Chapter 294: Cedar Town
Three minutes later, Amber rubbed her head and stood in front of Gawain, her face full of grievance. “I was just joking with you—did you really have to hit me that hard?”
Gawain rubbed his fingers together casually. “I’m used to knocking on Rebecca’s head. I’m not quite adapted to a noggin that hasn’t been ‘blessed’ yet.”
Amber caught the tone and knew her plan to charge him for medical expenses was a bust. She lifted her eyelids and glanced at him. “By the way, what was that all about just now? You suddenly just passed out—don’t tell me that was some kind of meditation. I’m no mage, but I’ve seen enough meditations to know the difference.”
Gawain massaged his forehead, still replaying the experience in the mental network. Suddenly, he looked up and asked, “How long was I ‘asleep’ this time?”
“…About an hour?” Amber rolled her eyes, thinking it over. “Hey, don’t change the subject—I’m asking you something serious here.”
“Only an hour…” Gawain frowned slightly. “The time flow ratio seems different from last time… Could it be that the deeper you go into the network, the slower time passes?”
He quickly dismissed the unscientific idea in his mind: it’s not that time itself changes, but rather that the human brain’s processing speed and subjective sense of time in the virtual world differ from reality. This kind of ‘time acceleration’ is common in dreams…
Amber watched Gawain muttering to himself, seemingly lost in thought, and puffed out her cheeks in mild annoyance. But she didn’t interrupt; instead, she waited quietly for him to come back to his senses. She’d noticed he was a bit absent-minded and distracted lately—likely a side effect of that hour-long ‘meditation.’ Though usually carefree and clumsy, Amber knew when to prioritize.
After a moment, Gawain snapped back. He looked at Amber and hesitated briefly before deciding not to reveal anything about the mental network.
It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the half-elf girl, but for safety’s sake—The Sleeper’s methods were strange, and many of their “quasi-divine” techniques could influence others’ minds without direct contact. The cultists were currently intimidated enough not to act against him, but there was no telling if some clever ones might try to spy on the memories of those close to him. Until he was absolutely sure, he couldn’t expose that he had successfully infiltrated the Sleeper’s mental network.
“I’m working on something very secret,” Gawain told Amber. “Sometimes I have to enter this special kind of ‘sleep’ state. One day, I’ll tell you all about it, but not yet.”
Amber snorted. “Pfft… all mysterious and secretive.”
Gawain’s answer revealed nothing. Amber knew this ‘old fox’ was scheming something again, and judging by how cautious and cryptic he was this time, the scale of his plan was probably bigger than ever.
She was curious, but decided not to press.
Gawain nodded slightly at Amber’s expression. Just as he knew, despite her carefree exterior, Amber had her own sharpness and sense of reason. She wouldn’t dwell on this matter.
“Help me get the unfinished acceleration track blueprints from last time,” Gawain stretched and adjusted his seat behind the desk. “They’re in the cabinet next to the left bookshelf. I had a sudden insight in my sleep—there’s something I need to revise.”
“Insight? What does that even mean? And you look exhausted—are you sure you don’t need a break? You want to keep working on the blueprints now?”
“I have to write it down quickly, or Kaymer and Nicholas will end up wasting their efforts…”
Amber walked toward the bookshelf, muttering nonstop, “If you keep this up, you’re gonna drop dead on me… And if you do, I’ll have to dig your grave. Your granddaughters might not even give me a raise then…”
Gawain looked puzzled. “Why are you so obsessed with digging my grave after I die?”
“Obviously, I dug you out in the first place. I’m thorough with my work…”
He thought he’d been too gentle just now—the half-elf’s head might not be as hard as Rebecca’s, but her mouth was definitely asking for a smack!
At the same time, in the eastern extension of the Dark Mountains, the border town of Cedar stood quietly.
This small town was one of the few settlements along the border between Ansu and Typhon. Established by the Typhon people two centuries ago, it served as a resting place for hunters, merchants, and soldiers along the frontier. Two hundred years of development hadn’t made the town prosperous; rather, in recent decades, as relations between Typhon and Ansu deteriorated, the town had grown bleak and tense.
