They could even have children, but only with ordinary mortal women. According to the legends the Shadow of the Immortal had told Hadjar, only a beast that had reached the stage of a Wild God was able to have children with a male or female practitioner.
What even was the stage of a Wild God? Apparently, it was a myth, a legend, a joke of sorts that was told to naive disciples in the Land of the Immortals. It was said that a beast at the Wild God stage was equal to the gods themselves, and so neither Hadjar nor the Immortal’s remnant had been convinced they existed.
“I think they’ve started without us,” Helion grumbled.
“Are you here to negotiate or to drink and have fun?” Lian asked.
Hadjar was forced to reluctantly accept that the noblewoman's outfit suited her. He admitted it reluctantly because he tended to think of her as a sort of sexless creature—she was simply the commander of the archers and no different than any of the other warriors that had accompanied him.
Now, he was confused. He saw a beautiful and statuesque woman before him, not a sexless creature who wasn’t fond of men. And not because she didn't want their company, but simply because few men were strong enough to feel equal to a female practitioner at the Transformation stage.
And even fewer were willing to commit to a long-term relationship with an officer. Everyone knew perfectly well what that could lead to. They still remembered what had happened to Dragon’s Tooth and the Moon General.
“Why not kill two birds with one stone?” Helion replied. “Am I right, General?”
“If you get carried away trying to commit bird murder, I’m sending you off to guard the frontiers.”
“I understand, my General.” The cavalryman struck his chest. “I promise, you need not worry that I will drink myself half to death! Lergon said that the Baliumian girls from the mountain villages are very beautiful.”
Lian rolled her eyes and lightly spurred her horse. She caught up with Hadjar, leaving the dreamily sighing Helion behind, lost in his pleasant thoughts.
They rode in silence for a while, sometimes swatting at the pesky lanterns as they blew by. The wind shifted toward the north-west, now blowing in the travelers’ faces constantly. It brought not only snow with it, making it difficult to see anything that was more than a few feet ahead of them, but it continued to nudge the lanterns toward them, too.
The horses snorted with displeasure, not understanding why fire was flying through the air.
Hadjar wasn’t going to test how patient his four-legged transportation was. He didn’t want to know if he could survive falling off his horse and into the abyss on the other side of the path.
Putting his hand on his sword’s hilt, Hadjar exhaled. A wave of wind appeared after his sigh. It swept the lanterns aside and spun them around in a mad waltz, keeping them out of the travelers’ way.
“You really have grown much stronger, my General,” Lian noted.
Hadjar hadn’t told anyone that he’d spent a whole year in the tomb. Everybody noticed, however, that the General had returned a changed man from his two-day adventure: a better swordsman, and at a higher stage of the Formation level.
“Perhaps,” Hadjar replied. He wasn’t willing to discuss the matter any further.
Lian took the hint and fell silent, but she soon mentioned something else, something that was important to both of them.
“What are you actually down here for?”
Hadjar turned to the officer. She looked at him with her clear, green eyes. There was no fear in them, only respect and determination.
“Don’t tell me that you want to meet the Chief, my General.” Lian stroked her horse’s neck; the animal kept snorting. “I still remember when you were Dogar’s assistant, and even then, your actions were never what they initially appeared to be.”
“Are you accusing me of duplicity, Officer?”
“I wouldn’t dare, my General.” Lian shook her head. “I mean that you never let anyone know your true intentions. Frankly speaking, I don’t really want to act without knowing all the facts. Especially when we are in foreign territory and close to ‘The Black Gates’ sect.”
Hadjar looked at the archer again as she rode beside him. She wasn’t the first to have realized that Hadjar always had a backup plan. Dogar had been the first. However, he’d never dared bring it up.
The second person had been Nero. But Hadjar told him everything lately. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been able to face his friend.
“It could be a trap,” Hadjar replied at last. “If this is a trap set for me personally, I don’t want the whole army to get hurt.”
“With all due respect, sir, heroism is all well and good for common soldiers to engage in and bards to laud, but not for a General. You’re putting everything at risk-”
“On the contrary, Officer,” Hadjar interrupted her. “I’m not putting anyone at risk. If it’s really a trap, they’ll have to bring the Masters from all the pavilions to even attempt to kill me. Or, the Patriarch himself would have to come down here. They won’t do that.”
Lian thought about this for a while.
“Why did you take me and Helion along in that case?”
“Other than Commander Nero and Serra, I trust you two the most.” Hadjar shrugged. “I could’ve taken Tuur, but he isn’t the greatest of fighters.”
“So, we’re going into the enemy’s lair, and you’re only telling us now…”
“A real officer should always be ready for battle,” Hadjar replied. “Besides, it’s just a possibility. It’s just as likely as a horde of monsters actually gathering in the north or us having been invited to a terrible orgy of sacrifices to the gods. Highlanders always have strange customs. Perhaps the daughter of a Chief wants to marry me, or Helion set this all up just to get some booze and whores.”
Hadjar and Lian turned their heads toward the cavalryman at the same time.
“What?” he asked.
“That is the most unlikely option.” Hadjar sighed as he turned back.
“Are those all the options?”
