Chapter 7

The Month of the Storm has arrived.

In the ancient legends of Korite, this is the month dedicated to the fourth of the twelve main deities of this world, the Lord of Storms.

This wild and indifferent deity will use the howling gales and torrential rains, representing his boundless energy, to thoroughly cleanse the earth, heralding the fullness of spring and the prelude to the scorching summer to come.

However, in the elongated territory of the Kingdom of Tuminis, not all places will feel the power of this deity at this time...

Semong, a county in the western border of the kingdom, often sees the Month of the Storm as the best time for farmers to sow their seeds—without the scorching sun or sudden showers, the farmers' work is easy and comfortable...

They can leisurely till the land while chatting with their companions about their wives' cooking and petty jealousies, the heavy taxes in the city, and then place the unhulled seeds into the shallow holes dug with their index fingers, gently covering them with both hands, allowing them to be nourished by the spring rain and educated by the summer sun—by autumn, the tender sprouts of early spring will have grown into tall stalks, standing orderly in the fields, their heavy fruits a testament to their endurance through countless days and nights.

For them, this is a season of sowing hope.

Of course, even in a season of sowing hope, it doesn't mean that everyone will invest their energy in sowing... just like now.

The urgent sound of hooves broke the afternoon silence, gradually revealing a group of figures on the distant horizon, becoming clearer at the end of the road.

Four tall and strong horses.

The riders were almost all wrapped in long, heavy cloaks, a layer of yellowish dust almost obscuring the original color of the cloaks, also proving the length of their journey... usually, only those merchants who forever chase profit would be willing to endure the long journey, but the speed of these horses was so fast that they were clearly not the usual slow, cargo-laden horses.

Therefore, these people were not ordinary merchants.

The approaching distance was enough to make the broad cloaks reveal the outlines of armor and the weapons carried by two of them. There was not a trace of decoration on their weapons, cloaks, or the saddles of their horses, which was enough to reveal their identity—without the splendid attire of the kingdom's knights... but with weapons and mounts, they were undoubtedly mercenaries who sold their martial prowess.

The farmers stopped their chatter, giving these people a brief moment of attention—just a few breaths...

Or perhaps this group was a bit different?

Their mounts—although the dust on their coats showed the distance they had traveled, they did not seem at all weary. If one had even a little knowledge of horses, they would recognize their value... the broad foreheads, large and deep-set eyes, and the slightly melancholic neighs all indicated an excellent lineage.

"Finally, we've arrived..."

The small group gradually slowed their pace, and the rider on the leading horse sighed under the wide cloak...

In front of him, the road curved up a small hill, extending the dense green into the distance...

The deep black dots at the edge of the field of vision turned into a dense, dark gray at the horizon—

It was a unique, or perhaps eerie, color... devoid of the vitality that green should bring, it resembled an ancient, desolate city buried in dust, or a strange magical beast spanning the earth, invisibly devouring the surrounding light. It presented a cold blackness, like a faded painting, with only the distant mountains showing a less pleasant green behind the mist.

But this color also revealed the wooden castle and village on the small hill, surrounded by gray walls, to everyone...

"Sir Jude, as you said, this looks like a very nice place, but it seems a bit different from your earlier description."

The knight behind the guide gently pulled the reins, and a soft, neutral voice came from under the grayish-white cloak. He extended a hand in a metal glove, pushed back the hood, revealing a smooth half-helmet with intricate designs that covered most of his face, leaving only a clean and sharp chin.

"Yes, it looks much more prosperous... the changes are enough to surprise me."

The knight on the speckled horse, leading by two lengths, cast his gaze toward the distant buildings: "However, it has been several years, nearly a decade, since I last came here... the prosperity to this extent suggests that the knight who was granted this land has some ability as a lord, although, as far as I know, he was... sent here because of some matters."

The vastness of the Western Frontier is one of its few advantages.

The land is dotted with hundreds of farms, but this advantage does not necessarily translate into an advantage. The barren land leaves these farms with no room to expand, remaining small and unmarked on most maps, connected by a complex network of rural paths that could drive invaders mad. A few large cities are the jewels of the land.

So, on this desolate land, even the center of a noble's domain cannot have any outstanding prosperity...

As they approached, they noticed that this small settlement on the hill was not large, only slightly larger than an ordinary town. Compared to the southern Tanwa or the kingdom's capital, Romanti... no, even compared to the moderately developed city of Whitehall in the Western Frontier, this was still just a remote village.

However, for those on a long journey, this was a refreshing sight...

Not only were the ordinary dwellings in the town beautiful, with a foreign style and unusually tall two- or three-story buildings, but even the walls surrounding the city gave a peculiar feeling.

Unlike the towns on the rocky wilderness, this place, benefiting from the convenience of the Whispering Forest, used thick logs to build a simple wall. However, this crude structure became intricate here—the wooden fence walls were divided into four layers, with a compact earth road in the middle and a double structure with corner towers... even though the soldiers patrolling on top were lazily basking in the sun and the sturdy wooden gates were not closed, it still gave a sense of security.

Entering the town, this joy could turn into surprise.

The main road leading from the gate was over twenty feet wide, wide enough for two or three carriages to pass side by side. There was no sewage flowing in the streets, no narrow, dark alleys, and no cluttered debris... or any other signs of rural squalor. There were not many villagers out in the morning, but whether it was children playing or women occasionally busy at their doors, they were all neatly dressed and focused on their tasks.

