Paragon of Destruction-Chapter 372 A New Journey

"They're almost beginning to look like a proper army," Kaleesh said, a look of satisfaction on his face as he watched his troops.

The burly blacksmith and his guards had departed a quarter-hour earlier, and now, the mercenaries were testing their equipment, wielding their new weapons while clad in shiny starmetal armor.

Arran could not help but agree with the captain. Where the mercenaries had previously looked little different from a group of bandits, with their new armor they almost resembled a company of royal guardsmen.

This change wasn't lost on the mercenaries themselves, either. Although they were still getting used to the armor, there was pride in their eyes as they wore it — and no wonder, since their new equipment was precious enough to make others green with envy.

In the borderlands, it was a rare thing to see even a single starmetal weapon, and those who owned such weapons certainly weren't common mercenaries.

"The troops certainly seem pleased with their new tools," Arran said.

"As well they should," Kaleesh replied. "We could have bought half a kingdom with this amount of starmetal. But what about you? Is Godsbane to your satisfaction?"

"Don't call it that," Arran said with a glare at the captain. "If a priest hears you…"

Kaleesh shrugged. "There are no priests in the camp. Now tell me, do you like your new weapon?"

"As you well know," Arran replied, "it's perfect. Though I still don't see why you thought it necessary." He glanced meaningfully at the Living Shadow weapon at his side. "I already have a good sword."

"So you do," Kaleesh said. "But this new weapon is conspicuous enough to draw people's eyes elsewhere."

Arran frowned. "This new sword… you mean for it to be a distraction?" He looked around to make sure there was nobody in earshot, then continued in a lower voice, "To stop others from noticing my other weapon?"

If that was the case, Kaleesh's efforts were wasted. Hiding the Living Shadow weapon was a simple matter, and if there were any who could still find it, no starmetal sword would distract them — not even a giant one.

Yet Kaleesh shook his head. "Not exactly," he said. "I understand you've already found a way to disguise it. But it will be helpful to have others believe that Godsbane is your greatest weapon."

Now, understanding dawned in Arran's eyes. "I suppose it would, at that," he said. "Though it's a high price to pay for a small deception."

Kaleesh made a dismissive gesture. "We'll have little use for wealth in the Desolation. And if this gives us a small advantage just once, it will be worth the cost a hundred times over."

Arran nodded in understanding. The captain was right, of course. In battle, even the smallest advantage was worth more than a mountain of gold. "How far is the Desolation, anyway?" he asked.

"Around three thousand miles, as the crow flies," Kaleesh replied. "But since we aren't crows, it'll be half again as much for us."

"That far?" Arran asked. Although he'd known the Desolation was far, the answer still caused him some shock. "That will take us what, four months?"

The mercenaries were all Body Refiners who could maintain a far higher pace than commoners, but even so, a journey that long would take more time than Arran had hoped.

"Three, if we don't meet any unexpected delays," Kaleesh said. "And I do not intend to waste even a single day."

Still, Arran had to suppress a sigh of frustration.

Well over two years had passed since he'd left the Valley, and although he now understood that the war wasn't as close as he'd originally believed, he still had a long way to go in completing his task.

Yet he knew that there was no other path — not if he wanted to learn the Darians' methods. And after having seen Lords do battle, that was an opportunity he could not relinquish.

The mercenaries spent another few hours acquainting themselves with their new weapons and armor, and it wasn't long before their awkwardness faded, making way for confidence.

The armor the blacksmiths had crafted was undeniably remarkable, crafted so well that even the mercenaries — few of whom were accustomed to wearing armor — were barely slowed down by their new equipment.

But eager though the mercenaries were to explore their new treasures, when the sun began to set, there's wasn't a single one among them who didn't seek out his quarters.

With the journey ahead, they knew that it would be a long time before they enjoyed the comfort of a warm bed once more.

The next morning, they departed before dawn, finally leaving the mining camp behind.

