Iron Dragon's Advancement Journey

Page 198

　It was a snowy evening. They were looking for a place to shelter from the cold wind and spend the night when they suddenly heard shouts of battle coming from afar.

　"There's a battle." Elasdra was still the first to notice these movements.

　“Let’s go take a look,” the old sage leading the group decided immediately.

　They approached stealthily and, through the dense coniferous forest, discovered that three frost trolls, leading a group of Great Glacier inhabitants, were chasing a group of Sothar people, including warriors and civilians, who appeared to be a retreating refugee group.

　"Do you need any help?" Leila asked.

　“Wait,” Kelburn stopped her. “Those Sosar aren’t panicking…”

　Besides the three trolls, there were about thirty pursuers, who appeared better equipped and more coordinated than the refugees of Sothar. However, the refugee group always managed to use the terrain to shake them off, yet they never truly left their sight, simply keeping the Great Glacier Man trailing behind as they ran into the jungle.

　“I suddenly remembered a saying from the military academy that Iron Dragon brat set up for Waterdeep: ‘Never enter the forest.’ These guys from the Great Glacier must never have heard of it.” Elminster blew his beard.

　"You old geezer, do you really think those savages from the Great Glacier can study military theory in Waterdeep?" Toothpick chuckled wickedly. "Or do you think that wretched place like the Great Glacier could even have jungle terrain?"

　"Pah, you're trying to talk back to me now that Tie Long isn't here, are you?"

　Just as the old sage was arguing with the toothed dragon, the situation suddenly changed. The pursuers from the Great Glacier had just tracked the refugees into the jungle when an ambush suddenly emerged from the snow. About fifty Solsar warriors, camouflaged in the snow and armed with heavy crossbows, opened fire mercilessly from behind the pursuers. At the same time, several of the largest pine trees also came to life, smashing the three most threatening frost trolls into frozen meat paste.

　"It's a trap!" the human captain in the pursuit shouted, but it was too late.

　The refugees in front also turned around, drew their weapons, and launched a fierce counterattack. With the help of the ambushers behind them, they quickly gained the upper hand.

　"Well done," said Shaving Teeth in approval. "Lure the enemy in deep, then turn the tables."

　“This is a well-trained guerrilla force,” Elasdra analyzed.

　The battle ended quickly. The guerrillas began clearing the battlefield and collecting usable supplies. However, a sinister tremor threatened to pluck the spoils of victory from Sosar's side. (The rest of the text appears to be nonsensical and unrelated to the battle description.)

　"Gotcha! You rats hiding in the woods!"

　A dragon's roar, followed by an overwhelming, overwhelming dragon's might, caused the people of Sosar to tremble and freeze in fear. Then, an elderly white dragon descended from the sky—this creature might have been hiding in the clouds all along, following the people of the Great Glacier. Sosar used refugees as bait, and wasn't the white dragon using the people of the Great Glacier as bait as well? But…

　Several sudden high-level spells dismembered the old white dragon that had burrowed into the jungle, leaving it unable to utter a single howl.

　“I’ll go and make contact with them.” Elminster stopped casting a spell and straightened his crooked pipe.

　“Be careful,” Kelburn cautioned. “The Sossal people are not easy to deal with.”

　Elminster nodded, then walked confidently toward the Sossal men: "Don't be nervous, friends! We are not enemies!"

　Although they had just escaped the oppressive power of the dragon, the guerrillas quickly regained their vigilance, aiming a dozen heavy crossbows at the cloaked old man. Although they had been unable to move, they had seen clearly that the magic that dismembered the hateful white dragon was released from the spot where this old man had emerged.

　"Halt!" a young female soldier shouted. "Who are you?"

　“Evan Greyhawk, a member of the Harpists’ action team.” Elminster stopped where he was, took off his pipe and flicked off non-existent ash—the tobacco had long been frozen by the damn weather, and even magic could hardly keep it in place, so he simply stopped smoking. “We just helped you out of a big problem, didn’t we?”

　"Us?" The female warrior narrowed her eyes.

　Upon hearing this, the other four stopped hiding and emerged from the woods one by one.

　“Carlos Coldwind,” Kelben briefly introduced himself by his pseudonym.

　“Lina Moonshadow.” Lyra smiled.

