I am the Enchantress!

Chapter 8 Iron Pattern Town

The adventure team left the kobold cave, retrieved their luggage from the bushes at the cave entrance, and began their return journey.

It takes half a day to get back.

With Wilde supporting Cyrion and Lyle leading Gru, the group finally arrived at their destination before sunset.

The forest path suddenly opened up into a wide-open space, where a gray-black city wall about thirty feet high stood in front of us. The wall was sturdy and thick, and it remained solid despite the wind and rain.

The archway was high and wide enough for oxcarts laden with logs to pass easily. Above the archway was a smooth wooden plaque inscribed with three large characters—

Tiewen Town.

Don't misunderstand, iron-veined oak doesn't refer to cast iron, but rather to iron-veined oak, a specialty of border forests.

This type of wood is as tough as iron, and its grain resembles iron patterns, hence its name.

Ironwood is produced in large quantities and is inexpensive, making it an excellent material for making shields and armor, and is highly favored by adventurers at the bottom of society.

With the development of the logging industry, this place gradually became a town integrating timber felling, raw material processing, shield making and transportation.

Monsters frequently appear in the border forest. To protect caravans and logging teams, the Adventurers' Guild established a branch here, attracting a large number of adventurers and making the town increasingly lively.

Wilde helped Cyrion to the town gate.

The guards at the gate wore sturdy chainmail, with sharp longswords at their waists. They smelled of sawdust and pine resin and calmly observed the passersby and caravans.

Wilder had expected to be questioned and was trying to figure out how to introduce himself, but to his surprise, the guards didn't even glance at them.

They were used to seeing people like them, disheveled and injured, clearly low-level adventurers who had just returned from a mission in the border forest.

"Hooray! I'm finally back!"

Gru's shout was like the opening announcement of a movie, and the scene before Wilder's eyes instantly changed.

The soft, languid sound of the lute drifted gently from the tavern window.

Several adventurers in tattered leather armor were embracing a bard playing the violin, singing a ballad at the top of their lungs:

"The craters on the shield, that's yesterday's story."

The ears on the belt can be exchanged for a few copper coins tomorrow morning;

Fill it up, fill the wine glass to the brim;

Don't ask about tomorrow;

Break tomorrow's bones tomorrow;

"Tonight I'll fall asleep in a girl's arms, and even if I die tomorrow, I'll have no regrets!"

……

Across from the tavern was a shield workshop, where a shirtless craftsman was sitting at the door polishing a half-finished round shield.

He would glance at the bar across the street every now and then, thinking about finishing work early and going to have a glass of authentic rye beer.

"Make way! Make way!"

The sound of wheel hubs came from the other end of the street, as two sturdy packhorses pulled a flatbed cart loaded with timber, ready to leave the city to deliver goods.

A street vendor in a tattered robe cursed the carriage as he pulled his dirty rags inside, revealing various colored, unidentified liquids on them.

The air was filled with the smells of sawdust, rust, horse manure, and the aroma of ale and stew wafting from the tavern.

Wilder felt as if he had been transported to another world.

If the battle in the border forest just now had a touch of the unreal world of Western fantasy games...

At this moment, he finally realized that he was in a completely different world.

How so?

It seems pretty good.

After walking along the bustling main street for another ten minutes, Wilde spotted the Adventurers' Guild sign.

The three-story wooden and stone structure house is not much different from other buildings on the street, except that the plaque above the gate is obviously carved much more exquisitely.

A one-handed sword and a staff are intertwined.

Can monks hold up half the sky?

As Wilde was lost in thought, Cyrion had already pushed open the door.

The cramped space was packed with all sorts of people, and the noise was incessant.

In the very center of the hall was a huge wooden bulletin board, almost from floor to ceiling, densely covered with parchment task sheets.

The adventurers huddled together, craning their necks to stare at the board, pointing and gesturing, occasionally exchanging a few words of argument.

Directly opposite the bulletin board was a long counter, its surface polished to a shine, piled with parchment scrolls, quill pens, and several thick registers.

Cyrion skillfully found a window.

Behind the counter sat a woman in her thirties, with her reddish-brown hair piled up on her back, a slightly round face, and a silver badge pinned to her chest with the same design as the one on the door.

"Yo, Cyrion." The woman looked up, glanced at Cyrion's injured legs, and said in a casual tone, as if discussing the weather, "Wounded again?"

"Martha, it's been a long time."

The rugged Cyrion appeared quite gentlemanly, slowly releasing his grip from Wilder's shoulder and using the table for support to steady himself. "Here to turn in a quest: clear out the kobolds, and while you're at it, take care of a bunch of winged ones."

"A winged kobold?" Martha glanced at him suspiciously.

"Hmm, a brilliant victory." Cyrion placed the bag full of spoils on the counter.

Wilder glanced at him sideways.

no……

Why does the captain seem to be showing off in a coy way?

Martha calmly took the bag and began to count it.

"Thirty-five kobolds, six winged kobolds, totaling one hundred and fifty-three silver coins." She wrote down on the paper, "The scales and wings need to be appraised. Wait a moment."

After saying that, she got up and went behind the counter.

At that moment, Lyle helped Gru walk over.

"How was it? Did Cyrion blush this time? Huh?" Gru asked with a chuckle.

"Bullshit! I was injured, that's why my face looks like that!" Cyrion immediately returned to normal, subconsciously touching his rough and hot face.

Lyle offered a timely comment: "Injury and blood loss usually turn the face pale, not red."

"Hahahaha!" For the first time, Gru felt a sense of familiarity with half-elf blood.

Wilder immediately understood what was going on and smiled like a spectator.

That's more like it!

Blood, alcohol, and women—that's what makes an adventure.

Martha returned to the counter, holding a piece of parchment in her hand.

"Twenty-five scales, fifty silver coins; the wings are severely damaged, so I can only offer one hundred silver coins. Other small items will be one hundred silver coins each. Is that acceptable?"

"Okay, no problem." Cyrion didn't haggle.

Martha did some calculations on the paper, then took money from the drawer, and finally pushed the last heavy cloth bag out of the counter.

"A total of four gold and three silver coins, for your convenience. They've all been converted into silver coins. Please check them."

"Thank you." Cyrion picked up the purse without checking it. "See you next time, Martha."

"Hmm," Martha paused, "Next time, be more realistic about your abilities when going on a mission. You can't always be so lucky and only get a scratch."

Cyrion nodded, a tenderness that seemed completely out of character for his appearance appearing in his eyes.

Just as the group was about to leave the counter, Wilder suddenly remembered something.

"Wait a minute," he said to Martha.

He reached into his pocket, took out the scales, and was about to make his move when Cyrion quietly pushed them back under the counter.

"Is there anything else?" Martha asked Wilder curiously.

"Well……"

Wilder paused for a moment.

Does this mean it's not advisable to take action yourself?

Ok.

But what should I say now?

"Cyrion is going to treat us to drinks in a couple of days."

Seeing Cyrion stealing glances at Martha every now and then, Vildo finally managed to squeeze out a sentence:

"Do you... want to come along?"