Almark – Northern Sword, Southern Wand

White carriage on King's Road.

It's a word many people think of when they hear the name of the southern power, the kingdom of Galai.

Even Almark, the son of a mercenary in the north, had heard the words. Of course, I'm talking about a world far away and completely separate from myself.

The King's Road runs vertically and horizontally throughout the Kingdom of Galai.

Construction began as a state project during the reign of the ancestral kings, and the main road was finally completed during the reign of the present king.

The width of the road where four carriages can run in parallel.

A relay guard station was set up along the way, which is responsible for developing the streets and maintaining law and order.

It is the White Horse Carriage that runs in a dedicated lane in the Great Artery of the Kingdom of Galai, where many travelers come and go every day.

This is also a white horse that carries a dedicated white body carriage. But not a real horse.

A tireless metal magic horse created with advanced magic technology from the Kingdom of Galai.

The speed is more than twice that of a regular ride carriage. It's state-of-the-art transportation that changed the concept of travel in the Kingdom of Galai.

For that reason, the fare is more than 10 times that of a regular ride carriage. In essence, it has become a vehicle for the wealthy.

Guests waiting for a white carriage at the waiting area where Almark and the others arrived can see that they are all wealthy.

"Wow, we're in the wrong place."

Morgan whispers to Almark, but Almark doesn't care.

Almark has been on an erratic journey ever since he left the North and crossed the Menover Strait.

"Ask me when my flight to Miletos will be."

When I asked a woman in a tight white uniform about her flight time to Miletos, she said it was after she had already left today.

"If you're going to Miletos, take the flight further north to Linobes. Please buy a ticket and come back tomorrow morning."

After thanking the attendant who had politely told his child Almark that, they bought tickets for them, they left the waiting area.

"Tomorrow. I can't help it, it's still a wild boarding house today, Almark."

Morgan said so and looked at Almark.

"No, let's get a place to stay today. The wilderness is dangerous."

Huh?

Yesterday I stayed in the wilderness in a more lonely city, and Morgan seems unhappy.

"There are so many people here."

"That's why."

Almark said nothing.

"Where there are many people, it's dangerous to stay in the wilderness."

In fact, Almark had a dangerous experience in this city.

In this Garentlle, all decent residents have their own homes, and all decent travelers stay in accommodation.

Nomads and beggars are the only ones who live in the wilderness.

And this city has territory for beggars and scoundrels.

Having strangers in wilderness places means ruining their territory.

"When I slept in the alley at night, I was threatened by a few bums with knives. Get out of here now."

Almark said.

And I was just as threatened by a few beggars as I was on the move.

I could have resisted, but pulling the sword and hurting the opponent in this civilized city meant becoming a criminal.

They didn't seem to be seriously trying to hurt Almark, so Almark moved quietly.

In the end, however, such a thing was repeated all night, and I couldn't sleep that night.

"If you want to go through that, I won't stop you."

In Almark's words, Morgan shook his head.

Let's stay at the inn. A decent place to stay. "

Depending on Almark's memory, they chose an affordable accommodation not too far from the white carriage waiting area, where they would not pry even on their children's journey.

They were told to eat dinner at the inn's tavern, so they went to the tavern at a time when the sun still seemed to be sunset with as little drunkenness as possible.

But soon it turned out to be a waste of effort.

The tavern was already full of drunks.

Fortunately, there were two children sitting at the corner table who glanced at the obvious curiosity, but there were no guests directly involved. If this is a little late, I don't know how it was.

"Let's eat and go home."

Yeah, that's right.

As expected, Morgan, a foodie, didn't want to stay long, so he immediately agreed.

As they were having a cooked dinner with simple side dishes, the entrance door opened and three men came in.

Lower your hips slightly away from Almark's table. All three of them have strong bodies.

One of the clerks came to ask for something, and the other two are silent.

As the clerk walked away, he started discussing something with a low voice.

Almark's eyes became thinner when he saw the three of them.

... mercenaries.

I still don't know if it's a mercenary.

But Almark's familiar smell.

Men who fought as mercenaries in the North.

The discomfort and strange nostalgia of seeing men like them in the south.

Almark was watching them while eating, rather than seeing them.

All three don't smell when food or alcohol is brought in. He eats silently and sometimes speaks in a low voice.

They're still mercenaries. Almark thought. I don't think I have another job. The atmosphere in which he wears remains a mercenary.

At that time, one of the other group's bustling customers grabbed his elbow and dropped his jock on the floor.

The sound of the glass breaking echoes, and the store is quiet for a moment. However, as soon as they realized that it was not the beginning of the fight, but merely that the customer had dropped the jock, the shop quickly regained its original noise.

Mercenary men continue to speak with a low voice, ignoring the cracking sound of the jock.

As the clerk rushed to clean up the jock and the broken customer apologized, Morgan said,

"Ah, so drunk... Almark, let's finish eating and get back to the room."

And I called Almark, but I noticed his expression, and I felt a little nervous.

"Well, what's the matter, Almark? You look terrible."

As Morgan pointed out, Almark immediately smiled, but his expression remained endless.

An ominous hunch was spreading like a summer rain cloud on Almark's chest.

The store was quiet for a moment.

Almark's sharp ears heard a fragment of the words of a mercenary-like man.

"Bar Herb"

That's what the man said.