A faint mist settled over the morning forest. Glistening white frost had already formed on some of the treetops, bringing a chill to the air. Lorin leaned casually against a tree trunk, watching the caravan members bustle about.
Beside him, Pip was wrapped head to toe in bandages, looking very much like a half-unraveled mummy. Fortunately, his Dwarf bloodline seemed to grant him a significant boost to his Constitution, ensuring his injuries weren’t life-threatening. However, his injured left hand would be out of commission for a while. It was simply bandaged and suspended in a sling across his chest until they could find proper treatment in Shallow Beach Town. But the ever-optimistic Pip couldn’t care less. His still-functioning right hand gripped a wheat cake, and he was entirely engrossed in enjoying his breakfast along with a bowl of rabbit stew.
After they dispatched the Hobgoblin, the remaining goblins scattered, fleeing into the woods in a matter of moments. Only six guards remained in the caravan, along with the disheveled Adventurer Soron and his subordinates. The thick scent of blood served as an Intimidation to the surrounding beasts, ensuring the camp faced no further danger throughout the night. At this moment, the guards were slicing off and collecting the left ears of the goblins. The corpses were all tossed into the campfire for a simple cremation to ensure no plagues would break out.
According to the merchant, Mr. Carl, almost every city offered bounties for various Demons. The bounty for a goblin was fairly standard, generally hovering around three Silver Coins. The Hobgoblin was even more remarkable. Its completely disfigured head was carefully severed and preserved in a wooden box with lime. As elite units that had undergone militarized training, their threat to the Kingdom’s order was far above that of a regular goblin—they were entirely in a different league. The bounty for a single Hobgoblin could even reach fifteen to thirty Gold Coins. Of course, the danger involved was also beyond comparison.
Lorin had reaped a handsome reward this time. Normally, if a caravan encountered a Demon attack during an escort mission, the resulting bounty would be split equally among all the guards. But since slaying the Hobgoblin was almost entirely his and Pip’s doing, they naturally took the lion’s share.
Carrying large and small bundles, Carl hurried over with a Quick Step. He spoke attentively to Lorin:
"My Lord, to think you are a Caster... Why didn’t you tell me earlier? I would never have offered you such a low price. Ah... I truly did you a disservice.
"This time, twenty-four of those green-skinned beasts died, plus the one you two took care of together... According to the rules, I’ll buy them at the average price first. Your total share comes out to two Gold Coins and seven Silver Coins. However...
"We only survived this time thanks to the two of you. While I can’t break the rules, I still know how to show my gratitude," Carl added in a low voice.
Lorin took the Money Bag and opened it. There were no Silver Coins inside at all; instead, he was greeted by the sight of five cute, sparkling golden coins. He nodded cheerfully and, without any false modesty, tossed the Money Bag directly into his pack. This sum was enough to ensure he wouldn’t have to worry about food and drink for a very long time, and he could even afford a decent set of gear.
Pip simply weighed his Money Bag in his hand, not even bothering to count the amount inside, before casually stuffing it into his large backpack.
Seeing the two accept the Money Bags, Carl’s face lit up with joy. He smiled and said, "Let’s be friends. I’m new here, and I’ll still have to rely on your care in the future."
Suddenly acquiring such a large income put Lorin in an excellent mood, alleviating much of the fatigue left over from the battle. He stood up proactively, shook hands with Carl, and replied with a smile, "Not at all. Mr. Carl, you have traveled far and wide and surely possess a wealth of experience. We are merely helping each other out."
His words flattered Carl into nodding repeatedly in agreement. The merchant hastily set down a large bundle and went back to packing his things, thoroughly pleased.
Lorin’s eyes were drawn to the bulging bundle. He opened it and rummaged through, finding it stuffed with the items looted from the Hobgoblin. It contained a set of Leather Armor, a silver Longsword, and the rest was mostly junk worth merely a few pennies.
"I’ll take this Leather Armor. I can alter it a bit and it’ll still be usable. PHEW... It stinks..." Pip pulled the Longsword out of the pile and handed it to Lorin, saying, "This sword isn’t bad! It’s got some real weight to it!"
Lorin took the Longsword from his hands and looked down.
[Rusted Throat] This chapter was copied from g.com without permission.
Equipment Type: One-Handed Sword / Usable with Two Hands
Quality: fine (Green) / Worn
Weight: 2.4 kg
Length: 43 inches
Durability: 31/100
Equipment Effect:
[Heavy Swing]: Slightly increases damage dealt.
[Solid]: Not easily damaged.
[Worn Blade Edge]: The blade has multiple chips and is in urgent need of repair.
Note: I should have just sold the sword for travel funds back then.
—Legion 17th Battalion, Supply Unit, No. 87, Deserter Gruulk.
He thought, "So that Hobgoblin was an escaped slave? No wonder it was so poor with nothing in its bags."
Lorin inspected the Longsword before him. The craftsmanship was somewhat rough, but its sturdy materials made up for it. With a wide back and a thick spine, its design clearly prioritized slashing over thrusting; Hobgoblins seemed to heavily favor swinging attacks. He lifted the sword and gave it a swing. It was slightly too heavy for a single hand, generating a lot of momentum during a swing, which made it unsuited for precise maneuvers. However, for a weapon with the Solid trait to be worn down to such a state, there was no telling how long the Hobgoblin had gone without maintaining it.
Satisfied, he sheathed the sword and strapped it onto his back. "Thanks. I’ll buy you a drink once this trip is over," he said to Pip.
At the very least, it was a piece of fine gear. It was leagues better than the Broken Sword he had drawn previously; at least he wouldn’t have to worry about the blade snapping back and hurting him when hacking at enemies. He just owed Pip another favor now, which he would have to repay when he got the chance.
Lorin didn’t think the value of that Rotten Leather Armor could even begin to compare with this sword, but he really did need a handy weapon. After all, their journey had only just begun. Who knew what other things were waiting for them down the road?
His expression shifted as he summoned his system panel again. The Exploration Experience he gained from killing the Hobgoblin had not yet been spent.
[Using 100 points of Exploration Experience, you rolled the dice: 1] Get faster updates on g.com.
[Current Balance: 91 points of Exploration Experience]
The white die materialized once more, tumbling under his gaze. It quickly came to a halt, revealing a clear five.
He thought, "A five. Not bad at all..."
Lorin raised his eyebrows. The Burning Hand he had obtained from his previous five-point roll had already proven its worth in combat. What good stuff would it be this time?
[Reward Obtained: Fur Perception (Basic)]
[Fur Perception (Basic): You can identify the racial origin of any biological hair or fur and track its owner through it—provided the hair was shed no more than an hour ago, and the target is within fifty feet.]
"What is this nonsense?" Lorin’s mouth twitched.
He looked down at the back of his hand, where a few fine hairs rested. Nothing happened.
"...That’s it?"
He tried to focus his attention again, glaring fiercely at those hairs. A line of small text suddenly appeared in his vision:
[Human body hair, male, approximately 20 to 25 years old. Recent nutritional status: average.]
Lorin blinked, and the small text slowly faded away.
He turned to look at Pip, who had already started dozing off nearby. The Halfling’s messy, brownish-black hair gleamed with a greasy sheen in the sunlight.
[Halfling hair, male, approximately 15 to 20 years old, mixed with Dwarf bloodline. Recent mental state: hyperactive. Shows slight signs of head lice.]
Lorin silently scooted a little further away.