　“Arian Stardust.” Elasdra nodded gracefully.

　"Just call me Fang." Fang was too lazy to come up with a name.

　Seeing five spellcasters who were clearly not ordinary people, the guerrillas became even more nervous. A single old white dragon could easily wipe them out, yet these five had so easily killed it…

　"Are you really from the Harpists?" the female warrior asked. "Do you have any proof?"

　Elminster took a silver harp badge from his pocket: "This is my identification."

　The female warrior took the badge and examined it carefully before handing it to an old man beside her—the very man who had brought the pine tree back to life and killed the troll. The old man touched the badge, seemingly scanning it with some kind of detection spell, then nodded: "It's real."

　"The badge may be real, but the person might not." The female warrior remained vigilant. "These days, there are traitors and spies everywhere!"

　Lyra covered her mouth, which was still raw from shaving, while Elminster and Kelburn exchanged a glance, thinking to themselves that these Sossal people were just as smelly and stubborn.

　"Moonlight shines on the silver strings, shadows recede to reveal the truth." Elasdra sang softly, "The harp's sound rises, justice prevails, and peace is protected until the end of time."

　The female warrior's expression relaxed slightly: "It seems you really are harpists. But..." she changed the subject, "Recently, too many people have betrayed us. Last month, the Wolf Fang tribe hosted a group of people who claimed to be harpists, only to be betrayed to the Dragon Lich that very night. So, I need more proof."

　"What kind of proof?" Kelburn asked.

　“Simple…” The female warrior was about to go through the formalities when she was interrupted by another aged voice: “Sophia, don’t make things difficult for the guests.”

　The guerrillas made way, and an old man with white hair walked over, leaning on a bone cane. His face was etched with the marks of time, but his eyes remained sharp.

　“Elder Toval!” The female warrior, Sophia, bowed respectfully.

　“If they were traitors, they would have just let that white dragon slaughter us.” Toval said, his gaze sweeping over Elminster and the others. “Moreover, to get five high-level spellcasters to act together, they must either be a true elite team of harpists, or…” He paused meaningfully, “someone even more trustworthy than the harpists.”

　"Grandpa?" Sophia asked, puzzled.

　“It’s nothing,” Toval waved his hand. “Take them back to camp. Remember to blindfold them.”

　"Yes." Although Sophia still had doubts, she obeyed the order.

　Elminster blew on his beard, Kelburn sighed, Elasdra chuckled, and Lyra soothed Shaving Tooth before letting the guerrillas, blindfolded, trudge through the snow for over an hour. They made at least twenty turns, crossed a glacier, and climbed a mountain path.

　When the blindfolds were removed, they found themselves in a secluded valley camp.

　The camp was small, but cleverly arranged. The tents were all covered with white cloth, blending seamlessly into the snow. The sentries were well-hidden, with excellent visibility. They were clearly experienced guerrillas.

　"Wait here," Sofia said before leaving.

　A moment later, she returned with several people, one of whom was a shaman wearing a hood.

　“The final test,” Toval explained, “is to make sure you’re not being mind-controlled. There have been too many traitors lately, and many have been controlled without even realizing it.”

　The shaman pulled back his hood, revealing a face covered in runes: "Relax, don't resist. If you are innocent, this examination will not cause any harm."

　The group of legendary archmages reluctantly cooperated with the examination. The shamans, lacking in magical skill, naturally couldn't detect anything amiss. But Elasdra noticed that Toval had been observing their reactions, and in his seemingly cloudy old eyes gleamed a wisdom honed by time—whether it was limescale or crystal, it was hard to tell.

　“They are innocent,” the shaman declared finally. “There is no sign of them being controlled.”

　“Very good.” Toval nodded, then formally introduced himself, “I am Toval, an elder of the Icewind Tribe. Welcome to our camp.”

　“Thank you for your hospitality,” Elminster returned the greeting. “We are here to help Sosar fight the Ice Queen.”

　“These days, there are many people who say they want to help, but very few who genuinely want to help,” Toval said meaningfully. “However, you have passed all the tests, so we can trust you for now. So, what do you want from us?”

　“We need to find local resistance,” Elminster said, “especially…I’ve heard that Sossal has a very powerful nature protector?”

