Chapter 140: The Camp
The rumored Ryan Velt—the gloomy, solitary boy who wanted nothing to do with strangers—seed not to exist at all where Rex was concerned.
“I ca in my family’s carriage,” Ryan said.
Rex gave an “oh,” scratched his head, and asked no further questions. He turned to look around, his attention already drawn to the carriages arriving one after another.
More people were stepping down from them all around them.
A dark gray carriage stopped at the edge of the clearing, and Parker and Hayden jumped down from it. Parker had changed into lighter gear today, with a sword hanging at his waist. Its scabbard was a dark silver color, engraved with intricate patterns.
The mont he landed, his gaze instinctively swept across the surroundings. It passed over Ryan and the others as though they were no more than a few rocks by the roadside, then shifted away. He and Hayden headed deeper into the camp.
Shiloya lifted her curtain and revealed that striking face of hers. Today she was no longer wearing that long gown, but a fitted set of leather armor instead. Her red hair was tied in a high ponytail, exposing the long line of her neck. She jumped down from the carriage, glanced around, and kept that faint, almost playful smile on her lips the entire ti.
Cullen followed behind her in dark, close-fitting clothes. He stood ramrod straight, his gaze sweeping over every person who ca near.
The last carriage to stop was the pale green one. The curtain lifted, and a foot in a pale boot stepped out first, followed by that slender figure.
Vera.
Today she wore a pale green outfit suited for movent. The fitted waist emphasized her narrow figure, and the skirt reached only to her knees, with leather guards strapped over her calves below. Her hair was still loosely pinned up, with a few wisps hanging beside her ears. Sunlight fell across her face, and her gray-green eyes glead faintly, like mist hanging over distant mountains after rain.
Cliff and Elaine stood behind her. Cliff still looked like a statue, standing at her rear flank as his eyes swept the surroundings. Elaine wore a plain, modest long dress and carried a bundle in her hands, speaking quietly to Vera about sothing.
Ryan withdrew his gaze.
In the distance, that ink-blue carriage had stopped at another corner of the camp. Its curtain was drawn aside, and Ilis stepped down. Her black hair swayed softly in the wind. Today she wore a dark set of ordinary clothes, with a narrow leather belt fastened at her waist. She did not look in this direction. The mont she got down, she walked straight toward the deeper part of the camp and soon disappeared among the tents.
A burst of hoofbeats ca from the far side of the camp.
The sound was heavy, the hooves striking the muddy ground one after another as it drew closer. Everyone turned toward it.
A horse ca galloping out from the depths of the encampnt, bearing a rider with a straight-backed posture and a deep purple cloak snapping sharply in the wind behind him.
At the edge of the clearing, the horse reared high as the rider reined it in, then swung himself down in one clean motion. There was almost nothing superfluous in it. His boots hit the ground firmly, and his armor clashed together with a dull tallic sound.
His short purple hair had been thrown slightly out of order by the wind, exposing a face with hard, chiseled lines beneath it. He could not be called handso, but every line of his face looked as though it had been carved with a knife. His brow ridge was high, pressing over a pair of very pale eyes. His eye sockets were deep, which made those eyes seem all the sharper. His nose was straight, his lips pressed into a thin line, and the slightly downward turn of his mouth carried the authority of soone long accustod to giving orders.
He wore the standard armor of the Royal Knights. The silver breastplate had been polished until it shone, and across it was engraved the golden emblem of sword and shield—the mark of the First Royal Knights. There were fine scratches on his pauldrons, the traces of countless battles over the years.
He stood there like a sword driven into the earth, utterly still.
Sunlight fell over him, illuminating the fine lines at the corners of his eyes. They were not the marks of age, but the traces left behind by wind and sun, by standing atop city walls and staring toward the grasslands for days and nights at a ti.
His gaze swept across the gathered youths.
Those eyes were a very pale gray, like a lake on a winter morning veiled in mist. Yet behind that mist was sothing like a blade—not re sharpness, but the crushing presence that only belonged to soone who had seen blood.
When he looked at them, nobody spoke. Even the loudmouthed youths from the eastern territories fell silent.
“Is everyone here?” he asked.
His voice was not loud, but every word reached each of them with perfect clarity.
“My na is Cassius, Commander of the First Royal Knights,” he said after a pause. “This ti, while you are inside the ruins, I am responsible for your safety, and for this camp as well.”
He lifted a hand and gestured behind him. “Follow .”
With that, he turned and strode off, his deep purple cloak flying out behind him. His boots landed heavily in the mud, every step as steady as if it had been nailed into the ground.
The others followed.
Once they passed through the outer wooden palisade, the view opened up at once.
This was a clearing hacked by force out of the dense forest, stretching for several hundred paces in every direction. Freshly turned earth lay everywhere. In so places, the remnants of tree roots still jutted from the soil, their saw-cut surfaces raw and new, releasing a faint fragrance of wood.
Heaps of bark and branches had been piled at the edges of the camp, not yet cleared away.
Dozens of tents stood in the center of the open ground, varying in size but arranged in reasonably orderly rows. So were thick canvas, while others were made of lighter, finer cloth, clearly brought by different factions.
Near the palisade stood rows of wooden racks from which lanterns, ropes, tools, and the like had been hung.
Several cooks were busy around a great cauldron. It boiled and bubbled, and the scent of at broth drifted in every direction.
At the deepest part of the camp, near the mountain wall, stood several larger tents, guarded by fully ard knights.
As they walked, everyone took it in. Their eyes swept over the tents, the supplies, and the patrolling knights. So murmured quietly to one another. Others simply committed everything to mory in silence.
Cassius remained at the head of the group, his pace never slowing. When they reached the open ground at the center of the camp, he stopped and turned around.
The others stopped with him.
Cassius waited a mont, his gaze passing over them all. Only after everyone seed to have seen enough did he clear his throat.
Bonfires had been built in the middle of the clearing, their flas leaping high and crackling loudly. The knights brought out several large pots, and the sll of broth spread everywhere.
Dry wood had been stacked nearby, and n kept adding more to the flas. Sparks flew into the air and mingled with the first stars of the evening.
Cassius stood beside the fire, a bowl of soup in his hand. When everyone had gathered around, he raised his hand, and silence fell.
“Tomorrow, you will be entering those ruins,” he said. His voice was not loud, but it carried far through the night. “Before you go in, there are a few things that need to be said.”
The firelight fell across his face, leaving it half lit and half in shadow.
“This exploration of the ruins is one of the Empire’s great undertakings of recent years. An elven ruin—there is no need for to explain what might lie inside. Knowledge, Magic, lost inheritances. Whoever gets them, gets them.” He paused. “All of you are talents chosen from across the land. The Empire’s future rests on your shoulders. When you enter this place, you are not only going in for yourselves, but for the Empire’s honor as well. Bring back sothing of value, and the Empire will not treat you poorly. Bring back nothing, and that is fine too. So long as you co back alive.”
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