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墨書 Inktalez
Bu had already made a complete plan for his future.
He was now bound by a three-year deadline, making time extremely precious to him. He needed to make good use of these three years to rapidly elevate his strength to a certain level, especially considering the Holy Dragon Nicolothus, which sounded like a formidable existence.
Completing this Ultimate Mission was indeed a heavy burden, and Bu had to carefully strategize and proceed step by step.
First, he needed to leave this place and enter more developed cities. Bu required a certain understanding of this world, and he also needed to gather all information related to the Holy Dragon in those civilized cities.
Once the first step of the plan was accomplished, Bu intended to venture into dangerous areas where magical beasts thrived.
That was where he could truly become powerful. After all, with his attached Upgrade System, killing magical beasts would grant him Experience points. If he could level up a few times, it would significantly bolster his chances of completing the Ultimate Mission later on.
Finally, and crucially, he needed to acquire a decent set of equipment. Regardless of whether this was a game or reality, Bu didn’t want to ponder too much; he only had one mission now: to survive.
The attributes of the equipment could enhance his strength, and increasing his strength was essential for survival. Thus, it all came down to survival.
In a bar in Wattsy Town, Bu gathered the information he sought.
According to an old man sitting at the bar counter with a bright red nose, the nearest major city to Wattsy Town was Sparta City. Even by carriage, it would take a full two weeks to reach there.
On the way to Sparta City, he would pass through three towns and one medium-sized city, Ragash City.
The only stable in Wattsy Town that offered carriage services was located in the northwest corner of the town. For just one Silver Kall, he could hire a carriage and a driver for a week.
In total, the fare to Sparta City would only amount to two Silver Kalls.
Having obtained this information, Bu no longer hesitated and immediately set off for the stable.
"Clop clop" "Clop clop"
On the bluestone street leading to the city gate of Wattsy Town, the sound of hooves mixed with the rumbling of wagon wheels approached from afar.
A young coachman, dressed in a blue cotton short shirt with the cuffs of his black trousers rolled up, sat confidently on the driver's seat of the wagon, holding a whip.
The coachman had short red hair and a few freckles on his face. He skillfully maneuvered the wagon through the streets.
Two sturdy brown horses moved gracefully, their long manes flowing as they steadily pulled a black wooden cart, their hooves clattering as they passed through the main street of Wattsy Town, heading towards the eastern city gate.
The townspeople on the street stepped aside upon hearing the sound of hooves, bowing their heads in respect as they watched the wagon pass by.
For these ordinary town residents, those who could afford a wagon were wealthy nobles. They could not bear to spend a single Silver Kall, which took them a year to earn, to ride in such an extravagant vehicle.
Leaning against the side of the wagon, he sat inside the swaying cart, playing with a Silver Sheathed Longsword in his hands.
After hiring a wagon and a young coachman from a stable in the northwest corner of town, he was left with only two Silver Kalls.
However, this was not a concern for him; he had learned that in this strange land known as Fran Continent, those with strength need not worry about making ends meet.
As long as one had some ability, they could choose to join major forces like the Mercenary Guild to undertake various tasks in exchange for rewards.
Earlier at a tavern in Wattsy Town, he had seen two quite capable Fellows. According to others, they seemed to be low-level first-tier martial artists with the title of Reserve Mercenary.
After some inquiry, he understood what this so-called Reserve Mercenary title meant.
It turned out that anyone who reached low-level first-tier status was eligible to apply for the Reserve Mercenary title at the Mercenary Guild. By paying a small fee and completing a task issued by the Mercenary Guild, one could obtain this title and become part of the guild.
In addition to the Mercenary Guild, there were also more formidable entities like the Mage Council and the enigmatic Thieves' Guild.
These three colossal forces spanned across Fran Continent, beneath which existed numerous significant factions. There were even rumors of more powerful and ancient forces existing, though such claims seemed unverified.
Thinking about these three major forces that covered Fran Continent, he couldn't help but chuckle.
This has gone off on a tangent; what kind of mercenary is this? Even wizards and thieves are showing up.
"Hey! Thomas, looks like business is coming in again."
A clear yet rugged voice, tinged with a hint of greeting, interrupted Thomas's thoughts.
"Haha, Uncle Carlo, this is quite a big deal. It's rare to find someone in Wattsy Town who books a carriage for two weeks straight."
The young man named Thomas, sitting in the driver's seat of the carriage, wore a broad smile, revealing his white teeth as he responded to a middle-aged guard at the city gate, who was dressed in leather armor and carried a longsword at his waist.
"Oh? It seems this gentleman must be a man of status. You should feel honored. Now, hurry along. Don't delay this gentleman's journey."
After a moment of surprise, the guard named Carlo stopped questioning and readily allowed them to pass.
"Then see you later, Uncle Carlo."
Thomas smiled and nodded at the guard, cracking his whip as he maneuvered the carriage through the low city gate with a clatter.
The middle-aged guard watched the carriage drive out of town before turning back to continue his patrol.
On the wide official road outside, the sound of hooves pounding rapidly echoed as the wheels creaked continuously.
