Map? Mentioned last, according to her, it's more precious than all the treasures and equipment on her.
Galos glanced at the small change she took out, then fixed his gaze on the Wanderer.
"Kill you, and all these are mine."
He said, "You're trading with my things? That hardly buys your life."
The Wanderer knelt on the scorched earth, trembling hands holding a rolled-up, yellowed parchment map. She had already stripped off her leather armor, her inner clothes soaked with cold sweat, and her forehead still stained with the blood of her companions.
Under the moonlight, the edges of the map in her hand glimmered faintly with a metallic sheen, as if woven with Secret Silver Thread. It was not something an ordinary adventurer could own.
"If you kill me, you'll only get an ordinary map. It requires a special way to reveal the path."
The Wanderer pleaded, "I ask for nothing else, only to survive. Please forgive my previous offense."
