Chapter 655: Panic

A few tens of minutes later at the South drawbridge of Lodunvals.

The night was well on its way and the first light of dawn was already coming through. Since Jake's departure, there had been no newcomers to check on, which was quite normal at an hour when most humans were supposed to be sleeping.

As the red sun became fully defined on the horizon, tinting the sky a range of colors from near-scarlet orange to magenta verging on purple, the first ox-drawn wagon and an early-morning driver showed up at the other end of the cobblestone road.

Inside the cart, under a thick burlap cloth, a dozen refugees were packed together, still shaking with fear after what they had been through. If Jake had been there, he would have recognized some of the many villagers he had rescued during the night.

The one driving the cart was a retired old adventurer with a lame leg who had nothing left to lose. He had offered to escort the volunteer survivors after some of them had finally regretted not taking up Jake's offer to travel with him.

Indeed, no later than fifteen minutes after Jake's departure from their ruined village, the mop-up companions of the eliminated bandits had quickly turned up with alcohol and some unfortunate prisoners they'd found who knew where. Finding their camp exterminated, their vengeful wrath was automatically directed against the survivors who had just been rescued.

Their refusal to follow Jake to Lodunvals was immediately punished by several more deaths, but those who still had some sense finally realized that the ideal of staying safely tucked inside their village did not hold a candle to their own lives.

They had fled, forming the mismatched cart of refugees that was heading for Lodunvals. When the cart stopped at the drawbridge, the two beasts of burden pulling the cart mooed in delight and the same halberd-wielding guard who had blocked Jake's path stood in their way.

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