Riding swiftly, they passed through Stormgate. After galloping for a while, a fierce wind suddenly blasted towards them, whipping Frieren's silver twin tails about her face. Dust filled the air, and the grass bent low. She glanced at her map – they had arrived at Stormhill.
It certainly lived up to its name. Standing atop the hill provided a commanding view of the lower-lying Stormgate area. Stationing a large force here would allow them to crush any attackers below, overwhelming opponents with a downhill charge assisted by the terrain. But reality wasn't so simple; the wind was far too strong, making it unsuitable for a large encampment. Conversely, it was an ideal acceleration point for a cavalry charge – riding the wind would be enough to defeat the enemies garrisoning the gate below.
As expected, fortresses and capitals were never simple affairs, always involving numerous strategic considerations. Frieren deduced the actual entrance to Stormveil likely lay in a sheltered spot, perhaps around a bend.
"Awooo!"
Suddenly, several wolves burst out from ahead. They looked menacing, deep growls rumbling in their throats, their muzzles stained with blood. Stationed in this area, they likely didn't lack food – they were feeding on humans, possibly even specifically bred by the Stormveil garrison. Otherwise, they wouldn't be patrolling the main approach road.
Therefore, Frieren gave the wolves no chance to escape, lest they alert the defenders. Still mounted, she swept her magic sword past the targets, instantly cleaving them in two in a single breath, leaving nothing behind. The beasts that had been snarling moments before were now lifeless corpses radiating the scent of blood.
"We're going to be exposed," Frieren thought. Although the strong wind might disperse the scent, experience told her the garrison would maintain regular patrols. Furthermore, she couldn't rule out the possibility of similar hunting dogs searching the area. Alone, her ability to remain undetected was limited.
The cardinal rule of the 'game' was caution above all: summon when possible, use numbers to overwhelm when advantageous. Reaching this point just two days after arriving in the Lands Between was satisfying progress; retreating now wouldn't be a loss. But there was still one thing left to do.
A life sign emanated from the ruined shack nearby.
Frieren urged Torrent onward, following the presence. Sure enough, she found a young woman in a red hood, sobbing pitifully. Sensing the unexpected visitor, the girl tensed up, almost scared out of her wits – clearly like a frightened bird, easily spooked by any sudden movement.
"Don't worry," Frieren said gently. "I'm Tarnished, just like you. We should look out for each other, right? Relax, I won't harm you."
"Mm," the girl mumbled, seemingly resigned to despair, beyond caring whether Frieren was friend or foe. Alone and helpless, she didn't know where to turn or what to do.
"I came through the Gatefront," Frieren stated. "Did you happen to see any messengers pass through?"
"What! You came through there?" The red-hooded girl looked utterly incredulous. Who would possibly attack through the main gate? And to do so without even letting a messenger escape? The natural first reaction was disbelief. But when Frieren produced several Godrick Soldier banners from her storage, the girl had no choice but to accept it. Then, Frieren presented the iconic Golden Halberd, which was even more astounding. The Tree Sentinel was infamous throughout Limgrave, a nightmare for many Tarnished. For Frieren to possess his weapon meant he was undoubtedly dead, his killer standing right before her.
"My name is Frieren," she introduced herself properly. "I'm a mage, a new Tarnished who only arrived in the Lands Between yesterday. I wanted to ask you for some information about Godrick."
"I... I'm Roderika," the girl stammered, taking several deep breaths to compose herself before she could continue. Perhaps it was the sense of security emanating from this powerful Tarnished, but she finally found the courage to recount her tale:
"...Everyone was grafted. The people who came to the Lands Between with me, who fought for me... their arms, legs, heads... all cut off, becoming part of those... spiders. Did you know? After being grafted onto the spiders, people grow to look like... like pupae." Roderika explained the entire sequence of events in detail.
Unfortunately, neither she nor her companions had ever come face-to-face with Godrick himself. Nonetheless, the story painted an increasingly gruesome picture of the demigod in Frieren's mind. Grafting? It was disturbingly literal. Apparently, the technique could also be applied to weapons, considered a form of craftsmanship, yet he preferred applying it to bodies in grotesque ways. Truly horrific. Even the demons in her reality rarely exhibited such savagery.
However, she refrained from judgment. Victors write history, losers are condemned. As the ruling lord facing challengers, Godrick certainly had the authority to dispose of his enemies, and the Lands Between were no stranger to bloody rituals and methods.
Actually, the most valuable intelligence Roderika provided concerned the forces within Stormveil Castle itself: large ballistae, Trolls, Grafted Scions, and other monstrosities – a veritable hodgepodge. Combined with the fortress's own defenses, it was indeed a super-stronghold, extremely difficult for one person to breach, and filled with too many variables. Given this, Frieren decided she needed to plan carefully, adopting a long-term strategy rather than just charging straight through. If becoming Elden Lord was the goal, simply smashing through fortresses wasn't enough.
"Thank you for the information. I understand."
"So... you're still going towards Stormveil Castle?" Roderika asked, her voice laced with fear. "Is it because you believed that White Mask fellow, or... do you want to become part of a spider too...?"
"Neither," Frieren replied confidently. "My goal is to kill Godrick and take his place. But not right now. I still need to prepare."
Her assured declaration left Roderika speechless, feeling her well-intentioned warnings had been in vain. Was she about to witness yet another Tarnished become grafting material? "You're not afraid?"
"I've seen plenty of depraved sorts," Frieren said dismissively. "Godrick is certainly a notable example among them, but not the absolute worst. It's fine. Besides, I'm not charging in right this second. If you don't mind, I can escort you some distance away from here."
Just as they were speaking, a patrol emerged from the entrance of Stormveil Castle in the distance. They had hounds with them, sniffing the ground intently, growling low warnings as they apparently picked up signs of danger. The garrison soldiers immediately understood something was wrong and began dispatching more troops. As long as they weren't complete fools, they would soon discover the dead wolves along the road, which would lead them directly to the dilapidated shack on Stormhill.
"Let's go," Frieren urged.
Recalling the horrors she'd witnessed, Roderika obediently climbed onto Torrent's back, leaning against Frieren while trembling slightly. Melina dissolved into her spirit form, merging back into Frieren's body.
Thanks to Torrent's speed and Limgrave's vastness, they quickly put distance between themselves and Stormveil's observation range. Escaping the garrison's patrols would have been difficult otherwise. A rare quiet settled around them, but dusk was falling, making further travel inadvisable.
"You can drop me off here," Roderika said, sliding off Torrent's back voluntarily. She then offered Frieren a gift. "Could I ask you to take this child with you on your journey?"
[Spirit Jellyfish Ashes acquired.]
Frieren nodded. "Thank you for the gift. I wish you a safe journey back to the Roundtable Hold. By the way, is there anywhere nearby I can rest for a bit? I need to sort through today's haul."
"There's a shack over in that direction," Roderika pointed. "It offers shelter from the wind and rain. But they say it's dangerous at night. Even if you're strong, please be careful."
"Let's part ways here."
With a wave, the silver-haired girl turned Torrent and galloped away swiftly.
________
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