Chapter 133: Leo's Charging Station

Having discovered that Freya was a living power bank, Leo naturally held nothing back and immediately brought Olivia into the fold. Every night, the two would flank Freya, hugging her as if she were a giant teddy bear. They would soothe her to sleep and then siphon off her magical energy.

This delighted Freya to no end. Since she was a child, only the Elf Queen had pampered her like this, but that had been over twenty years ago. Though Master Bobak was fond of his disciple, he was obsessed with the education of a feral druid. He insisted that Freya dig her own sleeping den. She would transform into a groundhog and, if hungry, nibble on tree roots or cassava. Had she transformed into a predator, given Freya’s abysmal hunting skills, she would have starved into a tiny kitten long ago.

After arriving at Riverbend, Freya was bathed clean every day under Olivia’s care. She would go to bed early, lying obediently and waiting for them to join her. The poor little mouse, finally having fallen out of favor, was squeezed to the side. Their two-by-two-meter wooden bed had been extended with a small cabinet, yet Freya, sprawled out, occupied the majority of the space. If the little mouse slept on the edge, she risked being pushed off entirely, so she simply curled up on Freya’s belly to sleep.

Olivia would tell Freya and the little mouse the bedtime stories her mother had taught her, but they preferred the ones Leo told. Leo would casually pluck fragments of fairy tales and short video scripts from his past life’s memories, and they would always leave the three girls wide-eyed and hanging on his every word.

Before Freya’s arrival, Leo and Olivia had been forced to rely solely on their own efforts to improve their strength; they didn't even know basic meditation. The pace of their progress was, predictably, glacial. Although Leo’s strength far exceeded that of an ordinary man—he could easily floor three or four Riverbend infantrymen and even wrestle a unicorn-tusked boar—by Ulyang’s estimation, he was still nowhere near the level of a transcendent. In the Firefly Adventure Group, Haskins could trek across mountains and rivers while wearing over a hundred pounds of plate armor, blocking the heavy strikes of dire-wolf riders. Barrett could even gallop for a full day while carrying two Northern thick-backed donkeys, exerting such raw power that he could suppress a terrifying dire wolf. Even Old Pete, who never showed his true colors, could dodge pursuit by dire wolves and orc warriors with ease, emerging without a scratch.

Olivia’s holy light spells were even weaker, their healing effects negligible; her shadow spells were slightly stronger, useful for punishing disobedient little kobolds. But after Freya arrived, their strength began to grow rapidly. In just one week, the holy light Olivia condensed became several times brighter than before, enough to heal minor wounds. Leo could also wield a hundred-pound heavy wooden club taken from an ogre in combat, exchanging blows with Krog without his wrists or shoulders being shattered by the force of the impact.

When Ulyang discovered all three girls huddled in Leo’s bed, he expressed his strong disapproval. However, when Olivia manifested a ball of holy light and placed it on his injured legs, dispelling a significant portion of the black rot, Ulyang immediately changed his tune. Declaring himself a respectable and noble elven druid, he insisted that Freya should sleep wherever she pleased, and that Riverbend would be honored to provide two young servants—Leo and Olivia—to attend to her. He even ordered an extra meal for Freya in the name of the Lord of Riverbend.

Half a month later, an investigative team arrived at Riverbend to look into the death of Sir Nelson. The group consisted of three knights from Ethanpool, a priest, and over twenty armed squires. Although Sir Nelson was not highly regarded in Ethanpool’s noble circles—some even openly calling him a gluttonous parasite—he was, after all, the nephew of Count Vorilov and the cousin of Lord Tarik, and the two cousins had maintained a decent relationship.

When the Gladstone banner-knight family received the news, they only recovered a mangled corpse gathered by a patrol near the Western Watchtower. On a remote stretch of the World Tree Boulevard, a carriage bearing the Gladstone coat of arms sat abandoned in the woods. Everything of value had been scavenged, including the clothes off Nelson’s back. An axe mark on his forehead was likely the cause of death, but because wild beasts had crawled into the carriage to gnaw on the remains, the investigation team could not determine the exact circumstances.

The fact that any remains were left at all was a testament to the effectiveness of the South Bank patrol organized by Rigolav. Nelson’s death had been discovered by a passing patrol before the night was even over. Had one more night passed, the scent of blood would have drawn scavenging beasts in droves, and Nelson would have been reported as missing rather than dead.

Although Lord Tarik had flown into a rage at the Gladstone family’s appeal, ordering the Ethanpool town court to thoroughly investigate the matter and secure justice, the investigative team appointed by the court seemed rather indifferent. They merely wandered through the knight-fiefs on either side of the World Tree Boulevard, west of Ethanpool.

Two of the investigative knights had questioned a few soldiers at the Western Watchtower and, originally, had intended to head straight home without even visiting Riverbend. However, the holy priest was quite curious about this new pioneer territory deep in the wilderness and had let slip a hint regarding Sir Nelson’s true purpose for coming here. This piqued the interest of the other team members, leading to their journey to Riverbend.

On the road along the river leading to Riverbend, a young investigative knight asked the equally young holy priest, "If, as you say, Nelson coveted this pioneer territory and thus brought about his own demise, why did the soldiers at the Western Watchtower see his party leave?"

"I only said he coveted this territory; I never said that was what got him killed," the young priest replied, shaking his head. "Perhaps he was attacked by bandits. Without concrete evidence, that would be slander."

The young knight was left speechless, but the other two, more seasoned knights exchanged a knowing smile and shook their heads. Nelson’s party had consisted of fifteen fully armed regular infantrymen on warhorses; even experienced bandits who terrorized the mountains would have been lucky to just watch them pass. Fifteen regular infantrymen on horseback were more than enough to handle double their number of bandits; even if they couldn't win, they wouldn't be wiped out entirely—some would have escaped.

After getting the inside scoop from the priest, the two experienced knights had already pieced together the likely truth. But what did it matter? The Northern people worshipped the God of War and were known for their valor, yet Nelson had only managed to secure his knighthood at thirty through family connections. He had spent five years as a landless knight without a fief, and despite obtaining a pioneer charter, he had only been interested in reaping where others had sown. While not exactly a laughingstock, he was certainly held in contempt.

Both veteran knights were vassals to Count Vorilov’s family and held their own manors. While not as vast as a pioneer territory, they were enough to support a knight’s family. That was something they had earned through merit and hard work, not through base trickery and theft! If not for their positions, the two veteran knights would have loved to stand with Riverbend and cheer them on.