Chapter 174 174: Uskall
Sapience Ignis, Elder Speech: Sapiens ignis, commonly known as the Flamebearer Sage, is a legend impossible to avoid when looking back on medieval history, a meteoric figure whose time in the spotlight was brief, yet whose influence still endures to this day.
He is also known as the father of modern alchemy. Statues of him can be found at school gates, usually depicted holding animal tissue in one hand and a stirring rod in the other, always with his eyes shut or covered by a blindfold.
Yes, it looks rather a lot like the pose of Lady Justice…
From Blue Sky Soaring Alchemy School, A School History
…
Afternoon, Marlin Coast, clear weather.
Thanks to the Hornwall Horn, the slaughter was so efficient that the flocking sirens were quickly driven off. One after another, they dove into the sea and vanished beneath the water.
Once the situation had stabilized, the two hundred men began busily unloading cargo from the longships and moving into the surviving buildings on Marlin Coast. Most of the houses had been damaged, but a few were still in decent condition.
For example, the former Old Port Tavern, being spacious enough, warm enough, with a cellar still well stocked and plenty of cured meat left behind, was chosen as the base camp for the giant expedition, as well as the place where Hjalmar and the other leaders would stay.
The warriors who could not squeeze in there scattered among the nearby houses.
Victor, meanwhile, took the rascal Vigi and claimed a separate house for themselves. And, acting on a certain instinctive caution, after unloading the supplies from the ship, he had the crew of the Thousand Sunny sail away, agreeing that they would return in a month to pick them up.
…
At night the sea wind was bitter, the snowflakes cutting at the face like knives. Out of the two hundred and two iron-blooded men, two hundred of them were spread across several longhouses, roasting food and drinking strong liquor to celebrate their successful landing.
Only the leader of the Phantom Troupe, Victor, and his companion Vigi did not let themselves relax. Shut away inside a small house, they were preparing to enchant weapons and sort alchemical materials.
Before the familiar hearth and the familiar cauldron, the boy held a piece of animal tissue in one hand, eyes closed as he listened to the Voice of Death, while the other hand stirred almost unconsciously with a rod.
The rascal, meanwhile, was doing the initial butchering of the "mermaids," cutting them into suitable pieces for the captain to inspect. Though the noise and merriment drifting in faintly through the window made him itch to go outside, the moment he remembered the captain's promise, that if they found something good, the Dawn Sword would be upgraded first, all his complaints vanished.
His eyes drifted to the wooden sign set off to the side, Victor's Alchemy Workshop, and Vigi suddenly grew curious. On the Path of Warriors, Victor had set out a sign whenever he practiced alchemy, and when staying in inns, he would replace it with a door plaque.
"Captain, why do you always put up the sign for your alchemy workshop?"
Without opening his eyes, the boy wrinkled his nose.
"Probably because of… superstition… and nostalgia."
"Superstition? Nostalgia?"
"The nostalgia is for the easy life back in Bell Town. My two grandmothers, my young aunt, and a lot of lovely girls, every one of them beautiful, every one of them sweet to listen to, I absolutely loved being there.
"As for the superstition… well, it's kind of a good-luck charm.
"Because in Bell Town, every generation of miraculous alchemists shared the same fate. The moment they opened an alchemy workshop under their own name, they would rocket down the road to mastery in no time and then beat down anyone who dared refuse to be impressed.
"I don't know whether it can really come true, but with the herbal satchel, carrying a sign around as a symbol that the shop is open doesn't take much effort."
The rascal listened with shining eyes. "That's incredible…"
The two of them chatted pleasantly and worked until deep into the night, when a knock on the door interrupted them. Vigi opened it and found, to his surprise, Hjalmar and Folan standing outside.
Hjalmar's appearance was expected, and Victor greeted him with a smiling nod. The other man, however, came as a surprise.
"Folan, what are you doing joining the campaign too? Shouldn't you be staying in Urialla Harbor with your wife?"
An old friend from the Fist of Fury, Folan, the marksman of Clan Tuirseach, came inside with a grin and gave the boy a hug. "I came to Kaer Trolde for the funeral. After the wake feast, I joined up when I went to the New Port Tavern."
"I didn't expect you to get all fired up too."
"Oh, absolutely. You should have seen Hjalmar that day, he was magnificent. The moment he charged in, he swept everything off the table, jumped up on top of it, and shouted, 'I'm setting out in search of glory, who's coming with me? Who wants to cut off that cursed giant's head!?'"
"From the way you tell it, I'd say he had a whole ship's worth of men by the time he finished shouting."
