The Kingdom of Karl itself seems to be shrouded in an oppressive atmosphere at the border between humans and orcs.
The buildings in the kingdom were mostly made of dark stone and heavy wood, and the armor of the soldiers patrolling the streets also had a dull dark tone, which was completely different from the two kingdoms I had seen before.
The caravan's destination was the capital of the Kingdom of Karl - Black Swamp City.
The city is located beside a muddy river. Its towering walls are mottled and old, covered with thick, slippery moss.
As the largest supply point and intelligence distribution center before the Lor Swamp, it is filled with mercenaries, adventurers, brokers, and spies from various church forces.
The air was filled with tension, desire, and an indescribable smell of corruption.
After four months of bumpy journey, the Ice Otter Caravan finally arrived at Black Swamp City.
After delivering the last batch of goods at the huge beast of burden square outside the city, the fat leader said goodbye to Mark's team with sincere gratitude and reluctance:
"Brother Mark, and everyone else, thank you for your hard work! Without you, this trip out of the icefield wouldn't have been so smooth. Now that we've settled the payment, I wish you all the best in Lor... uh, everything!"
He obviously knew what Lore Swamp meant, so he didn't say anything else and just patted Mark's shoulder heavily.
Mark put on his typical mercenary smile and shook hands vigorously with the leader. "Same here, bro. See you later!"
Anna nodded slightly, and Enzo waved his strong arms casually as a farewell.
Monica stood a little further back, her face expressionless as she glanced across the bustling yet chaotic Royal Plaza. The depths of her eyes seemed even deeper than usual.
After bidding farewell to the caravan, the four of them and their mother searched for a place to stay in the noisy streets of the royal capital.
The noisy voices, the clatter of carriage wheels, and the hawking of vendors in shops filled the eardrums, forming a harsh contrast with the dead silence of the ice field.
Mark habitually observed his surroundings, keeping an eye out for possible dangers and sources of intelligence.
But gradually, an inexplicable sense of disharmony began to linger in his heart.
His eyes fell on Monica involuntarily.
This appraiser sister, who was always intellectual and calm in front of her acquaintances, seemed to be a little abnormal since she set foot in the capital of the Kingdom of Karl.
She walked behind the team, her steps still light and silent, her posture maintaining her usual vigilance and alertness.
But Mark could feel the aura emanating from her... more tense than usual, like a bowstring stretched to its limit, with no clear target.
Her eyes didn't look like the sharp scan she'd get while on a reconnaissance mission, but more like an...out-of-focus stare.
It often lingers in some insignificant corner or on a passerby in a hurry. Something seems to be violently surging in the depths of its pupils, but is tightly sealed by a thick layer of ice.
Occasionally, her fingers would unconsciously stroke the hilt of the dagger at her waist, the movement so subtle that it was almost invisible.
But Mark had been with her day and night, and had experienced so many things together, that he knew her subtle habits very well.
This is a little movement she would make when her emotions were extremely unstable.
What made Mark's heart sink even more was that the familiar breath of Monica's soul, like a silent shadow, seemed to be covered by something heavy.
It was not a feeling of exhaustion of the soul, but a kind of oppressive feeling with a certain coldness and determination that was silently spreading.
After everyone left, she spoke noticeably less.
Even when Enzo complained that the air in the capital was too hot and humid, Anna responded lightly.
Only Monica didn't utter a single syllable, but silently looked at the few slippery mosses that were growing tenaciously in the cracks of the stone slabs under her feet.
This is so abnormal.
The capital of the Kingdom of Karl... Is there something here that touched Monica?
The danger of the Lore Swamp is right in front of us, and any abnormality inside may bring fatal changes.
…
The furnishings at the Shadow Bat Inn in the royal capital smelled of damp wood.
Mark was lying on the bed, and Enzo's deafening snoring next door was like thunder, penetrating the thin wall.
Anna next door seemed to have gotten used to it, and her breathing was very steady.
Mark closed his eyes, but his mind was highly concentrated. His perception spread out like a spider web, firmly locking onto the soul of Monica in the next room.
The aura of a high-level assassin, like a silent shadow, now carried an indescribable heaviness and oppression.
Time passed slowly, in between another loud snore from Enzo.
Mark "saw" that the breath suddenly became extremely weak and condensed, like a drop of water blending into the night, silently sliding out of the room and quickly moving away along the corridor.
Mark didn't get up immediately.
He counted his heartbeats until the scent had moved away from the hotel and along the main road deep into the city for more than ten minutes.
At this moment, the late spring night in the Kingdom of Karl was already warm. He quickly got out of bed and changed into the dark, light clothes that had been prepared long ago, his movements swift and silent.
He slipped out of the room like a shadow without disturbing anyone.
Standing at the door of the hotel, he closed his eyes, the cross necklace on his chest felt slightly warm, and his soul perception focused again.
The trajectory of Monica's breath appeared clearly in his soul vision.
Monica walked straight along the broad main road without making any detours or stopping, heading towards the aristocratic district at the heart of the royal capital.
Mark blended into the shadows of the street, moving quickly along the invisible track.
The main road of the royal capital seemed a little deserted at night, with only the heavy footsteps of patrolling guards and the occasional rumbling of carriages breaking the silence.
He avoided the main light sources, using the outlines of buildings and the shadows of street trees as cover, and moved at a leisurely pace.
He always kept the sense of Monica's presence at the edge of the maximum distance, so as not to lose her and not to alert a high-level assassin.
The closer you get to the aristocratic district, the heavier the air seems.
Magnificent mansions replaced the bustling shops in the civilian area. Towering walls blocked the view, and the cast iron carved gates were tightly closed, guarded by private soldiers in shiny armor and with a noticeably more alert aura.
The streets are paved with smooth basalt, and the frequency of patrol guards has increased significantly.
Mark's heart sank.
What is Monica doing here?
The root of her abnormality at the edge of the ice field lies in this aristocratic area?
Just as doubts were surging in his heart, the movement of the soul energy in front of him suddenly stopped.
Mark stopped immediately, pressed his body against the deep shadow of a decorative stone pillar outside the wall of a tall mansion, and held his breath.
He carefully extended his senses and easily captured Monica's location.
She stopped at the entrance to a side alley, facing an exceptionally grand mansion deep in the aristocratic district.
The mansion occupied the most prominent position on the street corner, and was brightly lit. Even late at night, one could feel its majestic grandeur and strict security.
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