Crossing the Sicar Mountains, there was more than one mountain road leading from Delarion into Kasenrick, but the Windrise Path was the clearest route accessible by carriage and the easiest to travel.
Even in the modern era, where steam trains already ran through the Sicar Mountain Pass, this ancient mountain road remained the most important trade route for the surrounding regions.
The Windrise Path wound and spiraled across the Sicar Mountains, eventually crossing the border line to lead toward the foreign cities on the other side of the range. Redwater Camp was the largest outpost and military barracks established by the Delarion Royal Army in the border region. On one hand, it bore the responsibility of defense and reconnaissance; on the other, it coordinated with checkpoints and tax officers to manage the issue of incoming and outgoing goods.
Of course, there were other military camps within the Sicar Mountains besides Redwater Camp, but those were not things ordinary people could know about.
Redwater Camp itself did not allow any unauthorized personnel other than soldiers to enter, but places were needed for travelers to rest and organize their goods in the mountains, as it still took time to descend from Redwater Camp to enter the city.
Consequently, travelers had spontaneously gathered into a small camp outside the military barracks. As merchants spotted the business opportunity, they used unknown means to convince the commanding officer of Redwater Camp to allow the construction of buildings; thus, the travelers' camp came to include small inns, warehouses, and taverns.
Though the buildings were crude, having something was better than nothing.
As Shade ascended the mountain, he happened upon a farmer from Midhillburg who was pulling a donkey cart of grain through the Windrise Path to sell in the Southern Kingdom. Thus, he paid two pence for a ride, sitting at the back of the grain cart and chatting with the elderly driver as they headed into the mountains.
Shade was curious as to why the man, who looked to be in his fifties, was still out transporting grain. The old man told Shade with a smile
"The children have all gone to big cities like Midhillburg, but the land cannot be left fallow. This is land passed down from my ancestors."
Even by donkey cart, it wasn't until nearly one in the afternoon that Shade finally saw the towering watchtowers of Redwater Camp. It should be noted that although he hadn't departed until after ten, he had started from the abandoned tower in the mountains rather than from the foot of the mountain. In other words, unless one was on horseback or in a carriage, an ordinary person entering the mountains in the morning would not reach Redwater Camp until nearly evening.
Shade bid farewell to the talkative old man at the edge of the camp; the latter had to proceed to the checkpoint ahead to pay taxes before he could obtain his transit documents. Shade waved, then stood beside a road sign written in the languages of both nations and looked to his right.
To the right was a small peak. Wooden steps and galleries were built along the steep slopes, leading up to a military camp surrounded by rough stone fences and wooden palisades at a higher elevation. Whether the top of the peak had been leveled by man or was naturally flat, Redwater Camp sat upon it. With just a few arrow towers and cannon ports, it could easily obstruct any enemy attempting to attack from this direction.
Standing by the roadside, one could see the patrolling soldiers atop the high wooden walls and hear the faint sound of shouted signals.
The "Travelers' Camp" written in two languages on the road sign referred to the camp encircling the small peak, situated next to the Windrise Path checkpoint. Forest trees had been felled to clear flat ground, and wooden buildings no more than two stories high were scattered throughout the camp, while simple wooden fences used to ward off wild animals crookedly marked the boundaries of the travelers' camp.
Despite being in the mountains, the place looked very lively. Merchants driving carriages and travelers passing through shuttled across the camp. People speaking different languages gathered to complain about the inconvenience of water access, and slogans about fire and theft prevention were carved everywhere, while soldiers on leave entered and exited taverns with loud laughter and arms draped over each other's shoulders.
There was even an innkeeper catering specifically to travelers, attempting to nail advertising boards to the wooden fence on the outskirts of the camp. However, as Shade approached the camp, the innkeeper was chased away by a crude butcher collecting mountain goods near that section of the fence, who brandished a knife used for chopping steaks
"This is my turf! Go hang your filthy sign somewhere else!"
The butcher, who spoke with a heavy accent, added two words to the sentence that Shade didn't know how to translate to describe the innkeeper's despicable behavior, which drew bursts of laughter from the onlookers.
Although the camp had an entrance, no one stood there collecting tolls or similar fees.
Outsiders who had never seen such a scene looked around with great interest upon entering. However, the area of the travelers' camp was at most three times the size of St. Delan Square, and at least a quarter of that area consisted of warehouses. Thus, while it seemed novel at first, after a few glances, it felt as though there wasn't actually much of interest.
Following the incident at the Midhillburg Mechanical Academy last week, Captain Radis had asked Shade to meet him today at the Blue Rose Tavern in the travelers' camp. This was likely the tavern with the highest consumption level in the camp; the reason for this judgment was not because the name was slightly elegant, but because those entering and exiting were travelers who appeared to be dressed quite decently.
Pushing open the tavern door, a wave of noisy clamor and the smell of fermented alcohol and food hit him.
Glancing around and finding no sign of Captain Radis, Shade guessed that the Captain probably thought he wouldn't arrive until later in the afternoon. He first walked to the tavern counter and ordered a glass of cider.
Prices in the travelers' camp seemed slightly higher than in the city, but this was understandable; after all, transporting anything from the city into the mountains required travel costs.
There were indeed many customers in the tavern during the lunch hour. In addition to the cider, Shade ordered a serving of fried meat with carrots for his lunch. Sitting at a table in the corner, he hailed the tavern waiter and ordered a copy of this morning's *Sicar Morning Post* to give himself something to do while eating.
A newspaper that sold for only 3 pence in the city actually cost 4 pence in the travelers' camp. Although it was only one penny more, expensive was expensive. Shade knew that bargaining likely didn't happen here, so he said nothing. However, just as he counted out the change and handed the four small coins to the waiter, the tavern door was pushed open once again.
Shade instinctively looked in that direction, and the person entering also noticed Shade's gaze and looked back.
"Hmm?"
Unfortunately, the person entering was not Captain Radis, but he was an acquaintance of Shade's. His hair was extremely short, leaving only fuzzy stubble; his skin was dark, and the double eyelids of both eyes were extremely pronounced. Appearing to be in his thirties and thin in build, he was wrapped in an old-style brown robe similar to those worn by people in desert regions. He held a notebook in his right hand, had very short eyelashes, and his black eyes were exceptionally spirited.
"Mr. Sean Asmon?"
This was the "Demon Scholar" Shade had once encountered at the Pink Rose Inn in Coldwater Harbor. In that not-so-reputable inn, this gentleman had even lost a Demon-series Lord card to Shade and had told him a story about a demon and a person without wishes.
(End of Chapter)