17. Zent Village

The horse snorted and pawed at the ground as it advanced toward Adolin.

Around him, riders moved into a half-circle, cutting off the road ahead of the caravan. They wore white steel armor, each chest marked with the same insignia, black spears in hand. A branching tree with a green orb at its center. Even the warhorses were armored, their barding bearing the same symbol.

“Count Armen’s men,” a voice beside him said.

Master Eldritch stepped forward, placing himself at the front of the caravan.

The rider at the center advanced to meet him. His armor matched the others, but his helmet was etched with golden patterns. The only one marked differently. Adolin’s gaze lingered on him. He felt it immediately. This one was stronger than anyone he had met so far. At least physically. He still couldn’t gauge the strength of higher-tier mages. Not enough information.

“State your business,” the rider said.

He bowed slightly. “Merchant caravan, my lord. Heading north. From the capital to Blight Town,” Master Eldritch said.

The rider nodded. “Notice anything off on your journey?”

“The caravan was attacked by goblins. At least a hundred. Ten hobgoblins.”

The rider rubbed his eyes. “I suggest you leave the village as soon as you can. It was attacked last night.”

“Attack?”

“Yes. Goblins, dire wolves, kobolds, trolls. Like the whole forest decided to lay siege to it.”

“Not a dungeon break…” Eldritch muttered. “What could be the cause?”

“We’re not sure. A scouting party will head out in the morning.”

Clay stepped forward and bowed slightly, left hand extended to the side, right over his chest.
“Clay Varkos, of House Varkos. Lord Ashvale,” he straightened, “may I join the scouting party?”

“That’s Lord Edrin Ashvale,” a voice beside him murmured.

“Flaming Blade,” Edrin acknowledged him. “You may.”

Flaming Blade. The insignia on his armor made sense.

So not a dungeon break. Then what?

Adolin frowned.

He had seen things like this before. A few possibilities came to mind. The forest running out of food or mana. That didn’t fit. A spell acting like a beacon, drawing monsters in. A high-tier beast claiming the forest as its territory.

What else?

Most of the other reasons pointed back to mages. Corruption. That could do it. Depending on the type, it could drive monsters to rampage. Or force them to flee. He crossed out rampage. The goblins had ambushed them. Not bloodthirsty. Not that. He needed more information. Or this was nothing like the corruption in his old world.

Revel moved past him and stopped a few steps from Edrin.

She gave the same greeting as Clay.
“Revel of House Morcant, Lord Ashvale. I would like to volunteer as well.”

His party members were nobles. Adolin chuckled inwardly. He wanted to go too. But did he really need to step forward and bow for it? Too much effort. And he didn’t like bowing. He would tell Revel later. That should be enough. Hopefully.

“Lady Morcant,” Edrin said. He removed his helmet and rested it against his leg before bowing his head. “I would be honored to have you.”

Revel’s family was either a duke’s or a count’s house. From the respect Edrin showed her, it sounded powerful. She did say her family defended the north from corruption.

“Clear,” he said, moving his hand in a circular motion. The riders moved to the sides of the path, clearing it. “You can proceed to the village,” Edrin said.

Master Eldritch turned toward the caravan. “On the wagons!”

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Everyone moved to their assigned wagons and climbed on. Adolin stayed where he stood.

Revel and Clay moved to the side with Edrin, who dismounted his horse. Adolin strained to hear better. “…heading to the capital. We arrived hours before the monster attack. I lost five men defending the village.”

The caravan started moving, and Adolin had to follow. He could use a spell to hear what they were saying, but it felt rude. He wasn’t usually rude. But his level. He did plan to increase his level. And with the village this close, he wouldn’t need all his mana. Yeah. Perfect time to try a new spell. He cast Eavesdrop. He cleared his throat. He needed a better name for it.

“…more waves will follow. My scouts are certain. We still need to find the source.”

“Any guesses?”

“We had a few. None of them fit. This many monsters don’t mix. It looks like a migration. But trolls don’t move with lesser species.”

“When we lost the Purple Forest, the first attacks came from the local monsters. Multiple species mixed and attacked the villages around it. But they stayed within their ranks.”

“How did they act?”

“Like a normal raid. Nothing different.”

“Dareth, wait up… Dareth.”

Adolin glanced back. Blaise was jogging toward him, waving. He stopped and waited. Too many voices. Revel and the others. Wheels grinding against stone. Guards talking. They overlapped. Blurred together. He barely heard Blaise call his name.

“We… should. I… night reading… only two hours before the quest.”

This wasn’t going to work. The spell was low-tier. It didn’t drown out the noise like his better ones. Talking with Blaise while listening to everything else was impossible. He dropped the spell. Blaise kept talking. Adolin didn’t catch a word.

Blaise stopped, waiting.

Adolin had no idea what to say.

He avoided his gaze and scratched the back of his neck.
“Can you repeat that?”