Rex woke up close to noon and saw Hilda, who had gotten up at some unknown time, placing a basin of hot water nearby.
“Good morning, My Lord.”
After a simple wash, the two went downstairs.
The first floor was already bustling, with several long tables filled with people, mostly caravan workers, wolfing down their breakfast.
Though it was called wandering, Rex observed with every step.
The location of shops, the types of goods, the clothing of passersby, the guard shift change times—this information slowly pieced together into a picture in his mind.
Information like this sometimes doesn’t require sophisticated methods.
Especially in a border town like this.
And his method of gathering intelligence was surprisingly simple.
“Good morning, madam.”
Rex stopped at a stall selling dried fruit, giving the stall owner a gentle smile.
“Your stall is kept so tidy, not something you see often on this street.”
The stall owner was a woman in her forties, momentarily stunned by the sudden compliment before breaking into a wide smile.
“You’re quite the charmer, sir. Not from around here, are you?”
“Just arrived yesterday. Passing through, I find this town much livelier than I imagined.”
“Of course!”
The woman perked up.
“Our Windwatch Fort may be a small border place, but caravans from north and south all pass through here. It’s busy all year round…”
Rex listened patiently, nodding occasionally, asking just the right question at the right time.
Ten minutes later, he had all the information he wanted.
This was the border of the ‘Orentia Federation’.
The town was called Windwatch Fort.
About ten kilometers north was Frostwind City, the largest trading city in the northern part of the Federation.
Windwatch Fort was a necessary route for caravans, barely sustaining itself by collecting tolls and catering to merchants.
Rex, of course, knew of the Orentia Federation.
This country faced the Empire across the mountains.
Their relationship wasn’t exactly good, but not exactly bad either.
Trade between the two countries was frequent, especially in the border regions.
The Empire’s grain, timber, and ore came over, while the Federation’s crafts, magical materials, and some minerals banned from mining in the Empire went the other way.
This relationship had been maintained for over a hundred years.
Though they secretly disliked each other, neither would openly break the peace.
‘No wonder there are so many caravans here.’
He was deep in thought when he suddenly realized someone was missing beside him.
“Hilda?”
No answer.
Rex turned around, his gaze sweeping through the crowd before stopping.
He found Hilda standing about a dozen paces away, surrounded by several men.
The leader wore a dirty leather vest, with a scar running diagonally from his eyebrow to his cheekbone.
The stubble on his chin looked like it hadn’t been shaved for three days.
Behind him were three or four equally unkempt men, forming a half-circle around Hilda, grinning as they moved closer.
“Hey, beautiful lady.”
The scar-faced man licked his lips, his gaze lingering on Hilda’s face.
“How about joining us for a drink? I know a tavern in town where the boss has a few bottles of the good stuff hidden away.”
Hilda didn’t speak.
She stood there, her long hair gleaming coldly in the morning light, calmly looking ahead as if the people in front of her weren’t alive.
Her silence seemed to be taken as consent.
“Don’t be shy,” the scar-faced man took another step forward, reaching out to grab her wrist.
“The brothers are buying, I promise…”
His hand stopped mid-air.
Not by his own will.
It was stopped by another hand.
Rex had now approached, his slender fingers resting on the scar-faced man’s wrist.
The pressure wasn’t great, but it perfectly pinned the joint.
“My apologies.”
Rex’s tone was very polite, even carrying a hint of weakness.
“She is my servant. If you gentlemen are looking for entertainment, the taverns in town shouldn’t lack for serving girls.”
The scar-faced man was taken aback for a moment, then the smile on his face deepened, but it was filled with clear malice.
“Servant?”
He looked Rex up and down, his eyes lingering on the well-tailored coat.
“Hah, dressed like a proper gentleman, but your tone is quite bold.”
He violently shook off Rex’s hand and took a threatening step forward.
“Kid, haven’t you asked around about who runs Windwatch Fort? Me inviting her for a drink is an honor for her!”
With that, he grabbed Rex by the collar and pulled him forward half an inch.
Rex didn’t resist.
He merely tilted his head slightly, glancing at Hilda out of the corner of his eye, only to find her expression had started to look off…
She seemed to be considering killing intent.
