Departure

The night passed quickly.

When Soren woke up and prepared to take Vivian to buy a mount, he immediately noticed that there were far more guards in Amber City than before. Even the Ninth Legion, which had been stationed near Black Pig Forest, had been recalled. This was the top-tier legion of Amber City, consisting of 126 members, most of whom were warriors of level 8 or higher, along with a small number of rangers, clerics, and barbarians. These were all mid-level professionals; any one of them could wipe out an entire gang on their own.

Among the 1,200 standing troops of Amber City, they were one of the most elite legions!

"What's going on?"

Soren reached out to pick up Vivian, looking at the crowd around him who were clearly in a state of panic. He frowned and asked, "Did something happen again?"

Just then.

A dark-skinned youth in the distance suddenly waved his hand and shouted.

"Hey!"

He then quickly pushed through the crowd and ran up to Soren, panting, "I finally found you."

"Luckily, I heard you say yesterday that you wanted to buy a mount, so I've been waiting here at the Mule and Horse Market since early this morning. Otherwise, you would have missed it today."

"Don't ask questions yet."

"Come with me, I'll explain everything on the way!"

Soren found the youth in front of him quite familiar. After a moment of thought, he remembered that he was one of the people he had seen while looking for a caravan to White Horse City; he seemed to be a servant of the caravan master.

Why was he waiting here for him?

Wasn't the departure scheduled for tomorrow? Did they change their minds?

"What's going on?"

Soren thought for a moment before asking, "Why are you waiting for us here?"

"The master is leaving."

The dark-skinned youth pushed through the crowd and said quickly, "The master said early this morning that we have to leave immediately, and the steward has already been sent to sell off the goods."

"Because the master remembered the agreement to take you along, he sent me to find you first thing this morning."

"I'm here to tell you that the caravan is leaving at noon today!"

"Come on."

"It's right over there!"

The dark-skinned youth led Soren through several twists and turns, quickly arriving near the north gate of Amber City. A large crowd had already gathered there, and dozens of large carts were parked in the vicinity. A team of fully armed guards was scattered around the perimeter; they had been traveling with the caravan for over three months and all hailed from the merchants' hometown. This was a standard northern caravan, but there was one thing that made it special: their leader was a woman, a woman from Tanara.

-- "A descendant of a witch!"

Soren could hear some of the Northland merchants complaining. The gist of it was that by dumping their goods in such a rush, they were failing to make the profit they should have, and might even be losing a significant amount of money.

However.

Even though the merchants said this, they still ordered their assistants to unload the cargo.

The Northland Witch held immense prestige.

In the eyes of the Northlanders, they were incredibly noble, not only powerful and mysterious but also possessed the ability to foresee the future.

"This is the place."

The dark-skinned youth stopped and caught his breath. "The caravan departs at noon today. I brought you here first so you could recognize the location."

"There is still half a day left before we leave."

"If you intend to come along, go prepare your things now."

"If you plan to wait until tomorrow and leave on your own, then the master says you can go find Steward Forde. He will refund your deposit."

Leave now?

Soren frowned slightly upon hearing this. Could the witch have foreseen that the Skinning incident would escalate further? he wondered to himself.

But why such a rush?

It is only a difference of one day! Could some major change really happen within these few hours?

No matter.

It is better to be safe than sorry. Leaving a day early is fine.

Soren nodded immediately. He reached out and hoisted Vivian's petite frame onto his back. "I will go back to get my things now, and then I will come back to meet you at noon."

"Good."

The dark-skinned youth nodded, his expression serious. "You had better come early."

"The master never goes back on their word."

"If you are late, the caravan will absolutely not wait for you."

Soren acknowledged this and began walking toward the slums with Vivian on his back. There was still some time before noon, so he had enough time to go back and retrieve his belongings, though he wouldn't have much time to pick out a mount. Soren would simply have to raise his price to around twenty Gold Thaler to purchase a sturdy traveling horse from other mule and horse traders.

On the other side.

Inside a large carriage in the center of the caravan, a merchant with a classic thick Northland beard walked in respectfully and knelt on the ground. "Master."

