Knights and Magic Wand
Chapter 89 - 89 63 Heading West_2

89: Chapter 63 Heading West_2 89: Chapter 63 Heading West_2 The three did not linger, urged the horses on at a slow pace, entering the city amid the bowing and saluting of the soldiers.

Noble Masters sure have many privileges: if a commoner were to enter the city, not only would they have to pay, but they would also be required to dismount and lead their horses on foot, but Knights naturally faced far fewer restrictions.

However, Farolis had no shortage of residents, and many of the roads were narrow.

Numerous buildings in the city were clearly newly constructed which encroached upon the already limited space.

Especially when passing through the densely populated marketplace, they could only dismount to increase their efficiency in getting through.

The bustling marketplace was filled with the clamor of peddlers, the shouting of children at play, and a mix of quarreling and laughter.

Yet, amid the lively atmosphere, a variety of strange smells lingered in the environment.

There was the fishy smell of livestock and poultry, the sweat and body odor of people, plus many indescribable scents.

Turning at one hidden street corner after another, Leon chose to ignore those suspicious, indescribable things and tried to hypnotize himself into looking straight ahead.

It was almost like returning to memories of experiencing the public restrooms of the imperial capital more than a decade ago.

Compared to this town’s environment, the village of Selva, with its rustic scent, seemed a million times fresher.

At least the open countryside would allow these smells to be dispersed by the wind.

He wasn’t surprised by what he saw and smelled; even his own homeland took over a decade to get the urban environment sorted out, so it was obvious that this Feudal Lord’s town lacked the capacity to manage public hygiene.

Leaving the crowded marketplace, the road within the town rose in elevation, leading into the Upper City area near the castle, and only then did Leon’s nose begin to find relief.

He didn’t know if he just got used to it or if the air really did freshen up a bit.

Slowing his pace, Leon looked up at the road leading to the high ground in the distance, at the Lord’s castle standing tall and apart from the residential areas, a hint of envy flashing in his eyes.

Never mind how comfortable it was to stay there, that towering and magnificent fortress was simply impressive to look at.

Naturally, Leon longed for a sturdy stronghold like that.

Unfortunately, such things weren’t exactly within the means of a poor Knight like himself.

Having not visited the Sealing Lord’s castle, Leon already knew from a letter sent by Lord Balfe not long ago that Baron Eriv had led his troops across River Valley County and gone to support the war in Mamor County: he was not in town at the moment.

Circling around the road and before leaving Farolis through the other city gate, Leon asked passersby and found a tavern in the Upper City area with stables.

The group dismounted, ready to have lunch before continuing their journey.

After removing their cloaks’ hoods, Leon and his companions walked in, found a corner to sit down, paid for the horses to be fed and ordered some drinks and food.

He who never drank in his previous life had now grown accustomed to drinking ale.

He couldn’t be fussy and demand every inn to boil water for him during his travels.

As for the establishments’ raw water…

Leon couldn’t even begin to imagine how dirty the water sources in this crowded city might be; he simply had no choice but to drink.

Thankfully, the alcoholic content of the drinks in this era was very low.

A poet against the wall strummed his lyre, humming a mournful melody, “The shadow of war, leaves the ground empty.

People suffer from it, despair runs rampant.

Famine sneaks in like a thief at night,

Leaving nothing but footsteps of death and destruction…”

“Famine?

The Baron Domain had a bountiful year, and the Lord just gave the Kantadar people a good thrashing.

If there’s a famine, it’s those southerners who are starving, change the song, change it.”

A loud-voiced patron who paid to request a song interrupted the poet’s lament.

“Cough cough, then…,”

The poet cleared his throat and switched to a piece celebrating Brave Warriors.

Upon hearing the satisfying poetry, the loud-mouthed merchant turned to his drinking buddy, “I’m not making it up, I saw it with my own eyes in Deyatuk County, how could that be false?

There’s a saying here: a giant dragon flying north, that’s a bad omen for those southern folks.

The general this time will definitely sweep through their homes, pushing deep into…”

“With your eyesight, you could mistake a wild duck flying overhead for a giant Dragon when you’re drunk, enough of that,” his drinking buddy mocked without mercy.

