Chapter 42

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Chapter 42: Snow

On this evening, the northernmost watchtower spotted a commotion.

The snow had stopped falling, and the silvery white snow made the night as bright as dawn. Before the moon climbed high in the sky, a loud noise shattered the quiet near the northern frontier post, followed by a series of booming sounds. Snowdrifts and barriers were shattered and swept up by the air, like huge waves crashing against rocks, with white powder surging several meters away. The shouts were drowned out by the continuous thundering and shattering noises, and before the snowflakes could even settle, six horses charged out from the snow curtain.

Two, three… a total of six horses ran side by side, racing like the wind, pulling a large carriage behind them. It burst out abruptly from the snow and debris, as if descending from the sky, reminiscent of a pumpkin carriage transforming midair from a fairy tale. If not for the coachman vigorously waving a whip and the tense faces peeking out from the carriage, this eclectic scene might have seemed a bit comical.

The outpost exploded, the kind of rumble and blast that could only bring to mind an explosion, or perhaps magic similar to that in fantasy worlds. The tall barriers were leveled, the trench in front was filled by the debris, and a temporary bridge was systematically erected, allowing multiple carriages to speed across. The boards collapsed as the rear wheels of the carriage passed over, horses neighing wildly as they galloped, dragging the sinking carriage up. The scene was as thrilling as a movie with explosions and chases, yet the protagonist, the carriage, exuded a fairytale charm.

It was as big as a small house, with many upward-curving corners – not menacing spikes, but rounded curves resembling decorated cream puffs. The entire carriage was painted in bright colors, red and white, adorned with yellow and green, evoking thoughts of strawberry milk candy; even the worst colorblind person wouldn’t use such a color scheme for camouflage. Bells hung at the corners of the carriage, jingling with its movements. This flamboyant carriage traveled through the white snow, shining like a signal light in the dark night.

Naturally, pursuers began to close in.

Shortly after the carriage sped out, the chaotic outpost responded, cavalry charging out from the gates, horses leaping over the trench. The six strong horses and giant wheels allowed the carriage to move swiftly, but its speed could not match that of the riders. The distance between them slowly shrank, as Tasha’s mobilized troops were not as fast to arrive. Just as she pondered whether to take action herself, the riders around the carriage voluntarily slowed down.

The carriage drawn by six horses was not the only one to burst out of the gap; in addition to the carriage itself, there were scattered riders around, just less conspicuous compared to the carriage. At that moment, one rider took the lead, turning to face the approaching enemy.

The closest cavalry suddenly fell off his horse.

There is a long stretch of burnt isolation zone near the lookout point, making it impossible to secretly set up watchtowers. The northernmost watchtower is quite far from the scene. Tasha couldn’t see what weapon the rider used at first. It was only when the ghostly beings lurking nearby arrived late that she realized the rider was using a rope, not a long-range weapon.

More precisely, it was a lasso.

The rider wore a dusty wide-brimmed hat, but his clothing was bright and eye-catching, matching the style of the carriage. He held a rope in his hand, with one end tied to the saddle in front of his thighs and the other end looped. The rope spun in his hand, forming a precise circle in the air. Leaning close to the horse’s belly and the next pursuer, he suddenly threw the lasso.

The circular loop swiftly captured the pursuer, like a carnival game. It was large enough to encircle the pursuer’s waist, and when tightened, it swiftly pulled the rider off the horse and dragged him along the ground for a while. "Douglas scores two points," the rider said, whistled, gave the rope a shake, and the lasso slipped off the pursuer. He retrieved the lasso, manipulated it in his hand, and returned the loop to its original size.

"Three points," the rider said as the third pursuer fell.

The pursuers rushed too hastily, lacking good organization. The riders ran unevenly, resembling a game of cat and mouse for the rider. When they finally realized this and began organizing their ranks, the captain who received Tasha’s signal had already brought troops forward.

The cavalry from the south retreated upon contact, maybe even more dramatically—they immediately turned their horses around upon seeing the allied forces. They seemed reluctant to engage with the people on this side, as if avoiding some plague.

Perhaps they were really avoiding the imagined plague, as these people had maintained the isolation zone for nearly half a year.

The captain’s army arrived, with cavalry in the front and infantry at the back, surrounding unexpected guests from the north. The surrounded rider did not resist, he obediently stopped his horse and raised his hands.

"Hey, don’t be so nervous!" he flashed a bright smile, took off his hat, "I’m Douglas, have you heard of me?"

No one paid him any attention.

