Translator: CinderTL
"This is... so boring."
The bard chewed on the end of his quill, stretching languidly as he stared at the blank parchment in his hand, unable to suppress a sigh.
"Roland, do you think we'll end up like we did at Howling Gorge again? Going through a bunch of weird stuff and then suddenly becoming heroes who save the day?"
"Shut your crow's mouth, Galvis!"
"But Roland..."
Roland silenced his companion with a low hiss, ignoring his grumbling as he shook the wooden bowl in his hand, the dice clattering crisply inside.
Nearly half a month had passed since their encounter with Baron Marshall.
During that time, they had traveled steadily toward the heart of the Golden Valley Kingdom. Apart from a few encounters with low-level demonic beasts in the wilderness, their journey had been remarkably smooth.
The lords of the regions they passed through had all extended lavish hospitality, making their days quite comfortable.
The only thing that made Roland uneasy was the nobles' unusually warm attitude.
Though he had lived in the remote Blackwater Territory, he had long heard tales of the nobles in the kingdom's heartland, usually associated with terms like "arrogant" and "domineering."
Yet along this road...
Roland shook his head, thinking of the nobles' overly friendly smiles, almost as if they were putting on a show.
"Maybe they're all like Marshall, just putting on a facade?"
He had discussed this with Reggie before.
Though his mentor shared his unease, given their uneventful journey so far, they could only remain vigilant in silence, refraining from voicing their concerns.
"I win again, Roland!"
Jamal, the trainee across from him, threw back his head and laughed as he lifted the wooden bowl, extending his broad palm.
The dice on the ground clearly showed a lower total than Jamal's. Roland shook his head in resignation.
"Alright, Jamal. Your luck is always so good..."
He swiftly retrieved several copper coins from his pouch and handed them over.
"This isn't luck, Roland. It's just that your technique is terrible. And..." Jamal paused, pocketing the coins with a grin before asking, "Why do you roll the dice so lightly? Did you hurt your arm fighting those demonic beasts earlier?"
Roland simply shook his head, offering no explanation.
Just as Jamal tucked the coins away, a line of golden text quietly appeared in Roland's vision:
You have successfully completed a gambling art practice session, gaining one experience point.
"Just as I suspected."
Roland understood immediately.
When honing his gambling art skill, he couldn't use any supernatural abilities.
He slammed the wooden bowl back onto the table.
"Another round, Jamal."
"But... it's almost lunchtime. If Instructor Reggie finds out..."
"Alright."
Roland glanced at the bright daylight streaming through the window and shrugged.
"Then tomorrow?"
"Deal!"
After a few more casual remarks, Jamal rose to leave.
The moment the door closed, the bard pounced on Roland.
"Were you even listening to me, Roland?"
"Of course, of course..."
Roland picked up the wooden cup on the table and drained it in one gulp.
"What's wrong with a simple life?"
"But you shouldn't be... wasting yourself like this!"
Galvis pointed at the scattered dice on the table, his voice dripping with undisguised disappointment.
"Look at what you've been doing these past few days! Gambling and haggling over a few copper coins with market vendors—this isn't the behavior of a hero!"
"I know, I know..."
Roland waved his hand dismissively, abruptly changing the subject.
"Where's Theresa?"
"She went to the adventurer's guild to pick up a quest. Sigh..."
Seeing that Roland clearly wasn't listening, the bard sighed and slumped listlessly onto the wooden table.
"Roland, how long are we going to stay in this small town? When will we finally reach the royal capital?"
Roland didn't answer immediately, instead leaning against the window and gazing out.
The royal capital of the Golden Valley Kingdom stood in clear silhouette on the horizon.
Even from this distance, the city was breathtaking.
Its towering gray city walls stretched like a mountain range, casting long shadows under the sunlight.
Flags fluttering from the battlements appeared as blurred patches of color, but the Royal Family's golden wheat ear emblem was faintly discernible.
Just as Galvis was about to complain again, a short, forceful shout shattered the afternoon's tranquility.
"Everyone assemble!"
Reggie's steady voice echoed through the courtyard.
