Chapter 184: Letter to Dornheim

Three days ago.

​Captain Walter descended the castle's high staircase at a brisk pace. Clutched in his hand was a thick leather tube containing a sealed secret letter, stamped with the Count's personal wax seal.

​By the massive castle gates stood a heavy covered carriage, ready for immediate departure. A team of four hardy horses impatiently pawed the ground, while an experienced coachman sat on the box, checking the tension of the leather reins. Beside the carriage, four defenders were intently checking their gear.

​Walter approached the squad. He stopped in front of the group's commander and handed him the tube containing the missive.

​"Deliver this to Dornheim at all costs," Walter ordered sternly, looking the mercenary in the eye.

​"As you say. We'll get it done," he replied curtly, taking the document and securely tucking it into an inner pocket.

​The defenders jumped inside the carriage smoothly and without another word. The coachman gave a short whistle, cracked his whip, and the horses jerked forward. The heavy wheels clattered across the drawbridge decking. The squad left the castle grounds at full speed.

​The carriage rolled steadily along the battered dirt road, swaying over the bumps. A bleak, half-empty landscape stretched out around them.

​One of the defenders, sitting closest to the exit, pulled back the thick canvas and called out to the driver:

"How much longer do we have, Kron?"

​Kron didn't even turn around, maintaining a firm grip on the reins.

"Three full days. With stops and camps—four."

​"Okay," Rauan grunted, pulling the flap shut and returning to the others.

​It was cramped inside the covered carriage, but the four mercenaries had made themselves fairly comfortable. To pass the time on the road, they struck up a conversation.

​"Hey, Lorand, haven't you been to Dornheim before? About two years ago."

​"Yeah, I was," Lorand replied, adjusting his shoulder armor strap.

​"So, how is it?" he perked up, leaning forward. "Could I find a future wife there?"

​Lorand let out a heavy sigh and twirled a finger at his temple:

"You just want to find a soulmate. Will you ever change, Torin?"

​"Well, are there girls there or not?"

​Lorand shook his head and smirked:

"Of course there are. But I doubt anyone will notice you there. More likely the opposite—they'll do everything they can to get rid of you."

​"What?.." Torin was taken aback for a second before a competitive smile appeared on his face. "Oh, yeah? Then it's a bet! If I find 'the one' in Dornheim, you have to do whatever I want."

​Lorand grinned with satisfaction:

"Gladly. But if I win, you forget about girls for six months. Deal?"

​"Deal!" Torin blurted out.

​The guys sealed the pact with a handshake. The men's amusement was cut short instantly. Rauan threw his hand up, signaling for silence.

​"I sense monsters. Everyone prepare for combat," he commanded grimly. "Torin, back up Lorand and Oswin with your magic."

​"Got it, I'm on it," Torin nodded, already concentrating energy in his fingers.

​A grinding noise echoed outside. The ground right in front of them bulged and cracked. The coachman, Kron, violently yanked the reins, bringing the carriage to a halt at full speed. The horses neighed in panic, and only one thought flashed through Kron's mind: I just hope these creatures don't spook the horses.

​Two-meter-tall monsters began crawling out from under the torn turf one by one. These massive beasts had two blind heads perched on broad shoulders, and a crystal gleamed dully right in the center of their foreheads.

​Rauan snatched a small, square device from his belt. He gripped it tightly in his palm—with a dry click, the gadget unfolded, instantly transforming into a combat bow.

​"Go!" Rauan shouted.

​Lorand and Oswin vaulted off the carriage mid-stride, attacking the enemies. At first, the steel of their swords bounced off the monsters' hides with a clang. But in that exact second, Torin activated his magical support, enveloping his comrades' weapons in a shimmering contour. Things sped up—now the mercenaries' blades began carving deep into the beasts' flesh, shredding them one by one.

​Rauan himself stood frozen by the carriage, drawing back his bow's improvised string. An arrow formed on it by itself, flaring with a yellow light. Rauan exhaled smoothly and released the bowstring.

​The arrow pierced the air and struck the nearest two-headed monster perfectly in the chest. A muffled pop rang out—the massive projectile literally annihilated the beast's entire upper half. Only its lifeless legs collapsed to the dirt with a heavy thud.

​The fight was in full swing when one of the wounded monsters managed to partially regenerate. The beast lunged forward silently, stepping out of the blind spot and aiming straight for the back of Lorand, who was engrossed in the melee.

​Torin reacted instantly. He thrust his hand toward the threat—pure electrical energy immediately wove together in his palm, rising in a vertical column that perfectly mirrored the silhouette of the approaching creature. Closing one eye for perfect focus on the target, he sharply slashed his hand downward. In that same second, the lightning vanished from his fingers, and a massive lightning strike crashed down from the sky with a deafening roar right onto the two-headed monster. The beast was instantly charred and slumped dead into the mud.

​"Thanks for the cover!" Lorand yelled on the run, without even turning around as he kept attacking the remaining enemies.

​"Yeah," Torin replied shortly, catching his breath.

​A few minutes later, it was all over. Silence reigned around the carriage, broken only by the fighters' heavy breathing. The entire road had been reduced to a mess of mud and corpses, and Lorand and Oswin were covered from head to toe in monster blood.

​"Clean the blood off, Torin," Oswin asked, looking at his darkened bracers in disgust.

​He waved his hands, activating a spell. A stream of pure, directed energy washed over the swordsmen's bodies in the blink of an eye, cleanly wiping all the grime and alien blood off their armor and weapons.

​Lorand was the first to jump back into the carriage with relief, sheathing his cleaned blade.

"What a beautiful feeling—defeating monsters, wouldn't you say?"

​"Yeah, you're right about that," the rest of the defenders agreed, taking their seats.

​The coachman, Kron, whistled loudly and cracked his whip again, urging the standing horses forward. The heavy carriage jerked as it cleared a rut, and the squad continued their journey to Dornheim toward the crimson sunset.