Chapter 120: The Rescue Team (II)

“Also, Jamie and Gray should come along—it’s safer that way,” Joan chimed in after Tom. “Jamie can keep watch for us at night during the camp, and with his exceptionally keen nose, he can sniff out any lurking threats. If we happen to run into enemies or wild beasts on the way, Gray will be our most reliable combat strength.”

Mayor Dindall was reluctant to let his son risk crossing the jungle to deliver the message. But then he thought, isn’t staying in town and waiting to die just as dangerous? He nodded reluctantly and agreed to Dick and Roger’s proposal. Thus, the rescue party was formed, consisting of the two brothers, Joan, Tom, Weiss, the half-blood winter wolf Jamie, and the gray pouch beast Gray, tasked with delivering the message to the distant southern valley military camp.

Wasting no time, Mayor Dindall began writing the letter. Guillaume Tail gave a signal to his grandson, Joan understood immediately, and followed his grandfather to a quiet spot.

The old man glanced around to ensure no one was eavesdropping, then lowered his voice to say to Joan, “You’ll have to pass through the outskirts of the Screaming Forest on your way to the southern camp. Goblins often lurk there—be extremely cautious.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of myself,” Joan replied.

He wasn’t particularly worried about the goblins that roamed the forest in packs. Those cowardly bullies rarely dared attack a well-armed adventuring team, especially one accompanied by a terrifying beast like Gray. Shy goblins would scatter at the mere sight of the gray pouch beast. His greater concern was that their movements might be exposed during the journey, attracting a horde of lizardmen cavalry in pursuit.

“When you reach the camp…” Guillaume Tail hesitated, then leaned close to his grandson’s ear, speaking almost word for word, “If you cannot persuade Major Vassar to send troops for aid, do not come back. Instead, go straight to Leyton Port!”

Joan was startled, gazing at his grandfather in shock. Though the old man’s expression seemed calm, Joan caught a faint trace of tenderness in his eyes. That fleeting eye contact made Joan realize that his grandfather harbored deep affection for him, though this reclusive, stubborn elder scorned overt displays of emotion. Only in moments of life and death did he reveal his true feelings, delivering that meaningful admonition.

Joan bit his lip, fighting back tears, and nodded. He didn’t want to be a coward, yet he knew without his assent, his grandfather would not find peace.

“That’s all I have to say. Let’s go back,” the old man said, lifting his gaunt hand to gently pat his still youthful grandson’s shoulder. “I wish you all a safe journey.”

Joan accompanied his grandfather back to the town hall. Upon entering, he saw Mayor Dindall sternly admonishing his two sons, seemingly demanding that Dick and Roger abide by some agreement. Judging by the brothers’ expressions, they clearly resented their father’s advice.

Noticing Joan’s arrival, Mayor Dindall switched topics abruptly. Joan caught fragments of their conversation, but from the looks on the three men’s faces, it was easy to infer the mayor’s counsel closely mirrored his grandfather’s earlier warnings. The hot-headed Dindall brothers probably viewed their father’s advice as overly cautious, undermining their heroic pride. Perhaps only when they became fathers themselves would they truly understand their elders’ heartfelt concern.

After another two minutes, Tom arrived with Weiss, Jamie, and Gray at the town hall. Of course, Jamie and Gray had no objections to the mission—where Joan went, they followed. Weiss also saw the urgency of seeking aid at the camp and suggested they set out overnight. But just as everyone was about to mount their horses, the lizardman prince suddenly stopped, looked back, and his expression grew strangely uneasy.

“Weiss, what’s wrong? Feeling unwell?” Tom asked with concern.

“Nothing…” Weiss patted his forehead hard and murmured, “I just felt a cold breeze brush past me from behind and shivered involuntarily.”

Joan sensed no such chill and guessed Weiss might be overtired and tense, causing a hallucination.

“If you’re unwell, there’s no need to force yourself. It’s okay not to go.”

“I’m really fine. It’s getting late—we should get going.” Weiss mounted his horse and settled sideways in the saddle.

Since a normal straddle saddle would be awkward for a lizardman’s tail, Mayor Dindall had specially equipped Weiss’s horse with a “ladies’ side saddle.” Designed for women in long skirts to ride elegantly with legs together on one side, it allowed graceful galloping.

Lizardmen disliked horseback riding mainly because their tails got in the way; this side saddle was perfect for Weiss. Riding atop the horse, he admired human ingenuity for inventing such a practical, wonderful device.

Joan, Tom, and the Dindall brothers mounted as well. Jamie and Gray, accustomed to long runs, could keep pace on foot with galloping horses. Under cover of night, the group left Delin Town, intentionally avoiding the main road to evade alerting lizardman scouts scattered outside the town, silently making their way south along the shrub-covered riverbank.

...

At that very moment, deep in the swamp dozens of miles away, Elder Basong sat cross-legged by a pool of water, his dim eyes fixed on the mirrored surface.

Kotarl stood behind Basong with arms crossed, equally entranced by the reflection. Despite the light ripples stirred by the night breeze, they clearly saw a group of humans conversing—among them, the one-eyed young mage who had caused Kotarl much trouble earlier, and Weiss, son of Mirik, whom Kotarl loathed most.

In the water’s reflection, Weiss suddenly seemed to sense something, turning his head sharply. His face enlarged swiftly in the pool, as if about to emerge from its depths.

With a wave of his hand, Elder Basong stirred the water, shattering the image until it vanished without a trace.

“Why stop watching?” Kotarl asked.

“Weiss’s perception is sharp. I fear continuing the surveillance would alert him,” Basong answered quietly.

“If we can’t keep an eye on Weiss and the others, how will we know where they plan to flee next?” Kotarl asked irritably.

Basong smiled faintly, tracing ripples that calmed with his fingertip.

“Chief, rest assured. I will continue using Divination Magic to monitor them, but not focusing on Weiss. It’s too risky to lock onto such a perceptive shaman. Fortunately, four others accompany Weiss—among them, the big guy carrying an axe and the armored dwarf both seem dull-witted. They make better targets for the spell’s focus.”