Chapter 114: Reinforcements Arrive
He held his ground instead of retreating, sweat streaming down his body, white mist rising off his skin in the Ice Claw's chill, spiritual light flickering around him like an aura of raw defiance.
The creature's left claw came in a moment later. Neither man gave the other any quarter. There was a crack, and screams broke out from both sides at once — mutual injury. The Ice Claw's chest caved in under Witescroft's blow, while his right arm nearly came off at the shoulder, three deep gashes torn open, half a cubit long and cutting clean to the bone. The flail slipped from his grip and flew from his hand.
His scream had barely started when a spray of ice-blue blood burst from the creature's mouth, torn loose by the impact along with the crack of shattering ice-armor — and by pure chance, it landed straight in Witescroft's open mouth mid-scream. The sound cut off instantly. Starting from his head, in less than two breaths, he turned into a solid statue of ice.
Malmer heard Witescroft's scream cut short and felt a flash of satisfaction — one less rival for the top spot — before the thought caught up with him: there was no point fighting over leadership now, not with things standing as they were.
He roared and reached over his shoulder, drawing the hand-axe strapped to his back and hurling it at the Ice Claw creature. The creature had just shattered Witescroft's frozen form with a swipe of its claw when the axe arrived, sword-force flaring white along its edge. There was a wet crack, and the creature's head came clean off, gone before it could even scream, its body collapsing into a churning fog too thick to see through.
With the Ice Claw dead and dissolved into mist, Jessica gave a rueful laugh. Evan watched the scene and said, "Don't be discouraged, Professor Jessica. You did well. The battle's decided now. It's a shame we're too few to press the advantage, but they've made enemies of plenty here over the years — we won't need to lift a finger. The real problem now is what to do with the bodies."
"That's not much of a problem, actually," Raight said. Outside, the fighting still raged, but they could already tell the enemy was breaking. "Pay someone, and it gets handled. You don't even have to pay much."
"Why is that?" Evan asked, genuinely curious.
"Raight's right. A hundred-odd bodies, and a handful of silver coins gets it done. Most of them carry a little money on them besides. We mages don't care about coin like that, but plenty of others do — walk into any tavern in town and you'll find a crew willing to take the job," Lidis said. It struck Evan then — he'd never given money much thought at all, and it had never once occurred to him.
"Have Raight take Jaymes and Peter to find some men once things settle. We're few, but after this fight, I doubt anyone dares cross us again for a while. Get through the next few days, and things should improve. May the gods watch over us," Evan said, arranging things as he spoke.
They settled matters inside as the sounds of battle outside finally died away. Fewer than twenty of the attackers had made it out alive. Wilbur hadn't expected a defeat this total, though thinking it through, it made sense enough — six mages, one of them a necromancer of Arcanist rank, against a mob of adventurers with none of an army's discipline. Once outside, he glanced back to see the corpses rising to their feet one by one, and was grateful they hadn't given chase. Whatever fire had driven them here had already burned out completely. They'd come believing sheer numbers would carry the day, egged on by their leaders with promises of easy fortune — everyone knew mages were wealthy, and the ones they'd occasionally glimpsed hadn't seemed like much, throwing around little more than wind blades and fireballs. With their own numbers, plus a couple of low-tier mages of their own, greed had gotten the better of them. Only Wilbur had understood the risk clearly, though even he hadn't expected a defeat this crushing.
Wilbur knew Burk Town was no longer somewhere he could stay. His face had gone pale as stone, and he found himself wondering whether Rose had played them all along. She'd never once shown herself through any of this — a woman as lovely as a flower, and just as venomous underneath.
Malmer's face had gone equally pale, though a small measure of grim satisfaction lingered underneath it. Witescroft, his rival, was dead now. The Gael Advance Corps had suffered the same losses as his own gang, and he had no doubt he could rebuild once he got back — recruit new blood, restore his standing.
He led fewer than ten survivors back to the Burk Protectors' headquarters at speed, confident his own standing within the gang would be enough to hold things together. Far too optimistic. Before the afternoon was out, three smaller gangs had wiped them out entirely. Malmer fought hard, cutting down two skilled opponents before the end, but he died there all the same.
Wilbur never returned to the Gael Advance Corps' headquarters at all — he left Burk Town outright. A few smaller gangs had hoped to ambush him there, only to find the place empty. Both major gangs had fallen.
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Burk Town settled into an uneasy stillness after that. Every faction went quiet on the surface, though what storm might be brewing underneath, no one could say for certain.
The bodies outside Hollingburton's outpost had already been cleared away by the time officials might have thought to intervene — none ever did. Evan and the others laid down another round of protective arrays, restoring the defenses roughly to what they'd been under James, though without taking on any new servants. The building stood empty inside now, holding only the six of them.
