Glenn dusted his shoulders off, verifying he didn’t get hit without him noticing at the same time. He sighed in relief when realizing he had successfully dodged all the attacks. It wasn’t that great of an exploit, since the scarecrows’ projectiles were all very linear and easy to predict, yet Glenn still felt a little pride. He wasn’t a fighter, after all.
He shook the thoughts out of his head; there was something more important at hand. He turned to the farmer who helped him up.
“...Could you…” Glenn turned to the other farmers with a frown, “Or you, I don’t care, can someone explain to me why there are monsters in the damned wheat fields? Hello?”
The farmer who helped him up sighed and gestured to the others, who left with worried expressions. He took his straw hat off and rubbed the back of his head. He cleared his throat and headed for the village while talking.
"Well, uhm, you see, there is a tradition for the blood of the Court to pass through these Fields and fight them off,” The farmer explained awkwardly. He looked up and pointed at the imposing gray tower in the distance, far behind the massive wall. Diamond-shaped stones were floating around it, hovering magically. The tower looked the same as when Glenn first glimpsed at it from the Still Peak.
'I suppose they couldn't hide that under an illusion spell,' Glenn guessed.
'Or perhaps they didn't want to,' added Diamanes.
The farmer clicked his tongue, “That’s the Royal Tower. The First Circle is at its base, but I—and almost everyone—call it the Court. It houses all the most powerful noble families and most important members of Munirp. They’re the top dogs, and no one can do anything to them, besides the King…” He shook his head dejectedly, “...Back when I came to King’s Rise, I thought I would also be able to make it all the way there. But look where I am now…”
Glenn almost rolled his eyes. ‘Why is he telling me his life story?’
But the farmer continued with his monologue, undeterred.
"The Fields you see weren't like this in the past. In the legend, the First King, the one who built King's Rise, defeated a mythical monster here, fighting for ten days and ten nights without respite."
"After he finally defeated the beast, its body created a fertile zone where crops grow at unprecedented speed. Cereals filled with Mana and almost magical properties. The Fringe became the granary of the whole city thanks to those Fields."
He glared at the so-called Fields with a hint of annoyance.
"But all this concentrated Mana created these... things. The Scarecrows. They haunt the Fields and attack any traveler who walks through them. Probably a leftover Rift if you ask me."
He paused with sudden realization and stared at Glenn, “...But that’s common knowledge. Even people from outside the walls know about this. Even if you didn’t, the Watchers should have told you!”
Glenn’s eyebrows twitched as he recalled the unpleasant encounter with the corrupted guards at the Frozen Gate.
“Besides asking for more coins than they could bear, they didn’t tell me much,” He explained casually. The farmer clenched his fist and spat on the ground, his face quickly turning to a purple shade.
“These fucking Watchers… That’s why there are less and less newcomers these days…that’s all his damn fault…” He muttered through his clenched teeth, before exhaling in frustration. Glenn passed his tongue on his teeth and looked back to the Fields and the Scarecrows.
“About them…” He pointed at the Scarecrows, “...why did they stop back then? The Scarecrows monsters, I mean.”
The farmer picked his nose and shook his head with uncertainty, “No idea. I think the Court dealt with them in the past. Now, they only attack travelers on foot, as it’s tradition for the blood of the Court to walk through those fields while visiting the Fringe.”
“They don’t bother farmers, or anyone else. It’s not like we could annihilate them anyway,” He shrugged,” You saw it, right? You kill one, and ten more pop up. True pest those guys.”
Glenn nodded and glanced back to the Fields, wondering if he would be strong enough to deal with threats of this level one day. There probably was some sort of central core, a spawning point of some kind hidden in the wheat fields. Well, it wasn’t his problem to deal with, and the people seemed to have no problem living besides those creatures.
They finally arrived at the village, the farmer smiling warmly as he crossed his arms.
"Welcome to the Northern Town. I hope your stay will be pleasant and help you forget your… unpleasant encounter with the Scarecrows."
Glenn grinned and nodded, enjoying the sight. The Northern Town, nestled against the huge walls, had adopted a picturesque style. Provincial houses, with their charming thatched roofs and whitewashed walls, lined cobbled streets that wound their way through the heart of the village. Each house had flower boxes adorning their windows, bursting with vibrant colors that added to the village's rustic charm.
