Chapter 147: Journey to the FogHill (1)
Morning sun painted the palace courtyard in bright orange hues.
Kane stood near the stables, tightening the saddle straps on his stallion. His war council gathered around to see him off, looking far more organized than the ragtag group they were a month ago.
"Keep the southern gates reinforced," Kane instructed, turning toward his vanguard.
"Thora, you run the morning drills. Sira handles the evening patrols."
Sira offered a sharp nod. Kane reached out, patting her shoulder firmly.
"Keep her in line, tracker."
"I always do, Chief," Sira grinned.
Stepping over to Thora, Kane didn’t bother with parting words.
Grabbing her by the waist, he pulled her into a claiming kiss right in front of the recruits.
She kissed him back fiercely, wrapping her arms around his neck before finally pulling away.
"Come back safe," Thora said, though her brown eyes showed genuine concern.
’She hates staying behind,’ Kane noted, adjusting his weapon belt.
"Nadia," Kane called out.
The sun-tanned rebel leader stepped forward, standing tall in her new guard uniform.
"Yes, Kane?"
"Oversee the resource distribution," Kane ordered.
"Make sure Greta gets all the seeds she needs. Nobody starves while I am gone. Understood?"
"I will guard the supply lines with my life," Nadia pledged solemnly.
Looking up toward the second-floor balcony, Kane spotted Firlia leaning over the railing with a stack of ledgers in her arms.
Offering the elven scholar a casual wave, he watched her smile softly. She returned the gesture before disappearing back into the records room.
"Ready, husband?" Misha asked.
Mounting his stallion, Kane reached down to pull Misha up behind him.
She settled comfortably against his back, wrapping her arms around his waist.
Griselda sat perfectly still on her mare a few paces away. Pale hands rested near her daggers, crimson eyes already scanning the horizon for threats.
"Let’s move," Kane announced.
Riding out of the capital gates, they met the Saintess near the northern crossroads.
Waiting patiently on a white gelding, the veiled woman hummed a quiet tune.
"You actually brought the fallen one," the Saintess observed, sounding highly amused by the woman’s presence.
Griselda’s pale hands moved.
[I go where my lord goes. Try not to slow us down, holy woman.]
"She says to keep up," Kane translated, offering the Saintess a wry smirk.
Setting a brisk pace, they rode steadily up the trail. Moving away from the capital felt like crossing into another reality entirely.
Within a few hours, the temperature plummeted. Lush green fields gave way to frozen plains. Frost clung to dead grass, and a biting wind swept down from distant peaks.
Misha shivered against his spine, breath pluming in the freezing air.
’Time to test the new gear,’ Kane decided.
Opening his interface, Kane pulled enchanted cloaks from his inventory.
Tossing one to Griselda, who caught it effortlessly without looking back, he draped the other around his own shoulders. Pulling the fabric back covered Misha completely.
Immediate warmth radiated from the enchanted threads. It felt like sitting next to a roaring hearth.
"Better?" Kane asked, glancing over his shoulder.
Misha sighed happily, pressing her cheek against his back.
"Much better. You are radiating heat like a fire now."
"My gear never disappoints," Kane chuckled.
"If you are still cold later, we can share a single sleeping bag. I can generate some friction to keep us warm."
"Are you trying to seduce me while we hunt a boss monster?"
"I like to multitask," Kane smirked.
Riding slightly ahead of the group, Griselda suddenly pulled her mare to an abrupt halt.
Tapping her own ear, the pale fallen angel pointed a slender finger toward the eastern ridge. Her hands flashed quickly.
[Too quiet. Wind stopped. Watch the tree line.]
"It is just the altitude," the Saintess commented, adjusting her silver veils.
"Wildlife hides when the frost sets in. You are jumping at shadows, angel."
Griselda shot the veiled woman a venomous glare.
Her fingers moved with aggressive speed, gestures so sharp they practically cut the freezing air.
[I survive because I jump at shadows. My divine grace might be bound, but my blades still work perfectly fine. Make a wrong move out here, and I will cut your throat.]
Laughing simply, the Saintess let a bright, musical sound echo into the bleak valley.
"Your support is very protective, Lord Kane."
"She does her job," Kane defended smoothly.
"I pay her to watch our flanks. If she says the trees look suspicious, we treat them like a threat."
Tapping Misha’s knee, Kane gestured forward.
"Take a look."
Closing her eyes, Misha activated her blessing. Glowing white rings replaced her pupils when her eyelids fluttered open.
She mapped invisible currents flowing through the frozen pass.
"Griselda is right to be cautious," Misha reported, her dual-tone voice carrying easily over the crunching snow.
"No monsters are hiding nearby, but there is a magical snare buried under the snowpack ahead. An old trap."
’A snare right in the middle of the main pass,’ Kane analyzed.
’Someone wanted to cripple horses before they reached higher ground.’
Griselda tapped her own chest and drew a single dagger.
[I will handle it.]
Slipping down from her saddle, the fallen angel stalked forward. Moving with feline grace over the icy crust, she slid her blade carefully into the snow, severing a hidden runic wire. A faint spark popped in the cold air, leaving the path completely clear.
Standing up, Griselda spun the dagger expertly before sheathing it and signing back to the group.
[Clear. We push faster. I refuse to set up camp in pitch blackness.]
"Agreed," Kane ordered, nudging his stallion forward.
Kane kept his eyes on Griselda’s back as they resumed their climb. Beneath her leather tunic, resting right between her breasts, a complex seal bound her celestial wings and true power.
Unlocking it required something potent enough to override divine magic.
"How is the seal holding up in this temperature?"
Griselda glanced back.
[It burns. The colder the ambient magic gets, the hotter the rune becomes against my skin.]
"Good," Kane nodded, his combat instincts aligning with the lore.
"Means it is reacting to the localized domain. We get that mythical blood, pour it right over your chest, and crack that divine lock wide open."
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