The Bonta market at dawn.
Two rows of wheel ruts carved into the sand stretched northwest, disappearing where the sand met the sky.
A mercenary swordsman in leather armor, a sword slung over his shoulder, yawned and set out with the caravan guards.
Their journey would take them across the vast desert, through several towns and villages, before finally returning to Leon City.
Such was the life of a mercenary. Most days were just dull. Aside from the scorching sun and the grueling march, it wasn't so bad. The worst fear was running into desert bandits—those hyenas didn't listen to reason.
So the mercenary swordsman preferred his life to be dull. It was better than not living at all.
"What noble was that who arrived at the Bonta market yesterday? Such a strong cavalry force—they could probably sweep through the entire market!"
"The Porcupine Banner. Never seen it before."
"You don't even know that?"
"You do?"
