Volume 2 Chapter 8
Translator: SaltyTank
Editor: Chrof
The group rode their horses and travelled at a leisurely pace. Rawls actually felt pressured in his heart, but since this was the first time Witsen had rode a horse, they could only travel slowly.
Though the Mountain of Demise could be seen all the way from Los Lanca, that was only because the mountain was a lofty one. Despite being visible from afar, riding to the foot of the mountain still took some time. Witsen asked Rawls about the undead legion, but the latter replied that he had not seen the undead himself; it was the scouts who brought news back to the great wall of defence. They reported that the undead were overbearing, which made Rawls worried about the great wall’s safety.
The leisurely ride soon came to an end. The group was now standing at the foot of the mountain. As it was already dusk, they decided to camp nearby and get some rest before the tiring trek to come. Rawls was of considerable age, but his strength was by no means weaker than the young ones. It was himself who said that soldiers of the North’s Crown would only grow stronger and stronger. As if to prove his own saying, Rawls carried back two big logs from somewhere and used them as makeshift chairs.
“Woah, gramps is really strong,” Karile exclaimed. “So strong!”
“Hahaha, that is for sure. I’m old, but my body’s still young.”
Plato and Witsen went to gather firewood as it was the ‘men’s job’, or so they said. Although they denied Karile’s offer to help out, she still sneakily followed behind. As a ranger, she was considerably skilled in the forest. She hunted a few hares on the way without the two noticing. The two only noticed when they saw a green cape fluttering in a bush when returning; Karile deliberately did that to signal them.
“Karile!” Witsen shouted at Karile who was crouching in the bush. “Didn’t we say you don’t have to help?”
“Hehe,” Karile giggled and stuck her tongue out.
“Stop acting cute.” Witsen shook his head. “Come, we’re heading back.”
People in this world also had the habit of picnicking in autumn. They would bring their own food or hunt in the woods, set up a fire, then grill the meat. Add in a bit of spices and everything would be perfect. That was exactly what the group did, and that gave Witsen a sense of familiarity. He felt that he was not in an unknown world, but back in his hometown.
With preparations ready, it was now time to light the fire. Everyone sat on the logs around the campfire, and they lit the pile of branches. Karile had already skinned the hares and skewered them with branches. She placed them against the campfire and sat back down, but she instantly skidded over to Rawls when he took out two sheepskin pouches.
“Woah! Gramps you even brought wine!”
“Ha, you have much to learn, lil’ girl,” Rawls answered while shaking the pouches. “We can’t call ourselves people of the north if we don’t carry pouches of alcohol on us all the time!”
Rawls unplugged the pouches, the sweet fragrance of wine instantly permeating through the air.
“Let me have a sip, let me have a sip!” Karile said while drooling.
“Don’t be hasty, lil’ girl.” Rawls handed over a pouch.
Karile could not wait to grab the pouch over and starting downing the alcohol. Not only Witsen, even Rawls’ jaws dropped. Inside the pouch was the strongest alcohol from the north; even Rawls could only drink it sip by sip, yet the girl was drinking gulp after gulp. After drinking to her heart’s content, Karile’s face reddened.
“This wineeeeee’s reeeeeeal good, burp…”
“Hahaha!” Everyone laughed.
“What! What’s wrong!”
“Karile you’re drunk,” Witsen chuckled.
“No no no.” Karile waved her arms. “This wine’s really good, give it a try.”
“No thanks.”
“Come on, try it!” Karile walked over to Witsen, but tripped over a stone on the way. She landed right on top of him, pressing his back onto the log.
“Um, you’re a bit close,” Witsen said. He could feel Karile’s warmth and even her heartbeat. No, that was probably his own heart pounding like crazy. More importantly, two round things were pressed onto his chest and he could smell her scent. Karile’s breath also caressed his cheeks.
Such a sweet smell…
His mind wavered a bit, but soon realised Karile was looking right into his eyes.
“Cough, get up.” Witsen turned his head away. Even without drinking, his face was getting a bit hot. They both got up, then Witsen handed the pouch back to Rawls.
Witsen brought Karile away from the campfire to a nearby place that was quieter.
“You’re drunk, go to sleep,” he said as he helped her get into the sleeping bag he brought.
Just when he was about to turn and leave, Karile held onto the corner of his shirt. With teary eyes, she looked at Witsen and pleaded, “Don’t go.”