Charles held her delicate body in his arms, but there was still something he needed to ask: "Your family—were they were framed?"
Just now, Lisa had mentioned that their family suffered under false charges; clearly, this was something Malena had told her previously.
There was, in all likelihood, a deeper story behind it.
And if it were true, Charles wouldn’t mind lending mother and daughter a hand, helping them reclaim their family’s lost honor.
After all, Malena and Lisa were trustworthy—perhaps this was the stepping stone he needed to glimpse the deeper noble games of Waterdeep.
At his words, Malena sobered up a little. After some thought, she shook her head firmly. "I no longer concern myself with those things. The dangers and filth of those in power—the struggles and conspiracies—I don’t want Lisa to ever be involved."
"All I want is for her to grow up safe and sound."
As she spoke, it truly seemed she had let go of her family’s vendetta. Charles understood her meaning, and gently patted her back, dismissing the thought.
If she was content to be a normal mother, keeping her distance from those unseen storms of blood and intrigue—well, that was no mistake.
As long as her past would not come back to haunt her...
The mountains welcomed the first snowfall of the year. Although it was not heavy, it was enough to bring joy to the children.
And on such a day, the five great tribes of the Alliance of the Mountain Purifiers once more gathered at the Mountaineer tribe’s seat, to negotiate the allocation of spoils, and determine the next steps for the alliance.
In theory, this sort of conference was supposed to include all the tribes in open discussion, to ensure strategies were as fair as possible. In reality, however, once these five met among themselves, the broad strokes were already decided.
It was just as it had been last time, when they debated whether to assault Rockseeker Camp first, or deal with the demon pollution.
At the head of the table, Ilarode sat draped in a feathered robe, smiling, utterly self-assured. With the passage of time, he felt more and more that his status in the alliance was unshakable—this place was close to becoming his personal fief.
The four major tribes, and dozens of minor ones, now all followed his lead. He had a premonition that soon, he would be the uncrowned king of these mountains.
Excellent. He had surpassed all his ancestors, and the position of the Mountaineer tribe reached new heights among the mountains.
Even if the tribes all had different interests and internal conflicts, he was confident that by his own wit and craft, he could balance their factions, turning them all to his ends.
There was nothing he could not do.
These thoughts in mind, he glanced at the leaders of the other tribes seated around the table. Torun Highmountain and Luger Stonehide were both visibly delighted, while Willo of the Green Vines appeared rather displeased.
As for Danche of Chimera, his expression was the most complicated: emotionally, he intensely disliked situations in which his father would suddenly make decisions on his behalf, or the other allies would launch military actions without waiting for him; yet, speaking rationally, his tribe had indeed profited this time, and the losses were arguably the smallest...
Thus, his face was a mess of contradiction. He wished to side with the Green Vines tribe, but feared that, having benefited, voicing complaints now would only draw the ire of the other three.
In the end, he lowered his head and remained silent. And in that unseen gap, his tribe’s voice in the alliance continued to fade.
Ilarode cleared his throat and spoke: "Let’s begin, regarding the distribution of spoils from this campaign."
"Though Matriarch Willo has declined, my previous promise still stands. The Green Vines tribe gave much and deserves first choice of the spoils."
"The snow came early this year, and the weather is bitter cold. I hope this harvest will at least allow the Green Vines tribe a good winter."
As he spoke, Willo Green Vines immediately raised her head and intoned: "Since Archdruid, you are so lofty and generous, I propose we make use of these supplies immediately, mobilize all forces, and at any cost, swiftly eradicate the demons’ pollution."
"If the demonic blight is not cleansed, no one should expect a peaceful new year. Better to mend the pen before disaster—friends, we have already wasted too much time; we cannot let these demons run rampant any longer!"
Her meaning was clear: not only was she declining her share, she was urging the others to do the same. Wealth gained should not even warm their hands before being spent—put every ounce into the next mission.
Naturally, not everyone agreed.
"Uh... there’s no need to panic so much, is there?" said Luger Stonehide. "It’s only just snowed, it’s freezing out—sending warriors to battle demons in a blizzard hardly seems wise."
"Indeed," added Torun. "And we still have the wounded to recover. If we hurry our young warriors out now, many of them may end up crippled for life!"
