Iron Dragon's Advancement Journey

Page 196

　Who are you? Where are the guards?

　His answer was Gaelus's holy sword. The golden blade slashed through the air, and the warden hastily dodged, but still had a lock of his hair cut off.

　"A legend?!" The warden was shocked. "How could there be a legend in the dungeon?"

　He tried to cast a spell, but Eisen's counterspell instantly suppressed his ability. Then Martha's divine magic froze him in place.

　"Looks like he's not much of a threat." Renn scoffed.

　Indeed, the warden's strength was at most level fifteen or sixteen, which was no match for a legend.

　"Don't kill me!" the warden yelled. "I know many secrets!"

　"Speak." Galos's sword was pressed against his throat.

　"Her Majesty the Queen is preparing a grand plan!" the warden hurriedly said, "It's related to those dragon liches!"

　What plan?

　"I don't know the specifics, but I've heard..." He swallowed hard, "Her Majesty the Queen intends to use those hostages for some kind of ritual."

　"What ceremony?"

　"Transform them all into ice elemental minions! Transform three thousand at once!"

　Everyone present gasped. Three thousand lives, just to create servants?

　"Damn madman!" Carlock was about to rush forward.

　"Wait," Gallos stopped him, then asked the warden, "When does the ceremony begin?"

　"Three days later," the warden said, trembling, "on the night of the full moon."

　Three days is a very tight schedule.

　Where are the hostages being held?

　"In...in the folded space at the top of the tower. Only Her Majesty's mark can open it."

　"Where is the mark?"

　"I really don't know!" The warden was on the verge of tears. "It might be in Her Majesty the Queen's bedchamber, or it might be something she carries with her!"

　After a moment's thought, Gaelos knocked the warden unconscious with the hilt of his sword.

　"What do we do now?" Eisen asked.

　"The plan remains unchanged," Gallos said. "We'll continue upwards. Since the hostages are at the top of the tower, we'll go to the top."

　"But there's no mark..."

　"Then go ask the Ice Queen for it." Galos's expression was calm, a calmness that was frightening.

　Martha sighed. "I knew it would turn out like this."

　Suddenly, the entire tower trembled slightly. Then, a piercing alarm sounded.

　"Looks like we've been discovered." Eisen remained calm.

　"Then there's no need for sneaking around." Galos raised his holy sword, its golden light illuminating the entire room. "Gentlemen, prepare for battle."

69. The Voter Squad's Pure "Fantasy" Journey

　Central Sosar.

　In the howling wind and snow of the dense forest, five figures moved swiftly. Even though they were all legendary figures, they appeared somewhat disheveled—though this dishevelment was largely feigned. After all, some were chosen ones of the goddess of magic, hundreds or even thousands of years old, while others were the human form of the Archmage of the Fang Dragon; dealing with a few pursuers would have been no problem. But being betrayed time and again, and unable to find their true target, left them deeply frustrated.

　"Left!" Kelben hissed, the stubborn archmage maintaining meticulous tactical discipline even in the midst of his escape.

　An icicle grazed Elasdra's shoulder, leaving a deep dent in the tree trunk. The High Lady of the Silvermoon Federation gracefully turned, her long silver hair fluttering in the wind, maintaining perfect poise even in flight: "It seems our friends need to go back and retake their archery lessons. If this is the standard of the Ice Queen's men, then the fall of Sosar can only be attributed to internal corruption—well, I admit it, a group of tribesmen from the frozen wastelands, whether corrupt or not, can't withstand a regular army, even if that regular army is..."

　"The seventeenth wave." Tooth Rake muttered as he ran, his voice full of frustration. "Me, a dragon of my own, being chased by a bunch of rabble! If it weren't for the need to avoid revealing my identity, I could have sent them all to meet their damn gods with a single slap! Do you know how much a single Tooth Dragon tooth is worth on the black market? Probably more than their annual military pay!"

　"Do you think these guys can get paid?" Elminster stroked his beard. "Don't you dragons need gold coins?"