Rex’s eyes flickered.
‘Don’t make a move. I can handle this.’
However, the scar-faced man remained oblivious, continuing to bluster.
“Be smart and get lost, or else—”
“Aren’t you afraid of the soldiers here?”
Rex’s voice remained calm, even carrying a touch of naive curiosity.
The scar-faced man and the men behind him exchanged glances, then laughed together.
The laughter was full of mockery.
“Soldiers?”
The scar-faced man laughed so hard he doubled over.
“Kid, you think those tin-clads care about this kind of thing? When our boss was calling the town lieutenant ‘brother,’ you were probably still suckling milk somewhere!”
Rex nodded thoughtfully.
‘I see.’
“Done asking?”
The scar-faced man impatiently tightened his grip.
“If you’re done, then—”
He didn’t finish.
Rex raised his left hand, his fingertips lightly tapping a pressure point on the inner side of the scar-faced man’s elbow.
The man’s entire arm went instantly numb and weak, his fingers gripping the collar involuntarily loosening.
In that instant, Rex’s right hand was already on his shoulder.
No flashy moves—just a push using leverage, combined with a trip at the feet.
The man’s body went limp as if his bones had been removed, and he fell backward.
The back of his head hit the muddy ground with a dull thud, splashing up mud and water.
Seeing their boss fall, the men behind instinctively charged forward.
But Rex had already sidestepped to the front of the nearest one.
His right hand formed a fist, the flat of his knuckles landing squarely in the center of the man’s chest.
The force wasn’t great, but the placement was terrifyingly precise—right below the xiphoid process, where the phrenic nerves converge.
The man’s eyes rolled back, and he crumpled to the ground without even a groan.
The remaining two looked at each other, then turned and ran.
One hesitated just slightly, and Rex gave him a light pat on the shoulder from behind.
He turned around only to be met by a fist growing larger and larger.
His nose took the hit.
Tears and blood gushed out together.
He crouched down, holding his nose and howling.
The one who had run off had already dashed a dozen paces away.
Rex bent down, picked up a small stone from the ground, and casually flicked it.
It accurately struck the back of the fleeing man’s knee.
He stumbled and fell face-first into the mud, his front teeth hitting a stone with a crisp crack.
The whole process took only a few breaths.
Rex stood in place, not even a corner of his clothing out of place.
He looked down at the mud splatters on his clothes, casually brushed them off, and straightened his collar.
Then he turned and took Hilda’s hand.
“Let’s go.”
Their figures disappeared around the street corner.
But within the crowd, a figure seemed to be watching them leave.
Around the corner, Hilda’s voice came.
“My Lord, why didn’t you let me kill them?”
“If you had really killed them, we wouldn’t be taking a stroll here right now.”
Hilda seemed a bit puzzled, falling silent for a moment.
“But they deserved to die.”
“Perhaps.”
Rex was noncommittal.
“But giving them a lesson is enough. Killing brings trouble that would follow us all the way. This is, after all, a neighboring country’s territory. No need for that.”
Hilda didn’t reply, but Rex could sense her mood had calmed down considerably compared to before.
Windwatch Fort was a caravan hub, so horse trading was naturally abundant.
Rex walked around several horse pens and finally chose two that looked fairly sturdy.
“This one has good endurance, won’t tire on long journeys. This one is fast, good for short sprints.”
The horse trader slapped the horses’ backs, spittle flying as he introduced them.
“Take both, I’ll give you a good price. Forty silver coins.”
Rex checked the horses’ condition, looked at their teeth, and had a rough idea.
“Thirty-five,” he said.
“Sir, I can’t do that price! Look at this muscle, this coat—”
“Thirty-eight. If not, I’ll go to the next stall.”
The horse trader looked at Rex’s expression and finally sighed.
“Deal.”
After paying, Rex led the horses to a tailor shop.
The northern winter was no joke.
His coat brought from the Empire Capital was fine for the Ancient Castle, but for long-distance riding…
Hilda might not be affected, but the wind here could freeze him into an icicle.
The tailor shop wasn’t big, but it was reasonably stocked.
Rex picked out a few thick fur coats, two pairs of gloves, a scarf, and a hat that could cover his ears.
When paying, he glanced back at Hilda.
