Chapter Fifty-Eight: The Stone of Mist

Wade had guessed that York was secretly studying necromancy.

Why else would he build a “warehouse” in such a hidden place? It was clearly to avoid discovery, to remain unnoticed.

With this assumption, it meant that whatever the gnome was secretly doing or storing here, if found out, would bring consequences he could not endure.

Thus, he would rather travel far, alone, into the Streamwood Forest, all for the sake of safety and secrecy.

The alchemical tools were covered in dust, which showed the gnome wasn’t brewing potions in this “warehouse.”

Yet, among the gnome’s books, Wade found sketches that could only be drawn with thorough knowledge of the human body.

When Wade discovered those sketches, the truth became plain.

No one could draw such precise skeletons, organs, and human proportion diagrams just by guessing. Either the gnome had personally dissected corpses, or he had read relevant books.

Both actions were strictly forbidden by the Church.

The first was considered desecration of the dead, and books about human dissection were banned, typically only found in texts about necromancy.

The gnome clearly understood this. He knew that if his secret work was discovered, he would be sent to the stake and burned alive before the masses. That was why he built such a careful “secret warehouse.”

He was surely determined to keep his secret for life, never telling a soul.

He ran his alchemy workshop alone, took on every role himself, all to prevent anyone from getting near his secret.

And he did it well. For decades, even as his hair turned gray, no one knew that he was secretly studying necromancy.

The gnome’s eccentricity, his solitude, his disguise—everything was woven tightly.

Old York was a meticulous, well-read man, worthy of being called a scholar.

Wade did not believe that York would forget he’d tucked sketches between the pages of a book. Wade had thought, even last night, that York had purposely handed him the study key.

The gnome must have agonized for a long time over whether to reveal his secret.

If he shared what he knew, perhaps they might survive. But if he did, those who had long hated and feared necromancers, who saw desecration as a sin, might kill him in terror and rage before the Icelanders ever arrived.

He could not make this decision, so he hoped someone else would do it for him.

He gave the study key to the outsider who loved books; if the stranger found his sketches, uncovered his secret, then he would choose to reveal what he’d hidden. If the outsider found nothing, he would keep his silence, carrying his secret to the grave.

Wade understood all this, piecing together the gnome’s intent from every detail. Thus, when he returned the study key, he also handed over a small slip of paper.

On it was written: “Did you dissect a corpse?”

He did not spell out the truth, but simply told the gnome what he had seen, letting him know that part of his secret was already discovered.

And so, events unfolded as he expected. Old York summoned Wade, Lucas, and Balder to the study.

The gnome said, “This place isn’t a warehouse at all. It’s where York studied the dead alone.”

Lucas heard this and his face went blank. He stepped forward, seized the gnome’s collar, his eyes wide with fury, and lifted the gnome off the ground.

“York, how dare you touch such evil things! How could you be like a necromancer, desecrating the dead!”

Balder remained silent, but his fists were clenched, glaring coldly at the gnome, ready to strike.

The only one who stayed calm was Wade.

Wade pressed Lucas’s shoulder and shook his head.

Lucas breathed rapidly, staring at the wandering knight’s iron helmet. In the end, he suppressed his emotions and released the gnome’s collar.

Old York fell to the floor, coughed twice.

The gnome hung his head and said, “Whether you believe York or not, York has never done anything wicked. The dead York studied were all incurable patients. York treated them for free, and they agreed to let him handle their funerals.”

“York never killed anyone, nor dug up anyone’s grave.”

“I don’t believe they agreed to let you dissect their bodies after death! Don’t you know such actions will send you to the stake?” Lucas asked coldly.

“That’s why York never told anyone!” York lifted his head.

“Then why are you revealing your secret now?” Lucas asked.

“Because if I don’t, we’ll all die!” York met Lucas’s gaze. “Porter, those Icelanders arrived in Alvador five nights ago, in the dead of night, sailing warships!”

“Do you know what Alvador looks like now?”

“Rust, who delivered goods to York; little Helia, who sometimes brought flowers; the merchants who stayed in the Oak Tavern; the adventurers; even the city guards—all of them are dead!”

“The guards didn’t even raise a defense. The Icelandic war band and Casimodo Vick’s stitched necromantic beasts slaughtered thousands in Alvador before dawn!”

“Do you know what York saw that morning? Dead bodies everywhere—streets, windows, even floating on the Bragg River! Blood flowed like water!”

“If York hadn’t been here that night for research, he would be a corpse like all the rest!”

“York doesn’t believe you don’t understand: if we don’t find another way, not one of us hiding here will escape alive!”

“Do you think the streets are clean because everyone is still hiding indoors? Don’t kid yourself, Porter. The Icelanders forked them away like hay, because Casimodo Vick needs corpses. The Icelanders even hunted ice bears for him!”

“A necromancer never thinks there are too many corpses. Try leaving this cave—before nightfall you’ll be thrown into his corpse vault!”

Lucas was silent, unable to respond.

What York described was the despairing reality Lucas dared not face.

He collapsed, muttering weakly, “Then what do you suggest, York? Do you have a way for us to survive?”

“York has always feared discovery, plagued by nightmares,” the gnome said. “He worried that Church knights would break into his home, so he obtained a rare artifact and hid it in his alchemy workshop, where he sleeps and rests.”

“Artifact?”

“The Stone of Mists,” York replied. “It creates thick fog. Even standing before you, you wouldn’t see York in its mist. If we can retrieve it, York can shroud all of Alvador and the surrounding mountains in fog.”

“We could use the mist to cross the Bragg River and head for the Viscount’s fortress at Rosecastle.”

“Even if we find the Stone of Mists and escape Alvador, how do you know Rosecastle hasn’t fallen? Who knows where the Icelanders have pushed their line?” Lucas asked gloomily.

“Porter, there’s never an absolutely right choice in this world,” York said. “All any of us can do is choose what we won’t regret.”