Chapter Forty-Seven: Offering Respects

Lucas stood on the riverbank, watching his fellow villagers cross the ice bridge one by one.

The wandering knight was already on the opposite shore, standing as always—black iron helm upon his head, hand resting on a battered sword, calm and unwavering, like a knightly statue gazing into the distance.

He seemed to be looking toward the end of the mountains.

What distant and magnificent scenery awaited there?

Across this vast, boundless land, beyond Tania, how many vistas had Lucas yet to see?

Longing stirred within him as he followed the knight’s gaze, turning back for a final look.

Shadows of mountains and forests filled his eyes, and from behind the shroud of storm clouds, a single ray of sunlight broke through.

In the evening glow, the light pierced the clouds and painted the snowy peaks crimson. Upon those lofty heights, it seemed something sacred had descended.

Fatigued and tense as he was, Lucas had nearly forgotten—the woodland stream was, in truth, a beautiful place.

Was the wandering knight admiring the radiant sunset?

Perhaps he was.

As Lucas mused, Avery took his wife by the hand, lifted their daughter into his arms, and stepped onto the ice bridge.

They had a well-trained hunting dog with them. Unlike cattle and sheep, only the clever and agile hounds could accompany people across such terrain.

“Careful, Emily.”

“Daddy, this is amazing!”

The five-year-old girl’s eyes sparkled like stars.

She gazed down at the ice bridge beneath her feet and uttered a heartfelt exclamation.

“I want to walk, Daddy, may I?”

“Can you still walk, Aya?”

“Yes, I can!”

“Then hold on to both Daddy and Mommy’s hands, and be careful.”

“Okay!” The little girl nodded vigorously.

Smiling, Avery set his daughter down. The young couple each took a hand, and the three moved forward together.

The broad ice bridge was wide enough for them to walk side by side.

“Let’s go, too, Lucas,” said Uncle Bardel.

Everyone else had already crossed.

“All right.” Lucas nodded.

He stood at the river’s edge, looking down at the ice bridge that had formed in mere moments, and took a deep breath.

As he lifted his foot to step onto the ice, his blood surged within him.

This scene felt familiar.

It was like many years ago, on the day he had packed his bags to leave the village with a passing caravan. Standing at the village gate, about to set foot on lands unknown, he had felt this very same thrill.

His blood, it seemed, was still warm.

“Lucas?” Uncle Bardel glanced back at him, puzzled.

“It’s nothing. Let’s go, Uncle Bardel.” Lucas smiled, and together with the bearded old man, stepped onto the ice bridge.

Whether by chance or design, the bridge’s surface was not slick. Their footing was steady, as if walking on a well-trodden road.

One hundred and thirty-seven people crossed the Bragg River without incident.

They had overcome the greatest obstacle in the woodland stream, and Alvado was not far ahead. Within a day’s march, they would emerge from the forest.

Some approached Vade to express their gratitude.

The men came forward, removed their hats, placed their hands over their hearts, and bowed.

The women curtsied, bending their knees in greeting.

This was the highest courtesy among Tania’s free folk. Among peers, they would never bow or bend the knee—at most, they would embrace or shake hands.

Usually, such deference was reserved for tax collectors or noble inspectors, and even then, it was more out of fear of authority than genuine respect.

The sentiment behind that gesture was utterly different from what it was now.

Vade was also given a small flower, origin unknown. Avery’s five-year-old daughter placed a white wildflower in his hand.

Vade patted the little girl’s head. She shyly gathered her skirts, dipped in a curtsy, and hid behind her mother.

After many had passed, Lucas too came before Vade, hat in hand.

“Sir Vade, thank you for your help. I will remember this kindness always,” Lucas said. “Though my strength is small, should you ever need me, I will offer it without hesitation.”

He meant it. If ever the day came when Sir Vade wished to return to Niederland and needed a reliable hand, should he summon Lucas, then Lucas would follow this knight wherever he led.

Vade nodded, raising his thumb in approval.

“Come, let’s press on a little further!” Lucas grinned, turning to organize the villagers.

They prepared to set out again, eating a little jerky and bread to stave off hunger, and plunged deeper into the forest.

Before night fully fell, they reached the ancient Tania pine woods. Each trunk here was so thick it would take three or four people, arms outstretched, to encircle it.

Tonight, they would rest beneath the trees, lighting no fires, instead lying close together and sharing what warmth their clothing could provide.

Vade sat alone, sword in hand, leaning against a pine. He appeared to be sleeping, but in truth, he was feeling out the power left within the Heart of the Undead.

He had used the stone’s magic to let Mia, concealed within his helm, freeze the river into a bridge.

It had cost little energy. Though the Bragg River ran freely, its water was nearly at freezing point. Just a touch of frost magic was enough to seal it in ice.

Mia had conjured a broad ice bridge seven or eight meters long, using perhaps only a tenth of her magical reserves.

The issue was not the cost of magic, but rather—why had the river not frozen on its own?

At this season, under natural conditions, it ought not to have been flowing.

Vade had experienced Tania’s deep winter firsthand. While unearthing that brilliant longsword, even the reservoirs two or three meters below the permafrost had frozen solid.

Today, while crossing the woodland stream, there had been icicles hanging from cliffs everywhere, and every small brook they passed had been frozen over.

In winters cold enough to freeze the sea, how could an inland river remain unfrozen?

Was something amiss upstream?

Vade pondered these oddities, recalling the rough map Lucas had drawn.

The Bragg River was the “River of Life” for the Viscount’s domain—most villages and towns were built along its banks.

Humankind’s instinct is to settle by water.

The nearest upstream settlement was the very place where Vade and the Tania folk had agreed to meet: Alvado.

A frontier town with an Adventurers’ Guild, a magistrate, and a garrison.

Had someone melted the ice near there?

If so, how? By burning wood? By magic?

But for what purpose? To obtain water?

Even the villagers had reservoirs—how could Alvado not?

Something subtle and unsettling was afoot, and Vade could not shake his discomfort.

But until they reached Alvado itself, there was nothing to do but press onward.