Winter nights came early. Under the dim sky, the small town was blanketed in snow from a recent snowfall. In many places, the snow had turned to slush and mud from the trampling of people and animals, staining the streets dirty and worn. Few pedestrians were out; most residents stayed indoors, sheltering from the biting cold and northern winds. Aside from Typhon imperial patrols, the only people on the streets were armed mercenaries and adventurers, all moving quickly and avoiding lingering—too much time on the streets invited trouble.
Since relations between the two nations hit rock bottom, trade along this route had nearly ceased, dealing a heavy blow to the town’s economy. Coupled with this winter’s harsh frost and snow, and the East Wolf Fortress’s recent ban on hunting in the southern and western forests, life had become increasingly difficult. Those wandering the streets now were either soldiers or desperate “outlaws” drawn here by the ongoing conflict.
To ordinary townsfolk, mercenaries and freelance adventurers were little different from outlaws.
The town’s only tavern was the sole place still somewhat lively. Before nightfall, its bright lights were already lit—using a new kind of “oil lamp” brought from the east by imperial soldiers. This semi-solid paste, made from powdered flint mixed with animal fat, burned with a foul smell but gave off a bright, long-lasting light at a low cost, making it popular among the lower classes.
Under the glaring glow of the oil lamps, groups of mercenaries and adventurers gathered, raising mugs of cheap, foaming ale and laughing loudly, paying no mind to the various disgusting odors that filled the chaotic space. The stench was so pervasive that even the lamp’s foul smell was lost.
Suddenly, the tavern door swung open, and a tall figure cloaked in a hood slipped inside, heading straight for the bar.
Cold wind swept in with the door’s creak, prompting a few mercenaries near the entrance to curse. Others turned their gaze to the newcomer. When the cloaked figure sat at the bar and pulled back her hood, revealing a beautiful elven face, whistles erupted from all directions.
The stunning elven huntress casually flicked her hand backward, and several throwing knives shot out, embedding precisely on the tables in front of the whistlers. With a wave of her hand, the knives magically returned to her palm.
A high-level supernatural being, clearly in a bad mood.
With those three facts confirmed, everyone in the tavern quickly settled down. Those drinking kept drinking, those boasting kept boasting, and those gambling kept gambling. The lively atmosphere resumed.
The tavern owner behind the bar watched coldly, waiting until the new guest was seated before speaking. “Beer again?”
The elf had been here once before. Though only once, as a tavern owner, he had to remember her face—especially since she was a powerful individual. Ignoring her wasn’t an option.
“Beer,” the elven huntress said in a magnetic voice. Her golden hair fell over her cheeks, partially obscuring her expression, which looked somewhat gloomy. “I’ll pay for the damaged tables.”
“No worries. Someone’s always stabbing knives into them anyway,” the owner chuckled, sliding a large wooden mug of beer toward her. “So, didn’t get through the checkpoint?”
“Martial law,” the huntress said irritably. “Now they’re demanding passes from East Wolf Fortress…”
The owner smiled. “Tensions are high, after all.”
“But before, mercenary papers or recent contracts were enough to get through, right?” She raised an eyebrow. “Since when do they need East Wolf Fortress passes?”
“That’s a new rule,” the owner explained. He wasn’t a mercenary or adventurer himself, but running a tavern on the border near East Wolf Fortress meant he had to stay informed. “Apparently, East Wolf Fortress was attacked, so the imperial soldiers tightened the checkpoints…”
“Attacked?” The huntress’s eyebrows shot up. “Are we at war with Ansu now?”
“That’s not it,” said an adventurer sitting nearby. He looked eager—maybe just trying to make friends. He moved closer, holding his mug, wearing a ‘I know the scoop’ expression. “They say it was attacked by a humanoid monster no one’s ever seen before… East Wolf Fortress suffered heavy damage, even the walls cracked. The general there declared martial law, so all border checkpoints are strict now…”
“Humanoid monster!?” The elven huntress finally showed surprise. “Details? Where did it come from?”
The adventurer, surprised to have piqued the interest of this seemingly aloof beauty, tried to hide his smugness. “They say it came out of the Dark Mountains, released by the Ansu Kingdom… but some say it escaped from the ruins of Gondor…”
“…This is bad.”
The beautiful elven huntress—Solderin Frostleaf—realized she probably couldn’t bluff her way through this one in disguise…
(End of chapter)