Erik and Garrett took the lead as the group approached the campsite, using their experience to carefully search the surrounding area for any recent human or animal activity.
Only the gentle crunch of their boots on the snow and the muffled whispers of the wind were audible through the icy hush that had descended upon the area.
At first glance, it appeared the camp did not contain any obvious signs of a shelter being present. It was perplexing, but at the same time, Erik felt a jolt of recognition when he realized there were no tents or equipment, and all that was present was an old firepit.
The young man's brows furrowed in concentration as he contemplated something, his penetrating gaze moving methodically across the snow-covered ground.
He had a thorough understanding of the Frantian soldiers' strategies, discipline, and cunning. It was surprising, but not unexpected, that there were no tents present.
Erik had a hunch that they were just hidden, which was a common tactic utilized by the Frantian troops for the purposes of both security and stealth.
He knew they could not afford to take anything at face value because the Frantian soldiers were notorious for using guerrilla warfare techniques.
On the other hand, Garrett remained silent, his stoic features sculpted into a deep frown, he had been tracking for a long time but couldn't understand what was happening.
He held the longsword, its blade reflecting the soft glow of the dying daylight. His seasoned eyes took in the particulars of the environment, reading it in search of the most inconspicuous of hints that could direct them to the location of their goal.
When Garrett got down on one knee, he looked over the ground to see if there were any disturbances in the snow. As he traced the faint imprint of a boot in the snow, the moisture from his breath condensed into a cloud of white vapor in the chilly air.
Erik was standing in the middle of what appeared to be a desolate landscape, carefully observing his surroundings.
He finally broke the silence with, "I'm certain this is it," his voice remaining unwavering and confident throughout. His companions gazed at him with expressions that conveyed a mixture of expectation and confusion.
"Frantian soldiers have an ingenious method of setting up their camps," he began, his gaze still focused on the ground. "They employ devices that can construct shelters underground. They're almost impossible to spot unless you know what you're looking for."
His statement was met with raised eyebrows, especially from Ava, who tilted her head in intrigue. "Underground?" she queried, her voice barely more than a whisper in the chilled air.
Erik gave a short nod before finally turning his attention to her.
"Yes, it's a strategy that's not only smart but also useful. In addition to an outstanding capacity for concealment, it also affords protection from the elements."
"But how exactly do we find the entrance?" Marcus chimed in, his intense blue eyes scanning Erik for responses as he looked.
Erik straightened, meeting Marcus' gaze with determination. "That's the tricky part. The entrances are designed to blend seamlessly with the surroundings. But if we're thorough and patient, we should be able to find it."
The group gave a collective nod and then continued their thorough search with a rekindled determination to find what they were looking for.
Each speck of snow and a heap of dirt was examined with unyielding ferocity on the part of the investigator. After all, they weren't just trying to find a way in but also trying to understand their adversary's devious mind better.
During their investigation, they combed the surrounding area, looking at groups of rocks and the trunk bases of large deciduous trees.
They tried each possible location, but all turned out to be empty, which added to their frustration and strengthened their resolve. Every second that went by and every fruitless search further increased their annoyance.
The deliberate absence of tents was an ingenious ruse, a strategy that Erik was familiar with. Ava was the one who made the initial discovery regarding what they had been looking for.
Her finger followed the contour of a hidden panel skillfully concealed underneath a layer of snow. Marcus rushed over to her side as quickly as possible, his alert eyes scanning the surrounding area.
"Wait, Ava. Let me give a look first," he said, his tone of voice carrying a trace of worry as he spoke to her in a low tone.
Marcus turned on his mana shield without uttering a single word. A mystical shield that would protect him from any danger that might come his way manifested itself as a bluish-white glow that encircled him and his immediate surroundings.
The unpredictability of the circumstances made it necessary to take this precaution. After that, his muscular frame leaned forward and carefully lifted the concealed panel. As everyone waited for what would happen next, there was an instant of silence and a holding of breath.
But nothing transpired. There were neither ambushes nor traps; instead, there was merely an underground passage that led straight into the heart of the Frantian camp. An audible sigh of relief could be heard reverberating throughout the snowy landscape.
The group began their trek inside the tent, with Marcus taking the initiative to lead the way. The stuffiness of the underground shelter replaced the briskness of winter, and the dim light of the corridor replaced the light from the outside world.
As they progressed further into the enemy's lair, their eyes became accustomed to the darker environment, and curiosity and caution ensured that they remained vigilant at all times.
As they proceeded deeper into the underground tent, they found themselves in a cramped space that was sparsely decorated with nothing more than sleeping beds designed for soldiers.
Their eyes darted around the room, taking in everything they could see and making sure not to miss anything important despite its apparent lack of complexity.
Erik went in that direction when he saw a line of backpacks arranged in a row against a wall. The rucksacks were designed to be tough and functional, reflecting the soldiers' lifestyle.
He unzipped one of the bags and rifled through the things it contained, his deft fingers eventually resting on a piece of folded parchment.
He unfolded what appeared to be a map and laid it out on the ground in front of him.
The unfolding of Erik's map revealed impressive geographical accuracy and specificity. It was an intricate topographic layout of the surrounding region, and it was marked with a variety of symbols to differentiate between features.
The mountainous landscape, dense forests, and winding rivers were depicted on the parchment with varying tones of ink in the dots that covered the surface.
The terrain was crisscrossed by a network of clearly marked trails and pathways, which pointed out critical roads and possible ambush locations.
Additionally, critical strategic locations such as watchtowers, military settlements, and forts were depicted in great detail on the map.
Notably, a sizable area had a circle drawn around it to denote the location of Liberty Watch Village, which served as their place of residence.
Around the village, multiple paths were followed, and several points were marked, which may have indicated the Frantian soldiers' intended points of attack or places to conduct surveillance.
In the document's margins were a series of coded symbols and cryptic annotations. This was yet another peculiar feature. Erik, who was used to the lies told on the battlefield, realized that these could be ciphers or instructions written in code.
Although it was intimidating at first glance, the map provided a comprehensive understanding of the area from the perspective of the Frantian military. This realization was unsettling, but it was also one that had the potential to be extremely useful in upcoming conflicts.
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