At the sewer entrance on the west side of Dale, two Redmane Soldiers were prying open a rusty grate with iron hooks.
A putrid smell assaulted them, mixed with the foul stench of Goblin feces and decaying rat corpses.
And inside the sewer, countless pairs of eyes, gleaming with malevolent light, stared intently at the sewer entrance.
Once anyone dared to enter, the Goblins hiding in the sewer would swarm out, grab onto the person's legs, and drag them into the sewer.
But the Red Lion Legion was simply too lazy to enter such a place; they had been fighting the Scarlet Rot's kin for so many years that they had seen these petty tricks too many times and had a well-practiced procedure for dealing with them.
Although, to develop this procedure, the Red Lion Legion had lost many brave Soldiers.
"Prepare the lamp oil!"
The leading Red Lion Knight took the lead, skillfully wrapping oil-soaked hemp rope around an arrow.
As if sensing that the humans above the sewer would not come down, a rustling sound suddenly came from underground, and three Goblins shrieked as they darted out of the hole, their shortbows fully drawn and aimed directly at the Soldiers' faces.
However, the poisoned arrows were blocked by the Red Lion Knight's thick, heavy shield; the arrows struck the shield with a crisp sound, then fell weakly onto the charred ground, bouncing a few times before rolling aside, where a Lataan Soldier stepped on them.
Then, flaming arrows were shot into the underground hole, and tongues of fire surged along the crisscrossing passages, forcing more than twenty Goblins hiding within to emerge above ground.
These Goblins were smoking, some holding their burning comrades as meat shields to charge at the Lataan Soldiers, while others feigned death, planning to spring up and bite ankles when Soldiers passed by.
"Advance the finishing squad."
The Red Lion Knight leading the team gave the order calmly; every action taken by these Goblins was within their expectations.
Ten Lataan Soldiers, armed with war picks, swept through the charred street like a comb.
The war picks precisely shattered the skulls of every "corpse," whether it was a still-living Goblin not yet charred, or an already burnt corpse.
In the central square of Dale lay many Goblin corpses killed by swords and knives; the Soldiers were examining them one by one when suddenly, a feigning Goblin sprang up, only to be shot into a porcupine by waiting crossbowmen.
Because Dale used to have frequent trade with the dwarves, many dwarves would buy houses in Dale and dig out underground cellars to store ale.
And now, these cellars had become rather tricky kill zones.
When the Redmane Soldiers broke open a wooden door sealed by Goblins, inside, more than ten emaciated Goblins were tearing at the roasted remains of their comrades.
They were the lowest-ranking slaves in the Goblin underground kingdom, having never eaten their fill, let alone coming to a desolate place like the Dale ruins, where they hadn't eaten a single bite for two or three days.
Because it wasn't their turn to eat the food; it had already been devoured by other stronger Goblins.
Therefore, when they smelled the aroma of meat, they were so starved that they didn't care if it was the corpse of a comrade; they opened their mouths and bit into it, feasting heartily.
When the Lataan Soldiers saw these Goblins, they turned their heads, their teeth still embedded with chunks of meat and bone fragments from their comrades.
"Burn them clean."
The Red Lion Knight, seeing this scene, frowned slightly beneath his helmet; this sight of cannibalism brought back unpleasant memories, and he turned and left after coldly uttering a single sentence.
Then, the booming sound of a Redmane firepot igniting suddenly erupted behind him, followed only by the roar of the raging flames.
Thus, the Soldiers of the Red Lion Legion cleaned every dry sewer, well, and latrine in Dale. They used fire and thick smoke to drive out all the Goblins hiding and waiting for revenge, killing them one by one.
After Bard helped the Lataan Soldiers clear one of the streets, he was covered in black soot, coughing as he walked towards Arthur.
He said to Arthur, "You're right, these Soldiers are indeed good with fire, but it seems they are a bit too enthusiastic about using it."
Thorin, who had been with Arthur for a while, shrugged, "There's nothing wrong with fire. It can cook food, forge weapons, and, most importantly, burn our enemies to death."
