Satisfied with the spell's effect, Roland reached out and gently took the Moon Elf from the rack, carefully placing her inside the coffin.
Come to think of it, this was the first time he'd ever found a living captive in a cultist lair.
In all the other destroyed altars he'd come across before, there hadn't been a single living sacrifice. At best, all he found were broken corpses shattered remnants of those already offered up.
After setting the Moon Elf inside, Roland cast a spell over the coffin. Ice began to slowly grow from within, sealing the space between her and the coffin's walls with a frostbound stillness.
Then, he sheathed his longsword, picked up the staff leaning against the wall with one hand, and dragged the coffin behind him with the other as he turned to leave the underground prison.
The door to the basement was narrow, making it nearly impossible to carry the coffin out intact. But Roland had no plans to linger. With a flick of his wrist, a fireball roared to life and blasted the door open.
Boom!
Splinters scattered, and small tongues of flame flickered on the scorched threshold, burning weakly.
But in the frigid air, the fire couldn't hold on for long. After struggling for a few brief moments, the flames fizzled out.
Dragging the coffin, Roland stepped out of the underground chamber.
As he made his way through the village ruins, a familiar figure sprinted toward him from the stairway leading down the mountain. It was Hela.
She hurried over, glanced at the scorched remnants of the door behind him, then lowered her voice.
"Any more enemies?"
"No," Roland replied, shaking his head. He stepped aside to reveal the coffin behind him and gestured toward it.
"Found one. A sacrifice the cultists didn't manage to kill."
He paused, then added by way of explanation, "The door was too small."
Hela nodded, then stepped forward and took the coffin from him.
"I'll carry it."
"Thanks," Roland said with a smile as he handed it over. The two of them began descending the mountain together.
Soon, they reached the mountain's base. As they approached the entrance of the bandit stronghold, Roland glanced at the corpses strewn across the snow-covered ground and asked,
"That all of them?"
Hela nodded again, shifting the coffin to her other hand. "Two of them were Tier One priests."
Roland nodded and pressed on.
Less than twenty minutes later, they were down the mountain. Roland reached into his pack and pulled out a length of thick rope, giving Hela a quick glance.
Understanding his signal, Hela hoisted the coffin up and leaned it against the back of a chocobo.
Roland tied it down securely, giving it a few firm pats to make sure it wouldn't fall off. Once he was satisfied, he mounted the chocobo and said,
"Let's go."
Hela followed suit, climbing onto the other bird.
With two sharp cries, the chocobos set off, carrying them away from the snowy peak.
As they rode off into the distance, the same fate awaited this stronghold as all the others. A thunderous explosion rocked the mountain behind them, consuming the cultist base in fire and ash.
Wintervale, a bustling port city and the capital of the Northern Kingdom.
Unlike most settlements in the North, sparsely populated and remote, Wintervale teemed with life.
Roland and Hela moved with the flow of people entering the city, leading their chocobos through the crowd.
The coffin strapped to Roland's mount drew more than a few curious glances, but no one dared ask questions. Most only dared to steal a glance or two before quickly looking away.
Ever since the fall of the High Priest, their finances had started to improve especially with the reduced need for expensive scrolls. Combined with generous aid from a few grateful patrons, Roland had been able to afford a few decent luxuries.
Naturally, he didn't hesitate to treat himself and Hela to several imported outfits from Xinar. While not extravagant, they were certainly fine enough to set them apart in a crowd of commoners.
So much so that people tended to give them a wide berth.
It took nearly half an hour of waiting before they reached the city gate.
Given their attire and the small orb of light Roland conjured to demonstrate his status as an awakened spellcaster the guards didn't hassle them. After a routine payment of the entry tax, they were waved through.
Leading their chocobos through the lively streets, Roland kept his composure, his eyes scanning their surroundings with practiced calm. Beside him, Hela was far less composed.
This was the largest, most towering city she had ever seen. Curiosity lit her gaze as she tried to take in everything at once.
Amid the constant din, she stepped closer to Roland and asked in a low voice,
"What are we doing here?"
"Getting legal identities," Roland replied casually. "This is the capital. Stay close. Wouldn't want you getting lost."
Hela nodded and tugged at the chocobo's reins, falling in step right behind him.
As they continued deeper into the city, the crowds began to thin, and the buildings around them grew steadily more imposing.
Hela studied the structures warily, instinctively trying to work out how she'd blockade the exits in case of an ambush.
"We're here," Roland said, stopping abruptly.
Hela snapped to attention and halted just in time to avoid bumping into him.
She stepped to the side and followed his gaze, her eyes falling on the building ahead.
It was entirely unlike the others nearby.
Pale blue formed the foundation of its architecture, while ivy and creeping vines stretched across its facade. Delicate carvings and floral patterns adorned the walls, each one elegant and painstakingly detailed.
Hela didn't understand the style but she could recognize beauty when she saw it.
Beside her, Roland untied the ropes securing the coffin and lifted it from the chocobo.
"Hela, wait here. I won't be long."
Without waiting for a response, he carried the coffin toward the building.
At its entrance stood two half-elf guards, watching the pair with calm but wary eyes.
As Roland approached, one of the guards stepped forward, his gaze lingering on the coffin. There was a guarded note in his voice as he spoke.
"Greetings. This is the Moon Elf Embassy. Do you have an appointment?"
Roland offered a traditional elven greeting, his tone warm and respectful, hoping to ease the guard's suspicion.
"Greetings. I encountered a gravely wounded Moon Elf during one of my expeditions. I lack the skill to heal her myself, so I've brought her here."
As he spoke, he gently opened the coffin lid just enough to reveal the faint signs of life within.
The guard's expression shifted at once. Whatever caution he'd briefly set aside now vanished completely, replaced by sudden alarm.
He instinctively turned his full attention to the Moon Elf inside.