Chapter 24 : Arrival at Oak Town, Boasting in the Tavern
Chapter 24: Arrival at Oak Town, Boasting in the Tavern
Night had fallen.
Reed and his brothers of the Gray Wolf Mercenary Corps had finally caught sight of the stone city walls’ outline.
“Tsk, this place sure has been living comfortably,” his deputy clicked his tongue, leading his horse as they squeezed through the crowd.
Their group paid the entrance tax at the town gate.
The few copper coins they handed over made the gate guards curl their lips — clearly, they didn’t think much of these travel-worn mercenaries.
Oak Town.
Its population was far greater than that of the fallen Florence Territory.
And even though the Undead Scourge still raged outside like the end of the world itself, the liveliness within this town at night hadn’t waned one bit.
The entrance of the Mercenary Guild bustled with people.
Cries of mission turn-ins and commission offers rose and fell continuously.
Warm yellow light spilled from the tavern windows.
Inside came the sounds of dice games, commands, and boastful chatter — audible even from afar.
Not to mention the small buildings adorned with ambiguous red lanterns.
Charming laughter drifted faintly through the air, making the hearts of passing men itch.
“Hey, check this out!”
A young mercenary visiting for the first time had his eyes light up. “Way better than our shabby camp!”
Reed snorted.
He smacked the back of the young man’s head. “Nonsense! This place’s protected by an expensive magic formation!”
“You think it’s like Florence — collapsing at a word’s notice?”
That remark hit the mark.
Above Oak Town, though invisible to the naked eye, one could faintly sense a layer of unseen energy circulating in the air.
That was the defensive magic formation continuously maintained by the eight Magic Towers.
The crystallization of humanity’s wisdom over many years — it was their greatest reliance against the Undead Scourge!
Also, the best tool for holding defensive positions.
Unless the undead went insane and gathered a force ten times larger than the defenders to launch a full-scale assault—
Otherwise, to bite down on a town protected by such a formation, even the undead would have to lose a few teeth.
But those high-ranking undead weren’t fools — they wouldn’t easily make such a losing trade.
The thought of Florence’s fall still made Reed feel disgusted.
He had heard some unpleasant news back in Williams Territory...
Not long after, Reed and his men settled their packhorses and supplies at the town’s public stable near the gate.
After paying the keeper’s fee and handling a few necessary matters—
They plunged straight into the liveliest place in town — the [Oak Barrel Tavern].
……
The tavern was thick with smoke and roaring with voices.
The scent of sweat, ale, and roasted meat mingled together, forming a unique fragrance belonging to mercenaries and adventurers.
Reed and his men squeezed in beside a greasy long table, pounding it as they shouted for ale and meat.
A few large mugs of cold malt beer went down their throats, loosening every pore on their bodies.
When sizzling, oily steaks were served up, everyone’s appetite flared.
The brothers buried their heads in the feast, devouring like a storm.
At the next table, several mercenaries were spitting saliva as they bragged about their recent exploits.
Their loud voices even drowned out the tavern’s noise.
Reed pricked up his ears for a while.
It was nothing special — slaying a few stray Ghouls, or scavenging some valuables from ruins.
He took a large gulp of ale and wiped his mouth.
Then, deliberately raising his voice — speaking to his brothers, yet also for those nearby to hear:
“Hey, brothers, if we’re talking excitement, it’s got to be our last trip!”
“That Mistwood, damn, what an eye-opener!”
His deputy caught on immediately and chimed in loudly, “Chief, you mean that… the little town protected by an angel?”
“Exactly!” Reed slapped his thigh.
He made a show of being both shaken and proud.
“Got lost in the woods — thought I’d end up Ghoul food, but struck it lucky instead!”
“That place, heh! Brand-new wooden houses, plowed fields, smoke rising from chimneys!”
“The best part — just outside the town, Ghoul corpses piled like small hills, all purified clean as a whistle!”
The moment Reed said this—
The nearby tables’ noise noticeably quieted.
More than a few ears perked up.
“An angel? Brother, that’s a bit much, don’t you think?”
A bearded man at the next table snorted, taking a swig.
“The Holy Light Church collapsed ages ago — where’d you see an angel?”
“Must’ve been drunk on the miasma in the woods!”
“Exactly!” another tall, thin mercenary joined in.
“Purified Ghouls, huh? Sounds more like you were hallucinating from running away! Hahaha!”
The tavern burst into laughter.
Clearly, no one believed him.
In this era — miracles? Angels?
Those were old legends, only good for fooling children.
Reed, however, wasn’t angry.
Instead, he slammed his cup down, his face red.
Beard bristling, eyes wide, he barked, “Bullshit! I saw it with my own eyes!”
“That female knight protecting the town — Lady Liz — her sword shone with Holy Light!”
“One swing, and a Ghoul turned straight to ash!”
“And that Lynn Church in the center of town — its cross glowed at night!”
“It sheltered the whole town — the Ghouls didn’t even dare to approach!”
The more he spoke, the more excited he became, spittle flying everywhere. “What the hell do you know!”
“I not only saw it — I even got something out of it!”
Saying so—
Reed, as if to prove he wasn’t lying — or perhaps simply unable to resist showing off after too much drink—
Suddenly pulled out a small, unremarkable leather water pouch from the inner pocket close to his chest.
He popped the cork, his movements deliberately slow.
In that instant—
A wave of wondrous freshness spread out.
Carrying a faint warmth, along with a sacred aura that brought peace to one’s soul.
It wafted from the mouth of the pouch.
The nearby mercenaries — including that bearded man who had mocked him moments ago —
All unconsciously twitched their noses, their mocking expressions instantly freezing.
“Th-this is…”
The bearded man’s eyes widened like saucers.
He stared fixedly at the water pouch in Reed’s hand — under the dim oil lamp, it seemed to faintly shimmer with a soft golden light.