Chapter Fourteen: The Forest Sanctuary

Not long after entering the icy forest, Carlos saw their destination in a clearing surrounded by trees. The Forest Sanctuary was a small fortress, encircled by a ring of sharpened logs forming a rudimentary defensive barrier.

He knocked on the thick wooden gate.

The group stepped inside the fortress.

Within the grounds, they saw many large and small canopies, their roofs woven from pine needles—enough to keep out the rain, but offering little shelter from the biting cold.

Under several of the larger canopies, fires burned bright. Around each fire sat three separate groups, clad in clothing and gear that marked them as traveling merchants. Each group numbered about forty people. Though they were traders, all had hired warrior escorts, equipped with decent armor, mostly chainmail.

In the smaller canopies, a few solitary travelers and swordsmen huddled together.

Originally, these people had been warming themselves by the fires, but upon seeing Carlos’s well-armed band of nearly a hundred enter the compound, they raised their heads and regarded the newcomers with curiosity.

Carlos stepped down from his carriage.

A man who appeared to be the sanctuary’s steward emerged from the innermost cabin, his face adorned with a humble, welcoming smile.

He came forward. “Honored noble, please come inside.”

Carlos nodded, leading a few companions with the steward into the cabin. The apprentice knights, accustomed to the cold thanks to the dwarf Maclin’s guidance, found an empty canopy, tethered their carriages and warhorses together, and prepared to spend the night as the others did—outdoors, beneath the pine-needle roofs.

Carlos, wrapped in a thick wolf-fur cloak, entered the cabin.

Compared to the bitter cold outside, the inside was warm and inviting.

The cabin, or rather the inn, featured a modest tavern in its main hall. A handful of merchant-like patrons sat on high stools at the bar, drinking quietly. At a long table, a group of burly men were boisterously shouting, evidently in the midst of lively drinking.

Crossing the tavern, they passed through a side door into a small courtyard, where several private rooms stood apart.

Carlos and the blue-robed mage each chose a private room. Grant, Anderson, and the mage’s companion had to squeeze together in another.

After settling their luggage, they all returned, almost instinctively, to the tavern hall.

The tavern had grown silent. The previously flushed, quarrelling drinkers now sat quietly, their attire marking them as mercenaries. These mercenaries seemed only now to notice Carlos and his group, and eyed them carefully.

The blue-robed mage drew the most attention, followed by Carlos, whose fine garments and bearing set him apart.

Carlos’s noble attire and the prominent mage insignia on the blue-robed man’s clothes made it clear that these newcomers were not ordinary travelers.

After a brief silence, the room resumed its lively chatter.

Carlos ordered drinks and instructed the barkeep to send some to the apprentice knights outside. As the barkeep led them to a table near the mercenaries, a burly man at the adjacent table called out, “Hey, newcomers. Are you just passing through? Planning to cross the icy forest to the Yadala province?”

All eyes turned to the corner, where several mercenaries—clearly warriors—sat around a table, each with axes of varying sizes by their side; some even had two.

Unlike most axe-wielding warriors, several among them wore no heavy armor.

Grant replied coldly, “Who are you calling ‘newcomer,’ you big oaf?”

The man retorted, undeterred, “Think having a mage at your side makes you special? Out in the icy forest, a single mage won’t be enough to protect you. You’d best be careful.”

Another mercenary, reeking of drink, leaned over with a sneer. “Ha! A naive young noble, hires a few men and thinks he can cross the icy forest before winter’s end? We’ve been stuck here for nearly an entire winter.”

Grant was about to respond, but Carlos quietly gestured for him to stop.

“Do you have any good ways to cross the icy forest?” Carlos asked, noting their confidence and curious about their solution.

The mercenary leader grinned, “Ah, the young noble asks well. We do have a good way to get you through the icy forest.”

“Let’s hear it.”

Seeing Carlos’s cautious, earnest expression, the mercenary leader smiled wider. Clearly, they had sized him up: a young noble, inexperienced and easily intimidated. A few threats would be sure to get what they wanted.

As for the silent blue-robed mage, the mercenaries were wary but believed that controlling the young noble would keep his followers in check.

Besides, mercenary bands were fearless. If a fight broke out, their numbers might even match a mage’s power. Grant and the silent companion of the blue-robed mage were entirely ignored—just servants and attendants of the noble.

These mercenaries had some skills; otherwise, they wouldn’t be able to afford to drink and warm themselves indoors, unlike those suffering under the canopies outside.

Yet they had no idea there was a contingent of nearly a hundred apprentice knights outside, including even a dwarf paladin.

“Listen, young master,” the mercenary leader said with a wicked grin. “We’re planning to cross the icy forest ourselves. If you want, we can protect you on the way. But, you know, we’re a mercenary company—everything comes with a fee.”

Anderson, who’d been preparing to rest in his room, suddenly entered the tavern, catching the mercenaries in the midst of their blustering. He strode over, irritated.

“What’s your mercenary rank? Escorting through the icy forest in winter requires an S-ranked company!”

The mercenaries were taken aback; they hadn’t expected someone knowledgeable.

The leader frowned at Anderson. “Well, we’re a small company—we don’t have S-rank certification, but we’re just as capable as any S-ranked team.”

Anderson looked at him and scoffed, “Just as capable as an S-ranked company? You look more like D, E, or F rank to me.”

The mercenaries were momentarily shaken; Anderson’s guess seemed spot-on.

One of the berserker-like mercenaries stood up. Despite the cold, he wore only a thin shirt. He sneered at Anderson.

“Hah, do you think a D, E, or F-ranked company is so much worse than those S-ranked companies?”