Translator: CinderTL
Fog Marsh Pass.
Perched at the border between the Golden Valley Kingdom and the River Domain Nations' Northlands, it stood in stark contrast to the Dwarven Rock Kingdom across the way.
With the cessation of hostilities between the two nations, this land, once shrouded in the smoke of war, was now gradually awakening to a different kind of vitality amidst the biting winter cold.
Under a leaden sky, dense snowflakes fell silently, blanketing the towering mountain range and the sturdy fortress with a thick, silvery-white layer.
The piercing northern wind howled through the gorge, whipping up fine snow dust that relentlessly battered against travelers' heavy cloaks.
Despite the relentless snowfall, the mountain pass remained bustling with activity both inside and out.
Within the pass, horse-drawn carts laden with goods carved deep tracks through the snowdrifts. The armor of caravan guards glistened with frost, their frozen fingers warming as they trudged resolutely alongside their charges.
The market outside the pass thrived even in the snow.
Dwarven-forged weapons, transported from the north, gleamed with a chilling brilliance under the snowy light. Rare, mana-infused ores glowed with an otherworldly allure against the pristine white backdrop.
Human merchants displayed fabrics from the south—wool and down, their value amplified by the harsh cold—alongside crystalline blocks of salt and wooden crates filled with spices, all carefully arranged beneath snow-resistant tarpaulins.
Here, the heavy snow did nothing to dampen the fervor of trade.
Coins clinked rapidly between fingers of varying hues, their crisp sounds filling the air, creating a lively and vibrant atmosphere.
"This cursed weather..." Avril muttered, sniffing her frostbitten, red nose. She turned to glance at the black-haired youth, Roland, who stood calmly amidst the biting wind.
"Roland, there's only one hostel in Fog Marsh Pass. I've already settled Mr. Bronson there."
"With those two reckless fools, Hoby and Freddy, watching over him, nothing should go wrong."
The elf girl met Roland's gentle gaze, a hint of reluctance flickering in her eyes.
"We... won't be going in. Eversong Forest lies far to the west, but—"
She quickly rallied her spirits, her tone brightening.
"Don't worry about us. Once Galvis and I finish our business, we'll take a ship to Roaring Seaport and meet you there. It won't take long."
"I understand. Thank you, Avril," Roland replied with a nod, a warm smile curving his lips.
He then removed a ring from his finger, its cloudy crystal glinting in the light, and offered it to the elf girl.
"You should recognize this. It's the trophy we obtained from hunting Bear Goblins. It's sealed with the first-circle spell Shield..."
With the Dragon Scale Tough Skin spell already in effect, this low-level defensive spell held little practical value for Roland.
Though Avril didn't explicitly say so, Roland could sense from her brief remarks that her journey back to Eversong Forest had been far from peaceful.
While the shield spell was merely a basic spell, it might prove useful in a crisis.
Given the elves' innate affinity for magical elements, mastering such a crudely crafted magical item should pose no problem for her.
As for Theresa...
Remembering his companion who had left without a word, Roland could only shake his head in resignation.
"Then I won't hold back!" Avril cheerfully accepted the ring and slipped it onto her finger, offering no further protests or sentimental farewells.
With a simple wave, she pulled the shivering Galvis along and turned to leave.
Moments later, their figures vanished into the swirling snow.
Roland exhaled a puff of white mist, brushed the snow from his shoulder, straightened his wind-tossed robes, and strode toward the gate of Fog Marsh Pass.
After undergoing the guard's routine inspection, he was about to ask for directions to the hostel within the pass when a loud, familiar voice boomed from behind him.
"I recognized you from the city wall just now! It's you, you rascal!"
Roland turned to see a burly figure approaching, clad in a thick travel cloak.
The newcomer threw back his hood, revealing a weathered but spirited face.
"Dean Graham?" Roland exclaimed, surprised.
