Far-Sail Port
The City Defense Army was divided into north and south camps, six hundred men in total.
Casual visitors were not permitted to enter the camps, but there were taverns outside them. The defense soldiers often came here for a drink after getting off duty. For that reason, the taverns in this area were also the safest, and many merchants and adventurers were willing to come here for a drink.
The lighting inside the tavern was rather dim, yet the place was arranged very spaciously. Thirty or forty people sat together at random; some drank, some chatted, and the atmosphere was exceptionally lively.
Their squad was off duty today. Rarely having a day to relax, they had simply gathered together to eat meat, drink wine, and hold a little get-together.
Among these people, everyone deliberately kept their voices low while chatting. Most quietly drank their wine and listened to one man speak at length.
That man was their squad captain. He had once been on the battlefield and killed Imps, so he could be considered battle-hardened. Although the recruits he now led had also lived through the Demon Calamity, they had rarely witnessed the Tatshaw Territory army's bearing when it slaughtered its enemies. Most had only heard of it. Now that an old soldier was recounting those past events, everyone listened with rapt attention.
The squad captain wore a somewhat worn short shirt. The material was not particularly precious, but it was extremely sturdy. A dagger he always carried hung at his waist. According to his account, it had been personally bestowed upon him by their lord, Romon, back when he had fought bravely against the enemy. He had kept it by his side ever since, never letting it leave him for a single step.
It was clear that