"That's exactly what happened," Vigi cut in from the side. "The sailors carried him all the way out the door on their shoulders, yelling, 'We'll take back the forge and string the giant up with its own guts!' Captain, you left too early, it's a real shame you didn't see it. I was so moved I nearly cried."
The eldest son of Clan an Craite stood there looking perfectly calm, as if they were not talking about him at all. Pushing the marksman aside, Hjalmar strode forward and embraced Victor.
"My brother, I'm glad to see you. Forgive me, I've been far too busy these past few days to sit down and talk with you properly."
"It's all right, I understand. Managing a temporary force of two hundred men isn't exactly easy."
After that, the group sat around the fire to warm themselves.
Sitting cross-legged, Folan accepted the mead Vigi handed him. "Dovahkiin, why was your joining kept so quiet? I didn't even know you were taking part until I opened the door and saw you here. If people had known the Dragonborn was with us, this force would have swelled even larger."
"This is Hjalmar's operation. I'm just a participant acting out of personal interest. The main role and the supporting role shouldn't get mixed up. In fact, I was the one who asked him not to reveal it."
"That explains it. Quite a few people asked during the voyage where that strange-looking ship behind us had come from, and Hjalmar just said it belonged to friends of his who wanted to come take a look at the giant."
Putting on a pair of plain, clear-lensed spectacles, Victor looked at Hjalmar.
"But aside from keeping the main thing the main thing, there's another reason I didn't want my identity revealed."
The eldest son of Clan an Craite lifted his mug of mead and signaled for Victor not to hold back.
"I'm actually a prophet with a very strong sense for danger."
Folan froze on the spot. Hjalmar nearly choked on a mouthful of mead.
Only the rascal remained unsurprised. Having been trained by the troupe's big sister, he already knew the captain sometimes said things that came completely out of left field.
"Cough, cough. Vic, are you joking?"
"I'm not joking. I sense a powerful danger hanging over this giant-hunting expedition, an omen that it could be completely wiped out. But I don't know what all the sources of danger are, so I wanted to discuss it with you."
The men looked at one another. Even for Vigi, this was the first time he had heard such a thing, but he immediately understood why the captain had sent the Thousand Sunny away that afternoon, because he had already concluded something was going to happen.
Victor was unwilling to let events unfold on their own. In the real world, there were no retries. Accidents could not be allowed. Hjalmar absolutely could not fall on Undvik. It was not just a matter of Clan an Craite's prestige, the boy had already accepted the advance payment for protecting him, sweet orange flavored.
Setting down his mug, the commander of the giant expedition crossed his arms and fell silent with his eyes shut.
The mood stiffened at once.
After quite some time, Folan spoke thoughtfully. "If we're talking about suspicious things, then yes, there are some. The Maki brothers from An Skellig make their living raiding. Egnar from Faroe is a thief. And then there's Wolfgang from Spikeroog, damn bastards, every last one of them. All of them suddenly showed up with their men, all righteous fury and eager to join the expedition. I thought that was strange from the start."
The marksman was one of Clan Tuirseach's best and knew the notable people of the islands well, so he quickly named quite a few participants he found suspicious.
And after hearing all that, Victor felt confident saying that if they simply cut every one of those men loose, the expedition could practically declare victory right then and there, or at least it would not fail.
…The problem was that Hjalmar could never do such a thing.
He opened his eyes, still with his arms crossed. "My brother, I can guess what you're thinking. But I cannot drive them off just because they seem suspicious, nor can I strike first and remove them. They followed me because they believed in me. If the expedition fails because of that, then it is my fate, and theirs."
"I understand why you say that, but promise me you'll stay alert, all right?"
"I will, my brother. If anyone else had given me this warning, I'd have beaten him so badly his own father wouldn't know him. But because it's you, I'll take it to heart."
It was obvious Hjalmar was in a foul mood, yet he still embraced Victor once more before turning and leaving.
Folan shook his head. "Gods above, he didn't even lose his temper at you. I've known him twenty years, and he's only ever shown that kind of patience to his sister. Don't tell me you're going to become his brother-in-law."
He tossed out the joke casually, then quickly followed Hjalmar into the darkness.
Until now, Vigi had thought this was just a simple campaign to kill a giant and save their homeland, but after hearing Victor put it like that, even the rascal could feel the storm building.
"Captain, what do we do tomorrow?"
"Keep our distance and follow along. Everything else depends on how things change."
…
The next morning, the expedition's method of proceeding opened Victor's eyes.
