Midsummer.
Outpost Ruins Camp.
The scorching sun baked the broken walls and ruins, while the warped air made the Demonic Beast nests in the distance look like shimmering mirages.
This was the kingdom's forgotten land, and also a paradise for adventurers, exiles, and gray-market forces.
As the entrance to The Gloomy Lands, its factions were tangled together like roots. Among them, the "Rusty Keys" Rogue Guild seeped through the shadows of the ruins like mold, making a living by robbing adventurers and taking on gray-market jobs. Occasionally, they also dabbled in excavating forbidden sites and trafficking relics.
Opposing them was the relatively neutral "Anvil Guild," which provided intelligence and mercenary services; the "Silver Oak Leaf" was even more mysterious. Rumor had it that they excelled at tracking down and dealing with those... "troubles" the authorities found inconvenient to handle.
In weather hot enough to roast a person dry, nothing soothed the restless souls of the camp's adventurers better than a mug of ice-cold ale.
Thus, the "Wild Boar Tavern," built from enormous stones and rough timber in the center of the camp, became the noisiest place around.
The tavern buzzed with voices. Mercenaries slapped tables as they played cards and rolled dice, brokers whispered deals in the corners, and several thieves wrapped in tattered leather armor warily scanned their surroundings.
And in a corner near the bar, Alice Arevalo, a knight from the kingdom's borderlands, sat alone beneath a hooded cloak.
Her fingertips unconsciously stroked the silver longsword pendant at her chest.
"Hey, beautiful. What's the fun in drinking alone?"
A burly mercenary reeking heavily of alcohol and sweat staggered over, dropped his backside onto the bench opposite Alice, and grinned, exposing several yellow teeth.
"Let old Bart have a proper drink with you. In this damned weather, plain water