At the edge of Duke Kush’s domain around Joan of Arc Castle, there is a place called Wild Boar Ridge. Once you cross it, you enter the Wild Spider Forest.
It’s a place rarely visited by people, not only because the land is barren but also due to the risk of giant spider attacks.
If not for the nearby Mayo Mountain Mine, almost no one would live nearby.
Today, the dilapidated mountain path of Wild Boar Ridge welcos a group of new travelers.
A thin line is drawn across the deep blue sky above the gorge, beneath the milky-white clouds, several eagles are soaring.
Leading the way are thirty soldiers wearing black cloaks, beneath which are silver-bright breastplates; the short swords at their waists clashing against the iron armor with a clang.
Many of them not only have red and blue ribbons but also have patchwork bags hanging at their waists, travel-worn like beggars who have raided an armory.
The three brigades of Imperial Guard soldiers, holding the sun banner representing the Pope, march at the forefront.
Behind them are citizens of the Pope Country, dressed in uniform gray-white robes, the elders holding elder staffs silently following behind the citizens.
Though their steps are chaotic, their march has an unexpected order and uniformity.
Alongside them, wheels clatter, with ten large carts each carrying oak leather boards on one side.
The large carts and oak leather boards are scarred, with scratches and holes, as well as traces of liquid corrosion.
The soldiers walking alongside these carts are holding very peculiar iron rods, whose use is unknown.
Despite the few residents near Wild Boar Ridge, there are still mbers of the Militia Brotherhood and hunters.
All along the way, lone militia mbers or hunters can be seen from the mountain tops looking down towards the convoy from the Pope Country.
"Finally, we’ve left the Wild Spider Forest, and the bloody and weary path is behind us." Looking at the increasingly open valley road ahead, Horn can’t help but let out a long sigh.
Jeanne looks at the long road ahead, echoing his feelings: "Yes, finally it’s over."
Setting out on October 2nd of the Imperial Calendar 1444, it is now October 31st, taking 29 days to complete the 450-mile journey.
Twelve hundred villagers, traversed over high mountains, broke through passes and bridges, deceived and escaped from besieging rcenaries, ran across the King’s Path, passed through the Black Bone Marsh and Wild Spider Forest, have finally reached here.
Ahead is Mayo Mountain, and 45 miles southwest from Mayo Mountain Town lies Joan of Arc Castle.
That is the destination of this journey.
Though it was only 29 days, Horn feels as if a long ti has passed.
He even feels a sense of otherworldliness, especially when as they moved from the narrow, steep mountain path to the gentle plains ahead.
The road is lined with blooming flowers, birds chirp gently, there are neither pursuers nor impending danger.
As if everything has changed, yet nothing has changed at all.
"Any news from Qianqian and Jia Li?" Horn, riding on horseback, asks Jeanne ahead.
"Not yet," she replies.
A day ago, as they were about to cross Wild Boar Ridge, Horn had already sent Qianqian and Jia Li to notify the Ruo’an Faction and the White Mountain Hermitage respectively.
According to the information and progress passed back, Qianqian contacted the White Mountain Hermitage, while Jia Li encountered so trouble verifying her identity.
This ans Horn and his group may have to camp in Mayo Mountain Town for a night, waiting for the two and obtaining confirmation from Joan of Arc Castle, before sending soone to et them.
The local lord had inford the townspeople, but out of fear, they were unwilling to let Horn and his group enter the town, leaving them to camp outside.
Not allowing ard personnel into a town is a truth learned by the people of this world through countless bloody lessons.
Horn raises his head, gazing towards the small town at the foot of the distant mountain.
The spire of the small chapel stands against the sky, while on the mountain path, ant-like miners co and go in a continuous stream.
They push wheelbarrows transporting ores, converting them into blocks of iron ore downstream at the slter.
In the mountainlands surrounding the small town, the materials for slting potion are abundantly planted.
Camping here for one night isn’t bad, Horn muses silently.
