It was already the bitter depths of winter in the Mist Plane.
Snowflakes as large as goose feathers drifted endlessly from the sky. Thick snow blanketed the earth, turning it pure white. More than a dozen wagons trudged slowly forward, their wheels carving deep ruts into the ground.
Just then, melodious bells rang out not far away.
An old man leaned toward the window and looked out, frowning. "Judging by those bells, we must be nearing Salante City. But why would they be ringing at this hour?"
"Father, whatever the reason, Salante City is just ahead. We should keep moving as fast as we can. Hopefully, we can enter before dusk. Quite a few people already have frostbite," a youth said.
"You're right. Let's pick up the pace, get into the city, and rest. After a month of travel, everyone is nearing their limit."
"It wasn't this difficult before, but now all the villages along the route through this territory have disappeared. That's made the trade route much harder to travel."
At the order, the wagons picked up speed through the white world.
The seasoned caravan organizer's judgment proved accurate. They finally reached Salante City's gates before dusk, while the gates were still open.
After paying the gate tax and entering the city, everyone relaxed. From the conditions outside, the snow would only grow heavier. Getting caught in a blizzard would have been disastrous.
Now, the towering city walls gave everyone in the caravan a sense of security.
"This city is a little small, but its walls are very high!" That was the old man's first impression. "It seems the city lord takes defense seriously."
"Father, look! They even have stone-paved roads. Isn't that extravagant? They look quite new, too."
The road was ten meters wide and paved with bluestone