“How is this possible?! How did they get through?!”
Laxana’s mind buzzed, and the thread of her sanity nearly snapped on the spot.
She had brought along a squad of mages, shielding and retreating repeatedly, exhausted like a dog, yet those two just strolled out from another path as if wandering through their own backyard?
Wendy’s deep blue robe was immaculate without a single wrinkle, and Astreia’s armor even reflected the light!
This wasn’t magic!
In fact, the “Crying Ruins” was a notorious newbie deterrent dungeon in Witch’s Conquest.
The golems inside had thick health and high defense, elemental beasts spawned like they were free, and the terrain was downright brutal.
Back when Wendy was still a rookie player, he paid plenty of tuition here.
After multiple wipeouts, he finally found an official “escape route” with almost no monster spawns tucked away in a corner.
And that route was exactly the marching path he had planned from the start.
In other words, Miss Laxana’s voluntary reconnaissance was like sleepwalking into a pillow—perfectly clearing his minefield while providing an excellent excuse for him to legitimately lead Astreia through, thus avoiding any awkward questions about how he knew the secret path.
Two birds with one stone.
The plan was flawless.
Before Wendy could speak, Astreia stepped forward first, her face full of genuine concern.
“Little Shanna! Are you alright?”
She advanced a few steps, positioning herself in front of Laxana, then swung her spear and smashed a charging golem to pieces.
“Wendy was worried about you all along and insisted I come check on you. Luckily, we arrived just in time!”
Wendy matched her with a heavy expression of “just as I expected,” nodding slightly.
“Miss Laxana’s reconnaissance was indeed effective, but the magical turbulence here is more dangerous than anticipated. I was worried you might not handle it alone, so Astreia and I came to check on you.”
To Astreia’s ears, these words sounded considerate, but to Laxana, they were more cutting than direct mockery.
What did she mean, “worried you couldn’t handle it alone”?
What was this “luckily we came” about?
Wasn’t this a public declaration that she—the Chief Archmage of the Mage Academy—couldn’t even manage a simple route scouting?
Yet some exiled “bed purifier” prince could predict danger with ease and bring the Crown Princess to “rescue” her!
Laxana’s delicate face twisted slightly; she felt her lungs were about to burst with rage.
That man was definitely mocking her!
His self-righteous pity was more detestable than any monster in the ruins!
Yet Astreia’s genuinely concerned eyes made it impossible for her to vent her anger.
She swallowed it all back, turning it into a deeper, silent resentment.
By the time they returned to the temporary camp, dawn was breaking.
In front of Sera, Kara, and other officers, Wendy praised Laxana enthusiastically.
“Thanks to finding a safe path through the ruins that bypassed the enemy’s three garrisons, we gained a precious five days for the army. Chief Archmage Laxana Klein deserves the primary credit!”
The officers looked at Laxana with admiration and respect.
Laxana wore an impeccable sweet smile, gracefully nodding to accept their praise.
“It’s my duty. It’s an honor to ease the burden for Astreia and His Highness the Prince.”
However, no one noticed the hand hidden beneath her voluminous mage robes, tightly clutching the hem of her garment, her knuckles white with the effort, nearly piercing the fabric.
The “rival in love” felt like a clown—betrayed yet forced to cheer for the traitor—and worst of all, she couldn’t lash out.
Wendy Black…
This grudge is noted!
The army advanced smoothly along the “safe route” discovered by Laxana and Wendy, swiftly crossing the Crying Ruins.
After only three days, they reached the last major town before the Royal Capital.
Berwick City.
Berwick’s towering walls and strategic location made it the throat guarding the capital.
The city was controlled by an ambiguous minor noble, the “Berwick Countess.”
By military logic, before attacking the capital, they had to seize this outpost or at least gain permission to “borrow the road.”
A direct assault would drain forces, reveal the army, and push the originally neutral Berwick family firmly into the Veid camp.
Negotiations were the best option for now.
“I’ll handle this,” Laxana volunteered again, needing an opportunity to prove herself and redeem the face she lost in the Crying Ruins.
“The Klein and Berwick families share some old ties. I’ll conduct a noble-style negotiation, persuading them to remain neutral or even side with us. It shouldn’t be difficult.”
Wendy watched her confident expression, feeling calm inside.
Berwick Countess?
In the Witch’s Conquest game plot, this character wasn’t even a walk-on part, a pure background NPC invisible on the map.
How could such a minor noble remain neutral in the century-old war between princesses and power brokers?
Did she even have the capacity?
Fence-sitters are always the first to be blown down by the storm.
This definitely wouldn’t be so simple.
“Very well, thank you,” Wendy agreed with a warm smile.
“We’ll await your good news.”
Laxana changed into a luxurious gown and, accompanied by two attendants, took a carriage to the city lord’s manor for negotiations.
Watching the carriage depart, Wendy turned to Astreia.
“Astreia.”
“Hm? What is it?”
The princess was still glad Laxana had volunteered.
“Do you believe that Laxana will either be turned away or held up there?”
Wendy said leisurely.
“Why?”
“A nameless minor noble playing balance between two lions is either foolish or backed by someone,” the prince said, tapping the spot of Berwick City on the map.
“I bet on the latter. The Veid family likely already controls this place secretly.”
“Isn’t Little Shanna in danger then?”
The princess’s face instantly darkened.
“Don’t worry. Those so-called nobles won’t do anything to her for now—after all, they must respect the Klein family’s face. At worst, they’ll just delay,” Wendy reassured her. “But we can’t just wait.”
He took a cloak from the nearby rack and handed it to Astreia.
“Put this on. We need to go out.”
“Where to?” Astreia took the cloak, puzzled.
“Nobles have their card tables; us ‘mud feet’ have our intelligence networks,” Wendy grinned.
“We’ll check out the Guild of Mercenaries and the Black Market in Berwick City. See if we can catch some tongues.”
Astreia immediately understood Wendy’s intent.
She quickly removed her conspicuous armor, changed into simple clothes, and covered her shining golden hair with a hood…
One hour later, inside the “Drunken Dwarf” tavern in Berwick City.
This place was a gathering spot for mercenaries and all sorts of shady characters.
The air reeked of cheap ale, sweat, and mildew.
Wendy and Astreia took a low-profile corner.
Astreia was uncomfortable in this environment, radiating stiff “I’m a good person, don’t mess with me” vibes.
Wendy, however, seemed right at home, skillfully ordering two cups of the cheapest ale, then tuning his ears to the noisy conversations around.
Soon, a few mercenaries caught his attention.
“Did you hear? The city lord’s manor recently hired a bunch of guards, paying big gold.”
“Hah, that money’s made to be spent! My cousin went there. They say the one in charge is a woman from the Royal Capital, and she’s ruthless!”
“I heard the same. Supposedly someone from the Veid family…”
At that moment, a drunken, one-eyed, blonde mercenary woman staggered over, sloshing her cup onto Wendy.
“Hey, handsome,” she hiccupped, her cloudy eye sizing up his handsome face, then flashed a mischievous grin.
“How about a drink with your sister?”
Astreia’s fists clenched instantly.
Before she could react, Wendy subtly pressed her hand to stop her.
The prince didn’t get angry but instead raised his head with a somewhat timid smile.
“Big sister, I… I don’t drink.”