Chapter 74: Who Was That?
The fight was finally over. The Forsaken Lords had retreated back.
The air was not clear yet as smoke filled the battlefield.
On the ground, the dead bodies of the Forsaken soldiers started to hiss as they disappear.. Black smoke rose from their skin as they turned to dark ash and dissolved quickly into the ground.
It was the nature of their black magic. Every time a forsaken die, they turn to ash and dissolve into the ground.
Professor Valerius stood over one of their dead body for a moment without saying anything, then he turned and started giving orders.
"Gather them," Valerius said.
The male magic users and dragon riders walked to the dead bodies. They carried them one at a time and laid them down side by side at the edge of the field.
When they were done, they gathered in a tight circle. Then at a corner, the dragons stood still too.
Valerius let out a slow breath as he turned to the dragon rider commander standing a few feet from him and gave a single nod.
The commander nodded back. Then he looked to his dragon.
The dragon understood the look even before words even left his rider’s mouth. The dragon padded forward slowly, until it stood over the row of bodies.
The commander’s jaw tightened as he swallowed once.
"Zharaak, vrek!(Burn! Now)."
Fire rolled out from the dragon mouth and over the bodies. The field filled with the smell of smoke and burnt bodies.
Daven Power stood at the corner. He had finally wake up from his unconscious state.
He watched the bodies burn and felt his throat close up as he swallowed.
Elara was in that fire.
Unable to watch, he forced himself to look away, his shoulders shaking.
Sael, standing beside him, didn’t say anything. She just stepped closer and took his hand, squeezing it tight to let him know he wasn’t alone.
Location: Aldenmoor!
"So," Reynold asked, "what is it going to be?"
Garrick opened his mouth but said nothing.
For the first time in his life, he was completely tongue-tied. Whether it was the pain in his ribs or the cold look in Reynold’s eyes, he couldn’t tell. Somewhere in his head he was screaming every curse he knew "you little gutter rat, you jumped-up orphan, I’ll have your bones ground into powder... I’ll make sure you rot in the ground next to your parents." He screamed inside his mind.
Draymond, seeing the terrifying tension in the room and Garrick’s helpless silence, he let out a nervous, shaky laugh as he stepped forward, waving his hands.
"Okay, okay! Let’s all just take a deep breath," Draymond said, trying to ease the tension. "Let’s talk this over and get it settled once and for all.. No need for anyone else to end up on the floor."
Reynold did not look at him. "There is nothing to settle. They just need to return every single Starweaver property in their possession.."
Draymond’s smile faltered.
From a table in the corner of the room, a low voice sounded.
Four men were sitting around a table there. They had been drinking and completely quiet since the fighting started. Now, one of them slowly raised his head. He reached up, shifting his black face cap back, and stared at Reynold.
"So, what now?" the man said, his voice dripping with attitude. "Being a cadet at Wyrmwood Academy suddenly gives you a pass to talk to your elders like they are your age mate?"
These four men were not regular thugs. They were respectable, dangerous figures in Aldenmoor.
The second one, sitting beside him, snorted into his cup. "Neither does being a Two give him a pass to act like spoiled milk. What did they even teach you in that fancy academy, boy? To disrespect the people who built this town?"
Reynold slowly turned his head. His cold eyes landed on the corner table.
The first two men stared right back at him.
The third man sat up, lazily twisting a glass of wine in his hand. He looked at the red liquid, then up at Reynold with a nasty smirk. "Perhaps we should teach this little cadet a proper lesson."
Seeing these men speak up, Garrick and the others in the room who was holding possession of the Starweaver property, secretly became happy. These four men were dangerous. If they stepped in, Reynold was finished.
Reynold’s grip tightened. He was just about to speak when the fourth man at the table who had kept his head down the entire time suddenly moved.
He picked up his glass, drank the remaining wine in one single gulp, and slammed the empty glass back onto the table.
Clack.
He stood up. He was a tall and a heavily built man. He was clearly the leader of the group.
"Alright, wrap it up, boys," the leader said smoothly, adjusting his jacket. "Time to go."
Garrick and the other who had just started to feel happy let out a hiss. Their saviors were just leaving?
Reynold’s eyes followed the leader as he walk to the door and said nothing.
When the man reached the door, he stopped. He didn’t turn around at first. Then he glanced back, just enough that his voice was loud enough.
"The boy is only asking for his father’s property," the leader said quietly. "Which he has every right to ask for. Do the right thing and give it back to him."
And with that, he walked out with the other three trailing behind him.
The room was quiet after the door shut.
Reynold’s gaze stayed on the door for a moment before he finally turned his head toward Alistair. "Who was that?"
Alistair let out a low whistle, glancing at the closed door like he was still a little surprised himself.
"Oh, him? That is the leader of the heavy lifters in this town. They work directly for Mr. Sterling... the third richest man in Aldenmoor."