Chapter 178

A chuckle escaped Rhea’s lips, growing in intensity until it became a full-blown cackle. She shook, bending in half to hold her stomach as her laughter echoed in the suddenly silent grassland.The soldiers looked at each other in surprise, unsure of what to do or whether they should take offense. Ludovic seemed already halfway there, his brow furrowing as he stared at Rhea.

Nick caught more than one man clenching his fists.

Eventually, Rhea’s laughter tapered off. She still shook occasionally but managed to push herself back up, wiping a tear from her cheek. “Oh, that was too good. The grandson of Ephor Ultimer died in a skirmish against dark dwarves because he couldn’t use an Elpen dagger properly.”

Nick didn’t know much about the family that had brought down Elia’s, but it was easy to infer that this Jonathan Ultimer was quite important.

“How dare you?!” Ludovic finally snapped, though he had the presence of mind not to make a threatening move. “The commander was a great man!”

Rhea’s lips quivered, and for a brief moment, Nick worried she would laugh again, but she steadied herself. “He was a mediocre swordsman who only attained his position because his grandfather kept providing him with the finest gear money could purchase, and when that failed, he bribed anyone with hands to hold gold.”

A wave of realization swept through the ex-soldiers. Nick could see them realize that Rhea was not merely an odd girl in real time. What the elder had understood a while ago took some time for the others to comprehend, but finally, one of them exclaimed, “You are an Elpen!”

Ludovic gaped, staring at Rhea as if he couldn’t believe it. “But the Elpens have all been executed! They were traitors!”

All of a sudden, the amusement slid off Rhea’s face, and the ex-soldier realized what he had said. He sputtered, trying to find a way to salvage the situation before settling on a contemptuous snort. “I don’t know how you escaped, girl, but that doesn’t give you the right to speak of the commander like that. He died to give us the time to escape, and I won’t have anyone besmirch his name!”

Several others nodded in agreement, having moved past their surprise. Nick noticed the old man furrowing his brow, clearly realizing that things were quickly taking a dangerous turn, but unsure of how to prevent the escalation.

Fortunately, Ludovic’s words had the exact opposite effect of what he intended. Rhea seemed to be back to being amused, staring at the young man as if he were a particularly interesting critter. “You know, if Ephor Ultimer were to learn that you people are still alive, he wouldn’t hesitate to execute the lot of you. Ultimers are very heavy-handed when it comes to traitors.”

“We aren’t traitors! You are!” Ludovic’s reply didn't seem to do anything to convince Rhea. This only infuriated the young man further, but he clenched his fists impotently.

“That is enough. She is right.” The eldest finally interjected. “We may not like it, but if other soldiers, or heaven forbid, knights, were to find us, they would be duty-bound to execute us for abandoning our post. It wouldn’t matter that we didn’t have any hopes of reaching the main camp with the dwarves coming out of every hole in the ground, nor that there was one powerful enough to kill the commander just waiting to get his hands on us.”

His words stirred up mixed emotions, as several others ground their teeth or spat on the ground, but no one dared to argue. They all knew it was the truth.

“But why bury it?” Elia finally asked, having remained silent until then.

Some of the men jumped in surprise, having forgotten she was there, while others regarded her with thinly veiled contempt.

The leader sighed, staring at the broken dagger still held in Rhea’s hands. “It would have been too dangerous to take it with us. The commander came from an important family, and I know for a fact they have mages capable of scrying on their payroll. If, as I suspect, his body was taken by the dwarves, they will be trying to look for any hint of him. You’d be better off leaving that here, girl, unless you want your family’s old enemies to find you.”

Clearly, that realization didn’t sit well with Rhea, who gazed at the hilt with a conflicted expression. Nick knew she had endured a great deal, being torn away from everything she knew and cut off from her grandmother and brother, whom she admired deeply.

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Being forced to leave the first piece of her family that she had found must not have been easy for her, so Nick gathered a whisper of wind and sent it to her, “Keep it. I may have a way to hide it.”

Rhea didn’t look up, but she nodded to show she’d heard and slipped the hilt back into her pouch. “Thank you for the warning.”

The old man maintained an impassive expression. Eventually, he must have decided it wasn’t his business, because he turned to Nick. “I must thank you again for your assistance. I understand that asking for more may be presumptuous, but might I ask if you know of anywhere we might be able to sell our merchandise? We are trying to avoid cities at the moment, at least until we are too far for even a noble to care.”

