The village where Visgaroff Zoltanev lived was very cozy and cozy. The huts were small and made of wood. Each house had a chimney that blew out plenty of smoke and there were mood lights around the windows and doors. At the back of the village was Visgaroff's house. It was remarkably larger than the others, adapted for Jack's size when he was still here. With Jack leading the way, the candidates made their way through the dirt and snow-covered paths. Jack knocked on the door after some hesitation, and after some banging and rumbling, the door opened.
An old little man opened the door. He was a lot bigger than a gnome but remarkably smaller than a human. However, it did fill almost the entire width of the doorway. The buttons of his green knitted cardigan stretched over his bulky belly. They seemed to be screaming that they couldn't stand this much longer. The white tip of his long, thin beard wobbled at the level of his knees. The only thing missing was a pointed hat, Robert thought, but instead Visgaroff had a bald head with wild white strands of hair on either side.
"Jack?" came his hesitant voice. His small, deep-set gray eyes showed how incredibly surprised he was. Jack nodded, and the dwarf flew around the giant's neck, or rather, around the knees. "My boy, how you have grown up! And what brings you here?'
Jack lifted the round dwarf and swung it around. Visgaroff shook his belly with pleasure after Jack carefully set him back down. The half-giant had a warm blush on his cheeks that abruptly disappeared when he realized what they had come for. "My travel companions and I need your help to get to the foot of the Harpijberg. Show us the way. And if you can spare some material, we'll be extra grateful.'
"Why would you want that, especially in this weather?" responded Visgaroff.
"We are candidates to succeed the king. We are here to retrieve the king's ring," Robert said in a friendly tone. The news of the king had clearly not yet reached all corners of the kingdom.
"It seems like we're behind the latest news in this village," Visgaroff said. "What happened to our poor Majesty Lodehart?" Arian moved forward and explained in a few sentences what was going on and why they were standing at the dwarf's door.
"If it's of the utmost importance, I'd like to take you all the way to the first striker. Furthermore, you will have to climb yourself. But first, you need the right tools. Come on in'. He made a waving motion, and the party followed him into the wooden house. Inside, it was surprisingly spacious, with a high ceiling and a large living space. Around a crackling fire, on a deep-pile carpet, stood a shabby little armchair and a very large wooden chair that seemed to be self-made by the various pieces of wood. Jack's chair Robert suspected. On the right side of the room, Visgaroff had created a kind of tool corner. The three piglets followed disappointed, they had already stretched out their hooves towards the inviting hearth. He waved the group to that corner of the hut, where he then began handing out tools. The equipment consisted of climbing harnesses, helmets of all shapes and sizes and a whole bunch of climbing hooks. The dwarf shoved another loaf of bread, five apples, and a large hunk of smoked ham into a knapsack and gave it to Arian. They left their tents and sleeping bags by the fireplace. Too much luggage would be a ballast on the climb. He then led the group to a passage at the back of the hut. This opened onto a small, snow-covered garden, and through there a path led to the mountains. It seemed as if the dwarf often took this route and was therefore quite familiar with the mountains. It was also logical that dwarves lived near the mountains. Their bodies were built according to temperature and their bones were much sturdier than those of other humans and human species. This made them more resistant to high falls that sometimes occur in a mountain area. Visgaroff, with the group in his wake, continued his way through the garden gate over the first patches of rocky ground.
"It gets tricky from here. I recommend that you keep a close eye on the side to avoid accidents'. His tone was stern and very serious. The rocky path up the hill wound around the mountain and disappeared into the mist. Jack patted Visgaroff's back twice in thanks. He didn't know what to say and was the first to start the mountain tour. Robert and Leo followed with the piglets nearby so they could help them when the small hooves got stuck between the large boulders and Arian closed the row. "We are very grateful, Mr. Visgaroff, we hope to be able to return the favor one day." The Arieman shook the dwarf's hand firmly. Visgaroff stroked his beard slowly. "King Lodehart is a good man, he deserves a good recovery and in the meantime someone who keeps the borders of Yths in hand with just as much diplomacy. May one of you have that skill and wish you a prosperous journey." With those words, he set off in the same footprints that had just been formed in the snow back to his warm home. Arian looked at him for a few seconds and then hurried after the rest of his party.
