On the great plains, a caravan was slowly making its way forward.
The smoke of war along the border had not hindered the smuggling trade. To some extent, it had even spurred the trade's flourishing.
For many Beastfolk tribes, this was their last chance to obtain supplies from the outside world for a long time to come.
In the past, no one had worried about such things. Whatever they lacked, they could simply raid the human world for it.
But circumstances had changed. The former predators had become prey, while what had once been food had turned into hunters.
Mixed in with the caravan, Princess Madelaine and her group were exceedingly conspicuous.
Their extraordinary looks, coupled with their distinguished bearing, drew countless gazes wherever they went.
Those who had spent years roaming the plains did not necessarily need to be particularly strong, but they certainly needed sharp eyes.
Although everyone knew there was something suspicious about Princess Madelaine's group, they tacitly pretended to know nothing.
Whatever these important figures were planning was not something small fry like them could involve themselves in.
Even anyone who dared look twice would be reprimanded by the caravan's steward. Causing trouble was one thing, but they absolutely could not drag themselves into it.
Since these people had been arranged by their superiors, they were clearly not people they could pry into.
"Your Excellencies, the Bagor Tribe lies ahead.
Our escort mission for the caravan has been completed. If there is nothing else, we will take our leave first."
The middle-aged steward spoke respectfully.
The unknown meant trouble. Years of life experience told him that if he wanted to return alive, he needed to get away from these people as quickly as possible.
"You may leave. There is nothing for you to do here.
And