"My lord, our scouts report that several underworld leaders and elders of the Rotten Vine Alliance received advance warning before our main force arrived. They took a few elite confidants and used a secret passage to escape into the depths of the swamp. Their whereabouts are unknown."
A military recorder rode forward and reported to Alfonso in a low voice.
Alfonso remained expressionless, his gaze fixed on the gradually emerging pass and city walls, as if he had only heard about something trivial.
Elliott, who had been silently following by his side, suddenly spoke, his voice calm and even, as if stating an established law of nature:
"There's no need to delve into it, nor to feel sorry. Darkness is ultimately intertwined with holy light. Some people outside the kingdom's borders are spontaneously attracting and gathering this filth and poison, so why should we bother to completely eradicate their 'merit'?"
Mark heard everything clearly from behind and understood.
Elliott's words undoubtedly revealed Alfonso's deeper strategic intentions.
The existence of the Rotten Vine Alliance is itself part of the chaos in the Lor Swamp.
While eradicating it completely would be satisfying, it might also alert the enemy, allowing the Enlightenment Association to lie deeper in the shadows or giving rise to a more secretive and troublesome alternative.
Leaving these crippled and terrified high-ranking members of the Rotten Vine ranks alive, letting them eke out a living deep in the swamp, is like a conspicuous stain, continuing to attract hatred and attention.
The Church of Holy Light can be cleansed again whenever needed, and their very existence serves as an invisible warning and diversion against other potential "toxins."
Alfonso neither agreed nor disagreed with Elliott's words, but simply nodded slightly and continued on his way.
This is tacit consent.
The members of Mark's team exchanged glances.
Enzo pursed his lips, clearly regretting that he hadn't been able to find the truly powerful high-ranking members of the Rotten Vine Alliance and have another good fight, but Mark shook his head slightly to stop him.
In any case, they are now living under someone else's roof. With Alfonso as their powerful backer, at least they won't be defined as heretics by the Church of Holy Light.
They all knew very well that the benefits of following the main actions of the church far outweighed the benefits of acting recklessly on their own.
Moreover, the banner of the Thirteenth Knights is the best talisman at this moment.
The procession, carrying the lingering smell of gunpowder from the battlefield and the chilling atmosphere of the final judgment, finally arrived at the human pass of the Lor Swamp.
The imposing outline of the Holy Light Fortress is now in sight.
...
The human stronghold of the Lor Swamp, the Gate of the Eagle.
The atmosphere at the pass was solemn and heavy, a far cry from the usual bustling scene of merchants and travelers.
On the towering city walls, the banners of the Church of Holy Light fluttered, and squads of gleaming paladins stood solemnly, creating a tense atmosphere.
At the city gate, two distinct yet equally elite knightly guards protected the key figure.
On the left is the Eleventh Holy Knights' personal guard, led by Count Ferdinand.
He remained elegant and composed, with an impeccable gentle smile on his face, as if the iron-fisted approach of detaining and purging the Ninth Regiment had nothing to do with him.
He was slightly turned to the side, talking to another knight commander beside him.
On the right is the Tenth Holy Knights, responsible for guarding this pass.
Its leader is Raymond Tieling.
A veteran knight known for his rigidity, meticulousness, and adherence to tradition.
His posture was as straight as a steel gun, his white beard was meticulously trimmed, and his weathered face was etched with the marks of time and the fortitude of a soldier.
His heavy armor was somewhat old-fashioned, but it was well-maintained and gleaming. The insignia of the 10th Regiment on his chest was a standing steel tower shield, reflecting a cold, hard light in the sunlight.
He stood before him, his hands resting on a heavy greatsword, his lips pressed tightly together, his eyes sharp as an eagle's, staring intently in the other direction of the road.
The heavy sound of horses' hooves approached from afar, breaking the silence before the pass.
A small but unsettling procession slowly made its way from the end of the official road.
They were a special delegation of envoys from the Inquisition in the Holy City.
At the center of the procession were several heavy carriages, entirely black and covered with dark gold-patterned metal plates.
The chariot was not pulled by ordinary horses, but by a sacred frost-horned beast with faint, pale flames burning on its hooves and a lively gaze. It moved silently, leaving only frozen frost marks on its hooves.
The carriage was sealed off, and the windows were made of dark crystal, blocking any prying eyes.
Around the carriage were more than ten figures dressed in dark gray hooded robes.
They moved silently, their faces hidden in the deep shadows of their hoods, appearing only as a blurry darkness.
Only the occasional glances that swept across from the depths of that hood were cold, sharp, and devoid of any human emotion, like tangible, chilling blades, causing the knights of the 10th and 11th regiments on guard to unconsciously tense up.
Their robes bore no conspicuous insignia, but the sense of judgment and grim determination emanating from the depths of their souls revealed their identity more clearly than any banner—the executors of the Papal Inquisition.
The procession stopped about 100 meters from the city gate, like a group of silent tombstones.
Count Ferdinand's smile remained unchanged, only the curve became more precise, and he nodded slightly in acknowledgment.
The veteran Raymond straightened his back, slammed his right fist heavily against the tower shield emblem on his left chest, producing a dull metallic clang, and performed an impeccable ancient knightly salute. His voice was as loud as the friction of steel: "Raymond Ironridge, the guardian of the Lor Marsh Pass and the Grand Master of the Tenth Holy Knights, is here to respectfully welcome the special envoy of the Inquisition!"
The knights of the 10th Regiment behind him all pounded their chests in unison, their movements perfectly synchronized, as if they were one person, the clanging of their armor blending into a chilling hum.
The carriage door slid open silently inward.
A hand encased in a dark gray leather glove reached out and gently rested on the door frame.
A tall, thin figure with dark gray eyes, dressed in a gray robe, stepped down.
His hood was slightly lifted, revealing an unusually pale face with high cheekbones, thin lips that were almost bloodless, and eyes that were pure gray-white, like solidified ice mist.
His gaze swept over Ferdinand and finally landed on Raymond.
“Commander Raymond, Commander Ferdinand.” His voice was dry and hoarse, like sandpaper rubbing together, without a trace of emotion. “The Holy City’s decree has arrived. The traitor Harrington has been executed, and the Ninth Regiment, in cooperation with the Thirteenth Regiment, participated in the purge. This is a great achievement. However, the Cardinal must hear the whole story and verify the irrefutable evidence.”
His gaze swept beyond the pass, towards the swamp where humans and orcs had fought for many years.
"When will Commander Alfonso Lin and his troops return?"
Ferdinand stepped forward, his demeanor elegant and composed: "Your Excellency, Commander Alfonso is leading the main force of the Thirteenth Holy Knights on the crucial task of mopping up the remaining enemy forces and securing the buffer zone. According to the latest reports, his troops have eliminated the last outpost on the outer perimeter of the Rotten Vine stronghold and are escorting some prisoners and captured supplies back home."
He paused for a moment to think.
"It is expected that we will be able to reach the pass by this time tomorrow."
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