Fog Marsh Pass, though strategically vital and nominally co-governed by the Golden Valley Kingdom and the River Domain Nations, was typically garrisoned by ordinary officers due to its remote location and relatively cordial relations with the Dwarven Rock Kingdom.
Why would the renowned Dean of the Knight Academy from the River Domain Nations personally appear here?
Graham clearly noticed the confusion in Roland's eyes but waved it off with a hearty gesture, offering no explanation. His booming voice carried undisguised admiration.
"I've heard about your exploits in the Golden Valley Kingdom! Well done, lad! You've truly brought honor to our Knight Academy!"
After a brief exchange of pleasantries, Graham inquired about Roland's destination.
Facing this respected elder, Roland candidly revealed his plan to travel to the Aetheron Continent.
"Aetheron..." Graham murmured, stroking the stubble on his chin thoughtfully.
"That name... I think I've heard it somewhere before..."
After a moment's contemplation, he clapped Roland forcefully on the shoulder.
"Young people should venture out and explore! That ancient continent must hold opportunities for you."
"Oh, right," he added, as if suddenly remembering something. "Colin specifically asked me to pass on a message to you."
"He said that even though you've left the River Domain Nations, the merchant guild money card he gave you remains valid. You can withdraw funds from any of their branches across the region."
Graham leaned in and whispered, "When he heard you were wanted, Colin rushed from Far Ocean Port to the royal capital to argue your case. But the fool ended up angering Derek and got stripped of his position. Ha..."
The faint chuckle at the end carried a bitter undertone.
Roland had no reason to doubt Graham's words. The thought of the merchant he had only met a few times warmed his heart.
He knew the money card's validity was limited to the areas surrounding the River Domain Nations; it would be useless once he truly set foot on the Aetheron Continent. Yet this unwavering friendship and support felt all the more precious.
"Then please convey my thanks to Mr. Colin," Roland said.
Roland spoke solemnly, "If you ever need assistance in the future, I will do everything within my power to help."
Hearing this, Graham burst into hearty laughter and clapped Roland forcefully on the back.
"Enough with the sentimentality! You're here to find your companions, aren't you? The hostel is just around the corner to the right—the one with the frozen wild boar signboard."
He turned to leave, but then paused as if remembering something. He leaned back and lowered his voice.
"I should warn you, though the details are still unclear, the Stone Kingdom has been unstable lately. Be extra cautious on your journey."
With a final wave, Graham strode purposefully back to his post on the city wall.
Watching his retreating figure, Roland couldn't help but feel a pang of melancholy.
Like Monen, he could clearly sense the fading vitality emanating from the Old Dean.
This wasn't merely a decline in strength, but rather like a candle flickering before it burns out—a sign that this powerful transcendent professional had reached the twilight of his life.
The realization filled Roland with a strange sense of loss, as if he were witnessing the gradual end of an era.
He sighed softly, temporarily suppressing these tangled thoughts, and turned to walk in the direction Graham had indicated.
The hostel was even more rustic than he had imagined.
The low-slung wooden structure blended almost imperceptibly into the wind-swept, snow-covered landscape.
Pushing open the creaking wooden door, he was greeted by a pungent aroma of ale, stew, and damp timber.
A few travelers sat scattered around the main hall, drinking to ward off the cold. The crackling fireplace cast a warm glow across the room, offering a small measure of comfort on this frigid winter night.
After a brief inquiry with the innkeeper, Roland headed straight up the creaking staircase.
Before he even reached the room's entrance, a cacophony of voices erupted from within, punctuated by a nearly hysterical shout.
"Freddy! I said drinking ale would warm you up, not that you should drain the entire barrel!"
"Miss Tracy! Please stop flying around the room! The dust from the ceiling is about to fall into our dinner!"
"Mr. Bronson! Stop reading while you eat! Your spoon is practically going up your nose!"
"And Joe! Stop stuffing your face with bread! Look how fat you've gotten! If Mr. Roland sees you like this... Oh dear! Mr. Roland! When will you finally arrive...?"
(End of the Chapter)
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