Thorne sat astride his horse, its hooves sinking into the soft, wet black mud with dull thuds.
Ahead lay a low-lying stretch of land known as Black Swamp Town.
The gray-black water gleamed with an oily sheen. Scattered dead trees slumped in the mire, and the stench of rotting flesh filled the air, making people instinctively hold their breath.
Thorne's gaze lingered on the swamp for a long time.
He had once been a knight, too.
He had worn polished armor, carried a clean sword, recited his vows, and believed in those words about honor and protection.
Later, when Duke Raymont issued orders to wage ruinous wars and persecute his subjects, Thorne refused to sign the deployment order.
After that, he was stripped of his knighthood and his pay was stopped. Even his horse was nearly dragged away to settle his debts.
He had only escaped starvation because Red Tide's army soon marched south and saved him.
That was also why he was here.
The file submitted by the Inspectorate contained just one line of assessment: "A former knight who went hungry himself rather than rob the people."
Chief Administrator Green signed the document.
Thorne was transferred to Red Tide and became a probationary official.
To Thorne, it felt more like a job where he could coast along.
He expected nothing to change. A different flag, a different set of claims-he had seen it all too often in Greyrock Province.
No matter how pretty the words of those barbarians from the Northern Frontier sounded, they were merely another way of governing, another method of exploitation.
As long as they let him survive this time, that was enough. He had long since abandoned any extravagant hope of saving the poor.
The mounted party continued onward. The swamp grew darker, and Black