"’Dragonrider Douglas’?" the rider continued, looking at the soldiers’ expressionless faces, sadly sighed, "It seems you haven’t heard of me, what a pity."

The driver of the carriage stopped waving his whip. The large carriage, driven by inertia, moved a bit further before coming to a halt. The carriage driver was much simpler in speech compared to the horse rider who liked to make jokes.

The carriage driver explained that they had charged the checkpoint with the circus wagon in order to meet their trapped loved ones here.

The huge carriage was parked at the edge of the military camp outside the town. The people and items on the carriage were requested to come down by the soldiers. The carriage was loaded with lots of food and water, and over ten people were crammed inside, including the horse riders, totaling twenty people. Most of them were young adults, but there were also elderly and young women. When the captain interrogated each person separately, their stories were quite similar.

"I met my younger brother’s war buddies up north. They said he went missing and was trapped down south. I have some connections and knew Frank Circus wanted to head south, so I joined in," a man explained.

"I was born in Red Gum County, even though I left early, this place is still my home. So, we took the circus wagon for a ride…" the restless one-eyed pirate interrupted impatiently, "Hmm? Oh, right, hitched a ride. The circus ringmaster volunteered, right?"

"Wherever the boss tells me to go, I’ll go. It’s all the same anyway," said the tall, skinny man with a scar on his face nonchalantly. "I’m just an orphan and a bachelor making a living with the circus."

"Good evening, officer! I am circus ringmaster Frank," said the man with a mustache, holding his velvet top hat politely. "Although I have achieved success in my career, the love of my life has left me. She wrote to me saying she now lives in a village in the southeast of Tasmania. Even though we are no longer lovers, I cannot stand by and watch her be stuck there. So, I disbanded the circus, gathered some like-minded companions, packed some emergency supplies, and took advantage of the circus’s nearby performance to make a bold move. Officer, how are things here now?"

"Find my son," the stern old man said shortly.

The petite girl didn’t speak, looking to be only around ten years old, feeling nervous around the approaching soldier. She held a harp, like holding a teddy bear.

"Name? Dragonrider Douglas, I’m the star performer of the circus! Haven’t heard of me? Well, maybe you should ask the nearby ladies and gentlemen." The rider lounged on a chair lazily. "Purpose? To bring joy to people. There’s a lady in the carriage, the one with the harp, her unseen father is here. Frankly, if it weren’t for this life-threatening situation, she wouldn’t have the courage to get off. Who could refuse such a pitiful lady wanting to go to the dragon’s den? Don’t ask her, she’s overcome with fear, speaks only through her songs. If any of you have seen Frank Circus’s performance, you’d hear her in the background music of the magic show, she sings so beautifully… Haven’t seen it? Well, pity for your busy schedules."

"Do you believe them?" Victor asked.

"Can’t say," Tasha replied.

Many people had heard of Frank Circus, a somewhat famous circus that toured various areas in Aryan. It was the type that wouldn’t make you rush to the neighboring town to watch but wouldn’t want to miss their show when they came to your own city. Those who had seen Frank Circus’s performance were sure the man with the mustache was the circus ringmaster himself, and more could recognize Douglas, a highly skilled and flamboyant equestrian star. He not only rode horses but also bulls and goats, claiming he could even ride dragons if one were led to him. This dramatic rider, both in personality and abilities, was featured on the circus posters, plastered in every city during the tour.

In comparison, others were not as recognizable. Not a single person who had seen the performance could point out if the carriage driver acted as stylishly elsewhere with a carriage. When your attention was allured by the moving circus carriage resembling a candy house, who would notice the carriage driver? The carriage couldn’t be fake, but the people inside were uncertain. The circus’s strongmen and magicians were nowhere to be seen, supposedly only the harpist Jacqueline sang behind the scenes and never met the audience. But this didn’t raise suspicions, as Captain Frank said he disbanded those who didn’t want to come and recruited a new bunch.

"To break up the circus for a mysterious old flame, go against Aryan, rush into the rumored plague and death zone, and so many people respond," Victor sneered, "quite convincing."

Tasha’s suspicion was not focused on the motive.

Except for the helpful Douglas and some people hired by ringmaster Frank, all the remaining people claimed to have relatives trapped here. The circus ringmaster walked around the village, tired and sad in front of an empty house, remote and abandoned for many years, no one could say if a woman used to live there. No soldiers came to recognize their father, but many men who had been around came to see the little girl in a fluster. The seemingly frightened girl couldn’t speak clearly. The token she held was a dried flower, symbolizing love, very common and bought by deceiving men for their lovers. Father’s search did not narrow down because of this. Most people’s search for their loved ones ended in vain, either the person they were looking for had disappeared, or they were already buried in the graveyard, unrecognizable.

