The gates of Patrain receded into the morning mist as Arthur led his small, formidable retinue toward the south. The change of scenery from the "Gray Marsh" to the rolling hills of the Eternal Kingdom's heartland was marked by a shift in the very air—moving from the stagnant dampness of the north to a crisp, invigorating breeze.
Beside him, the four women who defined his current journey walked with the confidence of those who knew they were part of something greater than a mere mercenary party.
* Alfia, the aspiring Great Magician, clutched her weirwood staff, her eyes occasionally glowing with a faint emerald light as she mentally calculated mana trajectories.
* Meteria, the aspiring Spirit Master, moved with a haunting grace, her fingers tracing the air as if whispering to invisible sylphs that danced in the sunlight.
* Nana, the aspiring Swordswoman, had her hand perpetually on the pommel of her blade, her youthful face set in a mask of grim focus that belied her age.
* Cecil, the "Blacksmith-Berserker," carried a heavy spear across her shoulders, her leanq frame vibrating with a restless energy that suggested she was equally ready to forge a masterpiece or cleave a skull.
The journey to Winston was long, and Arthur was not a man to waste time on the drudgery of walking through low-level territories. At the Patrain transit hub, he bypassed the crowded public wagons filled with sweating players and shouting merchants.
"Twenty gold," Arthur said, dropping a heavy pouch onto the counter of the carriage master. "I want an exclusive carriage. No stops, no additional passengers. Straight to the waypoint of Pedro."
The Carriage Master's eyes nearly bulged out of his head. Twenty gold was a small fortune—enough to buy a decent house in a rural village. "S-sir! Immediately! The Royal Spring-Cushioned carriage is yours!"
The ride was a rare moment of peace. Inside the velvet-lined interior, the girls relaxed. Alfia and Meteria took the seats beside Arthur, their eyes fixed on him with a mixture of reverence and something more personal. Nana and Cecil sat at the opposite, watching the landscape blur past at a speed only high-grade magical horses could maintain.
After a day of smooth travel, the carriage rumbled through the towering gates of Pedro. This was a city unlike Patrain; it was a fortress of commerce and muscle, currently under the administrative control of the Giant Guild.
The Giant Guild, lead by world's third ranked player Chris, the Tyrant. He was known for two things: his obsession with physical stats and their absolute monopoly over the local economy.
As Arthur's group stepped out of the carriage, they were immediately noted. A group of Giant Guild scouts, perched on a balcony overlooking the main square, leaned forward.
"Look at that group," one scout whispered into his guild chat. "High-spec NPCs. And the leader... he looks like he's made of money. They're heading towards our stalls."
The Giant Guild was anxious. Pedro was a desert of content compared to the capital; their only unique export was a strange, genetically-locked fruit known as the Strawberry Banana. They were desperate for positive reviews from high-ranking players to boost trade.
Arthur led the girls to a vibrant stall draped in green and pink silk. There, piled high, were fruits that looked exactly like long, yellow bananas, but gave off an overwhelming, cloying scent of ripe strawberries.
"The specialty of Pedro!" the merchant cried. "One silver a piece! Taste the miracle of nature!"
Arthur bought several bunches, handing them to the girls. "Taste it. This is the only place in the world where this grows."
The girls bit into the fruit simultaneously. The Giant Guild members held their breath, hoping for a "World-Class Delicacy" reaction that would trend on the forums.
"It... it is confusing," Alfia said, her nose wrinkling. "It feels like a banana, but my tongue tells me I am eating a strawberry. It is a sensory contradiction. I do not like being lied to by my food."
Meteria delicately spat a piece into a napkin. "It is too sweet, Arthur. It lacks the soul of either fruit. It is a chimera."
Nana and Cecil were even less impressed. "It's mushy," Cecil grunted. "I'd rather chew on a whetstone."
The Giant Guild scouts slumped in disappointment. Another "fail" for the Strawberry Banana. But Arthur stood there, turning the fruit over in his hand, his eyes narrowing. Now he is not Legend Arthur but Kim Arthur, heir of Kim Conglomerate who could sell a pencil as a super conductor.
"You're looking at it as a fruit," Arthur murmured, a small smile playing on his lips. "But look at it as a base ingredient. If you processed this... turned it into a chilled milk shake or a frozen cream... the texture would vanish. All that would remain is the flavor of a strawberry and the creaminess of a banana. No one would be able to tell which was which. It would be a mystery dessert."
He turned to the merchant. "I'll take ten bunch of it. Packed in cold-storage crates."
The merchant was stunned. "Ten bunch? Sir, it will spoil!"
"Not where I'm going," Arthur replied, already thinking of experimenting in Khan's kitchen.
After hiring a new carriage for thirty gold—a "Heavy Cargo" variant to carry the fruit and the equipment—they departed for Winston.
The road south was notorious for bandit activity, especially in the "No-Man's-Land" between guild territories.
Two hours into the journey, the carriage screeched to a halt. "Out! Everyone out!" a gravelly voice roared.
A troupe of thirty bandits, ranging from Level 20 to Level 40, had blocked the road with fallen trees. They looked ragged but confident, their eyes gleaming at the sight of the expensive carriage.
Arthur didn't even stand up. He leaned back against the cushions, looking at Nana and Cecil. "The cargo must remain undisturbed. Handle it."
Nana's eyes flashed with a predatory hunger. Cecil simply cracked her neck, her spear humming as she spun it in the cramped space of the doorway.
"Stay inside, Arthur," Nana whispered, her voice chillingly calm. "We will clean the porch."
What followed was not a fight; it was an execution. Nana moved like a streak of silver light. To a Level 30 bandit, her speed was incomprehensible.
Her blade didn't just cut; it found the gaps in their leather armor with the precision of a master tailor. Heads rolled into the tall grass before the bandits could even raise their rusted scimitars.
Cecil, meanwhile, was a whirlwind of blunt force and piercing strikes. She didn't use the finesse of a duelist; she used the leverage of a blacksmith.
She swung her spear like a hammer, shattering the ribs of two bandits with a single blow, then used the momentum to impale a third through the chest, lifting him off the ground as if he weighed nothing.
"A-Archers! Fire!" the bandit leader screamed, his face pale.
A volley of arrows hissed through the air. From inside the carriage, Alfia didn't even look up from her book. She simply flicked a finger, and a shimmering barrier of emerald mana deflected the projectiles into the dirt.
Within five minutes, the road was silent, save for the dripping of blood from Nana's blade.
Cecil began to collect loot from the vanished bodies of bandits with practiced efficiency. "Pathetic loot," she muttered, tossing a pouch to Arthur. "But they had coin."
[Loot Summary]
* Gold Coins: 200
* Rusted Scimitars: 12 (Scrap Value)
* Bandit's Map: 1 (Common)
Arthur stepped out of the carriage, stepping over the ash left by the bandit leader. He looked toward the horizon, where the spires of Winston were finally beginning to appear. And the unknown place of bandit camp where probably more bandits are waiting.