　“Shut up, shave your teeth,” Lyra whispered beside Kelburn, trying to maintain a demure posture even as they ran to avoid losing her composure in front of her lover… What ancient witch? Lyra had no idea about such things. “Darling, which way do you think we should go? This forest is like a maze.”

　Kelburn glanced at her, his expression softening slightly. "Northeast. According to the topographical map I remember, there's an icefall there with a drop of over thirty meters. The sound of the water can mask our tracks, and the cold air will interfere with tracking spells."

　“I’ll listen to you,” Leila replied gently, then turned to the others and said, “Everyone heard that, head northeast! Kelburn’s judgment has never been wrong.”

　Elminster chuckled as he ran, "If you ask me, this is the third time I've been betrayed today, isn't it? That's a record! Back when I frequented the taverns in Tassel, I'd only get scammed twice a day at most. Of course, back then, those were just petty thieves trying to steal my wallet, unlike these guys, who're all deadly."

　"You're still in the mood for jokes?" Shaving said irritably. "We've been running around in this damn freezing weather for three days! Three days! Do you know what that means? It means I haven't had a hot meal in three days!"

　“A mercenary,” Elasdra commented, but there was no malice in his tone.

　This nightmare began on the very first day they stepped into Sosar.

　Three days ago, when they had just teleported to the Sosar border, their first task was to find the harpists' contact points. According to the organization's records, Sosar had seven secret contact points, distributed in various strategic locations. The first one was in the border town of "Icefield Outpost".

　Icefield Outpost is a small town with a permanent population of no more than a thousand. However, due to its strategic location, it sees a considerable number of merchants and adventurers passing through. The town is surrounded by a wooden fence, on which traces of battle can still be seen—charred wood, arrow holes, and some frozen bloodstains.

　“It looks like this place wasn’t spared either.” Kelburn observed the marks. “Judging from the extent of the damage, it must have happened about a month ago.”

　“But the town is still functioning,” Elasdra said, pointing to the pedestrians on the street, “which means they’ve made it through, or…”

　“Or they’ve already surrendered,” Elminster chimed in, his usual nonchalant smile still on his face. “But whatever, let’s find the contact point first.”

　According to the instructions in the codebook, the contact point was a shop called "Northern Leather Goods." They found it quickly—a two-story wooden house with a tattered sign hanging at the door, depicting a snow fox.

　“This is it.” Kelburn confirmed the address. “The code is ‘The north wind brings news from afar,’ and the response should be ‘Snowflakes cover yesterday’s footprints.’”

　They pushed open the door and entered. The shop was warm, with a roaring fireplace. Various animal skins hung on the walls—snow fox, polar bear, winter wolf, and even a complete snowman pelt. The shopkeeper, a middle-aged man with a full beard, was organizing ledgers behind the counter.

　"Welcome." The shopkeeper looked up, his gaze sweeping over the five people. "What would you like to do?"

　"Do you have any high-quality snow fox pelts?" Elminster asked, following procedure, while secretly observing the shopkeeper's reaction.

　The shop owner's eyes lit up: "Of course we have them. But the best ones are rare, and they're not cheap."

　"The north wind brings news from afar," Elminster uttered the code.

　The shopkeeper's expression immediately changed, from a merchant's shrewdness to genuine excitement: "Snowflakes have covered yesterday's footprints! Gods above, we've finally waited for you!"

　He strode to the door, hung up the "Temporarily Closed" sign, then turned and bowed deeply to them: "My lords, I am Marcus, the Harpist's liaison at the Icefield Outpost. Please come with me, let's go to a safe place to talk."

　Marcus led them through a hidden door and down a narrow staircase. The basement was more spacious than expected and had clearly been carefully renovated. The walls were reinforced with thick wooden planks and engraved with protective runes. Supplies were piled up in the corners—rice, weapons, potions, and even a few spell scrolls.

　"Please sit down, please sit down," Marcus greeted them warmly, and began to boil water to make tea. "You must be exhausted. This awful weather is unbearable even for the locals, let alone guests from the south."

　"How have things been lately?" Kelburn got straight to the point as soon as he sat down, never wasting time on pleasantries.

