Chapter 51: Rampant Evil Wolves

Chapter 51: Rampant Evil Wolves

"Last night, underground, we entered through a blasted opening, walking all the way to the western end; they've dug up to the forest's edge. There's a large store of gunpowder, so to prevent explosions, we didn't use torches for illumination last night but elfin light beads instead," Grey said, morosely resting his head on the table. "It was too dark, impossible to see above. No one knows when the wings were lost, the thief didn't make a sound."

"I didn't smell any unfamiliar scent either," Vani tapped her forehead with her fingertip. "Last night I dissected a winged python and slept late; the bloody smell might have masked the thief's scent."

"Such audacious thievery," Bog looked at Gal, "What does our hunter think?"

"Of course, fear is inevitable," said Gal, breaking off a piece of bread and feeding half to the cub. "Oh, I'm terrified. Think about it, lads - who else would fixate on the wings in such a perilous moment yesterday? Other than the chaotic goblins, it could only be the Demon Lord. I don't want to cast suspicions, but I believe the Demon Lord is among us, perhaps lurking around us silently since the Ice Lake City. Grey, he might be watching you right now."

"Watching me? Stop it!" Grey sat up straight, shivering. "My legs are trembling! This is a horror story! I don't want to be under the Demon Lord's gaze!"

"You don't get a say in this," Gal said, eyeing him. "He is watching you... Whoa, the dwarf had better be careful."

Grey rubbed his arms vigorously. "No! Don't watch me! I'm not ready to fight him! Just thinking about it gives me the creeps! The Demon Lord should pick on someone stronger, like Richard, or the Pope! I think it's more likely that the goblins stole the wings."

"You just don't want to face the fact that the Demon Lord truly exists," Gal said slyly. "You're quaking in your boots. You already bear the mark of the Earth God, why so nervous?"

"Stop scaring him," Vanni leaned back in her chair. "Yesterday's excitement had him complaining all night, and this morning, with the loss of the Demon Lord's wings, our poor son of the earth is almost nervous enough to vomit."

"I really am..." Grey clutched his chest, looking pale, "about to vomit from nervousness... My father still needs rest, and I can't handle any of these matters! What if the goblins attack? What if Rosanna, in a fit of pique, assaults the forest, leading us dwarves into a desperate struggle, and then I, by some misfortune, die at the forefront. Oh, what a tragic tale! I'm not yet married, nor do I have children. And now you're telling me it might have been the Demon Lord who took them? I'm going mad."

"Put away your fears," Borg tapped the table. "We don't have time for that now. Rosanna won't fly off the handle, she's prepared for such storms, and they won't catch her off guard. While we figure out how to conceal the fact that the rat people are not dead, we need to demand compensation from her, she owes us a toll. The alliance in the wilderness still stands, she won't do anything rash for now, and that's our only advantage."

"But she needs a lesson," Vanni said. "The world isn't a ball at her feet to be kicked around, she's hurt both dwarves and elves."

"I need to inform Saint Fuss," Grey said. "Can't delay the news any longer than two days, the appearance of the Winged Serpent must be reported to the king, the kingdom might not be safe anymore. I will strongly urge the king to punish the goblins! Their sewer has even reached my house!"

"Rather than telling Saint Fuss," Borg said, "you should tell Taber."

"Taber?" Grey asked. "Me? But we've just had a fight, big brother! Would he believe what I say?"

"Doesn't matter if he believes it or not," Vanni turned her chair towards Grey. "You tell him the underground city is digging towards him, he has to react. This concerns the safety of Violet, showing that the greedy from the east are eyeing him. Once their superficial harmony is shattered by what's unveiled beneath, if it's not a good fight, we can take the opportunity to do our own thing in Saint Fuss."

