Across the desolate land, a group of fewer than a hundred people walked into the wind and sand.
Rumor said that this Wilds, which was hard to cross even in a month, had once been overgrown with weeds and trees. But as Thal looked out, aside from the sand-laden wind carrying a chill and the empty piles of jagged rock, he could not see the slightest sign that vegetation had ever covered the place.
"It was all the Demons' fault."
Though he was not old, Thal had lived through the calamity of the Demons' invasion. Exhausted, he looked at the soldiers beside him.
Compared to him, these men had it much easier. They could endure the weight of the plate armor on their bodies.
Thal lowered his head and did not go over to talk to them. These men all came from noble families. At any other time, he would have had to kneel and call them lords. "That Mud Legs."
A voice suddenly called out toward Thal. He looked up and saw a blond young man take off his helmet, wiping the sweat from his forehead as he tossed it to Thal.
"Hold this for me."
Thal said nothing and caught the helmet in his hands.
They had already been marching for more than three hours, all the way west from Oren City. At this moment, there was not the slightest trace of life in any direction. The only ones in the group riding warhorses were the two knights from the north at the front. They were taking it slow and easy, while everyone behind them could only follow on their own two legs.
And they could not fall behind.
Thal did not know what the price of falling behind was, but he had seen it happen. A Baron's