Pushing aside the damp ferns, a man and a woman came into view.
The man was powerfully built, his muscles stretching his leather armor taut. A two-handed greatsword hung on his back, and beneath his blond hair was a handsome, vigilant face.
The woman was plain-looking, with faint lines of age at the corners of her eyes. She looked to be in her thirties, yet she deliberately wore a pretty, skin-tight sky-blue robe and an exaggerated wizard hat that nearly covered half her body, forcibly giving her an air of girlish charm that did not suit her age.
Of the two, the woman's mental force fluctuations were close to the Late Second Circle, far surpassing the man's. Yet the instant they saw Dago, a stranger emerging from the forest, the swordsman—who had no mental force fluctuations—instinctively stepped forward, gripping his sword hilt in reverse and firmly shielding the witch behind him.
Dago's gaze was indifferent. His eyes lingered on the pair for only half a second before he stepped over the dead leaves and continued onward.
Before he had gone far, a flurry of hurried footsteps sounded behind him.
The woman in the blue robe ran up to him, panting lightly, and spread her arms to block his path.
She lowered her posture slightly, her face full of apology. "I'm sorry, sir. Lawrence is a knight, not really one of us, so he doesn't understand many of our rules. His wariness just now absolutely wasn't meant as disrespect toward you."
Dago gave a slight nod, indicating that he did not care.
But instead of moving aside, the woman pressed forward even more, repeatedly bowing in apology.
The collar of her robe was cut extremely low. Every time she bent over, large swaths of snowy skin and the deep valley between