Midsummer.
Outpost Ruins Camp.
The scorching sun baked the broken walls and ruins, with distorted air making the distant magical creature nests appear like shimmering mirages.
This was the Kingdom's forgotten land, and also a paradise for adventurers, exiles, and gray forces.
As the entrance to the Dark Realm, this place had intricate power structures, among which the "Rusty Key" thief guild infiltrated the shadows of the ruins like mold, making their living by robbing adventurers and accepting gray missions, occasionally dabbling in digging up forbidden things and trafficking in ruin artifacts.
In contrast, there was the relatively neutral "Anvil" guild that provided intelligence and mercenary services;
while "Silver Oak Leaf" was more mysterious, with rumors that they specialized in tracking and solving those... "troubles" that the authorities couldn't officially handle.
In this weather that could dry people out, nothing could soothe the anxious souls of the camp's adventurers better than a cold mug of ale.
Thus, the "Wild Boar Tavern" built from massive stones and rough timber in the center of the camp became the most boisterous place.
The tavern was bustling with noise, mercenards slapping tables while playing cards and throwing dice, brokers conducting low-voiced transactions in corners, and several thieves wrapped in worn leather armor scanning their surroundings with vigilant eyes.
Her fingertips unconsciously rubbed against the silver sword pendant on her chest.
"Hey, beauty, drinking alone is so boring."
A burly mercenary reeking heavily of alcohol and sweat staggered over, plopping down on the bench opposite Alice, grinning to reveal several yellowed teeth.
"Let old Bart drink something stronger with you, this damn weather, plain water can't quench the fire in your heart!"
Alice didn't even lift her eyelids, her gaze still fixed on the clear water surface in her cup.
"Get lost."
Her voice wasn't loud, but it clearly pierced through the surrounding noise, carrying an undeniable chill.
This brief refusal didn't make mercenary Bart retreat, but instead piqued his interest.
He laughed heartily, his thick palm slamming heavily on the table, making the wooden cup jump: "Ha! Got some spirit! I like them spicy!"
Alcohol and heat had addled his brain, he extended that stained, hairy hand, actually reaching directly toward Alice's face beneath the hood.
"Come, let Uncle Bart see how pretty your little face is..."
Before he finished speaking—
The tavern's two heavy iron-studded doors were pushed open.
A figure appeared, leaning against the doorframe, blocking the glaring sunlight pouring in from the entrance.
"Bart."
A voice with a somewhat lazy tone sounded, instantly quieting most of the noisy tavern.
"If I were you, I wouldn't risk becoming 'ruin fertilizer' by offending this lady."
The newcomer was a man of medium build, wearing practical leather armor, loosely draped with a dark green short cloak, with a faintly visible silver oak leaf emblem on the cloak.
He wore a somewhat cynical smile, showing undisguised mockery when scanning Bart.
Bart's hand froze mid-air, his drunkenness seeming to instantly sober up by half, he sharply turned his head, and after seeing the newcomer clearly, his expression turned extremely ugly, spitting on the ground.
"Pah! It's you again, meddlesome 'Black Bird', I'll touch her if I want, what are you going to do, bite me..."
Before he finished speaking, no one saw what happened, accompanied by a dull impact and the sound of splintering wood, Bart's massive body flew up as if hit by a battering ram, crashing through two tables, and heavily smashing against the tavern's stone wall.
He slid to the ground without even a grunt, completely knocked out.
The tavern instantly fell into deathly silence.
A few seconds later, someone chuckled nervously.
"Ha...haha, that... my wheat needs harvesting."
Another quickly added: "Right, right, my... uh, hound puppies need feeding."
"My wife's calling me home for dinner."
The adventurers hurriedly left, the previously packed tavern emptying out in the blink of an eye.
Raven helplessly spread his hands, "I warned him."
He walked to Alice's spot at the bar, casually sat down, pointed at Bart on the floor, and said to the bartender: "The usual, a black rye beer, put it on his tab."
Then he turned to Alice, took out a small leather tube sealed with wax from his chest, and gently pushed it next to Alice's water cup.
"This is the intelligence you wanted, Lady Silverblade."