The village was actually incredibly large, reaching far beyond what Glenn could see. The "town" title seemed a little too modest to qualify the Northern Town. “City" was certainly much more appropriate. There were countless shops and streets, with many signs indicating the way to all kinds of businesses; “Church of Onnea”, “Cleaner’s Workshop”, “Magi Brotherhood Bureau”, “Gold Church”, “Maron Company’s Building”...and a whole lot more.
The town was humming with activity as people went about their daily routines, all mostly going back to their houses after a hard day of labor. Glenn suddenly realized he had somehow spent the whole day in these damned Fields fighting the Scarecrows. Well, most of it had been spent enjoying the walk, spare for the last bit.
Glenn sighed as he held his waist and glanced at the massive wall the town was nestled against, before turning to the farmer, who was happily looking over the the town.
“If the Court is the First Circle, then in which Circle are we?” He asked, recalling Redan and Giselle’s words about Fourth and Third Circles back when he left the Black Heirs’ camp.
The farmer blinked and snorted in disbelief, “You don’t know anything, don’t you?”
Glenn shrugged dismissively. The farmer sighed and turned back to the town,” We’re in the Fringe, or the Fourth Circle. No one calls it that. It’s where people like…like me live. The working class, if you’d like…”
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Resentment briefly flashed in his eyes, but it disappeared as quickly as it came.
"Then there is the Bourgeoisie, which is the Third Circle. It's intended for the most successful in our class, and it gives a taste of what nobility feels like. The lowest-ranking nobles like Barons live there, alongside the richest merchants and the middle-ranked officers of the army. I think. Never went there."
Glenn perked up at the mention of “Barons”.
‘...Hmm. So that’s what Giselle meant. Baron Howard probably lives in the Bourgeoisie, and not an upper Circle like the Court—unless there are other Circles. But he is only a Baron, so…he should still be living where the Baron lives. I hope,’ He thought while restraining a sigh. The main challenge was going to be to find a way to go up there, wasn’t it?
‘I’m sure it’s nothing too demanding,’ Diamanes said with a sarcastic tone, ‘Probably only a lot of money or nice connections. What’s great is that you REALLY have both of those things.’
Glenn’s lips twitched but he managed to make abstention of the entity and concentrate back on the farmer’s explanations.
"After that, there is the Aristocracy, living in the Golden Circle, or the Second Circle, depending on who you ask. Every middle and high-ranking noble lives there, in wealth and with access to the latest technologies, whatever those might be. The high-ranking officers also live there, and most people consider the Aristocracy the highest point that one can reach in one's life without the proper connections,” The farmer scoffed and shook his head, “...Even though I can’t say anyone who ever went up there. Like the Moons, we can try to reach that place, but never succeed…”
Glenn chewed on his cheeks, hesitating to groan in displeasure at the farmer’s pessimism. The latter took his straw hat off and brushed his hair back.
"Well, I've told you everything I knew. Since you survived the Fields by yourself, I suppose you'll be able to take care of yourself, ain't that right, kid?" He patted Glenn on the shoulders, before pausing, “...Oh, and also, I’m Carys. Don’t hesitate to come by the Fields if you need anything!”
Glenn smiled and shook Carys’ extended hand, “Pleasure is all mine. I’m Glenn.”
The farmer grinned and left him there. Glenn took a long, deep breath, and exhaled it loudly.
“...That guy sure loved to talk…” He muttered, feeling a strange feeling of satisfaction. Learning about this world and its workings was great at soothing his mind, it seemed. The more he knew, the less anxious he felt. Which was understandable, in a way. Who wouldn’t be terrified of the world after waking up on a bloody battlefield to be eaten alive?
Glenn glanced at the nearby signs, looking for the “Auberge” where Sahro was supposed to be awaiting him. He quickly found out that the inn was just a few blocks away.
On his way there, Glenn couldn’t help but compare the place with the Sewers. Relatively clean streets, no abandoned corpses in the street, nor ruined houses. The scent of supper being prepared was lingering in the streets as kids were forced inside their homes by their mothers, while their husbands returned from work. There were also a few warriors, walking around the streets with swords or other weapons at their waists, but they all mostly headed in the same direction, probably to a mercenary office or something. There didn’t seem to be any guards, and yet criminality didn’t appear to be a striking problem, which was quite surprising, in Glenn’s opinion.
'You don't say,' thought Glenn.
After a few twists and turns, he arrived at the Auberge, an immense inn. The Cold Beer looked more than shabby in comparison. He passed through the doors, discovering a cacophony of laughter, glasses clinking, and chairs rattling on the ground. There even was a bard playing some string instrument while singing at the same time, carried by a chorus of drunk voices.
