As her wings beat, the two lumps of rotted flesh on the bat-woman's chest swung along with them — no beauty in it at all, in fact downright revolting.
One swoop, and she snatched up a female slave. The poor demi-human slave struggled and shrieked, but there was no way for anyone to save her. In moments the bat-woman tore the slave in two, blood scattering down, drawing a chorus of horrified cries while the bat-woman let out a mocking, freakish laugh.
"Shoot that ugly bitch to pieces for me!" Field's fury hit the sky.
He hardly needed to say it; the enraged crossbowmen lifted their weapons, and with a crackling volley, bolts and arrows poured out. The bat-woman hadn't reckoned on humans having ranged means and took the lesson at once: pierced by three or four shafts, she pitched headfirst to the ground like a torn rag.
"Ugly thing, daring to attack my people — every head among them I paid good money for!"
Boiling with rage, Field grabbed a halberd off a wagon, threw noble dignity aside, and swung a full overhead arc, smashing the bat-woman's skull to pulp.
Killing the bat-woman had thrown his flank into chaos; with the crossbows no longer suppressing them, a great mass of corpses lunged in.
"Everyone clear out!"
Ashina drew on her power at once. The black scales along the dragonkin wolf's neck began to hiss and smoke; terrible energy gathered, warping even the space around it.
"Boom!"
Ghostly-blue fire erupted from the wolf's maw, a heat wave like a burst dam. Blue flame swallowed a great swath of the ground before Field, and the twisting silhouettes were devoured in moments. Field even felt the surrounding gray mist thin out considerably.
"So hot!" The guards were all in armor and, being close, were roasted as if on a griddle, yelping and baring their teeth. The corpses' foul blood was baked dry and caked onto their armor.
Ashina stuck out her tongue. "Sorry."
The successive bursts of flame wiped out the bulk of the corpse-swarm; the remainder posed no threat, and they held off the first corpse tide without trouble.
Three slaves dead, one slave-guard — acceptable.
"Rest here half an hour. Women, go gather the arrows back up."
Field took the water flask from the steward and gulped several mouthfuls. The cold water stung his throat awake, making him feel he was still in the real world.
"I owe you, Ashina." Field reached out and rubbed her head, sending Ashina blushing, her wolf tail whirling like a propeller, as if she might take off on the spot.
Ashina shook her head and said, with feigned modesty, "It's only what I should do."
But her expression said: (˵¯͒〰¯͒˵)
Praise me more, don't stop!
No wonder the Northern Province was called the cursed land. If the original had come — no, if Ashina hadn't been there to help — I probably couldn't have lasted long either.
A chill of afterfright ran through Field, but he soon shook off the negativity. He saw a new set of markers drawing closer in his direction — a cluster of red exclamation points.
"These markers — more monsters? No. Their formation's too neat — and there are exactly nineteen of them." Field's brow furrowed. After a moment's thought he called Ashina over and pointed ahead. "Go on ahead and set up an ambush in the mist. Be ready to adapt."
Cavalry captain Connor and his band of brothers were likewise advancing through the gray mist.
"This mist-lamp looks about to go out. Damn it — why is that brain-dead baron's lamp so big while ours is such a tiny little thing? The second young lady's too stingy. Wants the donkey to work but won't give it a carrot."
"Shut it, you dumb ass! Mind that big mouth doesn't draw the corpses over." The man beside him cursed him nervously.
"I feel like something's gotten behind us," said a sharp-eyed cavalryman, lance in hand, looking deeply uneasy. "We should've found a chance to kill Baron Field before we entered the Northern Province, not now."
Connor said helplessly, "You think I didn't want to? But openly killing a noble is more than enough to put all of us on the gallows."
That was exactly why they'd bid Field farewell earlier and then circled back: they couldn't find an alibi.
Soon Connor's cavalry picked up Field's trail; the fresh foul blood and corpses on the ground were the best guide of all.
The tracks of two hundred-plus people simply couldn't be hidden.
"Brothers, when the time comes, kill Field first, then charge back and forth through the slaves and snatch their mist-dispelling lamps. The gray mist will kill them all soon enough."
Connor's plan was flawless.
Once they'd formed up for a lance charge, they set the warhorses into a trot.
"I can already picture Field's terrified, begging face!" Connor licked his lips, laughing without restraint.
But the moment he saw Field, the laugh froze solid.
A thirty-man, fully armored guard, shields raised and halberds set, stood in a defensive formation. The gleaming halberds — and the corpse-blood and entrails smeared on their armor — declared they were not to be trifled with.
Field stood behind the wagon-wall, two rows of crossbowmen already nocked. At a single word they'd open fire on Connor's cavalry; untrained or not, a crossbow was a thing a three-year-old could loose, and it would punch clean through a grown man's body.
"Damn it! We've been spotted." Connor stood dumbfounded, feeling like a clown.
"How is this possible? Isn't Field a foundationless coward? Where did he get a guard?"
The cavalry stirred in confusion. A surprise attack without surprise was just a joke.
Charge warhorses into a braced formation of heavy-armored halberdiers? Or ram that damned wagon-wall?
"We retreat!"
Connor yanked his reins hard; the warhorse whinnied and wheeled on its hooves.
"Roooar!"
A black giant wolf, over two meters tall and burly as a bear, appeared behind the warhorses, spooking Connor's mount into a stumbling lurch.
Connor was thrown from the saddle, terror splitting his guts.
"Damn it!"
Before he could even retrieve a weapon, a long spear was pressed to his throat, a stunningly beautiful wolf demi-human watching him with a smile that wasn't quite a smile. Connor knew that the instant he moved, he was dead.
Worse still — his mist-dispelling lamp had been taken by her.
"This — this is the slave Field bought!"
Connor instantly recalled the slave Field had insisted on buying.
No mist-dispelling lamp, yet able to come and go freely in the gray mist.
The men stood stunned. Goddess above! What rotten luck had they hit, running into a Chosen?
Who the hell could have guessed Field would have a Chosen? Had they known, they wouldn't have come for ten thousand gold.
"Oh? Captain Connor, what are you doing here? You gave me quite a fright." Field didn't order them killed outright. He rolled his eyes craftily, then said in the casual tone of greeting an old friend, "Worried I wouldn't take up my post on time? Don't fret — expanding the realm for the family is a noble's duty."
"Uh..." Connor was tongue-tied; the space between life and death had crashed his brain.