"Is that what you think?" Gal tore off a piece of roast beef. "Yes, tell Taber about the tunnel others are digging towards his house, he will surely find a way to warn and stop the goblins. But I can't rest assured about him, actually, I feel Violet is no longer safe, Taber might need to deal with his own internal affairs before he can pay attention to the goblins. Dwarves had better be prepared."

"What does that mean?" Grey was a bit dizzy in the conversation. "Taber? Violet? Is there something wrong with Violet? Will Taber die? I've heard these family feuds are terrible. By the gods, it's great that my father has only me for a son."

"No," Gal said, "I'm just speculating, there are hidden shadows behind him."

"You've been quite observant of Tabor," said Borg. "Let him die, the arrogant tyrant."

"I'm not concerned about him," Gal replied, swirling his hot milk, hesitating between sipping and abstaining for a few seconds. "We didn't catch the puppeteer sorcerer, and although he's dead, I still don't understand where they came from. These corpse manipulators seem more troubling to me than the Violet ones, yet Tabor clearly doesn't think there's a sorcerer in his domain. That's a blind spot. Your hostility towards him is quite blatant, my dear. Calm down; he can't die. He's still carrying the Dawnblade, and I don't like him one bit!"

"I feel like there's no hope left in life," wailed Grey. "What? Rosanna in the east, Tabor and the puppeteer sorcerers in the west, Randolph and the king in the south, and the Temple in the northeast! We're surrounded, engulfed in chaos! How can we solve all this? And there's a demon lord lurking somewhere! It's a mess. How am I supposed to explain this to my father? 'Oh, Dad, you took a nap, I took a nap, and then your spoils of war just vanished without a trace.' He'll beat me to death, I swear. But I didn't get any hints about the mark, no matter how I steal, the seal needs my or my father's consent to be broken! I never consented! It never asked me!"

"Calm down, dwarf!" Vanni held down the struggling Grey. "Calm down! Maybe it wasn't the demon lord, but the Goblins. This isn't the first time. Ice Lake City, do you remember Ice Lake City? The Eyes also vanished without anyone knowing!"

"So why would Rosanna steal the Wings?" Grey asked incredulously. "A collector's obsession? Is she infatuated with the demon lord?"

Gal, who was drinking milk with his eyes closed, sprayed it out upon hearing this. He coughed and wiped his mouth, "I think the demon lord wouldn't appreciate this speculation. Goblins are just strange, yes, very strange! They took the demon lord's horns, made something else, and carried it around. Have you ever heard of such a thing? It's so perverse! Maybe they stole the Wings to make a cloak, to give Rosanna an edge. That's something they would do, and that's why I hate them!"

"Carrying it around?" Grey looked puzzled. "That's the body of the demon lord? Carrying around the demon lord's body, that's rather macabre."

"Body... body?" Gal said. "Shut up, Grey! I'm about to vomit."

"The demon lord should explain himself," Borg's voice was slightly heavy. "Damn it, I don't like this talk, shut up Grey!"

"No matter how we deal with it," only Vanni managed to keep her composure, "Rosanna's current attitude is crucial. We need to keep an eye on the Goblin's movements. The story of a collapse burying over ten thousand ratmen might be believed by others, but Rosanna certainly won't. We've swallowed a snake-man once, that was her goodwill, but it might not be the case this time."

"Come on," Gal finally finished eating. "Hurry up, after solving these things we have to move on, justice is calling me."

Saint Vus.

Randolph watched the fierce fire burning, this time he didn't stand in the distance, but stopped in front of the Holy Stone. The snow-white stone shimmered faintly, the inserted sword forlornly collecting dust.

This sword was not his.

Randolph had thought this countless times, yet his fingers reached towards the hilt amid these thoughts. A burning desire surged in his chest, and Randolph knew clearly that he wanted this sword.

As his fingertips were about to touch the sword's hilt, the hazy glow swelled into a searing wave of fire, suddenly enveloping the entire sacred stone in flames. Randolph recoiled from the onslaught of the blaze, his fingertips already singed by the fire.