It had a pleasant atmosphere that did succeed in making Glenn relax a little. He looked around and spotted a hunched figure sitting by himself at a secluded table, the fabric of his beige hood easily recognizable; Glenn went and sat in front of him, grinning as he made himself comfortable.
“I hope I did not make you wait,” He snorted while raising his hand for a waitress to come serve him. Sahro choked and hurriedly pulled Glenn’s hand down, looking around anxiously. Glenn’s eyes widened at the sight.
“...Wait, what the hell is happening to you?” Glenn asked, pleasantly surprised, “...Where did the brave, confident, and cocky Black Heir leave for? I can’t recognize you!” He laughed heartily while patting Sahro on the shoulder. The Black Heir flinched and pushed Glenn back while pulling his clothes closer to his skin, trying to hide every part of it.
“...Damn it, Glenn!” Sahro hissed in a half-whisper, “...This is a secret mission, given to us by Giselle and Redan themselves! Tone it down!”
Glenn rolled his eyes and leaned back in the chair. Sahro gritted his teeth and leaned forward with his fist clenched, “What the hell took you so long? I had to avoid spies and potential enemies for the whole day!”
Glenn coughed, struggling to contain a mocking laugh as he shrugged helplessly, “S-Sorry, I was forced to deal with some Scarecrows. They had a bone to pick with me, long story and not one that interesting, really.”
Sahro blinked and shook his head in incomprehension, “Speak in Common Tongue! Now…” He glared at their surroundings, “...where do we begin?”
Glenn sighed and raised his hand once more, slapping Sahro’s poor attempt at trying to stop him. The Black Heir’s face reddened with anger,” Are you stupid?! They’re going to notice us! Don’t do anything that could get us caught!”
Glenn couldn’t contain it anymore and laughed heartily, “Sahro, when you’re in an inn, it’s either to eat, drink, sleep, or fuck. Mostly drink, I believe, but I could be wrong.”
Sahro was about to reply but paused, his eyebrows creasing as he slowly realized that Glenn’s words were indeed making sense. He slumped on the table without warning, his forehead hitting the wood with a loud knock.
Glenn stared with a mix of disbelief and hilarity and shook his head dejectedly. He was about to mock the Black Heir once more but the waitress finally arrived to take his order.
“Two beers and whatever food has the most meat,” Glenn ordered. The woman smiled widely at him and nodded, before scurrying back to the kitchen. Sahro slowly peeked out of his cape, looking around warily.
Glenn crossed his arms and leaned back, “What the hell is up with you, seriously?” He asked with honest confusion. Sahro straightened up and slowly clasped his hands over his head, his mask of pride crumbling away.
“Man…this place is so fucking crazy!” He whispered with wide-opened eyes. Glenn’s eyebrows rose at the Black Heir’s familiarity, but he let him talk anyway.
Sahro glanced at the other tables and discreetly pointed at them in shock, “...Can you see that? They’re eating whole-ass chickens! I ain’t ever seen a damn chicken in my life!” He shook his head and buried his face in his hands, “...And did you see the town?” He shook his head once again, slower this time, “Spotless. No dead bodies, no rivers of shit or blood. Nothing like that. Bro, I can count on one hand the number of skinny people I saw!”
Glenn paused for a moment, unresponsive. His brain slowly analyzed the Black Heir’s words, realizing how messed up his initial thought process was, and laughed.
“Okay, so, Sahro, that might surprise you,” Glenn laughed, “...But this is the normal way of life. You…You’re aware that how you live in the Sewers isn’t normal, right?”
The Black Heir leaned back in utter shock, his conception of life itself shook to its core. Glenn could only laugh widely at the sight, tears welling up in his eyes. He slapped his knee, struggling to stop himself.
“Hahaha…Phew…” Glenn closed his eyes, the fit of laughter finally over. Sahro was about to say something but the waitress arrived and served them what Glenn ordered. Two massive wooden mugs with overflowing ale, and two deep plates of creamy mashed potatoes with thick slices of sausages. The woman smiled at Glenn, before sneakily taking a peek under Sahro’s hood. Her mouth formed an o as she offered him the same seductive smile before hurrying back to work.
The Black Heir’s face suddenly hardened and he reached for his blade, his eyes flaring up with crimson Aura.
“Another spy…Shit, I couldn’t hide my face this time. We need to get rid of her.”
Glenn, who was sipping on his beer, spat it all out. This was going to take some time, wasn’t it?