Chapter 278: Shadows over the Ash Valley
While Lennis, Garik, and the rest of the crew marveled at the metallic veins with devout admiration, calculating how to transport the fallen fragments, Karkadann’s deep voice echoed softly within Kellar’s mind, making itself heard among the present officers as well:
"Did you desire those stones, Master? Within my former nest, there are whole tons accumulated... They are comfortable, and I use them as my bed."
A silence seized the southern canyon. Lennis froze in his tracks with his bronze megaphone halfway to his mouth, Garik dropped his blueprints onto the dirt, and Brak blinked several times in shock, staring at the colossus with wide eyes.
The Rare-Rank mineral, capable of forging the most impenetrable defenses across the continent and turning the tide of whole wars, was nothing more than the ancient turtle’s mattress for afternoon naps.
Kellar could not help but let out an amused laugh that reverberated across the spiritual link:
"Incredible... As soon as we finish leveling your shell, we shall dispatch a caravan to your nest to relocate your mattress."
Back in the village, Grok, the captain of Kellar’s personal guard, stepped forward as he adjusted the broadaxe across his back, catching the smirk upon his leader’s face.
"You appear pleased, Great Shaman," remarked Grok in a deep tone.
"You have no idea how much, Grok," replied Kellar, letting out a chuckle. "We discovered a vein of Earth-Stone. It turns out Karkadann was living atop a deposit of them; he used them as his bed. With this, we command three types of high-rank elemental stones: Fire-Earth, Wind, and Earth."
"Everything is progressing smoothly, my Lord," nodded Grok with pride. "Everything transpires as you envisioned. By the way... the envoys from the Aethelgard Kingdom and Valoria have been insisting on seeing you throughout these past days. Do you intend to meet with them today?"
Kellar adjusted his tunic, offering a smile.
"Naturally I will. But remember what we planned: the key is to buy time. We must keep them in suspense while we bolster our borders and finish our weaponry. How many days has it been since their capture?"
"It has been nearly ten days now, Great Shaman," answered Grok. "They have been pacing in their quarters, half-dead from terror."
"Well then, let us go... Wait!" Kellar froze mid-sentence, bringing a hand to his temple.
A warning alarm thundered within the depths of his consciousness. It was Fenrir, his elemental wolf, reaching out across the shamanic link in desperation. Without wasting a second, Kellar activated [Eyes of the Tribe Lord], projecting his sight into his familiar’s vision.
Through Fenrir’s eyes, the sight made Kellar’s blood run cold: a military contingent, marching in formation with golden banners fluttering high in the wind, was advancing toward tribal territory. The army of the Golden Rose Kingdom had bypassed the mountain fortress and was pressing deep into the Ash Valley.
"Damn it!" cursed Kellar under his breath, clenching his fists in anger.
He had dispatched over half of his finest troops and artisans to the northern ranges to expedite Karkadann’s shell overhaul, and all fifteen Garnis cannons were up there as well. Assuming the captive nobles posed no threat, he had been careless, leaving the village with thinned defenses.
Grok caught the shift in his lord’s demeanor and drew his weapon, going on high alert.
"Great Shaman! What is happening?!"
"It is the Golden Rose Kingdom..." declared Kellar, his eyes blazing with fury and resolve. "They are already here!"
Grok drew his battleaxe and bellowed toward the barracks with all his might:
"To arms! Prepare for battle! The enemies are—!"
"Wait, wait!" cut him off Kellar, raising a hand with a frown as his gaze remained fixed on the void, channeled into his familiar’s vision. "There is something off about this..."
Thousands of meters away, Fenrir moved in silence through the crags of the Ash Valley, gliding like a shadow between the rocks to close the distance. Across the mystical link, Kellar focused the wolf’s perspective to examine the contingent’s formation.
At the head of the caravan rode Prince Caelen upon his royal steed. Beside him rode Deputy General Valerius, clad in plate armor and looking restored, as though their previous defeat had never transpired. Yet what baffled Kellar was what followed behind them: it was neither a vanguard of heavy infantry nor a regiment of archers, but rather an extensive convoy of heavily laden supply wagons.
The people driving the oxen and horses wore the simple garments of servants and artisans; there were no armed troops escorting them, nor did they wear the silver plate armors they had brought during their initial invasion attempt.
Kellar channeled his voice across the mental network to his elemental familiar:
"Fenrir, approach them visibly, but remain prepared to fall back at the slightest hint of hostility."
The shadow wolf emerged without a sound from between the roadside boulders, materializing like a specter before the caravan’s vanguard.
Upon spotting the beast, Deputy General Valerius raised his arm, signaling a halt to the convoy. Though unsure whether the creature possessed the intellect to grasp human gestures, Valerius released his mount’s reins and extended both open hands forward, displaying his disarmed palms to make it clear he posed no threat.
Deputy General Valerius stepped forward with his eyes locked onto the beast’s gaze, cutting through the valley’s stillness with a firm shout that echoed across the crags:
"Prince Caelen of the Golden Rose Kingdom formally requests an audience with His Excellency, the Great Shaman of the Overlord tribe, Kellar! We arrive disarmed and without combat armies to demonstrate our sincerity!"
Fenrir did not shift his gaze away from them for a second, keeping his fangs exposed while the surrounding shadows vibrated with hostility. Yet Kellar’s voice echoed inside the elemental wolf’s mind across the shamanic link:
"Let out a roar and walk alongside them, Fenrir. Do not attack them. Signal to them clearly that they may follow you."
The shadow wolf released a roar that set the roadside dust trembling and, with a nod of his head, gestured forward along the trail, turning to position himself beside the caravan.
Witnessing the creature’s intellect and realizing the wolf comprehended his words, General Valerius released a breath of relief and offered a bow.
"I offer my gratitude for the permission to proceed," declared the general, ordering the convoy of wagons to resume their march under the shadow wolf’s escort.