Arthur looked at him with a strange expression and said, "The cleaning of Dale should take about another day. Over a hundred years of abandonment have left too many places for Goblins to hide in Dale. You can use this time to have the residents of Lake-town pack their things and prepare to move here."
Bard nodded, then sighed and asked, "What about Lake-town? Should we destroy those houses? It would be such a waste to just abandon them."
Arthur looked puzzled, asking in confusion, "When did I ever say to abandon Lake-town?"
Bard was stunned for a moment, thinking carefully; it seemed that Arthur had indeed never said to abandon Lake-town. He had only recommended that Bard lead the residents of Lake-town to Dale to avoid further orc incursions.
But if there were no people in Lake-town, wouldn't it be the same as being abandoned?
Bard voiced his doubt.
It was Thorin who explained for Arthur, "Once we dwarves reclaim the Lonely Mountain, this place will gradually return to its former prosperity, I can guarantee that Dale alone will certainly not be able to meet your future development needs. At that time, you can build a new road between Lake-town and Dale, or gradually develop the two places into a main city, it's all up to you. The larger the scale of your human towns, the more prosperous the Lonely Mountain will be."
So there was such a complex reason? Arthur silently glanced at Thorin.
He actually just wanted to say that it would be a shame to destroy those houses, and they could be slightly modified to serve as a retreat point.
Bard, halfway through Thorin's explanation, immediately understood this point and said, "Then I'll go back now and mobilize the townspeople to come over."
By the time Bard returned to Lake-town and had all the townspeople ready to depart, it was already noon the next day.
The midday sun carried the scent of unburnt charcoal and a faint fishy smell, and Bard stood on the dilapidated pier of Lake-town, watching the residents, with their families in tow, load the last of their belongings onto carts.
An elderly fisherman gripped his oar tightly, his bloodshot eyes fixed on the reflection in the water.
It had once reflected his joy at catching a three-foot-long fish, but now only a few shards of ice floated on the lake like boundless duckweed.
Bard noticed him, sighed softly, walked over, and placed a hand on the old man's hunched shoulder, calling out his name: "Uncle Tom, it's time to go."
The old man's Adam's apple bobbed, and cloudy tears splattered onto his frozen knuckles: "I know, but this is my boathouse... and my father's fishing nets..."
"We will come back, I promise you," Bard said with a firm tone, pressing lightly on the old man's shoulder.
There were many townspeople like this old fisherman; when it came time to leave, they realized they were still deeply attached to the home they had lived in for so long.
A widow was carefully placing two young children on a cart, but one eight-year-old boy suddenly broke free from his mother's embrace, ran to the doorstep by the road, picked up a dirty cloth doll from the ground, and was then pulled back by his mother.
A blacksmith from Lake-town walked at the forefront of the migrating group, his wheelbarrow piled high with anvils and hammers, frequently looking back at his blacksmith shop, which was growing further and further away.
When Bard led his compatriots to Dale, the last wisp of black smoke in the town had just dissipated.
At this time, Radahn's massive body was also beside Arthur.
They were saying something when Arthur, upon seeing Bard, actively waved to him: "The Goblins hidden inside Dale have all been cleared out, and the Soldiers of the Red Lion Legion and the dwarves have worked through the night to emergency-clear a batch of habitable buildings. Just have your people go directly to Thorin and them."
Bard bowed deeply to Arthur and Radahn at the breach in the city wall: "The people of Lake-town—no, Dale—will remember this kindness."
Radahn nodded calmly; his thoughts were not on these humans, but on the Dragon.
Just as Arthur was about to say something else, he suddenly saw Gandalf striding quickly towards them, leaning on his staff, the ashes from his pipe fluttering down from his other hand.
His brows were tightly furrowed, and he didn't even greet Arthur, but instead asked Bard directly, "Bilbo is missing! Someone saw him fishing at the Lake-town dock this morning! Have you seen where he went?"