The Fifth Era of Elf History, Silver Moon Year 1, early December. This was when Jones had just returned home. At this time, Gray had not yet issued his final ultimatum, but everyone knew he was preparing to march north. All the nations had already begun actively preparing for war.
Within the northern Barbarian Empire, in Lunbak, located on the Keltos Continent.
After a heavy snowfall, the entire world was a vast expanse of white. Trees, houses—they were all buried under the blankets of snow.
Crows perched on branches, bobbing their heads as they gazed around. Occasionally, they took flight, shaking off cascades of snowflakes.
A gust of wind passed through, carrying with it shards of ice crystals.
A secluded frontier town.
At the center of the town stood a tall fortress, silent and still, also draped in snow. Unlike the southern regions or the Gustav Empire’s architectural style, this fortress looked extremely rough—crooked, uneven, and far from aesthetically pleasing or traditional.
Surrounding the fortress were clusters of low houses, their outlines almost indistinguishable under the snow.
The sky had yet to clear completely; snowflakes were still intermittently falling.
The streets were utterly empty, as though the entire world had frozen solid—there wasn’t a single soul in sight. And not just people, but even footprints were absent. This suggested that no one had ventured outside for at least several hours. If not for the wisps of smoke rising from chimneys, one might have mistaken this for an abandoned town.
The weather was terribly cold, so cold that sneezing might cause an icicle to drop, so cold that people didn’t even want to move.
Groggily, Blood Elf Andrew opened his eyes, then slowly closed them again.
"Have you woken up?" A melodious voice sounded.
Andrew’s ears twitched slightly.
"Are you alright?" the voice asked again.
Andrew’s eyes flew open abruptly, jolting awake. He quickly sat up and shrank into the corner of the bed, instinctively raising his hands in a spell-casting gesture.
In front of him was a young girl. She had her blonde hair tied in a ponytail, her amber eyes sparkling. Her face was beautifully refined.
She wore a green gemstone-encrusted headpiece and a short green skirt, layered over with light armor.
Like Andrew, she also had pointed ears, though hers were noticeably larger than his.
At this moment, she was smiling and looking at Andrew: "Don’t worry, you’re safe now."
"I’m... safe now?" Beads of sweat slid slowly down Andrew’s forehead.
"Yes, you’re safe now." The girl patted her chest and said, "I’ve already rescued you."
"You rescued me?" Andrew was confused, half-closing his eyes as he tried hard to recall.
"Wasn’t it me who rescued you?"
"I remember... before I passed out, I was fighting a green dragon. Did you defeat the green dragon?"
The girl’s expression visibly stiffened for a moment. She pouted and said, "No, you’re mistaken."
"Yes. Did you forget? You were kidnapped by vile slave traders, and they were planning to sell you. A passing mercenary group discovered this and we saved you."
"Mercenary group?" Andrew grew even more bewildered.
"Do you not remember? It’s okay, many people experience temporary amnesia after a shock. Rest for a while; it’ll come back to you." The girl picked up the warm water beside her and handed it to Andrew.
Taking the bowl, Andrew cautiously sniffed it. Only after ensuring there was nothing unusual inside did he drink it all at once.
"I’ll go prepare dinner for you. It’ll be ready soon. The food might not suit your tastes, since you’re an elf. But it’s best to eat something. You’ve been unconscious for a whole day." Smiling, the girl stood up and left.
The room now contained only Andrew, sitting quietly on the bed.
It was a room as simple as could be—or rather, a room that couldn’t get any plainer.
The walls were made of dirt bricks stacked together, with all the bricks exposed—there wasn’t even a trace of plastering.
The room was around ten square meters, with an old bed that looked like it had been repaired countless times, a crude table, and two rough chairs. Aside from those, there was nothing else.
Oh wait, there was a small pile of charcoal next to the bed—built with bricks.
Every object in the room emitted the same aura: poverty, and filth. Even the blanket draped over Andrew carried the same impression, making the Blood Elf, accustomed to refined elegance, intensely uncomfortable.
Moments earlier, there had been something in the room that made Andrew feel slightly at ease—the girl. From an elf’s perspective, her appearance was indeed rather attractive, even beautiful. The key was her clothing, which was quite proper. But now that she had left, the room’s style seemed to unify instantly.
Of course, Andrew clearly didn’t have the time to dwell on this matter. More pressing questions occupied his thoughts.
"I was rescued by a mercenary group? But why do I remember being attacked by a green dragon?"
It all started six months ago.
Yes, during the infamous Battle of Salted Fish City.
It’s well-known that Andrew fled at a critical moment, becoming the only deserter of the Silver Moon Knight Order. And, unfortunately enough, Gray managed to win that seemingly unwinnable war.