A second or two later, Irene's questioning voice came from behind him.
“What on earth are you doing?”
Roger didn't look back, continuing to carefully pour the last bit of dark green sludge from the pot into the mouth of a bottle.
He heard Irene's footsteps stop a few paces away, followed immediately by a forcefully suppressed gag.
“Making some secret weapons. They might come in handy later,” he replied casually. Fighting back the churning in his stomach, he poured the very last drop of the extract into the glass bottle, quickly corked it, and held the bottle up to shake it before his eyes.
The viscous dark green liquid flowed sluggishly inside the bottle. Even through the glass and the wooden cork, that hellish stench still stubbornly seeped out.
Carrying the iron pot, he walked toward the river. “What did you need me for?”
This spot was downwind of the camp, so it wouldn't affect the encampment. Moreover, the villages downstream of this river had been almost entirely slaughtered by the goblins, making it the perfect place to wash this foul-smelling thing.
“I just smelled a horrible stench and came to take a look.”
Roger gave a casual “Oh” and submerged the iron pot into the river.
As the river water washed over the pot, the remaining dark green sludge was quickly rinsed away. However, the stench remained stubbornly attached to the metal walls, showing no sign of fading.
“I must absolutely never use this pot for cooking again,” he silently noted in his mind.
Just as Roger stood up to head back, he suddenly heard a raspy voice speaking not far away.
The voice was coarse and grating, identical to the distinctive tone of a goblin.
Roger and Irene exchanged a brief look, then crouched low and crept toward the source of the sound.
A few meters away was a small, raised hillock, which perfectly blocked the source of the noise from their line of sight.
The two lay flat on top of the hillock, parting the dry grass in front of them to peer down.
They saw five goblins acting suspiciously by the riverbank, up to no good.
“Poisoning?” The thought flashed through Roger's mind, but he immediately dismissed it.
This was downstream. If they really wanted to poison the water, they should have gone upstream. Pouring poison into the river downstream would probably only kill the fish.
Roger and Irene exchanged another look, then unsheathed their swords and rose in unison, vaulting over the hillock and charging straight at the goblins.
The five goblins clearly hadn't expected two humans to be lying in wait. They only whipped their heads around when the footsteps were practically upon them, but it was already too late.
Once he was close enough, Roger swung his Fine Steel Sword, unleashing a Sword Qi Slash.
A white, crescent-shaped arc of light flew from the blade, sweeping through the five goblins and cutting them all down in one clean sweep.
The entire sequence was smooth and efficient, leaving them no time to even scream.
“Points +250. Balance: 250.”
Having dealt with the goblins, the two practicedly knelt down to loot the corpses.
Roger ignored the crudely made wooden clubs and reached into the goblins' ragged clothes to search them.
Soon, his fingers brushed against a folded piece of paper.
Roger unfolded the paper and saw that it was written in the Common Tongue:
“I will confirm if the target has what we want. If nothing unexpected occurs, the plan will be executed within the next few days.”
Irene walked over and crouched beside him. As her eyes swept over the text, she couldn't help but frown.
The existence of a mole within the army was now practically confirmed.
Roger refolded the note, stood up, and brushed the river sand off his knees, his mind racing.
The fact that this note was found on five ordinary goblins meant that after the information was smuggled out of the coalition, these five lackeys were responsible for relaying it to its destination.
Five low-level lackeys couldn't possibly have direct contact with the mole; they were merely disposable assets at the very end of the transmission chain.
The mole was deeply hidden and had ample confidence in this method of communication, unfearful of the note falling into human hands.
Perhaps the content of the note was trivial to the mole in the first place, or perhaps they had already planned their escape route.
...
The two quickly cleaned up the battlefield, dragging the goblin corpses into the bushes. Before leaving, Roger didn't forget to run back to the riverbank to retrieve his iron pot.
Once everything was handled, they quickly made their way back to the camp.
Knight Stine listened to their account in his tent and took the note.
He read the words on the paper twice, his expression shifting from confusion to gravity.
The knight didn't ask for any further details. He simply said a brief “Follow me” and led them straight to Baron Raymond's tent.
Baron Raymond was sitting at his desk reviewing documents. Seeing Knight Stine stride in with the two mercenaries behind him, he asked in a weary tone:
“What is it?”
His gaze then fell upon the folded paper in Knight Stine's hand.
He quickly swept his eyes over Roger and Irene standing behind Knight Stine. Without asking any questions, he simply raised his hand and gestured to the guards inside the tent:
“All of you, out. No one is to enter without my command.”
Once the last guard had left the tent, Baron Raymond took the note from Knight Stine.
After scanning the contents, he looked up, his gaze sweeping across the faces of the three before stopping on Roger.
“Where did this come from?”
Without waiting for further orders from the Baron, Knight Stine took the initiative to stand guard at the tent entrance.
Roger gave a general account of what had happened by the river, omitting the part about boiling Stink Shrooms, simply stating that he had “happened upon them while going to fetch water.”
Baron Raymond didn't press for details after listening. He refolded the note, slipped it into his pocket, and said to Knight Stine as he walked, “Come with me to see the Count.”
Then he turned to Roger and Irene. “Until the Count makes a decision, not a single word of this is to be leaked to anyone.”
Two mercenaries left the tent, and Baron Raymond led Knight Stine straight to Count Nigel's main tent.
The two passed through several sentry posts and waited outside the Count's tent for a moment before being summoned inside.
Upon entering, Baron Raymond bypassed any unnecessary pleasantries and directly and concisely reported the discovery of the letter to the Count.
But he did not mention Roger or Irene's names, only stating that a patrol had chanced upon a few goblins by the river and found the letter on a corpse after killing them.
After reading the letter, Count Nigel looked up and asked, “Is this accurate?”
Baron Raymond nodded without hesitation.
Count Nigel fell into contemplation for a moment before replying, “You may return. Make absolutely sure not to reveal this to anyone.”
Baron Raymond didn't ask further questions either, bowing his head in departure alongside Knight Stine.
Back in his own tent, Baron Raymond did not resume reviewing his documents. He pushed the parchment in front of him aside, folded his hands on the desk, and sat in silence for a long time.
Then, he turned his head and instructed the guard standing by the tent curtain, “If anyone else comes to visit, tell them I have already retired for the night. If it is not urgent, have them return in two hours.”
The guard took the order and exited the tent.
For no particular reason, Baron Raymond felt utterly exhausted, both physically and mentally.
The battle before them seemed increasingly endless, and now, the most troublesome issue of a spy within the coalition had cropped up.
“If only all the goblins and cultists would just drop dead tomorrow.”
Resting his elbows on the desk, he rubbed the space between his brows with force.
Rate on N.U.