From them, one could see a kind of vitality that was rarely seen in the entire Western Frontier.

"Sir Jude, it seems your judgment is correct; this pioneer has considerable insight."

The young knight, riding in the most standard posture, like a straight blade, pushed his helmet to get a clearer view of the people passing in the streets: "If this development continues, in less than thirty years, this place could become one of the top ten... no, top five cities in the Western Frontier."

"However, this lord seems too lenient with his subordinates, allowing them to wander... in the town," he paused as he saw a group of people emerging from the street.

A large, bald man with a ridiculous braid walked past his horse, bare-chested, showing off his thick muscles adorned with indigo patterns, carrying two strange blades, followed by a few less tall but equally muscular men. They wore leather armor and ridiculous capes, carrying long swords and quivers, and the last one huddled in a long black robe, only his withered, pale hand holding a long staff visible.

"This... Sir Alin, you are mistaken."

The middle-aged man, Sir Jude, looked slightly stiff, then gave a bitter smile.

Seeming to know that his next words would invite some criticism, he paused, choosing his words carefully: "If my judgment is correct, those on the walls are the town's garrison. As for them..."

His gaze lingered on the rugged figures who occasionally cast a disdainful glance... although most of the mercenaries here were speculators drawn by the mysterious legends of the vast forest nearby, their nature had not changed... and the knight knew that the people he was traveling with had a particular disdain for such people.

"Mercenaries?"

The brief silence seemed to reveal some facts, and the young knight let out an unhappy snort: "So, is this lord too lenient? Doesn't he know that these people are all..."

"More accurately, they are adventurers, known here as Cave Bears."

The middle-aged man sighed: "As for Viscount James... he is indeed kind, Sir Alin. The reason for his kindness is that the prosperity of Poplar Town, which you see now, is actually built on the backs of these adventurers."

Adventurers... is a broad term.

Their backgrounds are varied—retired soldiers, wandering barbarians, bandits, killers, fugitives, or thieves, mercenaries waiting for employment, fallen knights... all can be called adventurers.

In fact, in the Western Frontier, in Ein, in Linca, throughout the Kingdom of Tuminis... or on this entire continent, these wanderers, with no tomorrow, are always seen as natural troublemakers, because where they gather, fights and disturbances are common, and arson, murder, and plunder are not impossible. Therefore, they are compared to locusts, flies, vultures, or scavengers—appearing wherever there is profit, leaving devastation behind.

Although many wealthy people and even lords like to hire them to solve special problems, such as clearing monsters, fighting bandits, or handling more delicate matters, overall, the trouble they bring to any place is always greater than their benefits. Therefore, in peacetime, except for some sparsely populated areas with weak defenses that hire large groups of mercenaries for protection, most small and medium-sized lords and nobles generally treat them with disdain. It is rumored that the Kingdom of Gert has already restricted the presence of these uncontrolled forces in more than half of its territory.

However... this is the Western Frontier, known for its vast rocky wilderness and thousands of goblins, dogmen, magical beasts, and bandits, the border of the imperial border province... in the entire Western Frontier, only the most prosperous areas near Caro can see professional soldiers, and in more places, anyone with weapons and armor is, in fact, an adventurer...

And for Poplar Town, near the Whispering Forest, adventurers have a special significance.

For over a hundred years, Poplar Town was just a remote village, a remnant of King Lear's and many knights' march into the wilderness, known as the Great Expansion, a small village that had been ignored by the kingdom's rulers and not even named on the maps, quietly nestled next to the vast Whispering Forest. Although some legends suggest that there are ancient elven kingdom relics and treasures somewhere in the forest, only those with less than sound minds, trying their luck, dare to enter this land of death for these vague legends.

However, as the footsteps of time entered the last ten years, a few unknown adventurers discovered something more interesting here—although no one truly knows what it is.

Elven treasures, ancient ruins, wizards' tombs, valuable minerals... rumors spread like wildfire, and a once-ignored town became a place where mercenaries flocked, known as Cave Bears, entering this dangerous hell, risking their lives for the chance of luck... and a few successful cases attracted more greedy people.

"Filthy business can only breed evil, even if it grows, it will only bring false prosperity." The young knight's voice was filled with anger: "Building prosperity on bounty hunters and crude mercenaries, thieves, and lawless merchants... how foolish! Ignoring order for temporary income will drag everyone into the abyss of evil! How can the lord here allow such things to happen! I..."

"Sir... Alin, anger can blind you, making you unable to see the truth right before your eyes... calm down."

A voice came from the last horse, under a black cloak, clear like a stream, but devoid of emotion, cold like melting ice.

"Gentlemen, after a long journey, welcome to Poplar Town, and welcome to the most comfortable and warm home for travelers in town."

Then another voice cut through the noise, with a strange enthusiasm, drawing their attention in another direction—

Just in front of their horses, a small figure had appeared.

It was a thin, dark-skinned boy in simple linen clothes—skillfully waving to stop the horses, he bowed slightly and spoke in fluent Imperial language: "You may doubt its size, but please believe that it can provide the best wine, food, and the most comfortable rooms within three hundred miles, along with hot water for bathing. If you need, you can also enjoy a private performance by a bard, and other... entertainment."

"Whatever you need, the miracle-creating Hilton Express Hotel can provide you with the perfect service."

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