Chapter 766: Chapter 787 Chadegory Town
As the group continued forward, the muddy dirt road gradually turned into smooth, wet cobblestones, and the twisted trees receded from both sides of the path. A thin fog began to spread again, turning distant scenes into blurred shadows, and the air was always filled with a distinctive stench of rotting corpses.
Where there was the stench of decay, there were naturally corpses. Thanks to his keen observation, Lancelot had noticed more than once the dead bodies lying by the roadside, their remains looked to have been gnawed on by wolves or other wild beasts. However, leftover arrows and bones crushed by blunt instrunts were still silently explaining the cause of their deaths.
In Lancelot’s previous understanding, other than spreading plagues and polluting water sources, corpses themselves posed no threat, but that rule clearly no longer applied. Those long-dead bodies were occasionally awakened by the sounds of horse hooves, attacking them due to an instinctual craving for flesh and blood. Lancelot responded very decisively, ensuring they could never rise again.
A massive shadow began to erge in the fog, and after advancing about a hundred feet, the outline of the city wall beca clearly visible. The black walls, built of broad stone bricks, seed fairly sturdy but were only just over ten feet high, nothing compared to the defensive walls of Twin Bridges Town.
“This is it,” Kalalin whispered to his companions, “Barrend’s uncle’s house is near the city wall, shouldn’t be hard to find.”
“Let’s hurry up and get inside!” the Dwarf pressed in a trembling voice, “anyone who dares to stand in our way will be smashed into a pulp by my Warhamr!”
“Be a little more patient, we’re very close now,” Lancelot cautioned softly, “don’t act like you’re going to kill and burn everything once we enter, behave like a normal person. Once we locate the place, first confirm the status of Uncle Barrend, then if possible, we’ll devise a precise rescue plan that ensures success. Understood?”
“Understood,” the Dwarf answered glumly, “just tell when to take action…”
The road led them to a gate in the city wall, equipped with double layers of iron bars, and two guards, ard with Long Spears, Shields, and breastplates, were cautiously watching, partly due to Lancelot’s mount—their recognition of Nightmares might be limited, but anyone could tell from the burning hooves and fla-like mane that the great black horse was of Fiend bloodline. What kind of person then, was Lancelot, who used such a creature as his mount?
Despite this, when they rode up to the guards, the two n still raised their Long Spears to block the way. Lancelot noticed they wore dirty robes with a Battle Axe embedded in a skull emblem embroidered on them, recalling no gods having such an emblem,
“Who are you?” the guard, a Human with a broken nose, cautiously asked, “What brings you to Chadegory?”
“rcenaries,” Lancelot answered without hesitation, “here seeking opportunities for employnt.”
The speaking guard turned to look at his companion, a Half-elf with dark brown hair, who seed not quite satisfied with the answer.
“But you look like so noble lord,” the man hesitated before speaking again, “and what kind of rcenaries would co to this cursed place looking for work?”
“What I was before is not important, and we did not co to these lands voluntarily,” Lancelot implied, “Furthermore, a few swords for sale can always find a buyer. Surely there’s no lack of such a demand in this city?”
“Of course not, sir, you will definitely find employers here. There are many here who would gladly pay,” the guard shook his head, “Actually, the Skullcrusher Legion can offer you a decent contract right away. Our headquarters are in the square on Coffin Street, you can talk to the manager Marco, just say Old Tommy referred you, he will be very pleased to et you.”
“The three major gangs?” Lancelot frowned. “Who rules here?”
“In na, it’s Baron Digal, the mayor, but he can hardly protect his own house. In reality, it’s our Warhamr Legion that rules.” The man with the broken nose seed to find confidence, unconsciously puffing up his chest. “We are one of the three major gangs in the city, and, as you see, this Mist Gate is our Warhamr Legion territory… Well, the entry tax is one Gold Coin per person… and an additional silver coin for each beast.”
At these words, Lancelot’s mount grew furiously angry and snapped its mouth at the guard’s face. Lancelot was quick to pull the rein, just in ti for the guard to raise his Shield in defense.
Though the Nightmare’s mouth lacked Fiend-like sharp fangs, the iron-bound wooden Shield was insufficient to withstand the high temperature in its mouth. With a crisp crack, the guard stared dumbfoundedly at his Shield which now sported a palm-sized notch on the edge, through which one could see the icy gaze of the Human Knight’s mount.
“I suggest you apologize to it imdiately,” Lancelot said as he stroked the great black horse’s mane, “and then you might want to recall the details about the entry tax.”
“I’m… I’m sorry…” the man swallowed hard. “I just rembered, it seems nobles are exempt from the tax, aren’t they, Aimuti?”
The other guard nodded stiffly, looking like a soulless puppet. Lancelot briefly surveyed the man, his brow furrowing slightly—through his Spirit Perception, the Half-elf felt oddly strange, not quite alive, yet not Undead either.
“What’s wrong with him?” Lancelot asked bluntly. “He seems to have been silent since we arrived.”
“He’s always… like this.” The man elbowed his companion. “Say sothing, you foolish elf!”
“I am a Guard.” The Half-elf’s voice was hoarse and unpleasant. “You may pass.”
Having said that, he moved aside, turning his head away from everyone. Seeing this, the man with the broken nose could only shrug and step back, opening the way for them.
“Thank you.” Lancelot nodded, gave a light nudge into his mount’s flank, and the big black horse walked past arrogantly, spitting fiercely on the ground where the missing piece of the Shield lay.
Despite the large size of the town nad Chadegory, the stone-paved streets were deserted, the windows of houses along the street were covered with thick curtains, and the quiet air was filled only with the whistling wind, and faint, directionless screaming. Were it not for the occasional faint flas peering secretly at the newcors through the slits, he would have thought it was a ghost town.
“This place is so bizarre…” Bruto murmured softly. “Where are we going now?”
“Shopping,” Lancelot responded, channeling a bit of True Yuan to send his voice directly into his companions’ ears. “If you see that house, do not stop, and do not show any signs of anomaly, just follow and keep moving forward.”
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