Sylvester made up his mind and went on to make the two dams. He divided the men into two teams. One team was responsible for creating the dams, and the other was responsible for creating side passages for the river water to keep flowing and not flood the whole area instead.
So, they had to make two tunnels going from behind the first dam to the other side of the second one. This would require Earth magic, so he could only let the knights and other wizards work on creating the blockade on the river, away from the area of influence under the Bloodling.
The river was as deep as two metres and as wide as fifty metres. This was going to be an arduous task as the current of the water was also strong. Sylvester had to ensure that he did not change the intensity of the flow either, as that could adversely affect the parts downstream and flood various towns or villages.
He first got to dig the tunnels as that would make the water more shallow, making the dam-making process easier. Bishop Lazark had already decreased the flow a bit already.
"Lady Aurora, you shall focus on the left bank tunnel, and I will be on the right. Make sure you don't break into the wall of the last stretch and flood the tunnel itself before getting out." He showed them a few sketches he had made.
After that, they all got to work. Using Earth element manipulation or simply using the runes, they started to dig. It was going to take them a while, but they still had decent enough speed. While at the surface, the dam was being created. One was made with necromancy as the skeletons piled up one above another. The other one was made of wood.
The Prince and his partner-in-crime were forced to work on the frontline at the wooden dam. They were the two men sitting on the thin logs, nailing pieces one after the other. Whenever they would slow down, they would get shoved around and threatened that they'd be thrown into the water.
But as the night started to linger over their heads, he began to feel somewhat on the edge as the air was too cold, mainly because they were close to the Pentapeak mountain range, the tallest and the longest mountain range in the known world.
But the main reason for his worry was the Shadow Knight. He could only wish the creature would not come after him there.
"Let's go and have some rest. We shall resume at the first light in the morning. With this speed, I'm certain we can complete the task by noon tomorrow and then deal with the bloodling by evening." Sylvester ordered the men and sent them to sleep after eating.
Meanwhile, Sylvester took the main lavish tent that the previous commanders used--speaking of those two. They were tied inside a small, thin tent without much insulation. Sylvester was hoping they'd naturally die.
In the large tent, Sylvester, Lady Aurora and Bishop Lazark rested as they ate their food near the coal heater in the middle. The temperature was falling rapidly as the winds kept getting stronger outside. They had the luxury of the fur, but the people in other tents were freezing. But most of them were used to it as they had been serving in even harsher work conditions throughout their lives.
"I can't help but come to respect the Mountain Tribes who live even further north of here," Sylvester muttered as he ate.
"Would you say the same about the Desert Cannibals?" Bishop Lazark asked as the memory of Sphinx Town was still fresh to them.
Sylvester sighed, put the bowl away, and relaxed by taking off his boots to dry his feet. "Them, most certainly not. As long as they are cannibals, in my eyes, they are dead. But, if there are some tribes that are not cannibals, then they'd have my respect. It's harsh to survive in a climate such extreme--and they've done it for generations."
At that, Lady Aurora chuckled. "I'm sure most of them would die if they lived among us, common civilised folks. We scheme and kill so much for no reason that they'd just be confused. 'They have all the food they want, so why do they still fight and kill?' They'd say."
"Or maybe not." Sylvester rebutted. "Remember, it's the common folks of these tribes who are hungry, not their leaders, who likely live in more luxury than you and I do. All the food, women and treasures, yet they fight other tribes and raid nearby settlements. It's human instinct to keep fighting and keep wanting more. It's a never-ending cycle... no matter what era... or the world."
"Or species." Bishop Lazard added. "Elves, Dwarves, Vampires, Goblins, Dragonkins... I heard they are the same too."
Sylvester looked around at the tent and noticed the open chest full of gold. A good amount of it was already missing, however, thanks to one hungry furry bank that loves gold. "I have no idea where that money came from. Do you, Bishop?"
"Tributes! The Crusaders, this time, know they cannot leave behind a trail of destruction, sacking and r*pe like the last time. But the people don't know this, so when some Crusaders arrive at a new town or village, they demand a certain payment for being left alone. The poor people cave in--valuing their lives and peace more than gold."
Sylvester felt a bit disgusted by that money. But the deed was already done, so there was no going back. But he could at least stop such things from happening again. "Does the Holy Land know about this?"
"Maybe, I don't know. Crusades started just recently, and my case is rare, as I don't have a team. I just get attached to leading various teams randomly. So I believe those groups that are doing this are little chambers of secrets, where they all keep their sins tight-lipped. But thankfully, out of the past eighteen groups I have commanded, I've only seen this happening twice."
"It's still not good. I will write to Saint Wazir and inform him. By the way, I would once again like to offer you a spot on my team." Sylvester straightforwardly invited him. He truly believed that with Bishop, his team could gain a much-needed strength upgrade. Not to mention, Bishop Lazark was an old dog who knew some level of diplomacy.
"And my answer remains the same, Lord Bard. I do not wish to make life hard for you. Having a necromancer beside you can tarnish your name." Bishop Lazard said.
Sylvester appreciated that the man was worrying about his reputation. But he didn't really care at this point because all it takes him to impress someone is one hymn. Besides, what he wished to do was use his manipulation means to make Lazark and his necromancy popular in a good way.
