Chapter Fifty-Nine: Precisely Because It Is You

“So, York? So you want to persuade us to go to Alvador, that place controlled by Icelandic soldiers and a necromancer, risking our lives to seek out this mysterious object you speak of?” Lucas said.

“York is merely offering another option,” old York replied. “York has hidden nothing from you. If you are willing to retrieve the Mist Stone, York will tell you everything he knows about Casimodo Vic.”

“About the necromancer’s school, his spells, and how to avoid his notice—York will tell you all of it. York will speak from the perspective of a necromancer and reveal his weaknesses.”

“And what good is that?” Lucas groaned, clutching his head. “He’s a fifth-circle necromancer, a mage on par with the Gold rank. For us to go is nothing short of suicide.”

“And besides those soldiers, the Icelandic scouts, their generals and warriors—do you really think there are no professionals among them?”

“The choice is yours,” old York said. “If you don’t wish to search for the Mist Stone, then stay hidden in this cave. York has some food stored here. For a hundred people, it might, just possibly, last ten more days.”

“We could all sit together and make wishes—wish that the Icelanders leave within ten days, wish that this war ends within ten days.”

A long silence followed, broken finally by Baldur: “If we get the Mist Stone, can we make the mist appear immediately?”

“You must bring the Mist Stone to York,” York said. “Only York knows how to use it, and among everyone here, only York can wield it.”

“So if we go to Alvador, will you come with us?” Baldur asked.

“York cannot go!” York suddenly began to tremble. “Casimodo will find York! He knows York!”

“This past Sowing Month, York received a letter delivered by a night owl. At the time, York didn’t know who sent it—it simply said, ‘Looking forward to seeing you again!’”

“It was only five days ago that York realized—Casimodo sent that letter! By then he had already joined the Icelandic army, preparing to come to Tania for the winter!”

“Casimodo knows what York looks like—he knows York is a gnome, he knows York’s face. He’s the one who ordered the Icelanders to capture York! If York sets foot near Casimodo, he’ll be discovered at once!”

“He’ll torment York’s soul and send York to hell!”

Old York’s teeth chattered, his fingers digging into the stone table.

Anyone could see the gnome’s terror; it seemed that, faced with Casimodo, he would sooner take his own life.

“Weren’t you and that necromancer exchanging letters for three years?” Lucas said coldly. “The Icelanders want to bring you back alive. I think the necromancer just wants to make friends, to take you as his apprentice.”

“That’s not the same!” old York retorted.

“So you don’t trust the necromancer who wrote you letters? Even though you both studied necromancy?” Lucas pressed on. “You cowardly gnome—why should we risk our lives for your words, to go to Alvador and seek this Mist Stone? You don’t even dare go with us!”

“Porter, you’re right—York is a cowardly gnome,” old York lowered his head. “York is afraid of Casimodo. York cannot trust the villain who murdered his own mentor and slaughtered all of Alvador.”

“But, Porter, York is willing to trust you,” old York said. “York has met many people, and of all of them, you are one of the few whom York is willing to believe in.”

“It is because it is you, Porter, that York is willing to reveal his secrets.”

Lucas looked at the dejected gnome and sighed deeply.

He turned to look at the wandering knight at his side, then at Uncle Baldur.

This time, he did not ask the knight’s opinion. He simply said, “Let us think it over, old York. I can’t decide just yet.”

“You should know that if you refuse, then besides me, only Lord Vidar’s skills might contend with the Icelanders.”

“Though I haven’t forgotten where your alchemy workshop is, this is madness. I’m just an obscure Iron-ranked warrior. Lord Vidar is much stronger and braver than I am, but with just the two of us—honestly, it feels like a suicide mission.”

“We have no right to persuade Lord Vidar to throw his life away with us.”

York took out a key. “I understand, Porter. Whatever you decide, York will not complain. York will remain with you to the end.”

“The food is in the second room on the right from the study’s exit,” said York. “There’s wheat and flour, and other condiments—honey, butter, cheese, and white sugar.”

“There’s also an oven; York baked some bread last night. You may help yourselves, and if anyone wishes, you can cook something else—perhaps it will lift everyone’s spirits.”

Lucas sighed again, seeming at a loss for how to face the gnome.

But he accepted the key, and softly said, “In any case, thank you for sheltering us in your storehouse, and thank you for the food.”

York replied, “We were all born in Tania—it is only right that we help each other.”

Lucas stood and made for the door. With his back to the gnome, he suddenly asked, “York, can I trust you?”

“That depends on you, Porter,” the gnome replied. “But York truly has no secrets from you now.”

Lucas did not answer, but left the study, likely to check the food York had mentioned.

Looking on the bright side, at least they could hold out a little longer.

Only the gnome, Vidar, and Baldur remained in the study.

After Lucas left, Baldur gave Vidar a courteous nod and stepped outside.

The gnome sat alone, head bowed, while Vidar took a seat beside him.

“Won’t you go out?” the gnome asked.

Vidar shook his head, writing on a sheet of paper.

“Please tell me about Casimodo Vic—about the necromancer,” he wrote. “And the Mist Stone. I hope you can draw its likeness for me.”

The gnome stared at the words on the page, momentarily stunned. He looked up dazedly.

Vidar made a greeting gesture again, this time moving his hand from his left shoulder to his chest and bowing slightly.

In Niederland, such a greeting was reserved only for old friends of many years.

For some reason, as the aged gnome gazed up at the knight before him, a single tear slipped from the corner of his eye.