"It contains preliminary investigation results about those mana anomaly points deep in the ruins, and our latest tracking of those Rusty Key rats."
"Oh, right, there's also some 'news' that might or might not be good news. Recently, someone spotted a... figure in the peripheral areas of the Gray Mist Lake Dungeon."
Upon hearing this, Alice looked up, her calm, water-like eyes directly meeting Raven's.
"They say that person is quite powerful, someone saw an emblem on his armor—crossed silver swords with a roaring white wolf head."
Silver swords and a white wolf head...
Silver swords represented knightly tradition, while the white wolf symbolized strength and loyalty.
Exactly the most prominent emblem of the Arevalo family.
Alice's gaze shifted, becoming somewhat complex.
Raven took another swig of his drink on his own, saying leisurely: "Also, that wanted criminal you're looking for from Rusty Key, the burrowing specialist 'Weasel' Moriarty, his recent movements also point toward Gray Mist Lake area. Seems that damn place is getting lively lately."
Alice placed a heavy coin purse in front of Raven and pushed it over.
"Thank you."
Raven weighed the purse, grinning: "Silver Oak Leaf's credibility, fair to all. Wishing you a smooth journey to Gray Mist Lake, Lady Silverblade."
Alice didn't say more, stood up, walked straight to the door, pushed open the tavern door, the scorching air hitting her face, but much fresher than the stagnant air inside the tavern.
She stood in the open space outside the tavern, her gaze passing over the camp's messy low shacks and crooked tents, looking toward the distant north.
At the horizon blurred by summer's steaming mist, faintly visible were the continuous, undulating gray-white outlines like a dragon's spine—the northern mountains perpetually covered in snow.
And Gray Mist Lake was right in the shadow of those mountains.
"A dungeon, huh..."
Even though she didn't hold much hope anymore, she still wanted to go see.
Alice tightened her grip on the silver pendant, recalling the tall figure from her childhood who always had a smile at the corner of his mouth and affectionate eyes in his gaze.
She couldn't forget the last scene of him leaving the castle.
"Little Alice, be good and listen at home, your brother has to go."
"You... where are you going?"
"Hmm, a rather far place, to protect the people at the border."
"Will you be back tomorrow?"
"Oh no, not that soon. If you miss me, pray to it, and I'll respond to you."
The man took off the silver sword pendant and placed it in her cupped hands.
"Then... then you have to promise me, come back early."
"Don't worry, I'll be back next summer."
The man affectionately ruffled her chestnut-brown hair, leaving only a departing figure in the end.
Also the final figure.
...
Swamp Fortress.
"Ha! Look what Count Bran has spotted, a despicable worm of low character, still daring to hide, come out quickly..."
At the swamp fortress construction site, Count Bran was enthusiastically catching insects, while not far away, Arthur humbly knelt on one knee, earnestly asking the slime before him.
"Your Majesty, may the new trial begin?"
"Whether it's slaughtering demons or slaying the undead with my own hands, I will not refuse!"
"Uh... not that exaggerated."
"Rather than that, Arthur, do you have things you like?"
"Things I like..."
This determined undead knight rarely showed a confused expression.
After a long time, he carefully took out a withered flower from his chest whose petals had all fallen off.
"Do flowers count... I like their colors, they're beautiful."
"Of course."
Chen Yu hopped around to face west.
"Arthur, do you remember the banyan forest over there? I plan to build an outpost there to guard against enemies outside our territory."
"We'll cut down a few trees there to ensure enough sunlight, enough for you to plant a flower garden."
"Planting flowers... as a trial...?" Arthur was very confused.
"Exactly, trust nature's guidance."
Actually, he just wanted this undead knight to guard the territory border, planting flowers was just incidental to ensure he wouldn't get too bored there.
"Understood."
"Knight Arthur will complete this difficult trial."
Arthur stood up, the soulfire in his eye sockets burning steadily, revealing firm determination.
"Retainer! Arthur! Quickly help Count Bran catch this cunning worm, stop dawdling!"
Count Bran's frustrated voice sounded from not far away, instantly collapsing the serious atmosphere.
Arthur snapped back to attention.
"Oh, alright."