Chapter 547
Wagons lined the roadside like a folding screen as bonfires blazed throughout the encampment. The low-lying fog couldn't stop the oil-soaked firewood from catching flame.
"Don't spare the meat! You have to eat well, especially on a day when you've seen blood."
"Bring more drinks! Surely you're not going to act like misers after a near-death experience, are you?"
Porters diligently carried boxes filled with food, wine, and other supplies. The guards sitting around the bonfires chattered loudly as they tended to their wounds and cleaned their weapons. More than a few fell asleep as if knocked out the moment they sat down.
"Eat your fill."
"We'll be resting here until sunrise, so don't you worry."
The merchants moved among them, constantly offering words of encouragement and directing the situation, all the while not forgetting to occasionally glance toward the carriage at the rear with peculiar expressions.
"H-He's coming!" one of the porters on watch shouted not long after.
That single phrase was enough to silence the bustling area in an instant. Everyone stopped what they were doing and turned their heads in the same direction as if on cue.
Clip-clop, clip-clop—
The sound of hoofbeats was approaching from beyond the shadows cast by the bonfires. Through the fog, which was gradually thinning, the figure of a black warhorse clad in armor and the rider upon it became clear. He wore a deep hood and carried a greatsword with a sharp, fang-like point slung low.
Even as the firelight spread, only the lower half of the rider's face, below his nose, was visible beneath the hood. Not many noticed the gray, branch-like object he carried in front of his saddle.