These two tribes were least affected by the demons’ pollution—naturally, their enthusiasm was limited.
Willo Green Vines was anxious: "But, according to our previous estimates, the demonic blight has already spread deep into the mountains, and the Chthonian is about to awaken."
"You all claim the mantle of protectors of the mountains—are we to stand by and watch these peaks ravaged and defiled by demons, their depths gouged by the Chthonians?"
Luger and Torun fell silent. Willo’s argument was pure political correctness within the alliance—the shared faith that led the Mountain People to join in the first place.
But, as with so many grand slogans, it was more a pretext for war than any true sense of duty.
Both men felt resentment, but lacked the nerve to oppose such high-sounding ideals openly, so had no choice but to keep quiet.
At the head of the table, the Archdruid smiled: "But Matriarch Willo, did we not already organize an action, rooting out many of the pollution sites?"
"I trust that our previous efforts have severely slowed the spread of the demons’ corruption."
He had already abandoned the Earth Dragon; from this point, the Mountaineer tribe no longer needed to be the ones to purify the demons.
"But..." Willo started to protest, but Ilarode cut her off: "Even the Chthonians have weaknesses, do they not?"
"First of all—they fear water, isn’t that so?"
"This snowstorm may keep our warriors at home, but it is also our best defense. Even if those fiends awaken, they won’t come our way."
"What we need to do is simply outlast the winter; I think everyone feels the same, yes?" Ilarode surveyed the table, noted the approval on Torun and Luger’s faces, then fixed his gaze seriously on Willo. "Of course, I promise you, as soon as the snow melts, I will stop at nothing to eradicate the demons!"
Torun and Luger both nodded vigorously: "Yes, when the time comes, we will mobilize our entire strength—never again will the demons defile these mountains!" This update ıs available on novｅlfire.net
Willo was left speechless, and finally could only sigh. "Well... so be it."
Danche frowned, but when he considered his own tribe’s situation, he bowed his head and fell silent.
Ilarode nodded: "Good. Now, let’s discuss how we divide the spoils."
"The tally has been made. If anyone has urgent needs, or a particular desire for something, now is the time to raise it."
He finished speaking, leaned back in his chair, and savored his own performance, immensely satisfied.
Especially after seeing Willo compromise and accept his arrangements, Ilarode wanted to laugh out loud.
Yes, just —he could balance all the competing factions’ interests and have everyone recognize him as their undisputed leader...
Smugly, he could already envision the Alliance of the Mountain Purifiers expanding ever further, himself standing atop the mountains.
Suddenly, the ground quivered gently. Ilarode returned to himself, frowning, and looked down. "Was that an earthquake?"
Willo Green Vines’ expression changed drastically. "It’s the Chthonians!"
"They’ve gone mad; they’re actually braving the snow to come here!"
No sooner had she spoken than everyone present felt the ground beneath their feet tremble—at first, subtly, then stronger and stronger, as if a thousand warhorses were thundering below their tents!
The earth split open. Countless rocks, snow, tents, lodges, and residents of the encampment all plunged into yawning fissures with terrified screams.
The cries of fear and pleas for help, mixed with the rumble of breaking ground, rose from all directions—a merciless mockery by the demons of Ilarode’s arrogance!
"Save the people first!"
Willo leapt to her feet and began chanting, running across the shaking earth as if it were solid stone, dashing into the chaos outside the command tent. Danche raced after, while Ilarode’s face was stormy.
He had miscalculated. Never had he expected the demons to launch their assault at this very moment!
Teeth grinding, he realized the disaster had already come—nothing could be changed now.
At that moment, in the depths of the mountains, inside a blood-soaked cavern, the massive form of Montport finally stepped from his filthy pool of blood.
His massive hand reached for a twin-bladed polearm that leaned against the wall. Then he strode forward on four elephantine legs, his fat bulk surrounded by hordes of demons as he left the cave and faced the snow-clad mountains beyond. He burst into mad laughter: "Hahahahaha—!"
"Let the blood and souls of these mortals sharpen my twin blades—by Montport’s hand!"
--------------------------------------
Enjoying the story? Get early access to 150+ Advanced Chapters!
👉 Support now: /TransFic
--------------------------------------