Chapter 214: Seaport Concept

It had taken Ryder, Tom, and the others a full ten days to return from that eerie valley, a delay owed entirely to Ryder’s grievous wounds, which brooked no hurried travel.

Now, as they departed once more from Blacksoil Town toward that same ravine, the journey promised to be far swifter.

For one, their spirits were high and their strength renewed;

for another, the magical beasts and wild creatures along the path had already been thoroughly culled, allowing the company to bend their full focus to the march.

In a mere four days and a half, they found themselves drawing nigh to the uncanny valley once more.

"My Lord, just ahead lies the grounds where that nocturnal battle was waged,"

Ryder said, gesturing toward the woodland stretching before them.

The company cast their eyes ahead, beholding a stretch of forest the size of half a football pitch reduced to utter ruin.

Lofty trees had been snapped clean through the middle, their trunks, branches, and leaves crashing down to litter the earth in wild disarray.

The low shrubs and undergrowth looked as though a tempest had ravaged them, bowing askew or torn up by the very roots.

The ground itself was cratered with fresh hollows, clearly the violent scars left by powerful combat techniques.

This battlefield alone bore silent, stark testimony to the sheer ferocity of the clash between Ryder and those monsters that night.

Those who had hitherto remained ignorant of Ryder’s true prowess—such as Clamy and Grado—now gained a vivid understanding of the Northern Crow Commander’s might.

At the same time, a more immediate apprehension of the peril awaiting them in this venture gripped their minds.

Nor were they alone; Romon felt it too.

Fortunately, during their march, he had already distributed the seven hundred odd points of energy essence he had amassed.

His first necessity was a champion capable of holding the line alone; yet according to Ryder, it would take the man nearly a year of natural cultivation to match a common Gold-tier warrior.

To prepare against the threat of a Gold-tier adversary, Romon had not only armed himself with sixth-tier spell scrolls but had also bestowed all five hundred points of energy essence upon Ryder, advancing his cultivation progress to 583/1500.

The remaining two hundred and fifty-three points he invested entirely into Elrond.

In the coming conflict, Elrond would naturally occupy a supporting role, tasked only with weaving spells of purification and healing upon the wounded, or invoking light-binding arts and auras of lethargy should the tide of battle turn grim.

The vanguard of the assault would be left to Ryder, McCain, and the others.

"We shall rest hereabouts, everyone. Once we have dined and restored our strength, we shall move closer this afternoon to observe the terrain."

Romon was in no haste to strike; he preferred to draw near under stealth to discern if any valuable intelligence could be gleaned.

"Elrond, mind that you keep your mana at the ready."

"Rest easy, My Lord. My mana has been refined to its peak; I am prepared to fight at a moment's notice."

Along their path, even when sporadic magical beasts appeared, they had been dealt with by the knights. Aside from the physical toll of the march, Elrond had suffered no loss to his magical reserves.

The company began to rest where they stood.

In the days prior, they could well afford to roast the meat of the beasts they slew, but now, nearing their quarry, they forewent fire lest their smoke betray them, contenting themselves with the dry rations from their packs.

Romon drew forth clean water and fresh fruit from his spatial ring to distribute among them.

He harbored no fear of exposure; should anyone question how he conjured these provisions from thin air, he would simply deem it a magical curiosity.

Yet, though the men marveled silently, none presumed to question him.

"These are scrolls of healing."

"Though you four novice knights cannot cast them, you shall each have your share; look upon it as a reward for your service in this endeavor."

Romon produced twelve spell scrolls and handed them to Tom to distribute among the ranks.

At the same time, he brought forth crafted scrolls of Wind Tentacles, Purification, Sacred Shield, Pyroblast, and Haste, delivering them into the hands of the others.

Naturally, given the great worth of these scrolls, he did not intend them as outright gifts; any that remained unused when the battle was done would be returned to him.

Spell scrolls were akin to munitions of war, and with Romon drawing forth so vast a store at once, they were to fight this battle in absolute affluence.

To speak of nothing else, a single Pyroblast scroll commanded a price of seventy or eighty gold pieces in the markets; Romon had produced five in one breath, to say nothing of the higher-tier magics.

In the eyes of his vassals, their lord was the very portrait of a wealthy magnate.

And deeper still grew their conviction in the righteousness of following such a master.

Joffrey especially could not help but reflect that when he served Rayson, he was fortunate merely to escape suspicion, let alone receive precious scrolls on the eve of battle.

Romon, however, sought no display of opulence; he acted purely out of caution, unwilling to see any of these chosen men come to harm.

Sated, refreshed, and rested, the company set forth once more.

The closer they drew to the valley, the fainter their voices became, until at last nothing remained but the soft whisper of footfalls.

Before long, they scaled the peaks that guarded the rear of the sinister valley.

When Ryder and his companions had first come to this place, the night had cloaked the world; they had seen only a silver-white line in the distance, guessing it to be the sea by its heavy murmurs.

But now, under the clarity of day, the distant vista lay bare before them, revealing the true and boundless ocean.

"How magnificent!"

Jenny’s eyes shone with wonder. She had read of the sea only within the pages of the few books she possessed, but never had she beheld it with her own eyes.

Even from this distant vantage, she could feel the rolling grandeur described in those texts.

Save for Clamy, who had journeyed to Cape City and looked upon the waters before, the others shared in varying degrees the selfsame awe that gripped Jenny.

Romon, having seen the great oceans in another life, felt little amazement.

Instead, another thought stirred within his mind—a seaport.

The Northern Crow territory was bounded by the sea to the east and north; might there be a haven suitable for the building of a harbor?

Though no land seemed to lie eastward across this vast expanse, one could sail south along the eastern coast of the Northern Crow to reach the Duchy of Vera;

sailing north and turning west would bring a ship to the northern reaches of the Screaming Sea,

Within several hundred meters around, there was no trace of anyone but themselves.

“Are they all hidden in the caves?”

Luo Ning furrowed his brow, gazing at the caves beneath the slope across the incline—bursting in directly would be too abrupt, too reckless.

“Macken, Jeffrey, take Tom and the other three and watch from behind. The rest of you, spread out,”

Luo Ning whispered his order: “Hide your forms, and observe for a while first.” (End of chapter)