In the late afternoon, as the golden hour bathed the outpost in a warm glow, a circular fog enveloped the area.

The solitary tower, with its rugged stone walls and sturdy iron beams, stood sentinel over the outpost, its formidable presence accentuated by the thick blankets of snow that clung to its ledges and flat surfaces. Each icy gust of wind sent a cascade of powdery snow swirling from its heights.

Atop the tower, a sturdy octagonal structure revealed a metallic infrastructure pulsating with a mystical purplish-blue energy beam that cut through the evening fog. The military's emblem, a red flag emblazoned with a skull and two crossed swords, snapped sharply in the wind, a stark contrast to the serene snow-covered landscape.

Nestled in a clearing encircled by frost-laden trees, the outpost was protected by a dark-brown wooden fence sporadically adorned with glistening barbed wire. To the left, three weathered barns, their roofs burdened with snow, housed restless horses and creaking wagons.

Raffin guided his horse toward the barn, his wagon creaking ominously in the quiet. His low, melodic hum was a stark contrast to the eerie stillness of the outpost, where the fog seemed to whisper secrets of impending news.

Javier grumbled audibly, his shoulders slumping and his steps slowing as he glanced warily at the encroaching fog. "My good sir, using the Jumper again, alas," he muttered, as if sensing the unease that lurked in the twilight.

Asdras surveyed the outpost with a contemplative smile, his thoughts drifting toward the distant city.

Nearby, Brian whistled cheerfully. "I reckon I just love this place."

The outpost's interior consisted of three functional floors.

The first floor radiated warmth, inviting workers and weary travelers to gather and sate their appetites. Torches lined the walls, and two roaring fireplaces cast flickering light across the space. Sturdy wooden beams above helped repel the winter chill, while cracked tables filled the center. A balcony at the top left hosted a variety of alcoholic beverages and steaming hot drinks. Nearby, a notice board displayed posters and newspapers, offering tidbits of information and intrigue.

On the second floor, the sleeping quarters featured neatly arranged bunks, each adorned with thick fur blankets and wooden hooks for personal belongings. This level had no windows; instead, lamps and candles provided the sole illumination.

The third floor served as the administrative heart of the outpost. Maps lay unfurled upon tables, and officers gathered to work on papers, read reports, and discuss their duties. An intriguing mechanism, when pressed, opened circular holes around the office, offering a parallax view of the surrounding landscape. The room was bathed in light from thick ropes holding ceiling lamps, illuminating the complex bureaucracy that kept the outpost running smoothly.

Raffin adjusted his bag in his left hand, meticulously ensuring that all its contents were in their proper places and that nothing was missing.

He turned to his group and said, "Right, I'll be heading to give my report. You can either grab a bite or hit the sack early. Come dawn, we'll be heading to Baurus."

Javier scratched his belly, yawning and mumbling, "I'm goin' to kick off me boots and try to get some of that energy back, my good saviors."

Brian and Asdras exchanged uneasy glances before nodding in agreement, their voices hushed as they said in unison, "Let's eat."

Brian and Asdras made their way to the balcony, their gazes sweeping over the unnervingly quiet, nearly vacant floor. The emptiness of the place felt ominous, with only three solitary figures occupying the scattered tables, each lost in their own world of shadows and whispers.

A lone woman sat hunched over a mug, her face obscured by the rising tendrils of smoke that swirled around her like ghostly apparitions. Her distant gaze flickered with a haunted intensity, suggesting a restless battle between the lure of sleep and the torment of inner demons.

In the farthest corner, a rugged, skinny man wearing a thick leather jacket engrossed himself in an old, unmarked brown book.

Behind the balcony, an officer stood guard, embodying a true northerner's appearance. He had a thick beard, short hair, and a sturdy build, clad in a common soldier's uniform. His attire was completed by a pale blue leather jacket adorned with stripes and a belt with several pockets. As he watched the approaching duo, he cleaned the balcony with a stern expression, his eyes vigilant and scrutinizing.

The tavern keeper observed Asdras and Brian intently, his gaze lingering on Asdras's weapon. With a stern look, he advised, "Keep your sword sheathed."

Asdras nodded shyly and replied, "Sorry," as he carefully stowed his sword in its scabbard.

"Two ales and supper, sir."

The man appraised them and stated, "That'll be 10 coins."

Asdras almost choked, his voice dry as he repeated, "10 coins?"

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The man shrugged and said, "It's a rough winter, and there's an Eruption on the horizon. Hence the price."

"We're with Raffin, the deliverer," Brian said, scratching his head. "Heard it's free when you tag along with a delivery man to the city."

The tavern keeper leaned down, placed a hefty book on the balcony, and flipped through its pages until he found the desired passage. Pointing with his finger, he warned, "Here. You certain? Spinning tales with the military can spell real trouble for you."

The boys nodded, gesturing for reassurance.