The merchant paused, disheartened, and waved his hand, “Forget it, there’s no point discussing this with an uneducated person like you.

Let’s talk about River Valley County, where I’ve been recently.

There were people telling me a lot of refugees have been running up from the south, seems there really might be a famine brewing.”

“Where’s there a war without a famine?

Just don’t go on about some dragon or other, I might believe a bit more if you’re talking about seeing His Majesty the King’s Flying Dragon in the King’s Domain…” muttered the drinking buddy, chewing on a rib.

Accompanied by the sound of the poet’s lyre and the discussions of the passersby, Leon and his two companions focused solely on quickly finishing the food in front of them and, once again, rose to continue their journey.

Wiping his mouth, Leon took a final look around the tavern at all the patrons before leaving.

There were resident poets, boasting drunkards, but, unfortunately, not even one dressed like an “adventurer.”

Even the waiters were just burly men, not even as pleasant to look at as the little servants back home.

Leon shook his head, feeling something was off, lacking the right atmosphere.

In such a setting, there should be a few mysterious figures, cloaked and armed with swords, silent and aloof in the corner, purported masters of their craft—that’s what would have given the place a sense of ambiance.

Next time, he would have to check out an even cheaper tavern to see if he could find such pretentious types.

Having had their fill, the three men left the tavern.

Mounting their horses, they exited the city through the western gate and followed the road marked on the map as the Kingdom’s main route, heading off towards the west.

This journey was first to see if they could find a messenger in the big city of Bunelrots to help with sending a letter.

To go to the west, they would first have to cross through Kosos County, then Blink County before reaching the neighboring large territory.

Fortunately, the route was along major roads, passing through many villages and towns with seldom any trace of bandits.

Riding good horses and bearing weapons, they feared no common wild beast.

In just two days, the trio neared the boundary between Blink and Kosos.

This was easy to recognize, for at the border marched a very conspicuous mountain.

Walking on the mountain path, Leon studied the rather rudimentary map in his hand.

If they hadn’t taken a wrong turn, by sticking close to the adjacent mountain, they should have also left the outskirts of the Nightmare Forest.

“Leon, look there, a corpse,” Lokhak called out, patting his companion’s shoulder from his horse.

Hearing this, Leon immediately looked up, stowing away the map, and glanced in the indicated direction,

But the corpse by the roadside had clearly been dead for a long time, its rotten remains no longer distinguishable.

However, the armor it wore was strikingly familiar.

“A Kantadar man?”

Leon urged his horse forward and leaned down to inspect the shattered armor and the soldier’s tragic death state.

“It might be one of the ones who ran off from Selva,” Azeryan speculated, after examining the massive and terrifying tear in the corpse’s waist.

“That big fellow actually chased them down all this way?

Impressive,” Lokhak said, amazed.

Leon reflected, “It’s easy for a Griffin.

We’re slow on foot, but in the sky, a Griffin might not take long to fly over the whole of Kosos County.

Those Kantadar men who got its attention couldn’t possibly escape the hunt, alas.

Speaking of which, it would be nice if it could carry us for a bit.”

“Maybe it’s built a nest at the top of this mountain…

why don’t you go up and negotiate with it?” Azeryan joked, looking up at the towering peak.

“With the effort it would take to climb, we’d probably have reached Bunelrots by now,” Leon shook his head.

The Griffin had not returned since it left that day; now, who knows where it had settled down.

And since they started raising horses in their territory, he had gradually let go of the illusion of the “Death Claw” in his mind.

It was simply unaffordable.

Big Hammer could ride the Death Claw because he was an emperor, whereas he was just a little knight—where would he get so much money to burn?

Feeding a Griffin, even if calculated on the basis of cattle and sheep, the consumption for a year would be a frighteningly huge sum of money, not to mention that the big creature preferred to eat horses, which was simply unsustainable.

Hoping to tempt it to stay by his side with mere food, was definitely not going to work.

The fact that the creature would occasionally visit Selva was already more than loyal enough.

Of course, he would still look for traces of it in the future if there was an opportunity.

Maybe, as Azeryan said, it had made a nest nearby.

If he could offer it sacrifices now and then as protection payment, perhaps it would take Selva under its wing.