Bear School Astartes

Early the next morning, Lann was fully dressed and rode out of Airetusa's gates on Bopai, who was equally ready.

A well-armed, sturdy warrior emerged from the academy of the Female Warlocks, attracting meaningful glances from many residents of Gos Velen as Lann crossed the stone bridge over the sea.

The look as if to say, 'Look, those Female Warlocks finally let that poor guy out.'

Bopai's steps were light and leisurely, as it had been far too idle as a warhorse recently.

"You can only prance like this for now."

Lann adjusted his body's center of gravity in rhythm with the horse's steps, while lightly patting Bopai's neck.

"Once my new sword arrives... tsk tsk tsk, how will your little frame bear it?"

Lann currently weighed at least thirty kilograms more than before.

As a high-headed horse, Bopai could still manage, but once equipped with Belengar's gear... even a warhorse of Codwin's lineage might find its long-distance mobility severely hindered with the additional weight.

Margaret had proposed opening a portal for him and Bopai, and her alumni in Brugge could assist them.

But Lann declined the offer.

In his own words: "That thing muddles the mind."

"I hate being unable to control my body. Unless necessary, I prefer riding a horse."

Warlocks seem to have their sense of balance altered by chaotic energy, so they wouldn't have much of a reaction when passing through portals.

But perhaps they had just grown accustomed to it.

After all, compared to a mobility that vastly surpasses the era, dizziness is a trivial price.

Lann planned to head south from Gos Velen, along the border of Brook Leon Forest, passing through the kingdoms of Hidaris and Videns to reach Brugge.

The reason the North was referred to as the 'Northern Countries' was indeed because this land was too fragmented by its many nations.

-----------------

Lann rode Bopai on a dirt path outside the forest.

The winter morning sky was in cold colors, and clouds of white mist billowed from the nostrils of both man and horse with every breath.

The mist from Lann's nose was slightly thicker than Bopai's, as his body temperature was higher than that of the warhorse.

In the forest, the overnight moisture from the leaves had condensed with the temperature drop, turning into frost.

The ethereal mist enveloped everything, blending into the breath of man and horse.

Under the shadow of his hood, Lann's slightly glowing eyes remained steady, but he had already heard the sound of bodies slipping through the leaves in the forest beside him.

The morning was very quiet, making the Demon Hunter's hearing exceptionally keen.

It was a Dryad, an intelligent race that had inhabited Brook Leon Forest since the Ancient Era.

If Lann were to describe them, he felt these creatures were like nymphs living in the forest, using leaves, bark, and animal materials.

All of them were female, graceful yet agile, with grass-green skin...

"Thud thud...thud"

Bopai's dispirited hoofbeats came to a halt.

Lann patted its neck, "Hey, you had a good night's sleep! Don't get lazy... hmm?"

It wasn't that Bopai was unfit for long journeys after a leisurely life, but because there was a human corpse laid out right in the middle of the dirt path before its hooves.

The winter's cold had suppressed the spread of scent, causing Lann to completely miss it while distracted earlier.

The Demon Hunter sat in silence on his mount.

The warm life that had long surrounded him in the dean's room at Airetusa nearly made him forget what kind of world this was.

But now, a long journey in search of someone brought his sky-high thoughts back to earth, returning them to reality.

This was a magical Middle Ages where ordinary people could die at any moment.

Lann shook his head silently, dismounting to approach the corpse.

It was a middle-aged man with a scruffy beard, his body dirty and covered with grass, and a frozen look of terror on his stiff face.

"A clean, swift arrow."

Lann muttered to himself.

The straight arrow had pierced through the eye socket, into the cranial cavity, leaving the deceased to die without realizing it, let alone feel pain.

The fletching was bright feathers of a pheasant, glued together with tree resin.

"Whoosh" went the arrow as it cut through the air. Then "thump," the arrowhead embedded itself six steps away from Lann, on a piece of rotten wood lying on the ground.

Lann calmly looked over, seeing another arrow had already been planted on that piece of rotten wood.

It was a warning.

A warning for outsiders not to enter Brokilon.

The forest was not welcoming to humans: royal messengers, woodcutters, farmers... none were welcome.

This deceased fellow either did not heed the warning, or was too panicked, causing cognitive dissonance, as he threw his lumber axe into the forest, embedding it in a tree trunk.

Then, an arrow found its way into his eye socket.

The Dryads were always accurate.

Lann could see the fleeting figures of Dryads in the forest, drawing their bows and taking aim at him.

He said nothing, simply dragged the corpse of the deceased to the side of the road, away from the forest, tidied it slightly, and continued his ride.

The Demon Hunter's duty was to hunt monsters that harmed humans, or so he had been told in principle and story.

The whole scene resembled brutal, barbaric Dryads harming the hard-working lumberjacks trying to support their families.

Yet Lann bore no killing intent toward the wary Dryads in the forest.

Thanks to the early doctrines instilled in him, Lann had read many history books at Airetusa.

These clearly stated that humans in the North had landed on the Northern Continent in great ships after a Conjunction of the Spheres.

But how did the now-dominant human race view Dryads, these native forest dwellers?

The practice of kings issuing decrees to trade gold coins for Dryad scalps.

This explicit ruling even made Lann think he had traveled back to the American Continent's development period during the United States' landing.

Human kings coveted the wood and minerals of the primal forests, and in the name of 'civilization,' they notified the natives to make way.

The Dryads would never give up their homeland, letting the few survivors drift to human-established 'reserves.'

Thus, they picked up bows and began killing, but the kings would not cut down the trees themselves; the Dryads killed only the peasants who labored for their livelihood.

Then hostility and hatred spread not only at the upper levels but throughout the nation, escalating further.

Retribution began, leading to equal retaliation, leading to excess retribution in return...

No one, not even the most authoritative historians at Ossenford University, could pinpoint who moved first.

The source was long tangled in the vortex of hatred.

Ethnic conflicts are among the most complex and difficult to resolve.

Lann found no straightforward standard of good and evil, as he preferred.

Both sides committed acts unbecoming of intelligent beings, and it appeared they would continue to do so.