“Do you want to pick something too?”
Hilda looked down at her own thin maid dress and coat, then looked up at Rex, silently nodding.
He turned, took a dark gray fur coat from the rack, and picked out a silver-white scarf, handing them over.
“Put it on.”
Hilda took them and slowly put them on.
The coat was a bit too big for her, enveloping her whole body, only revealing her face and the silver hair hanging down.
But for some reason, it made her look even more…
More alluring…
“Let’s go.”
It was already noon when they returned to the Inn.
Rex walked to the counter and slapped a silver coin onto it.
“For the room and meals. The rest is for you.”
“Oh, sir, you’re too kind!”
The coin was swiftly tucked into his sleeve.
“Lunch will be ready right away, right away!”
When Rex and Hilda returned to their room and sat down, food was quickly brought up.
Compared to last night, today’s lunch seemed like something from another world.
The bowl contained a whole chicken leg, the meat stewed until tender, the broth rich.
The bread was freshly baked, the surface brushed with honey, golden and shiny.
There was even a small dish of pickled cucumbers and half a jug of warmed ale.
Rex broke off a piece of bread, dipped it in the broth, and took a bite.
The taste was indeed more than a little better than last night’s.
But just then, three unhurried knocks sounded at the door.
“Come in.”
The door opened, and a man in his forties entered.
He wore a deep blue merchant’s robe, the collar and cuffs showing signs of wear but cleaned and starched neatly.
A leather purse and a copper badge hung from his belt.
The badge was engraved with a crossed scale and sword.
His hair was combed meticulously, and his expression hovered between respect and caution.
He stood at the door, giving a slight bow.
“Pardon the intrusion, you two.”
Rex leaned back in his chair, looking him over.
“What is it?”
“I am Aldo,” the man introduced himself, his voice neither too loud nor too soft, his pace unhurried, exuding the smoothness of a longtime businessman.
“Subordinate of the Granchester Merchant Guild, head of the Windwatch Fort branch.”
Rex couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow upon hearing the guild’s name.
The Granchester Merchant Guild.
The guild whose business spanned the entire continent, rumored to even command some respect from the Imperial Royal Family.
He hadn’t expected a branch in a border town like this.
“Have a seat.”
Rex gestured to the chair opposite.
Aldo didn’t sit immediately.
He looked at Rex again, as if confirming something.
Then he smiled and gracefully took a seat.
“Sir, I’ll be direct.”
Aldo placed his hands folded on his knees.
“I have a batch of valuable goods to transport to Frostwind City. Gem ore. The quantity isn’t large, but the value is high.”
He paused, as if weighing his words.
“That road hasn’t been peaceful lately. Caravan robberies have happened more than twice just last month.”
“So you’re looking for mercenaries.”
“Exactly.”
Aldo nodded.
“I’ve already found some people, but… to be honest, not many of significant caliber.”
He looked up at Rex, his gaze carrying a merchant’s particular shrewdness.
“I saw what happened this morning.”
Rex didn’t respond.
“The way you dealt with those thugs, sir, was clean and efficient, without a single wasted movement.”
Aldo’s tone held sincere admiration.
“I’ve been in the guild business for decades, seen my share of strong fighters, but those who can do what you did… can be counted on one hand.”
“So?”
“So,” Aldo leaned forward slightly, “I’d like to hire you, sir, to accompany the caravan to Frostwind City. The payment is negotiable.”
Seeing Rex remain silent, he added, “You don’t have to answer immediately. In my business, I value a good first impression. The first time I saw you, I thought… you’re definitely no ordinary person.”
He smiled, the smile carrying a touch of self-deprecation.
“Of course, that might be a merchant’s occupational hazard, seeing treasure in everyone. But my intuition is rarely wrong. You seem to be in some… straits lately?”
When he said “straits,” his tone was very careful, as if testing Rex’s bottom line.
“If I’ve offended you, I’ll leave right now.”
Aldo said, making a move to stand up.
Rex raised a hand, signaling him to sit.
“I’m somewhat interested in your business.”
Rex took a sip of ale.
“Tell me. What are you transporting, which route, and what kind of trouble to expect.”
Aldo’s eyes lit up.
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