to Kalmor. I regret that you had to experience such an unpleasant incident on your first day.”
“N-not at all, Your Grace! Such things always happen when one leads a merchant group.”
The merchant bowed his head politely.
As expected of the head of a giant guild, he seemed to have immediately realized Varkas’s identity.
The man began to flatter him with skillful speech.
“In any case, your skill is truly astonishing. Your reputation as the continent’s strongest lancer is no exaggeration at all. Had I not seen it with my own eyes, I would never have believed Your Grace’s majesty. How such tremendous strength can come from such a nimble build…”
“We will leave the idle talk for later. For now, getting out of the forest takes priority.”
The dry voice, containing not the slightest emotion, cut off the merchant’s flattery in a single stroke.
The northerner immediately bowed without any sign of embarrassment.
“Of course! We will quietly follow behind Your Grace.”
When the northerner gave his subordinates a look, the men reorganized the formation all at once.
Varkas watched the scene with sharp eyes, then finally turned his horse’s head.
Tyrone rode to his left and carefully watched the surroundings in preparation for a possible ambush.
Fortunately, they were able to arrive at the edge of the forest without major trouble.
He had only just let out a sigh of relief when Varkas, who had been riding with a straight posture, suddenly took out a bow.
Had an enemy appeared?
Tyrone immediately drew his sword.
Varkas quietly watched the shadowed forest, then pulled the bowstring.
Immediately after, a fluttering sound and a sharp cry rang out.
He looked at Varkas with a bewildered face, unable to understand the situation.
At that moment, the hunting dog that had been following so quietly it was almost unnoticed ran out like the wind and returned with something in its mouth.
“…A pheasant?”
Tyrone blinked blankly.
The large hunting dog proudly held out the bird pierced by the arrow toward its master.
Varkas lightly jumped down from his horse, opened the dog’s mouth, took the pheasant, tied its legs with a leather cord, and hung it from the saddle.
Only then did Tyrone discover three or four brown hen pheasants hanging in clusters near the horse’s rump.
Daren explained in an awkward tone to him, who looked confused.
“The Grand Duchess likes pheasant meat. It seems it is easier for her to eat because it has less gamey smell.”
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