Chapter 113: Vacation?
We found the carriage several miles down the road, where the coachmen awaited our return with palpable anxiety. They wouldn’t have waited another hour for us, judging by their tense expressions. The journey back was cloaked in an oppressive silence, leaving everyone on edge, save for Fyren, who appeared to be in a good mood.
The searing image of the radiant pillar of light still blazed in my memories. The bandits’ bodies consumed by flames, turned to ash while their anguished screams echoed in my mind. Their cries haunted me, but I knew that Soltair bore the brunt of the burden. He sat there, staring at the floor, unresponsive even as Trithe gently laced her fingers through his.
Perhaps Fyren was right. This was indeed a war, and it seemed the bandits had chosen the wrong side. The Pope seemed to concur, even ordering us to eliminate any towns or cities that got in our way. It was a hard choice to make, one that might not even have a right answer.
In an effort to forget the blood on our hands, I immersed myself in the memories of the Demon, instead. His spells had been a level above the Fire Demons in the Gate, utilizing tricks that enlightened my understanding of Soul casting at higher circles. The knowledge was there, hidden in the battles, and I relished the challenge of teasing it out. By the time we arrived in High Valley, I felt confident Soul Casting fourth-circle spells as naturally as I could any other.
The carriage jolted to a stop before Lord Byron’s manner, and the guards opened the door to let us out. The Lord himself awaited our arrival, surrounded by a harem of scantily clad, lifeless-looking slaves. He lounged on an opulent throne, toying with their slender golden chains. Occasionally, he would pull one closer to kiss or nibble on their flesh, sometimes hard enough to draw blood.
"So you’ve returned. Good news, I hope?" he asked as we approached.
"The best. We closed the gate and cleaned up a sizeable party of bandits on our way back."
The Lord’s eyes widened slightly, his tone taking on a hint of awe. "Bandits you say? I’m glad you managed to settle our problems. Will you be moving on then? Pity, I had hoped to have time to show you some of the finer points of owning slaves. I see you’ve decided to reveal her beauty to the world?"
He managed to ruin the childish pout with a lustful leer in my direction. I shivered, feeling his gaze crawl over my exposed skin. The Sunpurge hadn’t relaxed enough to allow a cloak, leaving me clothed in the revealing dresses dictated by the wound. I hardly felt more covered than the slaves at his side. Fyren frowned, his hand inching toward his sword, but Soltair gave him a subtle shake of his head.