Warsong | Celeste Academy Series Book #4

Chapter Thirty-Three ⚜ Lucky Seven

The Chicovan territory was situated within the outskirts of Zorienna about a mile off from the capital city. It was nestled within the bosom of the emerald forests where a tall waterfall rumbled down jagged rocks—the height of which speared for the skies. The torrent of waters on the vast lake ran across a length that could rival an Olympic stadium before thinning out into a river that would then snake straight for the ocean.

Count Brews of Zorienna had his men stationed around the territory. The bodies of the Celestes that Rowe had sent prior for the protection of the Aetherian guardians have been moved to the morgue, transported by cavalcades to be given proper burials. Rowe had arrived the day after he left the capital with Corvan—or, to be more specific, eighteen hours.

There were many more bodies inside the territory, but Rowe's orders with not a shadow stepping inside until he arrived deterred any soul from entering. However, the moment he appeared, he immediately dispatched the group of Spirit Brigades he had with him—Aetheria's continental knights—to clear the immediate vicinity under his strict supervision.

"These Celestes were high-ranking knights," Corvan commented as he eyed the fresh corpse before him—cold as any rock, lying motionlessly on the floor. "And only three out of twenty-five survived the attack. That's a twelve percent survival rate."

"Pretty narrow for experienced fellows." Rowe frowned as he turned to Count Brews, a burly man with a thick moustache and proud chest. "Have you called for a representative from the Great Hall to help in dispelling the demonic energy in the area?" he asked.

"I have, sire," Count Brews replied. "In fact, she arrived before you a couple of minutes earlier."

"Good, then call for her immediately. The work must begin at once. With a trouble of this magnitude, we can expect to be working here for at least month."

"I'll have her called at once." He nodded, sweat sliding down his brow as he waved his hand and passed the order to one of his fellows.

Unfortunately, a simple dispelling would not improve the situation of the territory as it was mangled beyond reason. The trees had lost their healthy green glow, withering and drying so much that they caved in on themselves. The lake that ran a fluid sapphire had turned into a mud bath, the dirt so thick the water itself was as well. Fortunately, it was not that viscous.

The curtain of water that blanketed the cliff had an entrance behind it that led straight into a deep cavern, but the journey to it would be harsh. Aside from the wild waters, one would have to climb the slippery rocks to get to its mouth.

They pulled a rowboat into the lake. Rowe and Corvan got ready to board when one of Rowe's retainers walked up to him, whispering into his ear a few words that the first-ranker could not hear. Corvan dismissed this, anyhow, and climbed aboard the boat that would take them across. After he'd gotten the message, Rowe sat across Corvan as one of his men started rowing.

"I'd just received a message from Lord Claude of Larkovia," he said.

Corvan's interest was piqued as he looked up and tuned in. "What did he say?"

"A couple of our companions are making their way over. They'd gotten the news, apparently, and should be here shortly. They include Tamara, Charles, Keelan, Brindon, and Valeriana."

Casually, Corvan diverted his gaze. Rowe examined the blank and cold reaction from his face but let his eyes travel to his feet which shifted abruptly.

He smiled. "It has been a while, hasn't it?" he said as the breeze brushed his face. "I have missed their company."

"Ridiculous," Corvan dismissed. "It hasn't been that long. It has just been less than a week."

Rowe chuckled. "That's true. Short as it may have been, these moments are worth a century."