Farewell at the City Gates

At dawn the next day, the sky was still dim, and the cold remained biting.

Outside Fran City's massive northern gate, Karl's party had assembled and stood solemnly at attention.

Nearly fifty armored warriors stood in relatively orderly ranks, positioned at the front and rear of the party.

Although their equipment remained a hodgepodge, after days of drills and trials by blood and fire, a condensed killing intent had quietly taken shape.

In the middle of the party was a dark mass—the three hundred slaves under the soldiers' watch. Their eyes were numb, yet carried a trace of fear toward the unknown.

At the very back was the supply train, made up of the Auxiliary Troop and more than a dozen wagons piled high with supplies.

Such a party gathered at the city gate naturally attracted a large crowd of Fran City's residents. People whispered among themselves, their faces filled with astonishment and disbelief.

Over the past few days, they had grown accustomed to the "pioneer nobles" from the south and their followers.

The nobles either drank themselves senseless in taverns while cursing fate, or swaggered through the streets with their female companions.

Their soldiers had even worse discipline. Theft, harassment of women, and forced buying and selling were common, until Earl Rochefort used iron-fisted measures to execute several troublemakers and barely brought them under control.

But the party before them was entirely different!

The soldiers stood in silence, their gazes resolute. Their formation could not compare with the most elite legions of the Royal Capital, but there was absolutely no trace of sloppiness.

They had not harmed a single civilian. They showed no sign of harassing or growing impatient with the curious onlookers around them, merely waiting quietly for orders.

Such military bearing and discipline were rarely seen by the people of the Northern Territory in troops from the south.

Though they were being watched by so many civilians, Karl's soldiers not only felt no discomfort, but held their chests even higher.

An unprecedented sense of honor and pride welled up in their hearts! They were warriors who had earned respect through strength and discipline, not military thugs who invited contempt!

Just then, a burst of hoofbeats and footsteps came from inside the city gate.

Earl Rochefort personally came to see them off, accompanied by a group of Fran City's senior officials.

He was still wearing his imposing governor's uniform, his face bearing its usual inscrutable expression.

Following behind him was Charlotte, dressed in light leather armor and draped in a cloak to ward off the cold.

Her appearance immediately drew countless gazes, but she seemed long accustomed to it. Her eyes went straight to Karl at the very front of the party.

Karl was still wearing the Chain Mail and Butterfly Helmet that had seen the bloody battle in Riftstone Canyon. The scratches and dents left by battle were clearly visible on the armor. Far from making him look shabby, they added a rugged air forged on the battlefield.

Earl Rochefort came before Karl and looked him up and down, the familiar teasing curve appearing at the corner of his mouth. "Heh, looks like our 'Dog-Slaying Hero' is ready to set out? You've certainly got an impressive stance. I only hope that when you reach Carnford, your armor will still look like this instead of being split open like a tin can by the Sauron people's Battle Axes."

Karl gave a slight bow and replied neither servilely nor arrogantly, "Please rest assured, my lord. I'll do my best to let this armor take a few more blows and buy Fran City more time."

"See that you do," the Count snorted. His tone then became somewhat more formal. "Enough. No need for unnecessary words. The Northern Territory is bitterly cold and rife with danger. In short... take care of yourself. Don't die too quickly and make me regret misjudging you."

"I will heed your teachings, my lord," Karl replied solemnly.

At that moment, Charlotte also stepped forward a few paces and came to Karl's side.

Her gaze was clear and direct. "Karl, be careful on the way. I... I'll wait for good news from you."

Her voice was not loud, but it carried clearly into Karl's ears.

Karl felt a warm stir in his heart and nodded. "Thank you, Miss Charlotte."

He suddenly remembered something, took the metal whistle from a pocket close to his body, and held it out to Charlotte. "Oh, right. Here, take this back. I forgot to return it yesterday."

Charlotte looked at the whistle but did not reach out to take it. Instead, she smiled softly, her smile especially radiant in the morning light. "You don't have to return it. Just consider it... a small gift for you. Perhaps it will still come in handy in Carnford."

Karl paused slightly as he looked at Charlotte's smile. His heart fluttered, and he stopped insisting, carefully putting the whistle away again. "Then thank you."

He instinctively wanted to give her something in return, but after searching himself, he found nothing suitable apart from his weapons and armor. He was awkward for a moment.

Charlotte seemed to see through his thoughts, the corners of her lips lifting slightly. "You don't need to give me anything in return. Just... remember to invite me to visit your territory someday."

"Definitely!" Karl immediately promised, his tone utterly serious. "As long as Carnford can establish itself, you'll be welcome to visit at any time!"

After a simple farewell, Karl finally saluted Earl Rochefort and the officials before saying goodbye. He then took a deep breath, mounted his horse, turned it around, and faced the vast, unknown lands to the north.

He raised his arm and swept it forcefully downward!

"Set out!"

Rumble!

At his command, Fran City's heavy northern gate was slowly pushed open with a muffled boom, revealing the even more desolate and frigid wilderness beyond.

The long procession began to move. The soldiers advanced with firm steps, the slaves started forward under urging, and the wheels rolled over the frozen earth with a creaking sound.

Karl rode at the very front of the party. Just as he was about to emerge completely from the shadow of the city gate, he could not help turning back for one last look.

At the city gate, that tall figure was still standing there, her golden hair fluttering gently in the morning breeze.

When she saw him look back, she raised her hand once more and waved to him.

Karl's heart settled. He withdrew his gaze, his eyes becoming utterly resolute. He squeezed his horse's flanks and merged into the advancing tide of the procession.

He had truly embarked on the journey toward Carnford, toward the unknown and its challenges.