Chapter 68 - Druid? (1/2)

Chapter 68: Druid?

Translator: Atlas Studios Editor: Atlas Studios

Returning after leaving for a few days, Amber, as expected, found that the scale of this camp was now bigger than before. There were now many houses constructed from wooden planks between the tents, and some drying yards, work sheds, and warehouses distributed around various areas of the camp. A new sawmill had been built by the White River, close to the simple temporary pier. Firm roads connected the camp to the various facilities along its perimeter; this place had taken on the form of a permanent residence, beginning the transformation from camp to territory.

The labor system that fellow had come up with turned out to be very effective.

That muddle-headed little maidservant had dashed off to inform her master. Meanwhile, Amber was in an idle daze in Gawain’s big tent, and beside her stood an old man dressed in dirty gray robes and a beret overflowing with messy hair and beard.

This old man, who looked as if he’d been dug out from the slums, was the ‘professional’ that Amber had found. At present, he was standing in the middle of the tent, carefully keeping a distance from all the items around. However, his eyes wandered, just like an unscrupulous merchant in a lord’s castle. Whereas Amber looked around at this tent that had stood up for a good half month and muttered, “Even the masons and carpenters have started living in wooden houses, yet he’s still in a tent. I really don’t know what he’s thinking…”

“Aye, aye,” the little old man beside her suddenly spoke then. “Was what you said true? Is he really the Gawain Cecil from seven hundred years ago? The one who the south has been abuzz with talk of?”

“Of course, it’s true.” Amber rolled her eyes at the little old man. “Could it be false when I was the one to personally dig him out? Let me tell you, the Cecil Clan may be this poor now, but their Ancestor is really impressive. His entire being is a portable treasure house…”

The little old man touched his matted beard. “As long as it’s true. Let me tell you, little girl. In the profession of antique appraisal, my capabilities are…”

Amber was stunned after listening to just half of what he had to say. “Eh? Wait a minute! Aren’t you a druid?!”

The old man immediately froze in the action of twiddling his beard. He looked at Amber with his mouth agape. “I—”

He’d just said the word “I” when the tent’s thick portiere was lifted. Bright light cast in then was immediately blocked by Gawain’s almost two-meter tall sturdy build. The little old man and Amber were startled at the same time.

Meanwhile, Gawain had noticed the stranger the moment he stepped in. He was dressed in a dirty robe that was an odd garb in between a tunic and a long robe, where almost all of the edges were frizzy. He also wore a beret of an irksome gray; there were even a number of holes on it. His hair and beard were matted; God knows how long he hadn’t washed them for. His person was old and shriveled, but his eyes were bright…

That’s right. —Insert ‘The True Style Of A Hermit.jpg’.

Gawain silently formed a judgment: this little old man almost perfectly fit his image of a druid living a sequestered life in the forests, with tons of ancient knowledge in grasp. Though if he’d seen him on another occasion, he would have taken him for a beggar in the slums. But Amber had said she was leaving to look for a druid, so what was before him must be a druid’s style.

A certain disgrace to the elves had really brought a druid back (or at the very least, he looked very similar to one). It seemed he had slightly misjudged Amber previously.

After apologizing to Amber internally, Gawain greeted the little old man on wide steps, “Welcome, in the name of the Cecil Clan. This land has been waiting for a true learned man for a very long time. I’m Gawain Cecil. You should have heard of my name.”

The little old man sobered from his temporary daze. An especially bright smile presently appeared on his face; the smile was so radiant that he became totally unlike a hermit. “Ah, your name is known to all on the continent. I am very pleased to be able to serve you and your territory.”

The old man continued, “May I know where the antiques to be appraised are—”

Gawain spoke simultaneously, “The arrival of a druid would definitely bring to this land—”

“Antique?” “Druid?”

The two people questioned each other in sync, with puzzled faces.

“Did I hear wrongly?” Gawain said, bewildered. “You mentioned antique appraisal? What I sent Amber to find was a druid…”

“Druid? Not an antique appraiser?!” The little old man was shocked as well. “I thought I was here to appraise antiques!”

The corners of Gawain’s mouth instantly twitched as his gaze involuntarily flickered to the half-elf girl at the side who was desperately trying to shrink her head into her abdomen. “How did this ‘Miss Half-Elf’ put it across to you?”

The little old man casually replied, “She said that she had dug up an old antique with seven hundred years of history. I rushed over without asking for the details…”

Gawain grabbed Amber’s pointed ears once he reached out; the latter immediately cried out, then instantly wormed out of Gawain’s hand, and disappeared into the ubiquitous shadows.

However, someone reacted even more quickly. Before this bandit could completely enter the shadow realm, Gawain shifted his steps and blocked Amber’s escape route, at the same time activating his knight protective aura. As the shapeless ring of light spread, Amber deliriously left her shadow state in an instant and crashed onto Gawain’s chest. She howled in pain then and there.

The camp’s defenses were inadequate; in order to respond to emergencies at any time, Gawain’s armor never left his body.