“There are others.” Hadjar adjusted the harness and yanked on the reins. “All of them might or might not happen. Regardless, I’ll be ready for all of them.”
Hadjar lightly squeezed his horse's sides with his legs and it quickened its pace. Lian was left behind. She looked at the figure of the General disappearing into the blizzard and she began to understand why Leen had given her amulet to Hadjar.
A few hours later, they reached the bottom of the pass and immediately came upon a welcoming party.
Chapter 131
It was either the son or the grandson of the Chief, according to the descriptions of the commanders, who greeted the travelers. The guy was taller than Hadjar, who was far from short, by two and a half heads, and his shoulders were no less than three feet wide.
He could bend horseshoes and nails with his bare hands, and he had dark skin, black eyes, and hair gathered into a tight ponytail made up of hundreds of small braids.
The herculean man was dressed in simple clothing sewn from pieces and trimmings of pelts—animal skins were what these villagers exported the most, after all. Confident men holding slingshots, bows, and even one with a battle ax, met the soldiers. The big guy was carrying the ax.
Constant clashes with the disciples of the sect and hunting had hardened them, but it had also inspired a stupid and arrogant belief in their own strength.
Hadjar looked at the villagers and realized that two slashes of his sword would be enough for them to paint the snow red and never return home.
Jumping off his horse and almost drowning in the snow, Hadjar approached the biggest guy among them. He looked even more imposing up close, but still, he wasn’t as impressive as Dogar had been, may the forefathers be proud of him. He didn’t have the sheer rage and indomitable spirit that had burned in the Bear’s heart.
“I don’t know what the Chief has taught you, young man…” Hadjar spoke calmly, but despite his quiet, frien
dly tone, the villagers felt like cold steel was at their necks. “No one greets people who’ve come with only good intentions with a weapon in their hands.”
Hadjar surprisingly found that he really considered the giant a mere boy. Damn, he was only a couple of years younger than the General was. Hadjar was probably starting to look at age as something not measured by years, but rather, by what a man had endured during his life thus far.
The big guy clenched his jaw and put the ax back in its sheath behind his shoulder. Obviously, keeping a weapon on one’s back was fashionable. It was a simple custom that had gained popularity thanks to the songs of the bards. However, Hadjar admitted, the guy might also have had some special Technique which required him to carry his weapon in such an uncomfortable way.
[Analysis of the objects...threat level is minimum]
This world was huge, after all. Well, when in Rome, do as the Romans do.
“Are you General Hadjar?” the boy had a deep voice.
“Yes, that’s me.” Hadjar nodded and pointed behind him. “These two are Commander Lian and Commander Helion. They’re my officers and advisors.”
The giant looked to where the General had pointed and... immediately lost his head. Hadjar could only sigh in desperation. He could now add young people falling in love at first sight to the list of his problems. Why wasn’t Lian wearing her crumpled armor, and why wasn’t she armed with a longbow? Perhaps then the big guy wouldn’t have been looking at her so lustfully and Hadjar wouldn’t have had to witness the guy’s pants suddenly becoming too tight...
“Nice to mee-et-t-t you,” the confused boy mumbled out.
He resembled a bear after its tamer had flicked it on the nose. It was both funny and surreal at the same time.
“We’d appreciate it if you didn’t keep us out in the cold.” Lian, an experienced woman, immediately noticed the way the big man was looking at her.
Even if she’d been young and inexperienced, she still would’ve noticed. It was hard to miss. Men might not realize the importance of such moments, but women always noticed it when they were adored by someone or someone was in love with them. At least, that’s how Hadjar saw it.
Nature was unfair.
“Y-Yes.” The poor, smitten boy nodded. “Come on; Father’s waiting.”
Hadjar noticed how professionally the villagers surrounded their small delegation as they walked along a path in the snow-covered forest. Because of the snowstorm, the trees now resembled huge snowdrifts. Fortunately, the air was also very humid here, so the snow was very tightly compacted, and the horses didn’t fall too deeply into it.
However, the people from Lidus still hadn’t gotten used to moving across the snow. Unlike the villagers, they constantly swore and fell into it up to their waists or chests. Luckily, Hadjar, unlike his subordinates, was very skilled at the ‘Ten Ravens’ Technique. Utilizing it made his steps light enough to pass not only over the snow, but also over quicksand—should the need ever arise.
The big guy noticed that Lian had fallen into the snow, and he wanted to help her, but he stopped when he saw the sharp, warning look in her green eyes.
What a naive boy.
Lian’s need to be self-sufficient was greater than any other woman’s Hadjar had ever met. Even the Moon General hadn’t been able to compete with the fiery-haired archer. Lian could turn the ass of such a ‘gentleman’ into a pincushion with a dozen arrows just for one hint of looking down on her. However, this time, she didn’t do so.
Possibly because the feelings that had stirred in the heart of this young man in such a short amount of time were mutual.
“Am I running a high school or an army?” Hadjar muttered in a whisper.
First Serra and Nero, and now these two…
Luckily, they didn’t have to walk for long—no more than an hour. Hadjar had noticed several hidden watchtowers along the way. More precisely, the neuronet had noticed them (they were hidden by a special spell). It had been able to spot them and discern the number of people on them in ways unknown to Hadjar.