Inside the slightly swaying carriage, Thomas lay diagonally on the leather bench, feeling quite bored.
His left elbow rested under his head as he half-closed his eyes, while his right hand dangled down, aimlessly tracing patterns in the air with a replica Curtisian longsword. The bumpy ride was starting to irritate him.
"Ugh, damn it, taking a long-distance coach is the most torturous way to travel," he grumbled with a furrowed brow.
Time seemed to stretch endlessly, yet it always slipped away quickly when one wasn't paying attention.
As evening approached, a bright moon rose high in the sky, resembling a cold goddess detached from worldly affairs—proud and graceful.
Thomas's driving skills were commendable, and there were no unexpected accidents.
Stepping aside the curtain of the carriage window, he took a deep breath of the night air. The coolness tinged with faint moonlight brought a sense of comfort and tranquility to his entire soul.
"Alright, Thomas, let's stop here for the night and find a place to camp nearby. We'll rest for the night and continue our journey in the morning."
He lowered the curtain and calmly spoke to Thomas outside the carriage.
"Yes, sir, it's my pleasure to serve you."
Thomas replied respectfully and guided the carriage to a stop near a sparsely wooded area along the main road.
Pushing open the wooden door of the carriage, he bent down and stepped out.
After tying the reins of the horses to a tree branch, Thomas quickly came over. He pulled out a stool from under his driver's seat and placed it neatly by the carriage.
"No need to go through all this trouble, Thomas. I'm not some old man who can't walk," he joked at the busy Thomas.
"This is what I should do, sir." Thomas bowed slightly, still maintaining his humility.
He shook his head helplessly, knowing that in this world where hierarchy was strict and class consciousness ran deep, he could not persuade others to be less rigid.
After all, in the Fran Continent, strength was still paramount. Weak ordinary people should hold a sense of reverence towards wealthy nobles or powerful warriors.
Not everyone was like him, possessing great strength yet treating an ordinary person kindly. Some with a slightly irritable temperament or eccentric personality viewed ordinary people as mere weeds.
Stepping onto the stool, he slowly descended from the carriage.
The moonlight fell like water, draping over his velvet robe, sparkling like stars in a dream.
The roaring bonfire dispelled the chill of the night. This place was located in the northwest of the Crook Duchy, where cold currents from the Acheron Strait would pass through first each year, covering the entire Crook Duchy in a blanket of snow during winter in this northeastern region of the Holy Alliance.
It is now late autumn, the season of divine blessings recorded in the Holy Scripture of the Fran Continent.
Every year during this time, the impoverished people of the Fran Continent are busy harvesting food and expressing their gratitude for God's grace.
"Crack," "pop."
Thomas occasionally added firewood to the campfire, poking it slightly. The crackling fire danced joyfully in the wind, resembling the most devout followers of the Fire God Cult performing a lively dance.
The flickering red flames illuminated Bu's face, casting shadows on his chiseled features, yet his narrow eyes sparkled like stars.
"Sir, there is something I must tell you honestly."
Breaking the momentary silence, Thomas looked at Bu with a serious expression.
Turning his head in slight confusion, Bu smiled and said, "What is it that’s so important?"
Seemingly influenced by Bu's smile, Thomas's serious demeanor relaxed a bit.
He stirred the campfire as if organizing his thoughts.
"Due to being shunned and ostracized by the entire Holy Order Alliance, the Thieves' Guild has found it increasingly difficult to operate within its territories. As a result, some less powerful low-level thieves have taken desperate measures and begun to act as robbers across various regions of the Holy Order Alliance.
Some of these gangs have been robbing passing merchant caravans and travelers on roads throughout the countries of the Holy Order Alliance.
Meanwhile, larger groups that have formed alliances are taking on more challenging assassination missions for substantial rewards.
Therefore, during our journey to Sparta City, we must be especially cautious of these wicked fellows. If we do encounter these desperate rogues," Thomas's voice grew tense with anger at this point; he clearly despised these robbers. He then looked at Bu with an apologetic gaze.
"If we truly encounter these desperate villains, please forgive my impertinence, sir. It would be best for you to hand over your valuables decisively; that might save your life."
Thomas spoke helplessly yet apologetically, his eyes appearing sincere and clear.
Bu Jingjing looked at him for a moment, seemingly wanting to get to know him again, but in the end, she said something that made Thomas breathe a sigh of relief.
"I understand now, Thomas. Thank you for your reminder."
"Thank you for your forgiveness and understanding, sir. It is what I should do."
Thomas lowered his head respectfully. A subtle flicker seemed to pass through his eyes.
A night passed without a word. The sound of insects chirping filled the air, and the night went by quickly.
The next morning, Thomas covered the smoldering remnants of the campfire with dirt and busily fed the horses some hay while he quickly finished his breakfast.
Although he found it strange that the young man had not eaten since yesterday, he did not inquire further. He assumed that the gentleman must have eaten the dry rations he carried with him in the carriage.
The wheels rolled on as the journey to Sparta City continued. Sitting in the bumpy carriage, he quietly watched the scenery rush by outside the window.
Would this journey go smoothly?
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