Chapter 124 — A Child

"Ah... ah!" The little mute nodded vigorously, jabbing his finger harder at the thing on Philip's breastplate.

It was the crest of the Cecil family.

Gao Yang's heart stirred. In an instant certain things clicked into place, and he pressed at once, "Where did you see it?!"

The little mute gestured wildly, uttering garbled sounds that could not be understood by anyone else. He grew visibly frantic, and at last simply hopped onto a nearby rock, stood up high, and pointed in a certain direction, gesticulating with all his might.

Then he jumped down, seized Gao Song's hand, and shook it hard.

Gao Yang: "You know where it is, and you want us to follow you?"

The little mute nodded furiously, an imploring look on his face.

Gao Yang exchanged a glance with the others. With scarcely any deliberation, they decided to follow the child.

Of course he had considered much—whether this might be a trap set by the cultists, whether the child before them might have been coached and coerced into doing this; after all, those brain-addled cultists were capable of anything. But some dangers had to be faced regardless, especially when there was no other way. Following the child to see what the situation was had become the only choice.

They quickly left the main gate of Tamsan Town, followed the little boy into the woods, and doubled back south a short way along the course of the Whitewater River. As they walked, Gao Yang suddenly realized where the child was taking him.

There was only one place along this road that could be called a "landmark": Gorin Mill, southwest of Tamsan Town. It was a water mill of some age, built hard against the Whitewater River, once the property of the Leslie family, but now long neglected and abandoned. The area around the mill was a haunt for vagrants and drifters—though with the town so tense these days, the petty brigands of the neighborhood had likely fled far off.

Sure enough, after following the woodland path a short while, they heard the sound of the river washing against its banks. Pressing on toward the edge of the trees, a water mill in the traditional Ansul style came into view before the group.

"Ah—ah!" The little mute raised a hand toward the mill, then pointed at the emblem on Philip's chest, indicating that the people who bore this emblem were inside the mill.

The four of them surveyed the surrounding terrain, then, each raising his guard, made their way toward the mill.

They were barely halfway there when Sir Byron's voice came booming from within the mill: "You're back again! Back again! How many times have I told you—get out of here, head south, follow the river and find the Cecils, ask them for protection! Or else drag me out, throw me on open ground and burn me! Anything, but don't stay with me! Are you mute and deaf besides?!"