Chapter 313 — What He Saw and Heard
Blade of Dawn · Page 2 of 4
Unfortunately, his personal identification documents had been destroyed in the previous battle, and upon his return he had discovered that the Eastern Province of Ansu had also entered a higher level of martial law owing to the shifting situation. A single order from Duke Silas Loren of the Eastern Province had made the entire region difficult to travel through. In places where order was poorer, things were somewhat better, but in these medium and large towns under tighter noble rule and swarming with informants, he had to act with caution.
In this chaotic, dark age of noble warlordism, an outlander without identification documents would enjoy no favorable circumstances—especially since he had recently been serving in the Typhon army. Duke Silas Loren and many of the knights and officers under him knew him by sight, and those people did not know he had already defected to Cecil. Once they came face to face, it would be hard to explain...
The winter nights in the northern part of the continent were piercingly cold. Although the constitution of a high-ranking transcendent kept Suojilin from falling ill at such temperatures, he was still quite uncomfortable and could not help seeking somewhere warmer. Because of the Eastern Duke's iron-fisted rule and martial law orders, all taverns and inns were closely watched; non-humans and outlanders whose accents did not sound like the eastern region of Ansu would all be interrogated. Suojilin in peak condition would naturally not worry about such things, but he was now gravely wounded, and suppressing the toxins in his body had already consumed most of his strength. He did not want to draw the attention of those human transcendents at such a critical juncture.
Just as he was searching for a place to shelter from the wind, a flickering firelight suddenly caught Suojilin's eye.
He walked over and saw that at the far end of the shabby alley there was indeed a small heap of bonfire. A few blurry figures were huddled around the fire, and now and then one would stir, poking at the feeble flames and tossing a small piece of charcoal or a dry twig into the pile.
A high-ranking ranger, reduced to sharing a bonfire with beggars...
Suojilin smiled silently, but walked over all the same.
He could have made better choices. Though his body was in a wretched state, he could still have found a way to slip into some barn, or even into some warm citizen's home, to spend the night. But when he saw that bonfire, he could not help drawing near; the leaping flames and the people gathered around the fire for warmth reminded him irresistibly of seven hundred years ago, of the hardest days of the expeditionary army. Back then he had mingled with a group of human soldiers and refugees, and on the coldest nights they had used this same method to huddle together for warmth, encouraging one another through the darkest, coldest stretch of the road.
Since the human nations had been founded and the situation gradually stabilized, he had gone many, many years without such an experience.
The homeless around the fire noticed the stranger's approach and immediately grew tense and wary. But soon they realized it was not soldiers out on patrol—in such cold weather, soldiers were unwilling to venture deep into the slums either. They usually only made one round along the streets before going back to drink.
The person in the black cloak looked more like another homeless soul.
Suojilin, hood pulled back up, walked to the bonfire and spoke in a low voice: "Cold weather."
A tramp wrapped in a tattered cotton coat grumbled: "No room left."
"I still have some liquor," Suojilin casually fished a wineskin from his bosom. "Enough for two or three mouthfuls each."
"...Sit down over there, then."