　“It’s terrible.” Marcus sighed, adding tea leaves to the teapot. “A month ago, an advance team from the Great Glacier attacked the town. We barely managed to repel them, but suffered heavy losses. The mayor is dead, and the militia captain is dead too. Now the town is run by a temporary committee, which is basically a free-for-all.”

　“What about the other members of the Harpists?” Leila asked softly.

　“Scattered in various places.” Marcus served teacups, local wares made of coarse porcelain. “We dare not gather together, for fear of being wiped out. But it’s good that you’re here. With an adventure team sent from the mainland, we have a pillar of support.”

　"Don't be too optimistic yet." Shaving picked up his teacup and subconsciously sniffed it. As a dragon—even in human form—he remained sensitive to smells. "Our whereabouts must be kept secret. If our identities are exposed under the snowstorm, the Ice Queen will immediately notice."

　“I understand, I understand,” Marcus nodded repeatedly. “That’s why I prepared this basement. It’s absolutely safe, and also…”

　“Wait a minute,” Elasdra suddenly spoke, seemingly sensing something amiss as well. “Mr. Marcus, you said you’re a native of Sosar?”

　“Yes, three generations have been here,” Marcus replied with a smile. “My grandfather ran a leather goods store, and the business has been passed down to my generation. I’ve also been working as a harpist for fifteen years.”

　“Then why,” Elasdra gracefully set down his teacup, his silver eyes fixed on the shopkeeper, “do you have an accent from the Tukan Plains? And an accent from near the Dragon Wall. I’ve served merchants from there; that accent, influenced by the Karatu Continent, is truly unique.”

　Marcus's smile froze. In an instant, the atmosphere in the basement became eerie.

　“I…I went to Tannlas to do business when I was young…” Marcus stammered as he explained.

　“You’re lying,” Kelburn said coldly.

　"Run!" Elminster reacted the fastest. As a centuries-old rogue, he had an animalistic instinct for danger. He kicked over a table, blocking a crossbow bolt that suddenly shot out from the wall.

　The next moment, the entire basement turned into a death trap.

　The runes on the walls suddenly lit up, and dozens of ice spikes shot in from all directions, covering every corner of the room. At the same time, the floor began to freeze rapidly, and the temperature dropped to a deadly level within seconds.

　"Spell Trap!" Lyra immediately raised a magical shield.

　"That's not all!" Fangs roared as he slammed into the wall. "There are traps too!"

　Sure enough, the wall collapsed, revealing crossbowmen who had been waiting in the wings. More than a dozen heavy crossbows fired simultaneously, the bolts coated with poison.

　"Damn it!" Elminster cursed as he dodged, "This isn't a contact point, it's a slaughterhouse!"

　Marcus—or rather, the person impersonating Marcus—had completely transformed. His eyes were now empty and cold, and his voice had become mechanical: "Squad confirmed. Identity: Harpist Alliance High-Rank Mission Squad. Threat Level: Extremely High. Execute Elimination Plan Seven."

　"What the hell is Plan Seven?" Elminster hurled a fireball that shattered a wall. "Are villains these days so professional? They even have plan numbers?"

　"Enough talk!" Kelben blasted open the passage with a small fireball. "Let's get out of here first!"

　The five fought their way out of the basement. But the nightmare had only just begun—the entire icefield outpost was a trap!

　On the street, the seemingly ordinary residents suddenly shed their disguises, revealing their armor and weapons. There were fifty fully armed soldiers and three spellcasters in robes.

　"An encirclement!" Shaving Tooth said bitterly. "They were prepared long ago!"

　“Nonsense!” Elasdra remained elegant, but her tone had turned cold. “The question is, how did they know we were coming?”

　“They’re not waiting for us, they’re waiting for every ‘reinforcement’ that contacts them!”

　The soldiers launched their attack, well-trained and perfectly coordinated. The front ranks held shields, the rear ranks fired arrows, and the spellcasters continuously cast control spells—webs, grease, and slows—clearly intending to capture them alive.

　"Break through!" Kelburn decided immediately. "East Gate!"