Only one person found their relative, the skinny one hugged his uncle excitedly, the woodcutter was not as excited as him, and seemed a bit awkward.

"I didn’t expect you to come," he muttered, stiffly patting his nephew’s back, "I mean, you have been gone for over ten years…"

"Blood is thicker than water!" the nephew said affectionately, "Although we had some disagreements back then, I wasn’t really mad at you. You are the only family I have left!"

The suspiciousness of the clues added up would be enough to convict someone in a detective drama.

But this is not a detective drama, a careful writer wouldn’t give out a lot of redundant information or absurd endings, sometimes the real world has so many coincidences that would make readers gasp in surprise more than any exaggerated story. If these newcomers were deemed suspicious, there were other doubts arising.

Starting from the way they rushed past the checkpoint.

The circus ringmaster Frank admitted that he obtained a powerful weapon from the black market, which could blast through steel plates. "I’ve done some experiments," Frank vaguely said. "It works just like the military’s weapons nowadays. Oh, I might know more than you think, Captain, don’t be surprised, I have my sources."

The secret weapon, meant to be used at the "right moment," blew up the entire outpost.

To put it simply, that secret weapon was basically a detonator. Not long ago, when a shipment of weapons arrived at the outpost, Frank’s people managed to ignite their secret weapon inside the military arsenal, causing a chain reaction explosion, just like the series of explosions Tasha heard at that time.

The secret weapon he described sounded like a bomb, a relic bomb from the ancient ruins? Quite strange. The initial explosion was relatively small, but the subsequent chain reactions were quite astonishing, tearing a big hole in the outpost that took so long to build. If this was the result of the people from the north and the circus acting on their own, having such advanced weapons, why not use them directly for an attack?

So far in the battles, Tasha has seen several suspected technological products such as: the Red Setter that ghosts cannot approach, the Magic Cannon powered by the Dungeon Core, and the Blight Convention curse gas resembling a bio-weapon. They are all very useful and rare, as the Captain said, not even the graduates of the Aryan Military Academy have truly used them. If they have things like magic bombs on their side, why waste them on theatrics? Just to allow a normal circus troupe to enter the south like lambs to the slaughter?

Blame it on the insufficient surveillance system; if the surface and dungeon were as familiar to Tasha as the back of her hand, she wouldn’t have to guess like this.

The surveillance range and height of the watchtower are linked, a watchtower under two meters is like an antenna with insufficient height, basically useless (a disguised as grass watchtower can only spread curses in special circumstances), while a watchtower of several meters high is too conspicuous to suddenly appear in enemy camps; the further away from the Dungeon Core, the more magic the ghosts consume, to the point where even if the dungeon can reach there, the ghosts can’t move an inch. There are also limits on the number, currently, Tasha can only use two ghosts, with limited surveillance range, they consume a lot of energy while staying in place and can’t be mobilized quickly.

——This doesn’t necessarily put Tasha at a major disadvantage, it just levels the playing field a bit, the cheat codes are restricted.

The food in the circus wagon is just regular food. The search party heard that this place was sealed off, so they brought these supplies. "The situation here is much better than we thought," someone said. Everyone received a simple pat-down, they didn’t have anything particularly noteworthy on them, especially considering that some of them thought they were coming here to fight zombies. Some people carried self-defense knives, arrows, and daggers, an old man had a heavy and thick wooden staff, a little girl held onto her harp, Douglas called his bullwhip "my beauty." That’s all.

There is another question.

When everyone finished checking their things and couldn’t find anything suspicious, they temporarily stayed at the inn in Red Gum County. All the residents, including the nephew who stayed at the woodcutter’s uncle’s house, took out a kind of charm that looked like a knotted rope from their luggage. They nailed it on the inside of the door, and the objects that were thought to be memorabilia during the initial inspection buzzed and emitted a faint glow.

The ghosts couldn’t enter their rooms anymore.

"What is this?" Tasha asked, "You didn’t mention any issues with them before."

"It’s been centuries!" Victor used the old excuse again, "Probably some kind of Spiritual Amulet, nothing worth mentioning… ghosts were never that powerful! You could easily defeat a dozen on any battlefield! Centuries ago, anyone traveling long distances knew to bring a Spiritual Amulet, not to mention those dealing with dungeons, your ghosts have been unstoppable till now, simply because their enemies were ignorant!"

Tasha tried to rub her forehead with her fingers, but she only felt bone.