It was repelling everyone, answering all those who dared gaze upon it with an indefinite period of waiting.

It belonged only to Borg.

Clenching his fist, Randolph couldn’t help but burst out, “Foolish longsword!”

“Don’t be angry at it,” Arthur stood under the heavily autumnal arcade, draped in a thick velvet cloak, the damp chill of fall preventing the freedom he enjoyed in summer. He coughed a few times, addressing Randolph, “You come to see it every day. Come back, Randolph, it’s time for dinner.”

Randolph grasped his fingertips, bowing his head, “...I’m sorry.”

“You’ve been quite capricious lately,” Arthur’s fingertips were icy, his frailty barely concealed, “Is it because of the kingdom’s dullness? You can go back to the grasslands for a while if that would lighten your mood.”

“I won’t leave you,” Randolph gripped his fingertips tighter, “Not a step before winter is over.”

“Are you angry about that previous incident?” Arthur looked at him, a trace of regret crossing his youthful, pale face, “About Zordon. I didn’t inform you beforehand, I acted too…”

“Don’t apologize, Arthur,” Randolph lowered his gaze and kissed his fingertips, “It has nothing to do with me. Zordon's pup has nothing to do with me. You are the sole king, and I would willingly rush to enact every decision you make. I am your knight, please command me freely without any guilt.”

“Look up at me,” Arthur said, “Don’t always stand half a step behind. Here, no one is more important than you.” He then smiled at Randolph, “You are the privilege of the king. Let’s go, your sister has been waiting for a while. She hurried over and probably hasn’t eaten all day.”

“She left just a week ago,” Randolph said, “Has something happened in the grasslands?”

“Not the grasslands, but the Deep Soldiers Forest,” Arthur walked slowly, “The dwarves stirred up quite a commotion yesterday, but they haven’t told me what happened yet. Rosanna seems to know something, she came to remind me.”

Rosanna indeed had been waiting for some time. Today, she wore a long-sleeved satin gown, its skirt layered in folds, with roses intricately intertwined. She wore an amber pendant today, but her fingers were adorned with a rose ring. Her hair was elegantly coiffed, and her red lips made her skin appear even more delicate.

Upon seeing Arthur and Randolph, Rosanna’s eyes sparkled with just the right hint of mirth, she approached Arthur, curtseying, “I hope I’ve come at a good time, Your Majesty.”

“Randolph seems a bit listless,” Arthur sat down, “Maybe you can bring him a bit of cheer.”

"Spare me, please," Rosanna took her seat, "His gaze follows only you, and my jokes have never amused him. You seem to be in good spirits."

"The new physician is quite strict," Arthur smiled warmly, "and it's thanks to the potions you've brought as well."

"I've brought you more medicinal herbs this time, aiding the physician is my sole wish. Besides, I've also brought some rumors," Rosanna's manners were impeccable, "A significant event took place in the Deep Soldier Forest yesterday, have you been informed?"

"No," Arthur ate slowly, "The dwarves haven't sent any messages."

"That's quite impolite," Rosanna remarked, "Deceiving your Majesty is not what a good servant should do. The rumor I've heard is that Old Baron Lang suffered a severe injury, and currently, his son Grey is temporarily managing the forest. Youngsters often lack understanding of protocol; perhaps he was simply overwhelmed by the circumstances. I hope you can forgive him."

"Old Baron Lang is injured?" Arthur set down his fork, displaying a slight surprise, "Who could harm the King of Giants?"

"Several Winged Serpents," Rosanna answered.

Arthur seemed unfamiliar with these wild creatures; Randolph lifted his head and explained, "They are giant serpents of the wilderness with wings on their backs, gliding more than they fly. Enormous in size, should they enter a densely populated kingdom, the damage would be substantial." Randolph paused, frowning, "But how could Winged Serpents appear in the forest?"