Sighing, the man instructed them to wait and fetched the bottles of ale. Thick and honey-colored, they foamed to a white head as he filled one for Brian and another for Asdras. He then summoned someone from the far corner of the balcony, leading to an underground door, to bring their suppers.

Brian took a sip, his face reddening, while Asdras nearly coughed from the intense flavor. Soon, a female officer emerged from the underground door, carrying wooden bowls in each hand, which she placed on the balcony.

The bowls contained hearty soup made with fragrant herbs, a succulent piece of red meat, and two generous pieces of bread.

They sat at a nearby table, quietly savoring their meal and ale. Their conversation flowed easily until Raffin sneaked up behind them, giving them a little fright with a playful joke about their ale-drinking in his name.

"Enjoying that ale, are you? Well, aside from that, I won't be going to the city tomorrow," Raffin said, adjusting his shoulders. "Some emergency in a village."

Asdras scratched his neck before asking, "Wait, really? What about the enrollment for the academy?"

"Take this," he said, handing Asdras a bag. "Deliver it to the bishop at the church. If anyone questions you, show them the letter inside the bag. But don't pry into that letter, or you'll find yourself in a heap of trouble."

"Uh, where are we going to bunk down for the night?" Brian asked.

Raffin searched his pocket before handing each of them two gold coins and fifty silver coins. "Spend it wisely."

"Take care, and good luck with the exams," he said, waving as he made his way toward the exit.

"Dude, I'm thinking about getting a nice leather jacket, y'know? One of those with lots of pockets," Brian mused, fixated on the idea. "It's handy in the wild, serves as a makeshift blanket, and can hide a weapon, too."

Asdras smiled and held up two fingers. "Don't forget that book about the monsters and stuff; it'll be handy."

"Yup, you got a point." Brian nodded with a grin. "Might as well finish this meal and wash it down with more drink than a thirsty bull at a watering hole."

As they finished their meal and ale, they contemplated asking for another bottle. Their attention shifted to the abrupt entrance of a man stumbling between tables and chairs, his euphoric demeanor catching everyone's eye.

The man stopped near the balcony and eagerly requested ale. The pub keeper quizzed him about what had happened. The woman who had been dozing over her table and the man in the corner, previously engrossed in his book, paused to listen.

The man drained the bottle in one gulp and slammed it onto the floor. "He's back!"

"Who?"

"Take a look," the man said, holding out the newspaper for the tavern keeper to read.

Everyone gathered around to understand the commotion.

"It's a newspaper straight from the Human Council, fresh off the press this very night."

Gasps resonated through the room as the revelation sank in. The source was the Human Council, situated in the prestigious Central Lands. The Council held the highest position in society, shaping laws and issuing directives. Whenever they distributed a newspaper, every corner of human society received a copy.

"It reads," the officer said, spreading the newspaper over the balcony. "The Return of the Fool: Caution Urged, Report Duck Flag Sightings to the Nearest Military Post."

Brian cast a bewildered glance at Asdras, struggling to grasp the situation. The tavern keeper, taken aback, hastily found his seat to regain composure. Murmurs rippled through the nearby patrons, one of whom reached for the newspaper to confirm the news.

"But who in tarnation is this Fool?" Brian asked, his gaze sweeping over the group.

"Well," the officer began, his tone serious and gaze directed toward the open door. "He's the guy who's ruined every scheme the Human Council's cooked up. We're talking about someone with a perfect track record for messing them up."

"But why do they call him 'the fool'?" Asdras asked, intrigued by the notion of one man standing against the entire council.

"His actions," the man delivering the news explained, "make the council look like fools every time. It's like a grown man picking on a child."

"And here's the kicker," the officer added, stretching the newspaper. "Every move he makes seems downright foolish to us. But in the end, it's always too late to do anything about it..."

"I'm kinda lost," Brian admitted, scratching his head. "Why do they say his actions are foolish?"

"Ten years ago," the tipsy woman began, sobering up as she spoke. "The Fool was spotted planting seeds near the Beauty Field walls. Back then, nobody knew what he was up to. But a year later, the whole city was wrecked. Every house, wall, and structure got swallowed up by these plants," she paused dramatically. "And the kicker? The soil was as dead as a doornail. Nothing ever grew in it, not even a worm. But in the end..."

"So, he's really a threat?" Asdras asked, his brows furrowing in confusion.

"Indeed," the outpost's chief said, descending the staircase and approaching them. "It's not his actions that make him dangerous. He's not a crazed lunatic or common bandit. What sets him apart is his cunning and the audacity to play the fool. Underestimate a fool, and you'll end up making a fool of yourself."

The officer saluted him, "Chief!"

"Very well, everyone, it's time to turn in," he commanded, then turned to Brian and Asdras. "That includes you two. The Jumper's been arranged for your group early in the morning. Don't be tardy, or you'll miss your chance to head to Baurus."