　Toval's eyes flickered: "What do you want with Master Elliott?"

　“We need his help,” Kelben continued. “The Ice Queen is backed by the Dragon Cult, and their plans involve some ancient dragon magic. This concerns the safety of the entire continent of Faerûn.”

　“Master Elliott is very hard to find,” Toval shook his head. “He’s been leading a guerrilla force, constantly on the move, and his whereabouts are unpredictable. Yesterday they ambushed a dragon lich supply convoy in the east, and today they’ve probably moved to the west. Even we can only contact him through special means.”

　"In what way?" Elasro asked.

　Toval didn't answer, but Sophia eagerly interjected, "Ravens. Master Elliott trained a flock of magical ravens that can fly through blizzards. Only they can find him."

　“We can wait,” Leila said. “This is really important.”

　Toval stared silently at his granddaughter for a moment, seemingly weighing his options. Finally, he made up his mind: "If you really came here to fight the Ice Queen... Sophia!"

　"grandfather?"

　“Send a message to the master that a harpist wants to see him, saying it's about a conspiracy involving the dragon lich and the dragon worship cult.”

　Sofia nodded and turned to leave.

　“Now, we can only wait,” Toval said. “Master Elliott will decide for himself whether to see you. But I must warn you, he doesn’t have a good impression of the harpists. Last month, some of the harpists came to him, trying to get him involved in some kind of ‘clean house’ operation, but he just turned them away.”

　“We are here to fight against external enemies,” Elminster assured him, “not to start internal strife.”

　“I hope so,” Toval sighed. “Here, have some hot soup to warm yourself up. This awful weather is getting colder and colder.”

　They then waited in the guerrilla camp.

　The Icewind tribe's temporary settlement housed about a hundred people, half of whom were combatants. The rest were women, children, and the elderly, along with many refugees who had fled from various destroyed tribes. Supplies were scarce, with each person receiving a ration. Weapons and equipment were also rudimentary, mostly captured from the enemy.

　But morale was exceptionally high. Toval's leadership was superb; he always managed to give people hope in times of despair. Although Sophia was young, she was highly respected among the warriors; it was said that she had single-handedly killed more than a dozen of the Ice Queen's soldiers.

　“Your granddaughter is outstanding,” Elminster said to Toval.

　“She’s a good child.” A look of affection flashed in Toval’s eyes. “It’s a pity she was born in this chaotic world. If it were a peaceful era, she would be learning the wisdom of shamans now, instead of taking up arms to kill.”

　“The war will eventually end,” Leila comforted her.

　“I hope so,” Toval said with a wry smile. “However, I am more worried about the decay of nature than war. Can you feel it? The natural forces here are getting weaker and weaker.”

　Indeed, even a mage like Elminster, who specialized in arcane arts, could sense the scarcity of natural energy in the surroundings. Plants withered, animals migrated south, and even the wind and snow carried an unnatural chill.

　“Master Eliot mentioned this,” Kelburn said. “What happened supposedly two months ago?”

　“Pollution.” Toval lowered his voice. “A blasphemous power suddenly erupted over the Great Glacier, spreading like a plague. Master Elliott led all the Guardians of Nature to purify it, exhausting all the stored natural power to barely control it. But since then, the natural balance of Sosar has been broken.”

　“It sounds like a premeditated attack,” Elasdra analyzed.

　“Master Elliott thinks so too,” Toval nodded. “He said this is the first step the enemy is taking to weaken us. Without the protection of the forces of nature, we are like tigers with their teeth pulled out.”

　Late that night, a commotion suddenly broke out at the camp.

　"Someone's coming!" the sentry whispered.

　A moment later, a group of more than twenty people appeared outside the camp. They moved quickly and silently; if they hadn't given a signal, they probably would have already reached the edge of the camp.

　The leader was a man who looked to be in his forties, with long brown hair braided into intricate plaits that reached his waist. He wore only a thin leather armor, yet seemed completely unfazed by the cold. Most striking were his eyes—emerald green pupils that gleamed with wisdom and determination.

　"Master Elliott!" Toval excitedly went to greet him.

　Elliot nodded, his voice hoarse, clearly from a long march through wind and snow: "I received your letter. The patrols of those white dragons and bone dragons are becoming more and more frequent, and we've had a lot of trouble avoiding them."