"It's quite bizarre," Rosanna said, "I've also heard that a vast underground passage appeared beneath the Deep Soldier Forest, perhaps that's how the Winged Serpents invaded. But in recent years, Old Baron Lang's gold mining was in the mountains, I haven't heard any news of the dwarves digging underground... That would be a massive undertaking."

"I've heard nothing of it either," Arthur spoke, "The dwarves haven't mentioned it."

"Perhaps it's a defensive project?" Rosanna speculated, "But it's truly worrisome, after all, we have clear boundaries. While I welcome the dwarves to the Grasslands, that's when I'm aware of it. Such hidden passages underground unsettle me. I wonder if Taber has received any news, I worry for him too. You know, the pride of Violet is inviolable; if the dwarves did this in secret, Taber would not stand idly by. We fight together for you, but if a dispute or even war breaks out over this, it would cause immeasurable losses, and I fear, your Majesty's authority might be compromised. Hence, I hurried here to be at your Majesty's disposal."

"War?" Arthur coughed softly, "The situation hasn't escalated to a need for war; there's no need for such anxiety. But if such a passage exists, the dwarves must provide an explanation. I'm not familiar with this Grey; I haven't heard of him before. Has he always been in the forest?"

"After graduating from the academy, he followed Bog into the wilderness," Randolph cut his meat, speaking with a hint of displeasure, "He's now more of a bandit than a Son of the Earth."

"Bog has reached the Deep Soldier Forest?" Arthur asked, "Is he returning to Saint Foss?"

Randolph's knife scraped across the plate, making a noise. He muttered a curse under his breath and abandoned his meal.

"I'm unaware of his whereabouts," Rosanna glanced at Randolph, "We haven't seen each other for many years. Bog's arrogance has hurt many, and I'm honored to be among them."

"Indeed, he's been gone for far too long," Arthur said. "He should not return."

After dinner, Arthur sat on the bed while Randolph had just finished bathing. Arthur reached out to him, and as Randolph bent down, Arthur brushed back his damp hair, "You’re upset."

"I'm not," Randolph's evasive gaze made his tone slightly harsh.

"You're upset because I inquired about Bog," Arthur stated.

Randolph remained silent.

"You always mind his presence," Arthur murmured, "You went to school together, joined the Paladin Order together. But he was always so arrogant, his pride made him fearless, even recklessly so."

"You looked at him differently," Randolph met his gaze, looking at Arthur, "He was always so boastful, because he shone so brightly, everyone could only see him. His brilliance was blinding, he knew no humility, yet you all liked him."

"Sounds like a child," Arthur chuckled, "You always hated him."

"Yes," Randolph clasped Arthur's hand, leaning forward, "I despise everything about him."

"There's nothing wrong with that," Arthur said, "You are also outstanding."

"But you liked him," the hurt in Randolph's eyes was unmistakable, "You liked him, you used to watch him, right from the throne. His detestable golden hair and blue eyes tempted you, he was like a male Davia..."

Arthur suddenly planted a soft kiss beside Randolph’s lips, halting his words, and Randolph gripped Arthur tighter.

"I too may lose my gaze at times," Arthur said, "But now you are the only one, Randolph." As Randolph bowed his head against his neck, Arthur soothed his back, "Stop focusing on him, he's no longer your benchmark. Your sister brought troubling news."

"The dwarves?" Randolph said, "They are few in number, they won’t stand a chance against Taber, especially with his fearsome Devouring ability."

"We still have the chance for negotiations," Arthur said, "War is the last resort, but regardless, I need an explanation from the dwarves about that underground passage. The Eye of the World in the temple spans the nation, yet the bishop knows nothing of it."

"Should the dwarves harbor ill intent," Randolph asserted firmly, "I will bring you the head of Old Brun."

Arthur's gaze swept across the tabletop, where the gemstone ornament Rosanna had sent remained displayed.

"...How dreadful," Arthur murmured softly, "the vile wolves are ravaging not far from me."