The carriage is silent and goes on through the brown field.
Chasing the traces of the wheels running to the damp ground as they glimpse.
Extended to the surrounding area is a view with nothing but a series of gentle ups and downs.
The rarely distant black dots seem to be the bushes of the wasteland tsu, not the woods.
There's really nothing else, so naturally I don't see anything that sounds like a path either.
Only the trail left by someone's carriage is the only signpost.
Thor, sitting on his back on the table, felt the raw wind on his skin and looked up at the thin, cloudy sky.
It doesn't look like rain is coming.
But the winding air is still giving me a feeling that I'm going to get out.
Thor, who came up with the idea, leaked his voice quietly.
"... about time"
It was the bearded man holding the reins next door who picked up a whining word without anyone.
"Oh, you're almost there. I can see it."
To the ancient familiar words, Thor stared back at his face.
Far beyond the plain.
It's still too far and blurry, but even from here I can tell at a glance that its unusual atmosphere.
One side that occupies the tip of the sight was sometime painted black.
More and more cloudy, it is impossible to cover and hide its area, which is dyed black, and to look behind it.
And even from this distance, signs of rotten water mixed with and transmitted by the wind.
The carriage stretches.
That was the destination of the next Tors, the Misty Demon Swamp.
"What a tough place."
The name of the man who shares his thoughts like any other HR at your table is Garoud.
A veteran shieldman who had been a guide for a long time in the torn wind wilderness, but was supposed to retire from a dangerous job in the near future.
but he is also a man who lost sight of when he quit at the instigation of a shortage of adventurers because of the miraculous reconstruction carried out by the nearby border town of Bossaria.
This time they're sending the Tors to the swamp, but they're planning to head back to the neighborhood the next day.
He says the torn wind wilderness has too many memories with his late wife to be willing to run an adventurer around Dadan.
Tor nodded without answering anything to his friend, who seemed to enjoy looking out at the black marshes spreading forward.
Through the woods of the little ghosts southeast, six hours to near the torn wind wilderness.
From there, we changed course northeast, three hours through barren land where even the absorbent grass could disappear.
The vast wetlands, almost directly east of Dadan's border neighborhood, are filled with tremendous temper.
The reason is that in the middle of the swamp, a disastrous labyrinth opens its mouth.
Do you think that the origins of the fixed dungeons, called abandoned underground prisons, come from the fact that they are remnants of the buildings of the old central state?
It seems very difficult to get to that dungeon the most.
There is no such thing as a decent path in the swamps covering every place with muddy soil.
There are only narrow paths where your feet don't sink to your knees or the temporary first passage where you gave them a wooden plank.
Even more troublesome is the presence of mist, which is also found in the nomenclature.
At first glance, it's just a white fog, but it contains a lot of temper, and just being inside slowly loses strength and magic and becomes debilitated.
Even though it is a place where recovery is too intense to be remembered, the fog also occurs frequently, so even the accustomed adventurers are sure to struggle.
"I hear these kids will be taken to the swamp if they make it worse. Anything bad witches living in the swamp are coming."
"Did you even ask Rudell? Don't threaten him too much."
Garud's five-year-old daughter has a strong impression of silence and greatness because she was previously infirm.
As he grabbed the reins, his strong father shook his head sideways like he was in trouble.
"It's nothing. If you say that, you're a freak every night."
"Before you go to bed, I don't think you should get too much moisture."
"I'm being careful, but I don't like the scales drying..."
You even remembered the figure of your daughter with a splendid blue scale drawing her mother's blood, her cheeks covered with Garoud's beard lifting naturally.
Chirali and the one who sent his gaze next to him continued the conversation with an impressive mouthful.
"You're the cutest, including that. You seem relieved at that point."
Garud's words are also good.
Gap between the tall sitting on your table and the carrier part.
Diving into that narrow space and sleeping flat was an adorable purple-eyed child with curly hair.
He is leaking a carefree snort with Cousou, still in the odd position of sleeping sideways, stuck perfectly on Tor's back.
It feels stuck in the cucumber, but Moo was exposed to a restful sleeping face.
"Why are you sleeping in a place like that?
"Recently, I like the narrow spots. You need to get in there right away."
"Oh, we used to hide under our beds and in our costume shelves,"
The two men, who looked at each other, quietly loosened each other's mouths.
The troublesome thing about the swamps are the monsters hiding in the mud just like the children.
He is not the most adorable opponent of all, and he is famous for his spitefulness that he will never miss an opportunity, even though he will not show himself easily.
There are many difficulties that cannot be a glimmer, such as monsters that are even more ineffective with ordinary weapons.
The carriage continues to proceed lightly while the conversation between the two breaks, gradually mixing a clear rotten odor in the air.
At the same time, the airspace began to change, and black clouds began to spread overhead.
You felt disturbing signs, and the horse's snort adds to the roughness.
Looking at the approaching side of the black, Thor leaked his breath in retrospect of the troubles awaiting him ahead.
It is a demonic swamp in a harsh environment where difficult and troublesome monsters travel, but the particular problem is rest.
Everywhere is muddy, so I can't calm down and rest.
So it was the three camps that my forefathers created with the utmost effort.
They traveled back and forth many times in large numbers taking on non-repetitive wood and worked hard to build the foundation.
And currently, there are three groups hunting in the swamp.
When the fourth pair of Tolls are added there, naturally, a variety of problems arise.
If we don't do something around it, we can't help but focus on hunting.
He opened his mouth as if Garoud had inadvertently remembered, looking at a silver adventurer's bill swinging across Thor's chest to contemplate.
"So, how was it, the Silver Alliance and what did they do?
Thor, reflecting on the meeting the other day in one word, exhaled again deeply with a bitter laugh.