"Line up in the front yard immediately! A very important dignitary is about to arrive."
The students exchanged surprised glances.
Though they had been well-received throughout their journey, this was the first time Instructor Reggie had treated a "dignitary" with such solemnity.
Roland and Galvis exchanged a glance, quickly gathered the dice from the table, and rose to their feet, hurrying outside.
In the courtyard, the members of the traveling party had already formed a neat, orderly line.
Theresa, who had just returned, silently slipped into the flank of the formation, her silver hair framing eyes that held their usual guarded alertness.
Reggie stood at the head of the line, his posture ramrod straight, his expression even more solemn than usual.
The thunder of approaching hooves grew louder, each stride resonating with a steady, powerful rhythm that seemed to pound against the hearts of everyone present.
First, a squadron of elite cavalry surged through the courtyard gates. Their armor was no ordinary guard's uniform; instead, it gleamed with the faint luster of fine steel plate, each breastplate emblazoned with the proud, winged emblem of a griffin.
This crest belonged to a vast territory bordering the River Domain Nations, and Roland had heard tales of its lord.
The cavalry split to either side, forming a silent, ceremonial guard of honor.
Then, an exceptionally tall warhorse strode into the courtyard, its rider nearly blocking out the sunlight beyond the gate.
The newcomer was a man of immense stature, his broad shoulders and thick chest straining the seams of his opulent deep-purple velvet robe. Even without armor, he radiated a rock-solid aura of authority.
This physique could never be achieved by a pampered noble; it was clearly forged through countless battles.
Yet when the crowd's gaze shifted upward, they saw not a fierce, battle-hardened face, but Duke Arno.
Roland confirmed his identity inwardly.
The duke possessed a face that stood in stark contrast to his imposing frame—almost gentle, even kind.
He appeared to be around fifty years old, his graying hair neatly combed, his cheeks ruddy, and faint smile lines etched at the corners of his eyes.
His bright blue eyes swept warmly over each young person in the formation, his lips curving into a natural, relaxed smile—the kind of reassuring, paternal smile that put everyone at ease.
"Welcome, friends who have traveled so far," Arno's voice boomed warmly, radiating just the right amount of enthusiasm to instantly dispel the tension that had settled over the courtyard upon his arrival.
"I am Arno Perez, Duke of the realm by His Majesty the King's grace, and lord of the Griffin Territory you recently passed through. Upon learning of our nation's most esteemed guests nearing the royal capital, I couldn't wait to greet you personally."
He dismounted with surprising agility, his movements as light and graceful as his massive frame would allow, demonstrating remarkable control over his body.
He approached Reggie, spreading his arms in a welcoming gesture.
"Instructor Reggie, you must be weary from your journey. I hope my subordinates have treated you with the utmost respect."
"Your grace, you flatter us," Reggie replied, placing his right hand over his chest in a perfect knightly salute. His tone was respectful yet measured. "We have received hospitality far exceeding our expectations. The warmth of the Golden Valley Kingdom has left a lasting impression."
"Excellent! Excellent!" Arno chuckled heartily, clapping Reggie on the shoulder before turning his gaze to the students behind him.
"These must be the future pillars of the River Domain Nations? Such vibrant young people!"
"Seeing you reminds me of the days I spent drinking and laughing with old friends from your countries. Peace and friendship will always be the strongest bridge connecting our shores, wouldn't you agree?"
His words were flawless, his smile utterly infectious. Most of the students unconsciously relaxed, charmed by the duke's approachable demeanor.
But Roland narrowed his eyes slightly.
Arno's smile might have been genuine, but the light in his blue eyes was unnervingly calm, like a frozen lake reflecting no warmth whatsoever.
Arno's gaze slowly swept across the ranks, as if counting heads or assessing something.
When his eyes briefly met Roland's, the momentary pause sent an invisible pressure washing over Roland, like being casually glanced at by a powerful predator.
Though the sensation vanished in an instant, immediately masked by a warm smile, Roland's mental power instinctively caught a faint undercurrent of scrutiny and coldness.
A transcendent professional—and a strong one!
(End of the Chapter)
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