　As he spoke, he turned his gaze to Elminster and the others: "So, you're the ones who want to see me?"

　“Yes, Master Elliott,” Elminster said respectfully. “I am Evan Greyhawk, and these are my companions.”

　Elliot scrutinized them, his brow furrowing slightly. As Sosar's most powerful guardian of nature, his perception of energy was exceptionally keen. The magical fluctuations of these five people…

　"Have you just been in battle?" he asked.

　“Yes,” Kelburn quickly explained, “we came from the south and were ambushed several times along the way.”

　"The south?" Elliott said thoughtfully. "That should be relatively safe now."

　“We’re not having much luck,” Elminster said with a wry smile. “It seems like we’re running into trouble everywhere we go.”

　Elliott stared at him for a few seconds, then suddenly said, "Toval said you have something important to discuss? If you're trying to drag me into the harpists' infighting, then forget it. My people are bleeding, and I have no time for your power games."

　“We are here to stop the Ice Queen’s invasion of Sosar,” Elminster said seriously. “The Cult of Dragons and the Chislindos have a huge conspiracy. They want to use the ancient ruins of Sosar to control something called the Dragon Madness Lock.”

　Elliott's expression immediately changed: "Dragon Madness Lock? Are you sure?"

　“We have reliable intelligence,” Elasdra said. “If they succeed, all the dragons of Faerûn will go mad and be forced to transform into dragon liches controlled by the Dragon Cult.”

　“Damn it!” Elliott cursed under his breath, this was the first time he had lost his composure in front of everyone. “I knew their goal wasn’t simple. Come with me, we need to talk.”

　In Elliott's makeshift command post—a cave hidden behind a rock wall—they sat around a simple wooden table.

　The cave was simply furnished, but the owner's attention to detail was evident. A detailed map hung on the wall, marking the positions of both sides. Captured weapons and supplies were piled in a corner. Several wounded soldiers were receiving treatment.

　“Have a seat.” Elliott poured several cups of hot tea, brewed with some local plant, with a refreshing aroma. “It warms you up and keeps you alert. We’ve been relying on this lately.”

　"Thank you." Elminster took the teacup, feeling the warmth spreading through his body.

　“Now, tell me everything you know.” Elliott’s expression turned serious. “About the Ice Queen, about the Dragon Cult, about the Dragon Madness Lock.”

　Elminster recounted in detail the intelligence they possessed, omitting, of course, details concerning their true identities. He mentioned the infiltration of the Cult of Dragons, how Qislindo was dispatched by Samaster to serve under the Ice Queen, conquering the Great Glacier and subsequently launching an attack on Sosar.

　Eliot listened attentively, occasionally asking questions. After Elminster finished speaking, he fell into deep thought.

　“No wonder the dragon lich’s offensive has been so fierce lately,” he murmured. “I thought it was just another instance of that old witch’s ambition growing, but it turns out she’s just another madwoman who wants to destroy the world.”

　“It seems we need a plan,” said Shaving.

　“Yes, it is necessary.” Elliott turned to look at them, “but before that, I need to confirm one thing.”

　He suddenly unleashed a force of nature, much weaker than in his prime, but still enough to put pressure on people.

　“Who exactly are you?” He stared directly into Elminster’s eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re just ordinary members of the Harpists. This level of magical fluctuation, this habitual casting technique…”

　Elliot paused, a slight smile playing on his lips. "Twenty years ago, a high mage from Silvermoon City taught me how to sense the magical pulse in nature. I wouldn't mistake that uniquely elven casting style." He looked at Elasdra, "Right, the chief mage of Silvermoon City?"

　Elasdra smiled elegantly: "It seems my disguise skills need improvement."

　“And you.” Elliott turned to Elminster. “Thirty years ago, during the winter festival, a legendary mage who happened to be passing by helped us solve a problem of elemental riots. Your habitual way of smoking your pipe hasn’t changed at all, Master Elminster.”

　Elminster laughed heartily: "You recognized me! I can't help it, I can't break this habit."

　“And the others…” Elliott’s gaze swept over the remaining people, “The Archmage of the Black Staff, the witch of Waterdeep, and… who is this one?”