Chapter 70: Grave Threat At Ivory Hills
Unfortunately, there was no way for Vi, even with the powers of a full-fledged Acranist Master, to teleport over three thousand people along with a vast quantity of supplies across a distance that normally took seven days on foot. The cost in energy would’ve drained her soul dry. So, the only option was to march, steadily and without pause, until, at last, the outer walls of Redwood Town loomed in the distance, seven days later.
During those long days of travel, Kaelor kept a close eye on the slaves. But despite his efforts, he felt no progress. It was as if their massive numbers only deepened the shroud of despair around them. The sheer weight of their shared gloom made it nearly impossible to draw even the smallest spark of life or hope from their eyes.
They were not just silent, they were absent, distant from the world and from him. Still, there was a flicker of recognition when it came to food. They noticed the change in what they were given. But whatever comfort that brought was often dashed by the looming, awe-striking presence of Titan, who, despite not harming them, managed to frighten the slaves simply by being near.
And then they saw it.
Gasps escaped from cracked lips. Eyes, once dulled with suffering, widened as they took in the sight of the massive structure ahead. A wall. Not just any wall, but an imposing, incredibly sturdy-looking bulwark in a land they had believed abandoned by all that was civilized.
Osric the architect, a man well past his prime, with streaks of grey lining his beard and the soft sag of age tugging at his cheeks, momentarily forgot the weight of his chains. His breath caught in his throat as he beheld the wall. It was unlike anything he expected.
He had seen stone fortresses, cold, grey things bolstered with mortar and sweat. But this wall was made completely of wood. Not a single slab of stone supported it. Towering, polished, reinforced timber beams were fitted with such precision and grandeur that it made the slaves feel as if they had stepped into another age. The design spoke of mastery, of a builder with vision.
The skies were dark, a thick indigo curtain overhead, long past sunset. But the wall was far from shrouded in shadow. Dozens of braziers lit the ramparts, casting dancing flames across the woodwork. Two massive torches, bound to ropes on either side of the towering gate, burned brightly, illuminating the entire entrance.
"It’s His Lordship!" a voice called out from atop the wall.
The massive wooden gate groaned and creaked as it was pulled inward by a team of unseen hands. And then they emerged.