"Then, don't join my Sanctum Inspector team but my Crusade supervisor team. As Sanctum Inspectors, we are allowed to gather a team of twenty each. Felix and I will have twenty each, making it forty. We can easily make that forty-one. What do you say, Lady Aurora, shouldn't he join me?
"Lady Aurora?"
Sylvester looked to the side, and to his surprise, the woman was already asleep--while sitting. She was even snoring a little from the sound of it.
"She's truly one of the prettiest yet least feminine women I've ever met, and I can't help but say I like that about her. Anyway, what do you think, Bishop?" He asked the man again.
Bishop Lazark seemed to contemplate that for a long time. He wondered if the effects of him being a necromancer would be the same if there were forty people. He knew Sylvester, Felix, Gabriel, and Sir Dolorem didn't care, but others might.
"I need time to think about it, Lord Bard."
Sylvester shrugged and got up to head to his bed. "You have the whole night, Bishop. I shall head to bed now. See you in the morning."
He hugged Chonky in his arms under the blanket and soon drifted off into a very light sleep, enough to let him rest but also be alert to any temperature change--which would mean he needed to run or prepare.
But not everyone went to sleep. Still, besides the heater in the middle, Bishop Lazark sat quietly and thought about his life. He was certainly not happy with it, as humans are creatures that long for connections, friendships and communication. Having lived in isolation for so long, even he wished to have someone to talk to and share his thoughts and ideas with. But, he knew he'd be a burden on most--and that was something he could never accept as a firm believer of the lord.
"I guess I am forever damned to be alone." He muttered.
"He values you, Bishop. Go ahead, join him."
"Lady Aurora?" Lazark exclaimed, shocked she heard him. "You were not sleeping?"
She slowly stretched her arms and yawned while getting up. "Even my unconscious mind functions more than a commoner's focused mind. I'm a Grand Wizard, Bishop. My level of strength is a pathway to many abilities some consider to be unnatural. Good night now."
With no care, she went to one of the beddings and rested down, once again falling asleep, leaving the necromancer perplexed.
...
"One!"
"Two!"
"Three!"
"Let Go!"
Boom!
The next day, Sylvester didn't want to take any risks with the lives of the crusaders. So, after ensuring that the last part of the tunnels was dug, he told everyone to get out while he set a few explosive crystals in the place. Then, all they needed was a surge of magic to activate them.
Lady Aurora and Sylvester easily made that happen. So with a loud boom, the two tunnels that bypassed the dams were built. The water started to flow as expected, and the intensity of water where the dams were being built decreased.
'Ugh! I hope it doesn't attack.' Sylvester grunted alone as he felt the scent of death rising astronomically. The Bloodling was undoubtedly not happy having its habitat halved.
But that was only the start, as Bishop Lazark soon finished building his undead dam. With that, the water completely stopped flowing downstream for a 100-meter stretch. By then, the second dam had also been constructed to a decent height, so now the water was trapped between the two.
However, he didn't let the men rest and quickly launched a response.
"Get ready, everyone! We are going to attack the river with all the fire magic we have!" He roared as he gathered the Crusaders beside the shoreline.
Lady Aurora was given the job of using Ice and Air elements to freeze water if the Bloodling decided to attack them. This way, they could at least minimise the casualties.
Sylvester stood at the leading charge. But he kept Prince Harpus and his lackey beside him... ready as sacrifices to the Bloodling.
'It's coming!'
"When I say, you start shooting your fire spells without care. Use up all the magic you have!" He roared at the hundreds upon hundreds of men, most of them covered with armour, but they all were sweaty and muddied from working all that time.
'Come out!' Sylvester waited as he knew the threshold of the scent of death that meant it was the closest. So he waited, calculating all the changes.
Soon, he noticed the water turning a bit darker. 'Yes... a bit more!'
The crowd nervously stood, some coughing, some sweating profusely, and their hands appeared ready to cast spells or runes. The winter didn't even affect them anymore, as their lives could be taken at any moment.
"NOW!"
Boom!
Woosh!
Bang!
As soon as Sylvester's roaring command came, the crusaders unleashed hell on earth. Even if they were not all wizards and those who were wizards were not strong, the combined might of hundreds of them was overwhelming.
The scorching heat reached the water in the river, from which a certain shape was slowly trying to come out. But the concentrated fire pushed it back with ease.
"Wraaaaa!"
'So it can cry!' Sylvester mumbled and focused both his hands on the water, releasing beams of pure red fire. He had also cast a few whirling fire moves, creating fire tornadoes on the river.
The scene that appeared was mind-numbing, as the steam rose and covered everything around, making it impossible to see, mixed with the screeches of the bloodling--it was a musical sound.
"Wraaaa!"
Boom!
Boom!
"What was that?" Sylvester exclaimed and looked to his left and right. To his shock, the Prince and his lackey were gone.
'There is no water... how did it pull them in?'
"STOP!"
He boomed aloud. But his voice was nothing in comparison to the fiery hailstorm around him. The crusaders kept raining fire.
Woosh!
"Argh! My f*cking luck!" Sylvester cursed as out of nowhere, he felt something wrapped around his waist and pulled him away--into the river... or whatever was left of it.
