The Steam Age: Gears and Bones

Chapter 22

The expedition members began loading the supply boxes onto the wagon one by one.

Belfast stood beside the carriage, took each box, and stacked them neatly inside the carriage, with the heavier ones at the bottom and the lighter ones at the top. Experimental boxes and medical supplies were placed separately on the top layer and secured with rope netting to prevent them from being jostled.

The entire process was completely silent, with only the muffled thuds of the wooden crates colliding and the friction sounds of the ropes tightening.

The Romulus knights were no longer surprised by Belfast's strength, but they couldn't help but glance at it a couple more times—the metal box full of portable alchemy equipment, which took two knights to lift onto the edge of the carriage, was taken by Belfast with one hand and placed steadily in its designated position.

After everything was ready, the flag captain readjusted the formation.

The reconnaissance team was still leading the way, maintaining a distance of about two or three hundred meters from the main force. In the thick fog, this distance was enough to provide sufficient warning time without allowing the reconnaissance team to completely escape the main force's line of sight.

The carriage moved in the middle of the procession, with four knights taking turns holding the wheels on both sides.

The medical team followed behind the carriage, with Ludwig's Romulus Knight still serving as the defender.

Chertzov walked slightly to the left of the front of the carriage, occasionally raising his hand to indicate the direction—he had fought in the swamps and was more familiar with this foggy environment than others.

Perfit walked on the right side of the carriage, one hand holding onto the edge of the carriage, the other resting on the old dagger he had brought back from the desert kingdom at his waist.

"Let's go," she said.

The expedition team followed the markings left by the reconnaissance team through the reeds and onto the military post road.

The road surface was indeed as Chertzov had described, raised about two feet by gravel and sand, with long-clogged drainage ditches on both sides, filled with half-frozen mud and dead reed roots.

The gravel road was frozen hard, and the horse-drawn cart wheels made a slight cracking sound as they rolled over it, like stepping on a thin layer of ice.

Scattered on the road were some abandoned items—a broken leather boot, a few copper bullet casings, and a blanket that had frozen stiff, half-buried in the snow by the roadside.

As Perfit passed the blanket, he glanced down at it. There were dark stains on the edge of the blanket, frozen into ice crystals, making it impossible to tell whether they were blood or mud.

She looked away and continued walking.

The deeper you go into the swamp, the thicker the fog becomes.

It wasn't the black fog mixed with cigarette ash that you see in harbors, but rather the white fog unique to winter in swamps. The cold air rising from the cracks in the frozen soil mixed with the moisture blowing in from the sea, so thick it was like a flowing wall.

Visibility dropped from several hundred meters to less than thirty meters. Those in the middle of the procession could only vaguely see the outline of a carriage in front of them, and could not see anything beyond that. When those at the back of the procession looked back, the path they had come from had been completely swallowed up by the white fog, as if they had entered a wasteland that no one had ever set foot in before.

Perfit gave a low command, instructing everyone to move quietly.

Any metal equipment that would make a noise if bumped was wrapped with cloth strips; the axles of the carriage wheels were lubricated again; all messages were passed between the front and back using gestures; if it was absolutely necessary to speak, it was done in a whisper close to the ear.

Apart from the occasional dull thud of wheels crushing frozen earth and the low, hoarse cries of some unknown waterbird from the depths of the distant swamp, there was no other sound along the entire post road.

But this did not put anyone at ease.

On the contrary, the quieter it is, the more tense everyone becomes.

The breathing of the young knights was noticeably heavier than when they set off. It was as if something might burst out of the white mist at any moment. The sound of their slightly heavy footsteps on the gravel would make the person in front subconsciously put their hand on the hilt of their sword, and then let go.

Ludwig walked over to Perfitter and whispered, "It's too quiet here."

Perfit understood what he meant.

It wasn't just ordinary quiet; it was the kind of quiet where even bird calls were sparse and the sound of the wind was muffled by the thick fog. All the living things in the swamp were hiding from something.

She loosened her fingers from the edge of the carriage and raised her hand to signal the queue to slow down.