"It looks a bit like… a certain style," Victor said in vain, "Some relic of a tribe? Descendants of which kingdom? Damn, I can’t remember."

That doesn’t prove anything, Victor said. When soldiers asked about the Spiritual Amulet, they only got the answer "protective charm," something that circuses have carried for a long time as part of their tradition. The ghosts couldn’t come near, and Tasha didn’t want to risk arousing suspicion by forcefully removing it. The room’s space had temporarily become a secret, but it was okay.

People with ulterior motives always reveal themselves.

Douglas walked along the streets of Red Gum County, still wearing his bright and colorful outfit. Whenever someone looked at him, he would tip his hat and give them a shiny smile.

People passing by couldn’t help but stare at him, whether they recognized the circus star or not. Douglas had a big red scarf around his neck, wore a striped shirt with yellow and green, and even had a five-pointed star pattern on it. His pants didn’t match well, being blue and worn out, with scratches and stains that wouldn’t come off. If it wasn’t for his handsome face with a short beard, people would probably not look at him for more than two seconds.

The rider still wore his riding boots, with spurs clinking with each step, making him look like a noisy and flashy sign. When he arrived at the inn, he confidently strolled through Red Gum County like a relaxed tourist.

"Yes, I am Dragonrider Douglas. Would you like my autograph?"

Laughter and voices asking for his autograph.

"That’s right, the north is still blocked. They say everyone here is dead. But we don’t believe it, do we?"

Angry hissing sounds.

"Others? I have no idea. I came here to protect a young lady. I didn’t bring much luggage, see, they are still arranging the rooms. I was the first one to come out for a walk, right? Friends, let’s cheer for the modern-day adventurer Douglas!"

Cheerful applause.

Douglas claimed he came to protect the little girl, but ended up not staying by her side when they arrived. He attracted a small crowd and turned the scene into a mini public gathering. People gathered around, had some fun, and then dispersed before dark.

The arrival of the circus guests sparked some excitement here, but the military was sharing information openly every day, making the situation transparent and lacking in mystery. By the time they settled in at the inn, people had become accustomed to them. The residents adapted well, chatting casually and going about their business as usual.

Then, it was Douglas’s turn to ask a question.

"Aren’t you running out of food? I heard most of the supplies here come from the north, and road closures might be causing some trouble," he said.

"Oh, definitely!" one of the residents lamented while chatting with him, "Not only are the northern routes blocked, but there have been issues with the southern fields. Prices for food skyrocketed recently!"

"Oh my! That sounds really bad," Douglas sympathized.

"It sure is!" the resident said, "For town folks like us, who don’t have much money or stored food, other than buying from someone else, what else can we do? Money doesn’t feel like money at all!"

"That’s right, it’s extremely tough for law-abiding small-town folks like us," Douglas shook his head, "But what about now? It seems like the situation has improved."

"Thanks to the clever captain, things got better, and…" the resident paused here, looked at Douglas warily, and asked, "You’re not a spy, are you?"

"Oh dear, madam, look at me!" Douglas smiled and turned in place like a spinning barber pole. "Which spy is as charming as me? And where can I go? Brave knight Douglas broke through the soldiers’ defenses for the sake of the lily in his heart. I have no place elsewhere to go, so I must rely on you and others here, like you, kind-hearted and beautiful madam, to have a chance to pick up my old trade and earn a living! When everyone here tires of me, I’ll have to become a stable boy."

His pitiful appearance made the middle-aged woman in her forties or fifties giggle. In the next ten or so minutes, he heard about the affairs of the exotic tribes and the trading post.

Douglas learned enough about the exotic tribes here. He saw the trading post during dinner time, even though the people working inside were actually locals. He searched every corner of Red Gum County, mostly openly, and sometimes quite discreetly. The colorful clothes he wore could be worn inside out, with the inside being very subtle. The belt with spurs could be silenced with a slight adjustment, allowing you to be inconspicuous when needed despite being so eye-catching most of the time.

He learned a lot about the exotic tribes who hadn’t appeared due to the snow. But when he returned to the inn that day, Douglas received a notice detailing the guidelines for living here, like the free food being available only for today, and needing to work from tomorrow onwards. The notice also explained about the exotic employers and currency clearer than all the information Douglas had gathered.

The rider shrugged and finished his dinner.

At midnight, Douglas once again left his room, evading the gaze of all the patrols, and sneaked out of the county town. He hummed a tune as he left the town, dropped the belt with spurs, letting the metal gears sing freely on the ground.

When he heard another set of footsteps in the wilderness, Douglas’s smile became even brighter.