The next morning, Hollingburton's reinforcements arrived — fifty strong, led by the legendary mage Heathermere. The moment they entered, the whole of Burk Town fell into a state of quiet unease.
Evan and the others let out a long breath of relief. A force like this would have shaken any town, anywhere. His letter to Ortlando had clearly landed with real weight.
Of the fifty, besides Heathermere herself, there were three Arcanists — Professor Marshall, Professor Uplan, and Professor Maidpard — along with Shirley and others, ten teachers in total, the rest all senior students.
Evan and the others showed Heathermere into the sitting room. Jaymes and Peter brought out coffee. "As I recall, this outpost was under James's charge," Heathermere said. "Where is he?"
Evan gave a rueful look. "Honored Heathermere, James is dead. Not just him — all his servants as well. May the Creator take in their souls."
"How did they die, Professor Wang?" Heathermere's eyes fixed on him.
"He died without honor. I don't know why he was ever placed in this post. Resentment killed him," Evan said, unbothered by her scrutiny, and laid out everything James had done in full detail.
"From what you've told me, resentment did kill him, sure enough. This posting was meant to see him through to retirement. You did the right thing," Heathermere said, showing no doubt at all — her own report had already flagged James as suspicious, and with five witnesses to corroborate the account, she saw no reason to press the matter further.
"Honored Heathermere, now that you're here, I can finally set this burden down. I'll follow whatever instructions you give," Evan said, seizing the opening to raise the matter of handing off responsibility.
"No rush on that, Wang. Do you understand what your actions have cost Hollingburton here? Do you know why Burk Town is the way it is?" Heathermere asked with a faint smile.
Evan shook his head. He understood well enough in his own mind, but he played ignorant, and Jessica and the others leaned in with open curiosity.
"It goes back to the Gael Mountains region. When Emperor Kaiwang marched west into Norse territory, the campaign was a triumph in many ways — it secured our faith here, may the Creator watch over you — but it never finished the job. The Druids were never wiped out. In the end, the Emperor withdrew with what dignity he could manage, and Norse became a land where many powers coexisted. The dark forces in particular — the dark night elves, traitors from the elven forests, the Dracula counts of the Thirteen Clans, and the Druids themselves. Those are the true powers that decide Burk Town's fate. They are its real rulers. These gangs on the surface are nothing but pieces too small to matter," Heathermere said.
"So where does Hollingburton stand in all this? It seems we're the only ones with an outpost here," Evan asked — a question that had genuinely puzzled him.
"Who told you Hollingburton's the only one with an outpost? The Druids' outpost was that very gamekeeper's cabin where all this started — the gamekeeper himself was their liaison. Do you think the Gael Mountains stay peaceful on their own? If four powers didn't hold the line here, Burk Town and all of Norse would already be overrun with creatures from other planes. Emperor Kaiwang left us quite the mess to clean up," Heathermere said.
"That can't be the whole reason. If Hollingburton and the Druids being here makes sense — they're both human, after all — the other two aren't human at all. It's harder to see why they'd bother guarding this place too," Evan said, and regretted it the moment the words left his mouth. He'd said too much, revealing more insight than he should have. Nothing came free of self-interest — why would anyone bother otherwise?
Heathermere gave him a surprised glance. "You're not wrong. Creatures from other planes are a rare source of magical materials, many found nowhere else in this world. It's a miracle of the divine, in its way, offering people a glimpse of the path the gods walk — a kind of blasphemy against the Creator, certainly, but mages have always been seekers of truth first. On that principle, mages have more in common with heretics than either side would care to admit. That's exactly why these factions joined forces to seal off the whole Gael Mountains region."
There was no reverence at all in Heathermere's tone toward the Creationist Church. Evan felt a flush of self-consciousness — he'd kept the Creator's name on his lips constantly since arriving in this world, not out of any real faith, but as cover, until the habit had simply worn a groove into his speech over time. A lich invoking the Creator at every turn — Evan was likely the first of his kind to manage that particular irony.
"So where do the dark elves and the vampires keep their outpost?" Evan asked.
"They don't have one. They have a liaison, or an agent of some kind — who exactly, I couldn't tell you," Heathermere said.
"Something shady in that, no doubt," Evan said, and Feimaji flashed through his mind at once. Could she be the vampires' agent here? It didn't quite fit — but then, who else would it be?
"What are you thinking?" Heathermere asked.
"Nothing in particular. I've only been in town a few days — haven't had the chance to really look around yet. I was wondering if it might be the two big gangs, though they're both gone now," Evan said.
"Those two gangs dared to lay hands on Hollingburton's people. If you hadn't already destroyed them, I would have done it myself. And this Order Keepers group too — I'll be putting an end to them personally!" Heathermere said, her voice cold and utterly without warmth, and rose to her feet, ready to go.