Nick considered the request for a moment. The obvious answer was Floria. It was a frontier town with a bustling market, making it an ideal place for a group of ex-soldiers to vanish and become adventurers.

However, he wasn’t sure he wanted people associated with Rhea’s enemies in his town. While these men did not seem especially menacing, he had no doubt they would divulge information about Rhea if found by the Ultimers’ scrying mages in their quest for the lost scion, hoping for some form of clemency.

“You should avoid the towns bordering the Green Ocean. Though usually a good place to disappear, a dungeon was found not too long ago. There will be a lot of interest from all nearby noble houses for quite some time.” He finally said, not even needing to lie. He could have added that the core had already been broken, but that would reveal his involvement, and he had no intention of becoming even more memorable.

A flash of greed appeared in the old man’s eyes, but it was quickly overshadowed by wariness. Dungeons meant abundant opportunities, not that they would find one if they wandered into the forest, but it also meant too much attention for the band of deserters.

“Thank you for the warning.” He inclined his head before turning to the nearest man. “Grab one of the loot bags! Let it not be known that we are unappreciative of being saved.”

There was some grumbling at that, but eventually, Nick was offered a bulging sack, which, when opened, revealed a wealth of silver and copper coins. A quick check with told him that there were at least four more such bags, which he suspected might be even richer in bounty, but he said nothing, merely accepting the gift.

It was still a significant sum of money. The contents of the pouch could be exchanged for a handful of gold coins.

She seemed surprised at their generosity, but when she made to grab the pouch to put it in her spatial bag, Nick subtly gestured for her to stop. There was no reason to inform these men of its existence.

Eventually, the two groups went their separate ways after burying the remains of the gnolls. The deserters headed south, apparently intending to cross the entire grassland in the hopes of reaching one of the trading towns that lay before the Sunlands, while the trio turned northeast toward the next temple.

A quick check with the Compass of Interesting Times confirmed that they were headed in the right direction. Nick wasn’t sure how to feel, as it seemed unerringly focused on the beastmen temples, but for the moment, he’d take it.

It was an anticlimactic end to a very tense encounter, but Nick hadn’t been given reason to act in violence, and though he was not a peaceful man, he was not a rabid dog either. Killing the soldiers after they had been forthcoming with their answers and had even shared some of their loot would have been senseless.

A more pressing concern was ensuring that the Ultimers’ mages could not track them via the dagger.

It would have been easy to dispose of it, like the deserters had done, but Rhea didn’t seem inclined to do so, and after some reflection, Nick decided that it wouldn’t work anyway.

They might have gotten away with it if they had abandoned the dagger immediately after unearthing it, but Rhea had already held it long enough to leave a trail, and the sentiment with which she cared for it only made it that much clearer to a skilled diviner.

Nick had initially planned to perform a simple anti-scrying spell, similar to the protections he used for his rituals that were meant to prevent spiritual observers from noticing him and interfering.

But if the Ultimers had some serious influence, they could likely find a mage who specializes in scrying. That meant the most basic tricks wouldn’t work this time.

“Alright, let’s stop for a moment,” he called out, earning a confused look from the girls. They had only been walking for a couple of hours, and the day was still young. Nonetheless, they trusted him enough to follow his command, even if his tone implied that it wasn’t because of a monster attack.

“Rhea, I mentioned we’d take some time for your transmutation practice, but concealing our tracks is more urgent. I want to do that as soon as possible.”

Her eyes immediately darted to her pouch, where the hilt was kept. “Spatial magic is said to disrupt most scrying. Do you think it won’t be enough?”

Nick pursed his lips, considering it. “I’m not really an expert in spatial magic. The only other example I’ve seen is my father’s pouch, and he knew nothing of how it worked. It’s possible that they are enough to disrupt any divination, but I doubt it. I can feel its insides with my senses when it’s open. If I can do it, so can they.”

Dejected, Rhea pulled out the offending artifact. “Do you really think I should get rid of it, then?”

Shaking his head, Nick placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I told you I’d help. We just need some preparation, but I read about a bit of magic that can help us.”

Technically, that was true. He had read about it in a different life. However, he had no practical experience with it, as it was merely a mention in a book discussing the animistic traditions of Central African cultures, and it would require some adaptation.

At the time, he’d been much more interested in ways to combat curses, but in a sense, this was quite similar.

“I just need you to trust me,” he said, putting his backpack down and pulling his dagger from its sheath. The blade gleamed like obsidian in the sunlight, letting out a sibilant hiss as it was released.