NOVEL WEB Chapter 142: Chapter 142: For Want of a Nail
Chapter 142: For Want of a Nail
The next day, a light drizzle began to fall.
The entire Ravendale Valley was enveloped in a fog as thick as oatmeal.
It was during this time that Regis proved immensely helpful.
Every time Massimo's lead caused them to lose their way or get stuck in the mud deep within the swamps,
Regis would step forward promptly, volunteering to scout ahead, and before long, he would guide them back to the correct path.
For this, Massimo was deeply grateful and also filled with doubt.
How could an unarmed barber-surgeon be so familiar with the Ravendale Valley on the south bank of the Yaruga River?
It was as if he were a local.
But his knightly spirit kept these doubts buried deep within his heart.
In fact, Lynn knew.
It wasn't that Regis knew the terrain here.
But that he possessed abilities that ordinary humans did not.
Regis was a higher vampire; he could transform into a cloud of mist.
Finding a way through the fog was naturally much more efficient and easier in that form.
Although the damp wilderness offered hardly any dry ground, the group didn't encounter a single monster.
Of course, they could hear the roars of ghouls and the wails of banshees at night, and pale will-o'-the-wisps could be seen flickering in the swamps, but nothing significant happened from beginning to end.
They traveled through Ravendale for five days, and the rain stopped just as they emerged from the damp wilderness.
The wind blew away the mist and the damp air, and the sunlight pierced through the clouds, making the snow-covered mountain peaks gleam.
The ice-clad mountains, tall and jagged, reflected the sunlight in the south, blocking their path.
That was the Amell Mountains.
And within the relentless mountains, the solemn and precipitous "Devil's Peak," Mount Gorgon, stood out particularly.
It towered above the serrated outline of the Amell Mountains like a sharp-edged obelisk.
The Amell Mountains ruthlessly divided the continent in two.
If northerners wanted to go south, they either had to start from Cintra and then pass through the Marnadal Valley.
Or, like Lynn's group,
Cross the towering and steep Amell Mountains.
"No wonder during the First Northern War, the Nilfgaardian army preferred to fight a decisive battle with Cintra in the Marnadal Valley rather than borrowing a route through Toussaint, crossing the Amell Mountains, passing through the Ravendale Valley, and then directly attacking the weaker Lyria and Sodden."
"Although the Amell Mountains are not as difficult to traverse as the Yinping Trail, they are much more challenging than the Marnadal Valley."
Although Cintra was quickly defeated in the First Northern War, in reality, Cintra was not weak.
The Battle of Marnadal, which determined the fate of the kingdom and led to the rapid collapse of the entire country, ended in a disastrous defeat mainly due to major errors in the Cintra upper echelons' intelligence and judgment regarding the Nilfgaardian side.
"The Lioness of Cintra," Calanthe, believed that the Battle of Marnadal would be just a border conflict, like the Battle of Hoczewice in 1233.
She never expected that the Nilfgaardians were actually aiming to annex the entire Cintra.
Such was war.
A single mistake could determine the fate of a nation.
...
A strong wind blew from the direction of the Amell Mountains, carrying ghostly screams, shouts, and wails.
The clouds that swept across the sky transformed into bizarre shapes.
The moonlight turned a blood-red hue.
Before dawn, they were awakened by the frantic cries and flapping wings of numerous nightjars.
They set off before sunrise because in a little while, the sunlight reflecting off the snow-capped peaks would become blindingly bright.
By the time the sun peeked over the mountain, they had already traveled a long way.
Incidentally, the sky had been filled with clouds long before sunrise.
They rode their horses through the forest, and the changing types of trees indicated that the terrain was becoming increasingly higher.
Oaks and hornbeams disappeared without a trace, replaced by dense black beech trees.
The ground exuded a musty odor, covered with a thick layer of fallen leaves, cobwebs, and fungi, among which mushrooms were particularly abundant.
Nature had created a veritable flood of fungi; in some places, the beech trees were almost completely covered by the caps of toadstools and fly agaric.
The beech forest was silent, as if most of the birds had already migrated, with only the hoarse cries of crows echoing at the edge of the woods.
They listened to this silence, and then, suddenly, spruces appeared, and the scent of resin filled the air.
They increasingly frequently trod on barren hills and ridges, and each time, the wind would rush towards them.
The Neve River undulated, frothing, and despite the rain, the water was crystal clear.
Mount Gorgon loomed on the horizon, drawing closer and closer.
At the jagged edge of that high mountain, they could see glaciers and snow, as if the peaks were wrapped in white scarves.
The summit of the Devil's Peak was always surrounded by clouds, like a mysterious bride veiling her head and neck.
Sometimes, Mount Gorgon resembled a graceful dancer in a white dress.
It was a beautiful yet deadly sight: collapsing snowdrifts slid down the steep slopes, sweeping away everything in their path.
The snow would slide all the way to the foot of the mountain, crossing the Neve River and the Sansretour Valley, then through the Theodora Pass, and finally falling into the mountain lakes.
The sun finally broke through the clouds, but it didn't shine for long, soon disappearing behind the western mountains, illuminating the sky with purple and golden light.
Finally, after riding their horses through the gorge carved out by the swift and wide Sansretour River, they arrived at the Theodora Pass, the northwestern border of Toussaint.
...
"Sir Massimo, welcome back."
"And to you as well, Captain Damien."
The crew-cut man gave Massimo a hearty hug. After they separated, the crew-cut man turned his gaze towards them.
"So...hmm, these three are the witchers you traveled so far north to find, enduring so much hardship?"
Massimo quickly introduced them.
"Yes, these two are Master Geralt of the Wolf School and Master Lynn;"
"This is Sir Regis, the barber-surgeon we met in Brugge;"
"Esteemed Sirs, and Sir Regis, this is Captain Damien de la Tour, the guard captain stationed at the Theodora Pass."
Lynn and Geralt nodded to the captain.
Regis, as always, displayed his elegant demeanor. "Greetings, Captain."
Lynn looked at Damien.
At this time, Damien still had hair and looked younger than Lynn remembered.
By the way.
Lynn hadn't paid particular attention to Damien's full name before.
Now, hearing Massimo's introduction, he noticed that Damien actually came from a noble family in Toussaint.
In Toussaint, only nobles from distinguished families were allowed to add the noble particle "de" before their surname to distinguish themselves from others.
The literal translation would be "Damien from the noble Tour family."
Massimo's full name, Massimo Norris Maclino, was different.
His given name was Massimo.
His family's surname was Maclino, and Norris was his father's name.
This name clearly indicated that he did not possess any fiefdom and was not from a noble family.
Therefore, he could not add "de" before his surname.
(End of this chapter)
....
Up to +100 Chapters
For early access to advanced chapters on p@treon
[email protected]/Chaos_God
Thank you so much for your support and for reading