In some places, the path was so narrow that they had to press their backs against the wall and shuffle on. On other stretches, they each hoisted a piglet around their necks and jumped over narrow icy mountain streams that meandered down from the top. The first checkpoint, at an altitude of about 1000 meters, got closer and closer. Flags were set up every few hundred yards, although the upper ones were completely devoured by the harpies. Robert wondered aloud if Hector Bokduclingstorminshoven had placed it by chance and where the man and the rest of the jury actually went. They hadn't seen or heard from Hector or the jury since crossing the Styx.
Robert was startled when he heard a deafening screech. Everyone pressed their hands to their ears. "Harpies," said Jack. "They are aware of our arrival."
The wind at this altitude was also unrelenting. With icy speed he cut past them and it felt like stabbing through their cheeks. Coupled with the cold, the altitude also caused problems. The thin air provided less oxygen, and a thick layer of clouds obstructed their view. Robert looked around at the faces of his companions. Jack, who already had experience with the mountain, had an expired and almost emotionless expression. However, that was not the case with the other candidates. The normally extremely calm Leo looked around her anxiously. Every now and then she reached for Robert for extra support and her lips were blue from the cold. Hörk, Pörk and Gnörk went a little smoother. Their smaller stature meant that they caught less wind and their round fleshy bodies had an extra layer of bacon against the cold. The only one who caused a surprise was Arian. The otherwise cool and concentrated man now looked a little anxious. After it had looked almost perfect all this time, a first flaw came to the surface. It seemed that the Arieman had an extreme fear of heights. He had planned his crampons in the wall behind him, and he held the handles so tightly that small cracks had appeared in them. The first plateau finally came into view. Here they could catch their breath and look for signs of the harpies. There was little chance that the ring was at this height, but it would be stupid not to look here anyway, Robert thought. The only thing separating the group from the plateau was a short path about a meter wide. Along the path, a deep gorge beckoned. Jack peered carefully into it. He didn't see the bottom. "We're going to have to go over this one by one," he said. I suggest that the smallest go first. This reduces the chance of crumbling pieces for the rest of the group.'
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The three little pigs looked anxiously at each other and bumped against each other to avoid being the first to go. Nervously, they fidgeted with their helmets. Finally, with frightened eyes, they lined up to cross. Although the crossing at Pörk and Gnörk went fairly smoothly, it went less smoothly at Hörk. Instead of a calm approach, he decided to just run screaming over it. He stormed to the other side and slammed into his brothers and soon the three of them were lying in a heap of snouts, curly tails and helmets. The crossing went without too many difficulties for the others. Although Robert almost slipped on a piece of ice, and Arian raised his head because he didn't dare to look down, they all made it to the plateau. A collective sigh went through the group. Leo plopped down on a round stone under a kind of shelter in the rock face. She rubbed the snow from her face, took off her helmet, and ran through her hair. Robert laughed, but stopped when he saw Jack. He stared gloomily at the group. Suddenly, he didn't seem so determined.
"Are you all right, Jack?" asked Robert, patting some snow off his hands and rubbing his cold fingers together.
Jack looked at the ground, coughed, and then raised his head.
"I've decided to return to Visgaroff's village," Jack said disappointedly. The group did not answer, but they all looked at him in bewilderment. Gnörk let out a breeze in fright.
"The battles with Tikker have made it clear that I am not competent as a king. Every step on this mountain hurts me. My strength is no match for Alex's, or even Arian's. So I've decided to stay here and train until I'm strong enough to take revenge."
The half-giant's face radiated both anger and disappointment, but he seemed sure of his case. His self-image had clearly taken a huge hit from the two losses to the witch hunter, and so he had decided to throw in the towel and give up the match.