They traveled light, without carts or even pack mules. Instead, the mercenaries wore their armor and carried their own supplies, leaving behind anything they didn't need for the journey.

This caused some grumbles among the troops, but Arran understood the captain's decision to travel in this manner. With a group of Body Refiners moving in a forced march, no mule could keep up and survive for more than a day or two.

It was clear that Kaleesh was serious about not wanting to waste even a single day. They marched through the day, pausing only for their midday meal, and only making camp when the sun had already set.

Exhausted from the day's travel, most of the mercenaries were fast asleep within moments of finishing their evening meal, and some struggled to stay awake even before that, yawning wearily as they wolfed down their food.

Arran, however, wasn't the least bit tired. He'd been far stronger than the others to begin with, and after receiving the priest's blessing, he barely needed sleep anymore.

After a quick thought, he informed Kaleesh that there was no need to set any guards — something for which the exhausted mercenaries would doubtless be thankful.

Then, as his companions sought out their bedrolls, Arran resumed his training. Three months of travel was a long time, and he wouldn't let that time go to waste.

They continued their journey the next day, with the group of mercenaries maintaining a steady pace as they made their way through the green hills of the Imperium. And again, they only made camp when daylight was already fading.

The first few weeks of travel were smooth if not exactly comfortable. They occasionally visited villages and small towns to buy supplies, but other than that, they encountered few settlements along the way.

When Arran asked Kaleesh about this, the captain confirmed the thoughts he'd already had.

"I'm avoiding cities and major towns," Kaleesh said. "While Rannoc's support offers us some protection, I think it's best we don't tempt the local Lords too much. We're carrying an awful lot of treasure, after all."

Though Arran was disappointed that he wouldn't get the chance to learn more of the Imperium — not just yet, at least — he couldn't fault the captain's reasoning.

Their priceless armor drew covetous stares wherever they went, and while common bandits would not dare tangle with such opponents, greedy Knights or Lords could pose a bigger problem.

Still, as weeks turned into months, Kaleesh's efforts in avoiding civilization were only partly successful.

They encountered Knights with some regularity, and twice, they ran into Lords who'd clearly been expecting the well-equipped group of outsiders.

Yet here, Rannoc's backing proved invaluable.

Whenever the mercenaries encountered Knights or Lords, a mere glance at the sigil on their breastplates was enough to turn hungry looks into friendly smiles.

Perhaps they might not have thought twice about robbing a group of outsiders, but risking Rannoc's wrath was another matter. That was something that struck fear into the hearts of even the most powerful Darians.

Word of Kadun's defeat had long since spread throughout the Imperium, and even in the smallest villages, stories abounded of the battle between the two Lords.

For Lords to do battle was a rare thing, and for a Lord as powerful as Kadun to be slain was even more unusual — unusual enough that the entire Imperium was abuzz with the tale.

So, while the journey was long and harsh, it went every bit as smoothly as they could have hoped.

Day after day, they moved along the Imperium's narrow roads, traveling through hills, fields, and forests as they slowly made their way toward the Desolation.

And each night, while the mercenaries slept, Arran would train, practicing relentlessly as he tried to extract every last shred of knowledge from the techniques he studied.

Now that he truly understood what he was learning, his progress was rapid. With every passing day, he felt the power of insight strengthening his movements and increasing his control.

The feeling was a strange one. He knew his body hadn't changed in the slightest, yet he was certain that his strength had already increased greatly. And not just his strength — his balance, his agility, and his dexterity had all advanced.

It was as if he'd somehow developed a stronger grasp on reality, with his will helping his body shape the world around him.

His progress gradually slowed, however. And not just because advancing was growing more difficult.

Rather, after the first month, he found that he'd all but depleted the knowledge contained within the techniques Muna had taught him. While the insights were still far from complete, the techniques truly contained only a foundation — and a scant one, at that.