Otherwise, what if they rashly ran over and were mistaken for bandits?
Arriving at Mayo Mountain Town also gives them a chance to rest and resupply.
During this ti, Horn and his group’s resources have almost run out, with only a ager amount of food left.
With November approaching, additional clothing will also be necessary.
If everything goes well, upon resupply here, they will proceed to Joan of Arc Castle to et Duke Kush Danai.
In Mayo Town, they can also gather so intelligence.
Truth be told, Horn isn’t all that familiar with Duke Dane.
However, the refugees, including Madlan and Jeska, have a good impression of this Duke Dane.
"What kind of person is this Duke Dane really?" Horn mutters to himself.
"Duke Kush is sowhat different from other lords," Madlan, overhearing Horn’s murmur, says with a smile. "Because so much of his estate has been forcibly taken, he had to develop workshops to sustain..."
Listening to Madlan’s description, Horn nods along, recalling Qianqian, Madlan, and others’ descriptions in his mind.
Compared to normal lords, the main source of this Duke Dane’s inco cos from iron and casting, including brewing and various agricultural by-products.
Beginning with his grandfather, Duke Dane invested and built workshops and shops in various places, rarely focusing on real estate.
Despite holding the title of Duke, he virtually owns no real estate.
His farrs generally harbor no resentnt towards him, as he practices the subcontracting system.
He subcontracts land to rchants, who recruit refugees and pay them daily wages to till the land.
Of course, if the laborers fail to complete farming tasks, the contractors will either not pay or halve their wages.
This results in an area around Joan of Arc Castle with a population of over forty thousand, nearly thirty thousand of whom are refugee workers.
Due to the existence of the "Labor Code" and the "Fugitive Slave Act," the safety of laborers’ wages and personal safety is unsatisfactory.
However, Duke Dane’s strong military and special status make the security environnt relatively decent, aning there are few safety issues in the area around Joan of Arc Castle.
Refugee workers are rarely robbed or abducted by bandits and Robber Knights here, and rchants’ wages aren’t delayed for too long.
Especially for Thousand River Valley People, they receive quite a few preferences when litigating.
It’s basically the refugee workers’ haven, the Sanhe Talent Market for the Thousand River Valley.
But with benefits co drawbacks. With abundant human resources, labor wages are generally low.
Duke Kush can’t resist the "Fugitive Slave Act," so if the "masters" of the refugees co, he can only allow the bounty hunters to take them away.
This place essentially becos a welfare area; refugees unable to feed themselves or falling ill co to be laborers at Joan of Arc Castle for so ti.
Due to this, other lords often mock him as the "Lord of Refugees," rejecting him from noble society.
Duke Dane is currently 35 years old, has several illegitimate children, and has yet to marry a noble wife befitting his status.
It should be noted that in this era, noble brides’ dowries far exceed the bride prices.
Yet, even offering twice the standard bride price, no suitable noblewoman shows interest, with him even encountering several fake nobility scamrs.
This very act has been ironically nicknad as high-price bidding by other nobles.
Judging from these comnts, Duke Dane indeed seems like a maverick among lords.
However, knowing a person superficially doesn’t reflect their true nature, and Horn plans to make his own observations, rather than relying on hearsay.
As for these green insect creatures, who’ve followed him all the way, Horn naturally intends to arrange matters for them.
"Esteed... guest," a hoarse voice sounds, and Horn raises his head to see a hunchbacked, robust old man blocking the path.
"Who are you?" Dass draws his short sword, blocking the old man, "Back off!"
Seeing these soldiers’ well-equipped appearance and fierce deanor, the hunchbacked old man gulps and dons a flattering smile.
"I’m Gregory, the Town Mayor of Mayo Town."
Horn, on horseback, turns to Dass, saying, "Let him through."
"I apologize if I startled you, truly sorry."
The hunchbacked, sturdy old man imdiately bows courteously, casually slipping two Dinars into Dass’s patchwork bag as he passes.
"I’ve co to guide you to the campsite."
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