Most likely, the native witch’s spell couldn’t hide the warmth coming from the people within. Hadjar still didn't know how the neuronet had managed to detect that heat. To be honest, he hadn't even tried to figure out how the interface worked. Not yet, anyway.
On the one hand, Hadjar was pleased that the villagers weren’t defenseless peasants and hunters. But on the other hand, it caused some apprehension on his part. These people wouldn’t be acting as they were without a good reason.
Hadjar would probably be happier if it really turned out to be a simple trap from the sectarians. He wasn’t overly enthusiastic about the prospect of fighting against an invading horde of frightened, stampeding beasts.
An hour later, after dawn, they reached their first destination.
“This is our Central village,” the giant of a man told them as they arrived.
His name was Dubar. Another child named after the god of war who’d eventually grown up to be a mighty giant.
Damn, maybe I really should start believing in the gods...
Hadjar looked at the mountain pass, and then he turned to view the plateau in front of them. It looked as if an ancient river had carved a river bed through a mountain range, and then, after it dried up, the people came. They built hundreds or thousands of houses. They were two stories tall, and even three in places, made from strong oaks and fir-trees. Apparently, the villagers earned good money by selling skins. At least on the days when the sectarians didn’t stop them from doing so.
The houses had been built in this channel, going right up to the tall mountain, and several large houses made from wooden logs were located at its base. Apparently, these were the administrative buildings. Most of all, Hadjar was surprised by the face carved into the mountain. It was so big that it could be clearly seen even from such a distance.
And, looking at Dubar, Hadjar wasn’t the least bit surprised that it was an image of the god of war. The stone face of Derger looked at the General menacingly... It reminded him of the ancient Immortal’s Spirit in the tomb.
“Faster,” Dubar said eagerly as the travelers entered the village.
Chapter 132
There were few people in the streets. Hadjar noticed they were so narrow that two carts could hardly go past one another. The people were still resting after the previous night’s celebration. The local festival, something similar to the Rain festival in Lidus, usually lasted four days. On the first day, the people launched lanterns into the sky to show the way to the souls of dead relatives, so they could join the main celebration of the year.
The second and third nights were when the main festivities happened. The people drank, danced, had fun, and forgot all the hardships of the past year. They believed that if the children didn’t eat sweets on these nights, and the men and women... well, also didn’t indulge in any ‘sweetness’, then their next year would be the same—bitter and arduous. So, people made sure to have fun.
Nero would’ve probably liked this atmosphere, Hadjar thought. However, he’d been prevented from coming by the wound he had received in battle, and also by his very passionate lover. Hadjar didn’t know (and didn’t want to know) how passionate Serra was in terms of ‘sweetness’, but he didn’t doubt for a moment that she could make his life bitter with ease.
“We were expecting you to come at the beginning of the festivities,” Dubar said.
“Officers aren’t dogs that come running as soon as you whistle,” Lian replied sternly.
However, her tone immediately softened when a little girl in a brown coat, fur boots, and a fur hat ran up to her. The girl held out her small hands, wrapped in a pair of woolen gloves.
Lian smiled, bent down, took a snow flower from her pocket, and gave it to her. The girl’s face shone with joy and she ran back to show it to her mother.
Hadjar had noticed how wary the few villagers who chose to come out into the street were and how they treated them when they approached.
Actually, he’d noticed it the moment they’d first arrived in the village.
The neural network had shown the watchtowers to Hadjar. From each of them, a row of bows or homemade crossbows had been pointed down at them. The weapons resembled siege crossbows, only they were smaller and predominantly used for hunting. However, a dead man with a bolt through his chest didn’t care about the difference.
“S-s-sorry,” Dubar said.
The General only sighed wearily.
Continuing on their way, they left the village behind and stopped near a large house. Reaching toward the sky, the building was several stories tall and looked like a tower... or a pyramid. It was made from wood, with a few sloping canopies, and the main roof was currently lost somewhere under the snow.
“Come in.” Their herculean host opened the door.
As a guest should, Hadjar bowed at the waist toward the house. He liked to follow the rules of hospitality as best he could. In a world ruled only by power, it was sometimes good to remind himself of something more civilized than swinging a sword or a cudgel.
Wiping his feet on the wooden threshold and throwing off his cloak, Hadjar entered the spacious hall. There were a few men wearing leather armor inside. Judging by their menacing looks, they clearly considered themselves to be warriors.
“It isn’t customary to enter this house with a weapon in one’s hand,” one of them said.
Hadjar saw that the ‘warriors’ were armed with swords inferior to his own. They also had short, heavy axes at their belts. There were some men who fought with such axes in his own army. Hadjar knew perfectly well that if a weak swordsman and a weak axman met in battle, the swordsman wouldn’t have a chance.
On the other hand, a skilled swordsman was much deadlier than a skilled axman. However, learning how to wield an ax took a lot less time than truly mastering a sword.
The world was so big and complicated…
“Apparently, this only applies to outsiders?”
Dragon Heart: Iron Will. LitRPG Wuxia Series: Book 2 Page 30