Yet he had other techniques to draw on — the Forms and Kaleesh's techniques. And with those, he managed to push his knowledge further, even drawing upon them to expand the insights he'd gained from Muna's techniques.

But after two months of travel and training, he began to feel that he was approaching his limit.

While there was still much he could learn from the Forms and Kaleesh's techniques, there was something fluid about the knowledge he'd gained, as if the foundation he'd built had yet to fully set.

And now, he could tell that the more he added to that unstable foundation, the shakier it became.

He gave it some thought, then decided to pause his training for the time being.

It was an easy decision. After five months of relentless practice, he desperately needed some rest. And even more importantly, pushing on before mastering what he'd learned could be harmful, tainting his nascent insights with flawed understanding.

Before he moved on, he would need to make sure his foundation was a solid one. And for that, he needed time more than anything — time, and experience.

For a week, he enjoyed his newfound freedom.

Though he still practiced during the nights, he no longer obsessed over gaining new insights, instead simply training his swordplay and getting accustomed to the changes.

And during the days, he studied their surroundings, observing the Imperium's landscape with great interest. Before, his mind had been too focused on his training to notice much of the world around him.

But now, he could finally turn his attention to the wide landscapes around them — the luscious fields and rolling hills of the Imperium, speckled with farms and villages.

His peace didn't last long, however, because he soon noticed a subtle change in Kaleesh's behavior — a tenseness that hadn't been there before.

When they made camp that night, he approached the captain. "Something bothering you?"

The captain gave a short nod. Then, in a low voice, he said, "The region we've entered is dangerous. The Lords here are influential enough that they can afford to offend even Rannoc — if the reward is right."

Arran raised an eyebrow. "Couldn't we have gone around this place, then?"

"If we could, we wouldn't be here," Kaleesh replied. With a shake of his head, then continued, "The lands south of here are owned by one of Rannoc's rivals, and taking the northern route would add another two months to our journey. This is our best bet."

"So what's the plan?" Arran asked. The captain's words were hardly reassuring, but he understood that there were no alternatives.

Even if they took the long way around and added another two months to the journey, it wouldn't necessarily be safer. A lot could happen in two months, after all.

"The plan is to travel quickly and quietly," Kaleesh said. "Less than two weeks, and we'll be in safer lands. And from there, it's only another week to the edge of the Desolation."

Arran frowned. "And if we run into any Lords along the way?"

Kaleesh shrugged. "Then we'll have to convince them that Rannoc would be deeply displeased if we vanished without a trace. Which I suspect wouldn't be far from the truth."

When they broke camp the next morning, Arran was all but convinced that they'd find people waiting for them that very same day.

After all, despite Kaleesh's words, there was no way for them to truly travel quietly. After months of travel in the Imperium, Arran understood well that a group of fifty outsiders was a rare sight — even without their armor.

The real question wasn't whether they'd go unnoticed. If word hadn't spread to the local Lord already, it was only a matter of time before it did.

Rather, the question was whether the ruler of these lands would respond to the outsiders crossing his lands. And if he did — the most likely outcome, Arran thought — what his response would be.

Still, a week's travel passed without anything happening, and Arran almost began to wonder whether he'd been wrong — whether passing unnoticed was possible, after all.

Yet with less than a week to go, he Sensed a group of people approaching on the road ahead of them. And although they were still far in the distance, he could already Sense the weapons of a Lord and a Knight among them.

"We've got company," he said to Kaleesh. "Better get ready."

While they only had a few minutes before they would meet the Lord and his troops, Arran decided that warning Kaleesh was the best choice. With a Lord on the road ahead, the captain's words were the only weapon they had that might yet be effective.

The captain gave him a curious look, but he did not question the information. Instead, he merely said, "I suppose we're about to find out what Rannoc's support is really worth. Let's see what their intentions are."

As they continued down the road, the mercenaries followed behind, their starmetal armor shining in the bright afternoon sun.

Yet for all its worth, Arran knew that against a Lord, the armor might as well be made of paper.