Just then, extremely faint footsteps came from the thick fog ahead—the deliberately light footsteps of a scout knight on the gravel road.

A moment later, a scout knight emerged silently from the white mist, his entire body covered in frost, and his mask adorned with a fine layer of ice.

He leaned close to Perfit's ear and whispered a brief report: "There's a group of infected people under the roadbed at the bend in the road ahead. They're fighting over something, and they haven't spotted us yet."

Perfit turned his head and asked in a similarly whispered voice, "How far?"

"They're about 200 meters away from us. There's a dry reed bed on one side of the bend ahead, and they're by the edge of the reed bed. The fog muffled the sound, and there are probably six or seven of them. The reconnaissance team is waiting behind the road marker at the bend in the post road."

Perfitt paused for a few seconds, then gestured for a stop and passed the signal back.

Everyone stopped, and the horse-drawn carriage wheels made a soft, half-circle crunching sound on the gravel road before coming to a complete stop.

She followed the scout knight forward.

He crouched down behind the road marker, took the binoculars from the flag captain, and looked ahead.

More than 200 meters away, several hunched figures could be vaguely seen on the edge of the reeds below the roadbed—six in total, tearing at something whose shape was indistinguishable.

The distance was too great, and the thick fog obscured the view, so it was impossible to see what they were fighting over. All that could be seen through the fog were their shoulders heaving up and down, and occasionally a black liquid would splash out from between them, landing on the frozen ground and quickly freezing.

There were no chirping, no roaring, only the faint sounds of tearing and joint twisting.

The flag captain squatted down beside her and lowered his voice to a whisper: "They've been by the reeds for a while now, making very little noise."

Perfitter put down his binoculars and looked in that direction for a few more moments.

The infected people would occasionally raise their heads and tilt them, as if listening to something, but they never looked towards the post road.

Perfit hesitated for a moment, unsure whether he should wait until the infected people dispersed before proceeding.

But she quickly made a decision. The infected people had their backs to the post road and were focused on fighting for food. The thick fog also suppressed their voices. This was the best time to go around them. If she waited any longer, she wouldn't know when they would disperse or if they would suddenly turn this way.

"Go around to the left. Move quietly, don't make a sound, and don't light any fires. Pass the message down: everyone put their hands on the shoulders of the person in front of them and walk. No one is allowed to fall behind."

The flag captain nodded and gestured twice to the scout knights behind him—go around to the left and keep quiet.

The expedition team changed course, leaving the gravel road and quietly detouring along the drainage ditch on the left side of the roadbed.

The mud at the bottom of the drainage ditch was half-frozen, and when you stepped on it, only a very shallow imprint was left.

Every few steps, someone would subconsciously turn back to look towards the reed marshes—the hunched figures were faintly visible in the thick fog, their shoulders heaving up and down, and a faint tearing sound came through the fog, muffled as if through a thick cloth.

Ludwig had one hand on the hilt of his sword and the other on the shoulder armor of the Romulus knight in front of him.

Cherzov placed his hand on the flintlock pistol at his waist, taking each step carefully. This was a swamp, and he could easily sink in if he wasn't careful.

No one spoke, no one moved.

The mist slowly rolled around them, obscuring and revealing the figures by the reeds.

The carriage was the most difficult part to manage.

Four knights held onto the sides of the wheel, slowing down with each step. The sound of the wheel rolling over the hard soil was muffled by the mist, sounding as muffled as the sound of a drum being heard through water.

Belfast walked on the other side of the carriage, one hand always resting on the edge of the carriage, ready to support the frame if the wheels slipped.

It took almost half an hour to get around the reed marshes.

When I stepped back onto the post road, I was already 300 meters away from that group of infected people.

Perfit glanced back—the path they had come from was now swallowed by thick fog, and the reed beds and those hunched figures were no longer visible.

She gently exhaled a puff of white mist through her breathing mask and gestured forward.

The group pushed the carriage again, taking slow, deliberate steps, and continued forward.