Translator: CinderTL
Since the establishment of diplomatic relations between the Golden Valley Kingdom and the River Domain Nations, the annual exchange program between their Knight Academies had proceeded without incident.
Yet even with this knowledge, Reggie, appointed as the accompanying mentor for this year's exchange party, had conducted a thorough investigation into the Golden Valley Kingdom's current situation beforehand.
He was, of course, already aware of the anomalies in the eastern districts.
However, he hadn't anticipated that the reality would be far more severe than the intelligence reports suggested.
Concealing the flicker of wariness and confusion in his eyes, the knight instructor loudly instructed the students to remain in place and avoid any rash actions. He then spurred his horse forward to approach the Golden Valley Kingdom guards, identifying himself and stating the purpose of their visit.
Seizing the opportunity, Roland whispered to his companions beside him.
"Galvis, Theresa, have you ever seen anything like this before?"
The silver-haired woman paused for a moment before decisively shaking her head.
The bard Galvis pondered for a while before slowly replying.
"Roland, have you ever heard of the Sandscar Kingdom?"
Roland narrowed his eyes slightly and nodded.
The name was familiar to him.
It wasn't because of his vast knowledge, but rather because the legendary "golden land" region, rumored to be inhabited by dragon-like creatures, was located within the Sandscar Kingdom, according to information he had obtained from the Adventurer's Guild.
"During my travels across the continent, I once passed through that area," Galvis said, his fingers gently caressing the strings of his lute, coaxing forth a melancholic melody.
"According to the local residents, centuries ago, that land was nothing like the desolate, sand-swallowed kingdom we see today."
His voice lowered, adopting the rhythmic cadence characteristic of a bard's storytelling.
"Ancient records and ballads describe the Sandscar Kingdom as a vast realm with soil so fertile it seemed to breed gold. Endless fields of wheat rippled across the plains like golden waves, while emerald-green orchards dotted the river valleys. Abundant rivers nourished dozens of prosperous cities."
The lute's notes grew somber.
"But then... something happened," he continued.
"Some say the Royal Family insisted on performing a forbidden ritual that desecrated the gods, angering the earth itself. Others believe they made a catastrophic bargain with an unspeakable entity in pursuit of some source of power. Still others claim a world-devouring magical storm drained all life and moisture from the land."
"The truth has long been buried by the sands of time. The only certainty is that some terrible 'depletion' descended upon this land."
"In just a few short years, the once-verdant kingdom was mercilessly eroded, ultimately transforming into the desolate, despair-inducing sea of sand we know today."
Galvis drew out a long, mournful note, his gaze sweeping across the lifeless fields before him.
"The scene before us... though far from the complete devastation of that calamity, the way this land's vitality has been plundered reminds me of the disaster that befell the Sandscar Kingdom."
Hearing this, Roland turned his head, his sharp gaze piercing the barren fields in the distance.
Then, his mental power extended like invisible tendrils, probing deep into the scorched earth.
"As expected, magic elements..."
Roland wasn't surprised to sense the faint residual fluctuations within the withered crop remains.
He had already speculated about this possibility when he first learned of the situation, even recalling the similar aura he had encountered in the withered forest during his encounter with Red Squirrel Joe in the Blackwater Territory.
But what truly astonished him was that the energy permeating this ravaged land wasn't the icy negative energy he had anticipated, but rather...
"Perfectly normal magic elements?"
Roland unconsciously furrowed his brow.
These residual energies were indistinguishable from the naturally flowing magic elements in the air.
If there was any difference, it was their extraordinary purity.
A purity so unsettling it reminded him of the mana flow he had sensed beneath the collapsed High Tower in the Mistland, emanating from the endless darkness.
Both carried an indescribable sense of strangeness, like hidden whirlpools beneath a calm surface.
He instinctively took a step forward, trying to get a clearer sense of the anomaly permeating the fields.
Just then, a rough shout interrupted his investigation.
"Hey, kid over there!"
A patrolling guard gripped his spear tightly, bloodshot eyes fixed on Roland.
"Don't come any closer!"
Seeing the guard's agitation, Roland raised his hands and slowly retreated back to the party.
"Never mind..."
He sighed softly, temporarily suppressing his doubts.
After all, their purpose here was academic exploration, and the Golden Valley Kingdom's anomalies were none of his concern.
"Form up, let's move on," Instructor Reggie's voice rang out at the opportune moment.
"Everyone, remember: absolutely no approaching the anomalous areas on either side of the road. Understand?"
Compared to the deeply rooted Golden Valley Kingdom, the River Domain Nations appeared young and inexperienced. However, the students selected for this study tour were all well-versed in propriety.
No one acted rashly out of curiosity. The party maintained a vigilant silence as they continued their journey.
The cheerful atmosphere from their departure had long dissipated, replaced by a palpable tension hanging in the air.
As the party ventured deeper, the landscape gradually transformed.
The number of withered fields dwindled, eventually giving way to vast, lush green plains.
At the territory's border, a noble and his retinue awaited their arrival.
Roland's gaze sharpened as he recognized the man.
If his memory served him correctly, this noble was the same one he had encountered several times at Far Ocean Port—the man who had provoked Marco and whose retainer had nearly won the martial arts tournament hosted by Monen.
His name was...
"Marshall Janford, Lord of Tulip Territory."
The noble gracefully stroked his meticulously trimmed handlebar mustache, his gaze sweeping over the River Domain Nations' party with a flash of sharp intelligence.
"By order of His Majesty Monen, I have been awaiting your arrival here for some time."
He bowed in a flawless greeting, his sleeves sweeping in graceful arcs through the wind.
"Please, follow me into the territory. All necessary preparations have been made. We sincerely hope you will grace us with your presence."
Observing the baron's overly solicitous demeanor, a deep suspicion flickered in Roland's eyes.
In his memory, the baron's true character was far removed from this display of humility.
Perhaps it's just a facade, Roland mused inwardly.
By then, Reggie, the party leader, had concluded his superficially friendly exchange with Marshall.
Soon, the entire party, escorted by guards, began advancing deeper into Tulip Territory.
Marshall remained rooted to the spot, watching the party recede into the distance. His slender fingers unconsciously twirled the meticulously trimmed ends of his mustache, a faint, enigmatic smile playing at the corners of his lips.
"Uncle Marshall, should we...?"
A squire clad in plate armor licked his parched lips, his fingers tightening around the hilt of his sword, his eyes gleaming with a predator's hunger.
"Fool!" Marshall hissed, his earlier elegance vanishing instantly, replaced by an arrogance that seemed etched into his very bones.
"The leader is a Transcendent Knight! Though the other trainees are few in number, they've all entered the Transcendent Realm. We can't handle them."
He shot the attendant a cold glance.
"Everything... must await Lord Arno's orders. Understand?"
"Yes..."
Doren, the attendant, lowered his head in dejection.
Marshall snorted disdainfully.
"Be patient, Doren. Those merchants won't leave the Golden Valley Kingdom alive."
He deliberately lowered his voice, his tone laced with seduction.
"If our plan succeeds, I guarantee you'll be granted a territory."
"Yes! Uncle Marshall!"
Doren immediately perked up.
After his nephew withdrew, Marshall turned his gaze northward, a triumphant sneer curling his lips.
"His Majesty Monen..."
He murmured softly, as if savoring the name.
"Since you've consistently rejected our proposals, don't blame us... for taking matters into our own hands."
A gentle breeze swept across the plains, yet it carried no hint of life, only the coiled malice of hidden intent.
(End of the Chapter)
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