"Are you sure?" asked Leo. She gently placed her hand on his forearm. "We can always use your strength and knowledge of the mountains in this trial."
"That's very kind of you Leo, but my choice is final," came Jack's reply. He gave his bag of provisions to Robert who almost lost his balance when tackled. Arian held him up with his finger in Robert's collar just in time.
Jack addressed the group one last time. "Farewell, friends. I hope to see you all again. You know where I live from now on.'
He smiled one last time, wiped a few tears from his eyes, and retraced his steps towards Visgaroff's village. The smaller tour group saw his broad back disappear into the fog.
Madam Haclaire had draped her snow-white wintelmantel over the back of Siel's armchair and was warming her cold fingers by the comfortable warmth of the fire. The jury, together with Hector Bokduclingstorminshoven, had taken up residence in a wooden hut in the village of Visgaroff. It was one of the few huts that were rented out to travelers who dared to make the crossing of the Styx. Dirrek was cooking eggs with the tempo faster who gave him instructions on perfectly timed hard-boiled eggs while Siel's mood turned as dark as the dark gray armchair he was sitting in. The edge of his cape was still wet from crossing into the rickety boat of Heijn who kept trying to make small talk and it went so ridiculously slow that they now had no idea what the candidates were doing on the mountain. In any case, they had already started the climb. They knew that from Pepijn. He sat cross-legged on the fireplace rug with a large pot of shiny golden beetles wedged between his legs. They were Location Beetles, a species that were born in pairs, their bodies attached to each other with hooks and walked around like that. However, when you pulled them apart, they quivered and gleamed gleaming gold to let each other know where the other was. Hector, however, had picked at their little brains so that the beetles now only did this when they heard voices or loud noises and attached one of the pair beetles to the flags on the path to the harpies. When the group passed a flag, the beetle would detect it by their footsteps, the sound of the hooks or their talking, and then began to vibrate and shine. This provided extra light on the mountain path, but more importantly, the corresponding pair beetle in Pepin's pot also started to vibrate and shine. Hector had given each pair of beetles a number on its back, and in the meantime the frills had seen all the beetles with numbers one, two, and three moving and giving light. So the candidates were already well on their way, but Siel had no information about whether someone had already fallen down the mountain, whether someone had already been caught by a harpy, or lost in the fog, nothing. All he knew was that at least one person had already made it to the third flag. The riot fire sparked up his neck and into his pointy ears, creating a purple glow around his increasingly sullen face.
"Hector!" barked Siel, who could no longer restrain himself. "You planned those flags with beetles all the way up, cut those beetles open one by one, tinkered with them and taped them up again, and didn't get any further than a bunch of vibrating crawling marbles in a jam jar?!"
Hector stroked the bald part of his head between his horn-shaped tufts of hair and thought of Siel's earlier bout of riot fire. "I'm sorry, sir, but thanks to my wonderful brain surgery on the beetles, we know where they are, unless you'd rather go up that mountain yourself." He gave the night elf a complacent look.
Siel brusquely pushed himself up from his chair. "We know where THEY are? Is that so? And who are THEY? One of those three stupid piglets or that big giant? Or our good clumsy friend Robert? WHO touched that third flag, you mean? And WHERE does the rest hang out? Who knows, maybe one of the dwarves is walking up and none of our candidates is walking up?!'
Hector winced. He was searching for words to answer when Pepin raised his hand. They all looked at the glass jar in which two beetles were glowing and trembling. On their backs, the numbers two and four shivered along with their bodies. Madam Haclaire let out a scream. "What's going on?"
Siel bent over the goblet. "We have three options: either Mr. Bokduclingstorminshoven messed up the beetles' brains too badly, causing them to tilt, or someone else will walk up that mountain, or someone will come back down. Who knows?" and he looked with his darkest gaze at Hector who quickly plucked a hard-boiled egg from the counter and began to peel frantically.