"Your Majesty!" A pitch-black lump of a person came over and performed a standard salute, but the smell that hit him straight in the eyes really made Roland's eyelids twitch.
"I'm Aragorn!" Aragorn said with a wry smile.
"What the hell? Did you end up becoming king of the wild men?" Though Roland had roughly guessed the identity of the person before him, he still had not dared to be sure. Then Aragorn went and revealed it himself... and that nearly made Roland jump.
"..." Marquis Al-Teglang-Franz, whose hand had already risen and was ready to unleash his power, also widened his eyes. He was so stunned he did not know what to say, and could only helplessly hold his hand up, at a loss for words.
"Sigh. Heavy snow sealed the mountains, and we ran into a tribe of Wasteland Orcs. To avoid unnecessary fighting, we could only take a detour. But because the detour was too long, our supplies ran short. If Fengyun Peak hadn't been in sight, we really would have had to slaughter the horses..." Aragorn said, still shaken.
"You've had it rough. Let your people enter the camp and rest for a while!" Roland said with a frown. It was not because he had anything against Aragorn, but because that smell was truly hard to compliment...
A short while later, Aragorn, who had finished washing and cleaning himself up, walked into the main tent with steam still rising from his head. A stove had been lit inside the tent, its fire slowly giving off warm heat that quietly raised the temperature within. From time to time, attendants added charcoal to the stove and cleaned out the ash. A calming fragrance spread through the entire tent.
"Come back to life?" Roland lifted his eyelids and