"The goods have all been sold off."

"However, because time is so tight, the profit we've made is less than thirty percent of what it should have been."

"At the same time, because there wasn't enough time to procure goods, we will lose even more revenue at our next stop."

"The merchants below are starting to complain."

Inside the carriage, a gauze curtain was draped, making the space appear quite vast, even large enough to fit a table.

The four walls were covered in exquisite carpets and fabrics, and the walls were adorned with strange patterns. Directly opposite, the silhouette of a graceful woman could be vaguely seen. She lay languidly on a couch, a thin veil covering her face. Her azure eyes were fixed on the card held between her fingers; on its back, one could see a mysterious, vortex-like magic sigil.

"I smell the scent of death."

The mysterious woman tossed the card aside and casually drew one from a tarot deck. The face of the card depicted a hideous skeleton knight. She said coldly, "If anyone intends to stay behind, let them leave the caravan on their own."

"Otherwise."

"Tell them to shut their mouths!"

The bearded merchant nodded upon hearing this. He climbed up from the floor and said respectfully, "I will convey your decree to them."

A weary sigh.

The mysterious woman sprawled lazily across the long table, resting her head on one hand in contemplation. She waved her hand dismissively and said, "Go."

"Tell them not to stop."

"Once we depart, we march until the moon is at its zenith, then find a place with water to camp."

A respectful response came from outside. The bearded merchant relayed the message to the leader of the caravan guards, who nodded with a grave expression and began ordering the other guards to prepare. If they were not to stop at all along the way, everyone would have to carry dry rations. This was a rare occurrence, as the caravan usually stopped for a rest after traveling for a while.

If they kept moving, the oxen and horses pulling the heavy carts wouldn't be able to handle it!

They would be exhausted by the next day, and could even die from overexertion. Such orders were only given under extremely special circumstances.

Traveling from noon until the moon was at its zenith—twelve hours without a stop—was no simple matter.

Soren returned to the slums immediately.

After packing his things, he took Vivian to the Mule and Horse Market, prepared to pay a thirty percent premium to purchase a travel horse.

He had originally intended to go to the Temple of Dawn this afternoon to bid farewell to the young Cleric, but things had happened so suddenly that there was no time left to worry about such matters.

He only hoped that they might have the chance to meet again in the future!

From packing his belongings to purchasing the travel horse, Soren's time was extremely tight; he arrived just in time for the caravan's departure at noon.

A bearded caravan manager gave him a few instructions, and then ordered the others to set off.

The instructions he gave were simple: the caravan would push forward at full speed today and would not stop until the moon was high in the sky. If anyone could not keep up, they would be arranged to sit on one of the wagons, as much of the cargo had already been sold off at a discount. One merchant from the North was even complaining as they departed, grumbling that he had only collected two-thirds of the payment for the goods he had offloaded at a reduced price.

With such a hurried departure, he wouldn't even be able to collect the remaining third!

No one paid him any mind.

When the time came, the entire caravan sprang into rapid motion. The hands climbed onto the wagons and began driving the oxen and horses forward.

The caravan guards had already begun scouting the path on horseback.

Their job was not as simple as just following the caravan. Only the most experienced adventurers were qualified to serve as caravan guards, because when traveling through the wilderness, they acted, to a certain extent, as scouts. They had to determine if there were any monsters active in the vicinity, if there were any dangers ahead, if a detour was necessary, and even assess the road conditions—whether the wagons could pass through, if they needed to arrange for hands to clear the path in advance, or if they needed to fill in potholes that might hinder the wagons.

These were all things the caravan guards had to do!

Simply following the caravan and drawing their blades to hack at people only when the enemy surrounded them?

That was a trope from third-rate pulp fiction.

It was only written that way to make the caravan guards look incompetent, purely to set the stage for the protagonists to show off their skills!

Having spent years traveling through the dangerous wilderness, even an idiot would be trained into a capable hand if they managed to survive.

The class levels of these caravan guards were by no means low.

(ps: I'm aiming for the top spot in the category recommendations tomorrow. What do you all think?)