TALES OF A WITCHER - Season 9 Episode 32

As the whistle blew in a low-pitched tone, Roland staggered to a stop at the dock. Lorgar noticed the passerby dock all came to a halt and raised their right hands, saluting the towering ship when she stepped onto the trestle. It was probably because the ship was named after the chief.

The soldiers from the First Army on the ship responded to the public with a salute in the same manner.

Lorgar gathered that should be a special form of greeting.

However, unlike any of the greetings she had witnessed, where there was usually a party more superior than the other, the greeting here did not stress such a status difference. The equality between initiators and receivers confused Lorgar. She did not understand why they had to greet each other with such a ceremonious air when they were equal. In her opinion, the whole point of formalities was to pay respects and submit to the receiver, no matter it was kneeling and worshipping, or placing a fist over one’s heart.

Apart from that, she also noticed that even the children playing around the dock saluted in the same way, chest out and shoulders back. During the process, nobody looked reluctant or inferior. Instead, their eyes were all full of joy and energies. The salutation seemed to have built a connection between each other that words had failed.

Ashes broke the silence. “This is a military salutation. I didn’t know why they did that at the beginning and thought it was an etiquette imposed by Roland Wimbledon to his subjects. Later I found it wasn’t what I thought.”

Lorgar raised her brow in surprise. “Does it have nothing to do with the Roland?”

“Correct. They’ll salute voluntarily every time a boat carrying the First Army docks, because the return of the boat means their family members have come back home safe and sound from their expedition.”

“But they don’t look like… families,” Princess Lorgar remarked hesitatively. If they were, the greetings should be more emotional. Plus, practically all the soldiers on board were male, but there were few females at the dock. Could every one of them happen to have a brother?

Andrea shrugged. “All the members of the First Army are from Neverwinter, which means most residents have a family member who has joined the army. There’s also a lot of them from neighboring streets. The First Army is totally different from mercenaries who drift around looking for potential employers, nor do they work the same way as an enlisted militia. They take pride in their jobs. They celebrate the safe return of family members for each other. I believe this is probably what His Majesty refers to as the significance of a ‘people’s army'”.

“So it’s an army… built by all subjects?” Lorgar questioned herself in silence.

The wolf girl followed the witches into Neverwinter, still lost in thoughts.

What the new king’s city of Graycastle first impressed her was its tidiness. Despite streaming pedestrians, both houses and streets in the city were aligned in straight rows, including roadside trees. The compact arrangement gave Lorgar a suffocating feeling. Although the city looked quite magnificent at the first glance, she did not feel as comfortable as in Iron Sand City.

Moreover, to her great disappointment, there was little snow in Neverwinter. Even the solid-surfaced road underneath was dry. She could only spy some remnant of snow at the tips of tree branches and on the roofs.

Her plan to visit a pure white snow city was frustrated.

Of course, there was still something appealing to her.

Lorgar was overwhelmed by the huge boards that overhung some of the houses on the street, on which various signs and logos were printed, such as Old Hunter Leather, Straw House, North Slope Gem House, etc., although some of the boards were blank.

In addition, she was surprised to find that there was a sign at every intersection, clearly showing where each branch head, as well as the name of each street.

For example, the street she was currently pounding was called Glow Boulevard.

The wolf girl soon found these signs very helpful to newcomers of Neverwinter. These street signs provided her with a basic structure of the city and told her where to shop and where to find a hotel, saving her trouble to seek local gangs or Rats for information.

During her conversations with tradesmen traveling between the Southernmost Region and the north, she had learned numerous entrepreneurial stories that stressed the arduous and laborious undertaking of establishing oneself in a foreign city. To expose your foreigner identity would immediately put you in a defenseless and disadvantageous position.

But the street signs, although trivial, greatly eased visitors’ minds. She even felt a sense of embracement at the sight of these signs, as if the city were welcoming her.

Probably that was the reason the city appeared so vigorous and prosperous everywhere.

Lorgar, however, did not have much time appreciating this foreign city.

Because Ashes soon took her to the Lord’s castle. After she waited in the hall for a while, a guard brought her a message from the King of Graycastle. “Please follow me. His Majesty has agreed to receive you.”

For some reason, Lorgar suddenly felt a little nervous.

She took a deep breath in secret and followed the guard to the third floor, after which she found herself in a bright, spacious study.

Behind the mahogany desk close to the French window sat a ridiculously young man. He was wearing a plain robe, bare-headed, whose gray hair cascaded over his shoulders, with no rings or diamonds on any of his fingers. He was fondling a quill and studying her with great interest.

This is the chief who utterly routed her clan and turned the whole Southernmost Region upside down?

For a moment, Lorgar could not connect him with the person she had previously pictured.

She thought a knowledgeable man who possessed a profound understanding of martial arts should be at least 40 years old. His forehead should be wrinkled, his beard braids should reach his chest, and he should have fathomless eyes of an old man. Even if northerners did not like the idea of braiding their beards, he should not be this young!

At this very moment, Lorgar realized that she had inquired about everything including powerful warriors in Neverwinter, but had forgotten to ask about what the chief looked like, one of the most important businesses.

After a moment of hesitation, Princess Lorgar decided to salute in accordance with Mojins’ customs.

Shaking her ears, Lorgar went to knees and slowly lay down on her stomach. She had heard that gray hair was a typical facial trait of a Graycastle royal descendent.

“You’re the Divine Lady from Wildflame clan, right?” The king did not let her lie there for a long time. As soon as her forehead touched the floor, he broke the silence. “Please rise, sagacious wolf. Welcome to Neverwinter. I’m Roland Wimbledon, the King of Graycastle and also your chief.”

Lorgar slightly frowned at the word “sagacious wolf”. The addressing was simply queer. She had never heard people call a wolf sagacious before.

Yet she quickly got to her feet in an airy manner as if she had never heard Roland’s words. “My name is Lorgar Burnflame. As to the title Divine Lady… I believe it was more appropriate to regard me as a witch here. Further, my father Guelz Burnflame sends his best regards on behalf of Wildflame clan, in hopes that your sovereign will be as long-lasting as the oasis.”

This time, however, she did not hear a response at once.

Wondering, the wolf girl secretly raised her head, only to find that Roland’s eyes were fixed on her long, droopy ears.