He had assumed they would need to leave men behind to guard the ships and prevent the sirens from returning. Judging by the intensity of the attack yesterday, at least forty men should have stayed near the buildings to hold a defensive line.
Instead, the force simply hoisted the longships onto their shoulders and advanced inland, two hundred men with five ships, proud and full of energy.
According to the map, heading south from Marlin Coast and following the mountain path across the bridge would take them to Dorve, once the most prosperous town on Undvik.
As they marched, the mountain road was wide enough in the broadest places for ten men to walk abreast, but at its narrowest only four could pass. Evergreen trees, pines and firs among them, lined both sides, and the snow was deep enough that every step sank down to the ankle.
In such conditions, the army's pace could not possibly be fast.
Though Hjalmar refused to admit it, to Folan it already seemed as if the boy's ominous warning was gradually coming true.
The first disaster came during the climb, when one of the ships lost balance and tumbled into a river gorge, dragging sixteen men down with it to their deaths.
Then they found the steel cable bridge leading toward Dorve completely destroyed, forcing the force to turn west along a smaller path. But the wooden bridge on that route, though it looked passable, brought an even greater disaster. The bridge suddenly collapsed, sending another ship crashing down and killing twenty-seven warriors, while splitting the expedition cleanly in two.
Hjalmar and Folan ended up in the front half, still commanding one hundred and thirty men and three ships.
The rear half was left with twenty-seven men, and two tourists who had failed to cross in time.
From the broken bridge, Victor gazed across the chasm. He had once changed Angoulême's fate, so he did not believe in fate itself. And yet, however he looked at it, why did every person over there seem to have death written all over them…?
Flying was out of the question. Even the bat suit's gliding cape was useless in falling snow and unfavorable wind.
Then Hjalmar's voice carried across from the far side.
"Brothers on the other side, we'll keep moving forward and make camp ahead. You head north, circle around the northern coast, then come south. You'll probably be about two days behind us. We'll slow our pace. Furthest south, we'll meet again at Uskall."
At the mention of the place, Vigi rolled his eyes. "Ugh. Of all places, Uskall."
"What, you don't like it there?" Victor asked casually.
"The villagers of Uskall are famous for loving pickled herring. They eat it for breakfast, supper, and midnight snacks, and they even make jam and candied fruit out of pickled herring. Believe me, once you've tasted it, you'll never forget it. Just thinking about the flavor makes my stomach hurt."
Pickled herring…
That notorious northern delicacy. Victor had heard of it long ago, herring salted and fermented in sealed containers, supposedly capable of producing an overwhelming near-death experience for everyone nearby the instant the jar was opened.
Victor immediately decided that as soon as he got his hands on some, he would see whether it could be used as a raw ingredient for Devil's Puffball.
The twenty-seven men left by the broken bridge soon chose a spokesman and came over to the Phantom Troupe.
"Gentlemen, I'm Wolfgang from Spikeroog. I'm in charge here now. Will you be moving with us?"
Victor blinked. With a single glance he could tell this man was no good. Not just because Folan had named him the night before, but because from behind, Victor had seen clearly that he and his men had deliberately dawdled before the bridge collapse, hanging back and letting the others cross first.
Of the twenty-seven men left here now, even by a cautious estimate, at least twenty were under Wolfgang's command.
"No need. My companion and I will keep well back and follow at a distance. We're just tourists passing through."
At the refusal, Wolfgang gave a cold laugh. "Fine."
Then he turned, gathered the other twenty-six men, and led them onward.
As they made for the northern coast, even Vigi could feel the danger gathering around them.
"Captain, Wolfgang might make his move tonight. Some of the men there clearly aren't his people. Can we save the innocents?"
"Before they act, there's nothing we can do. Jumping out now and accusing them would be nonsense. In fact, if we exposed them right now, even the innocent ones would probably draw steel on us.
"The only thing you can do is avenge the dead. Wolfgang's men will definitely kill the innocents near them first, and by the time they come for us afterward, at least the good men will already be dead, so we won't kill the wrong people."
The rascal clenched his fists. "What the hell are these bastards thinking? Don't they have any sense of honor at all?"
Victor brushed the snow from his shoulder and answered softly, "Don't waste time asking why they're doing it. You don't need to be angry, and you don't need to sympathize either. Maybe they have all kinds of complicated reasons, money, love, perhaps even some higher purpose. Who knows?
"But whatever their reasons are… if they intend to kill us, then being killed by you is simply something they'll have to accept.
"I'm going to need your help again today."
"Always at your service!"
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