Lorin stared in dumbfounded shock as a burly short figure came tumbling and scrambling down the tavern steps.
He wore an obviously altered leather vest, which was covered in stitched-on pockets of all sizes. Strapped to his back was a bundle almost as tall as he was, along with a Long Hammer. He wobbled as he ran, looking as bizarre as one could possibly be.
The short figure looked up and swept his gaze over them, then jogged over to Carl with a quick THUD THUD THUD. Standing on his tiptoes, he reached out a hand and said, "You’re the leader, right? Hello, hello! Could you please give Pip a job? You can pay whatever you see fit, or even nothing at all as long as you provide food! Pip is very capable, really extremely capable! Don’t be fooled by my height—"
"Stop!" Carl raised a hand to halt him, asking in confusion, "Are you a Dwarf?"
Although the guy in front of him looked very much like a Dwarf, he lacked the iconic bushy beard of a Dwarf. Furthermore, his speaking style had absolutely nothing in common with a Dwarf, primarily because he was simply far too polite. A Dwarf might mistake being Profanity Proficient for being fluent in the Dwarven language. After all, if a Dwarf spoke a sentence without any curses in it, that sentence was definitely pure nonsense.
"No, no, no, Pip is a Halfling!" Pip explained.
"A Halfling..." Carl rubbed his temples. He glanced at the Long Hammer on the short guy’s back before reluctantly saying, "Fine, but your pay will be the same as this young man’s. Five Silver Coins, meals included."
"That’s wonderful! Thank you so much, let’s get going right away!"
...
The caravan slowly rolled out of Frost Valley City.
The city walls, built from gray stone, stood loosely and somewhat crumbling. The northern part of the Ferma Kingdom was blocked off by a mountain range that spanned the continent. Since the founding of the Kingdom, this area had barely seen any invasions. Two Guard members stationed at the gate huddled in the watchtower by a fire. They cast a lazy glance at the departing caravan and completely ignored them.
Lorin walked alongside the cargo wagon. Beneath his feet were frozen, hardened rut marks that crunched with a loud CRUNCH as he stepped on them. About to begin his very first adventure, he had originally felt somewhat nervous and expectant. But upon seeing the Halfling humming a tune in high spirits nearby, he suddenly felt at a loss for words.
"Little brother, my name is Soron. What’s yours?" The middle-aged Adventurer casually approached and greeted Lorin.
"Lorin."
He wondered if every Adventurer was naturally this enthusiastic.
Sensing Lorin’s wariness, Soron chuckled and continued, "My two brothers and I just arrived in Frost Valley City, so we might need to ask for your advice later on."
Lorin raised an eyebrow. He had assumed this Soron would be the ruthless, quiet type, but he turned out to be rather slick.
"Of course. Will this trip of ours be dangerous?" he probed. Before their departure, Carl the merchant had informed them of their destination. It was a small town along the Black Water River called Shallow Beach Town. The caravan would unload its cargo there, take a boat via the waterway, and head all the way south to the Royal Capital.
"The caravan only hired a few of us. Even counting his guards, our overall combat strength is pretty lacking. Obviously, that Carl figures we won’t run into any danger on the road," Soron enthusiastically analyzed for him. "However," he quickly shifted gears, "it’s still the wilderness, after all. It’s relatively dangerous for you to be alone, little brother. It would be better for you to stick with us."
Lorin nodded slightly, remaining noncommittal. He was still somewhat wary of this inexplicably overly-friendly Soron.
Seeing that he didn’t speak up, Soron tactfully stopped bothering him and returned to the other two Adventurers to chat.
The caravan soon drove along the road into a forest. The dense, impenetrable canopy of leaves blocked out the sunlight, allowing only numerous dappled spots of light to filter through. The dim environment killed everyone’s desire to converse. The caravan quickly fell silent, leaving only the sound of brushing branches and leaves.
[New Area Reached — Mist Forest. Current Exploration: 1%]
[Reward Acquired: 50 Points of Exploration Experience]
[Current Balance: 141 Points of Exploration Experience]
Lorin quietly summoned his interface. His current Exploration Experience was already enough to make another draw. With a thought, a milky-white die materialized in midair, rapidly bouncing and tumbling.
[100 Points of Exploration Experience consumed. Dice rolled: 1]
The die slowly came to a halt, revealing a roll of five Points.
[Reward Acquired: Power +1]
[Power: 12 -> 13]
As the system text faded, Lorin felt an abundant sense of Power swiftly spread from his limbs. Even the Broken Sword on his back felt a few fractions lighter.
"Not bad at all... At least it’s much more reliable than being Profanity Proficient," he thought. He let out a light breath, gaining a bit more confidence in the upcoming adventure.
After walking for an unknown amount of time, the dappled light in the forest grew dim.
Carl the merchant, who was leading at the front, reined in his horse. He pulled out a pocket watch, held it up to his eyes to check the time, and then gestured to a Guard nearby. The Guard immediately understood and shouted to them, "Make camp! Clear the surroundings. We’ll rest for the night before setting out again."
The group quickly dispersed, clearing an open space around the wagons. Over a dozen tents were swiftly pitched. The drivers unhitched the horses from the shafts, leading them away to be tied up to the side, while the wagons were pushed into a circle around the camp to form a simple barricade. The three Adventurers clearly possessed abundant experience; they even had time to set up a few simple traps around the camp’s perimeter.
Once these tasks were completed, Carl instructed his subordinates to light the campfires. They propped up several large black cauldrons to boil water, dumping in a few bags of dried beans and some jerky. The campfires burned with a loud CRACKLE AND POP, occasionally bursting out a string of tiny sparks. Those embers were caught by the night breeze, drifting unsteadily into the air. They traced a few fleeting streaks of light among the trees before extinguishing into the darkness.
For a time, the surroundings grew completely quiet.
As Lorin absentmindedly watched the sparks, someone suddenly patted his shoulder, startling him into a shiver. Turning to look, he saw Pip the Halfling. He had collected two bowls of hot soup from the guards and plopped down right next to him.
"Here. You look like a good fellow. I’m very glad to meet you."
"Uh... thanks." Lorin blanked for a second before taking the bowl from him. He lowered his head and took a sip.
The beans tasted slightly salty, and occasionally, he could chew on a shred of jerky. The flavor was truly nothing to write home about, but its saving grace was the warm, comforting feeling it left in his body after swallowing. Pip, however, didn’t seem to think so. He held his bowl and took small sips, bobbing his head as he hummed a few lines every now and then, looking entirely as if he were thoroughly enjoying it.
Squatting not too far away, Soron was sharpening his One-Handed Sword. Seemingly unable to bear the annoyance any longer, he gritted his teeth and whispered, "Hey! Stop singing. The forest is very dangerous at night."
"Oh, oh... sorry, sorry," Pip apologized softly.
A Guard beside them laughed loudly. "Hahaha! We’ve traveled this route at least eighty times, if not a hundred! What could possibly happen? Relax..."
His voice abruptly ceased.
From that moment on, Lorin considered such remarks to be a massive taboo. Because he saw with his own eyes an arrow pierce right through the back of that Guard’s head. The sheer momentum pinned the man’s skull to the ground, violently folding his entire body backward.
Another Guard stood up in sheer terror and screamed, "Enemy attack!!!"