　A fierce street battle ensued. Although they couldn't use legendary spells, they were, after all, the most powerful spellcasters in Faerûn. The combat skills honed in the Elminster tavern brawl, Kelburn's tactical command, Lyra's precise spells, Elasdra's elegant elven swordsmanship, and Razor's brute strength—the five worked together seamlessly, managing to tear a gap in the encirclement.

　But just as they were about to break through, a dragon's roar echoed from the sky.

　A white dragon swooped down from the clouds. It was an adult white dragon, not yet a dragon lich, but still troublesome enough.

　"Oh no!" Lyra's expression changed. "Fighting a dragon would be too loud and we'd be discovered!"

　"Then stop fighting!" Elminster yelled, pulling a bottle from his pocket and smashing it on the ground.

　The bottle shattered, and thick smoke instantly enveloped the entire block, obscuring visibility and interfering with Bai Long's sense of smell.

　"go!"

　Taking advantage of the chaos, the five rushed out of the town and disappeared into the snowstorm. The white dragon roared angrily in the air, but the beast, having lost its target, could only rage helplessly.

　After their first escape, they rested for the night in a cave.

　“The Ice Queen has been monitoring all of Sosar’s contact points,” Kelburn analyzed the current situation, “and then turned each contact point into a trap, waiting for all possible reinforcements to walk right into it.”

　“What about the other contact points…” Leila looked at Kelburn with concern.

　“This must be confirmed.” Kelburn’s expression grew even more serious. “If that’s the case, the real liaisons might already be…”

　Silence enveloped the cave.

　The next day, they decided to check out the second contact point. This time they were more cautious, observing the perimeter for a long time first.

　The second contact point was a hunter's hut deep in the forest. According to the records, the contact was an old hunter named Tommy, who had served the Harpists for twenty years and was absolutely reliable.

　The cabin looked ordinary, even somewhat dilapidated. A thick layer of snow covered the roof, and wisps of smoke rose from the chimney. Surrounded by dense coniferous forest, it would be difficult to find without special markings.

　“Looks normal,” Shaving said quietly. “No signs of an ambush.”

　“That’s how it appears on the surface,” Elasdra observed carefully, “but it’s too normal, which is suspicious. Look at the snow, it’s falling too evenly.”

　“Let’s make contact first,” Elminster suggested. “This time, we’ll be careful.”

　They approached the hut cautiously. Before they even reached the door, it opened. An old man with a white beard stood in the doorway, his face showing surprise and delight.

　"The Harpists' Alliance?!" The old man's voice trembled with excitement. "It really is you! God help me, I thought I would never see anyone from the organization again!"

　Old Tommy certainly looked like a hunter who had lived here for most of his life. His hands were calloused, his clothes smelled of animal hides, and even his gait was the silent stepping characteristic of a hunter.

　"Come in, come in!" Old Tommy greeted warmly. "It's freezing outside! I just made some venison soup and fresh black bread!"

　The interior of the cabin was filled with the atmosphere of daily life. Hunting bows and animal traps hung on the walls, processed animal hides were piled in the corners, and a pot of fragrant venison soup was indeed simmering on the fireplace.

　"Sit down, everyone!" Old Tommy bustled around, serving hot soup to everyone. "After all these years, you are the first members of the Harpists to come. I thought the Hall of Twilight had forgotten about me!"

　“How could I forget you?” Elminster said with a smile, while secretly observing old Tommy’s every move. “You are our most reliable friend in Sossal.”

　"Not at all," old Tommy waved his hand modestly, then began to ramble on, "Sosal has changed so much over the years. It used to be bitterly cold here, but everyone could live and work in peace. But ever since those guys from the big glaciers came... sigh, never mind, it'll only add to the trouble."

　As he spoke, he poured tea for everyone: "Here, have some hot tea to warm yourself up. This is snow lotus tea, a specialty of Sosar, and I've added some wild honey. It tastes wonderful!"

　The aroma of the tea is enticing, a blend of subtle floral notes and the sweetness of honey. It certainly looks like a fine tea.