6 A Farmers Toils II (1/2)
Li and Old Thane followed the main road their cottage stood by. It led out from Riviera's main gate and into a great forest called the Winterwoods, so called for how unnaturally cold it became during winters.
”You should feel the grass during winter,” said Old Thane as he pulled his wagon. It was loaded to the brim with berries. His boots crushed thickets of tall grass underfoot with each step. ”Some adventurers come out of here and need to have their feet cut. The cold rot turns them black and as hard and brittle as ice.”
”And how do you manage?” said Li. Cold rot, as far as Li could tell from the symptoms he'd heard and read about, was what the people of this world called gangrene. He walked by Old Thane, feeling a little bad he wasn't doing any work other than being on guard duty, but the old man was too stubborn to let go of the wagon.
”I'm from the north, lad,” said Old Thane with pride. ”We brave winters far harsher than what these southern pups yelp at.”
Gritting his teeth, Old Thane picked up the pace as he hefted the wagon through the Winterwoods. Normally, he talked much while walking, but right now, he was focused on getting to Modeste, the nearest village, as soon as possible.
Li did notice that Old Thane's accent was far different than anyone else's here. In real life terms, Old Thane's accent sounded Scottish while the regular Rivieran had a heavy French accent. Li's accent was apparently quite eloquent, sounding proper and enunciated like a noble.
Li didn't have much chance to really explore this world, busy as he was with farming, so he still learned many things as he went. He barely interacted with anyone other than Old Thane, and, on the old man's recommendation, always wore a hood when he went outside to prevent people from noticing that he was foreign. On top of that, he had switched out his Celestial robes to shabby common wear to fit in.
But really, in the end, he didn't care much about the world - his only world was the farm.
The trip to Modeste was two hours long on foot, but just shy of an hour in, there came a problem.
The road was blocked.
Not by bandits, thankfully, but knights. Three knights stood guard on the road, their blades and shields drawn. Their armor glinted silver under the moonlight, their thick, bucket-shaped helms
Behind them, the forest had been cleared just enough to form a rudimentary camp. There were eight tents emblazoned with insignia bearing a purple rose. The coat of arms of the Lys, ruling family of Riviera. One of the four major noble families under the duchess Vivienne.
In the middle of the tents was a blazing campfire with a pot of stew boiling atop it. Amid a makeshift bench hewn out of a fallen log, six more knights sat, chatting and drinking with their armor off.
”Halt,” said one of the guarding knights lazily. It was evident he was quite tired. ”The road is blocked on order of lord Dulance Lys.”
”Nonsense!” exclaimed Old Thane. He dropped the wagon and walked up to the knight. The knight stiffened a little but relaxed when he realized Old Thane was blind. ”For what reason?”
”We're on royal assignment to rid these woods of the deserter Drosso and his band of thieves.” The knight took a pitying look at Old Thane. ”If you wish to spend the night in our camp and head back under the safety of the sun, you may.”
”A good offer, my friend, but pray, do tell, how long will this blockade last?” said Old Thane, his brows furrowed in anxiety.
”The bandit scum here multiply and hide like rats. Lord Lys intends to root out every single thug and hang them in the name of the good duchess.”