"City girl, don't shovel like that! It's just going to throw out your back! Use your legs!"

  "Farmer boy, you can't leave the snow there, it'll block a door! Bring it here, there's a gutter to dump it down!"

  "You know, I'll admit, I was pretty skeptical of your plan at first," Gunther mentioned with a rub of the chin. "But it really worked out, huh. I'm really eating my words there."

  Mordred beamed, or at least she tried to beneath the thick scarf she layered onto herself. This winter had certainly the most active she'd ever been by her reckoning, including her past as a dragon. But hibernation was just far too boring as a human, and this had been just too interesting to miss out on.

  The mercenary and the adventurer were watching the once antagonistic groups of youths working together, not a single look of open disdain or disgust between them. They did still call each other names, but now it was taken more as an eye-roll with the job coming first. Neither of them wanted to miss out on that precious training offered by Gunther and Mordred, so much so that working together to get the job done the fastest and best way was prioritized over whatever former grievances they had.

  It had admittedly been rough the first few days, but the two adults had been more than happy to withhold their lessons if a team did a sloppy and unacceptable job cleaning their street. Though they had also turned that into a lesson for everybody, having all teams converge to watch how to properly clean a street up to their standards. Combined with Mordred's boisterous nature of playing something Kuch called a 'drill sergeant,' the kids eventually found their footing and the streets had never been cleaner.

  More importantly, the endeavor had also gone down well with both refugee and cityfolk alike. The sight of their children overcoming their squabbling to work together seemed to have inspire their elders to also do the same. Construction on the public works smoothly accelerated with the troublemakers out the picture and clashes between residents and outsiders drastically plummeted. It wasn't exactly completely wiped out, but more now at a regular and manageable level for the city guard to handle without escalating into open fighting.

  "It's not to say that your idea wasn't bad, but it isn't the sort of place I think we should be shaping," Mordred told with a sneeze. "I don't want a city where upstart kids learn the harsh realities of life. It should instead be an opportunity for them to reform and become something better."

  "Shaping the next generation to become adventurers, perhaps?" Gunther joked lightly with a faint smile. "Better than the sort of upbringing I had then. I only wished that people like you and Kuch were around then earlier. Maybe a lot of troublesome youths wouldn't have formed their own mercenary bands and perished in pointless fights then.'

  She could tell he was speaking from experience, likely having borne witness to such things. Mordred glanced over to the shoveling kids and tried to imagine such a future for them, marching off into battle to kill each other for coin. After spending time getting to know a few of them at least, the thought made her stomach curl up. No, she decided, she didn't like mercenaries who lived that way.

  But what about adventurers then? Were they really any better? Her own lance had been bloodied by slaughter too, and her entire reason for becoming one even was for revenge. Did she have any right to criticize one's career path then if the distinction was so thin in-between?

  Mordred was dragged out of her thoughts when the sound of horses and carts filled the streets. Ah, that was the merchant caravan the guards had mention was coming through. It was an actually impressive display, made all the more pompous by the presence of legionary soldiers marching alongside in an escort pattern. The sight drew people's attentions, with doors and windows opening in spite of the cold to watch the procession pass by.

  Of course the snow shovelers knew better than to get in the way and made sure to stand to the sides, watching with slight pride as the caravan passed through the clear streets. But then, while the wagons were passing by a street intersection near where Mordred and Gunther stood, a stray dog nearby suddenly decided to aggressively bark at the horse closest to it. The beast of burden was immediately spooked and began to frantically turn about, ignoring the driver's attempts to rein it back in. Its hooves lashed out and the closest legionaries were barely able to get their shields up in time before they impacted, sending the stunned soldiers stumbling back with imprints on their gear.

  The horse was still wildly panicking though and the driver was forced to let go when it continued to thrash about, snapping the harness. The way forward was block by the next wagon up, meaning that there were only the sides now for it to instinctively flee to- and care not for whatever panicking bystanders were in the way. Most immediately threw themselves out of danger already, but a few of the youths had frozen in place from shock and fear. Even when the horse barreled straight towards them they stood there rooted in place, about to be run over.

  Then Mordred interposed herself between the horse and herself, having used [Serpent Step] to instantly cross that distance in a moment. She took the blow head-on and grunted, the brunt of the impact being absorbed by her mother's scales with just some minor bruising beneath. Her arms shot up and wrapped around the steed's neck, pulling with all her strength. "Down you go!" she gasped when the horse was brought to fall on its side on the street.

  It naturally continued to panic, only to for its eyes to dilate and become very still at the ferocious glare the adventurer was going it. "Stop that. Behave," she hissed and one could almost make out the a very jerky nod of assent. She held it in place for a while longer, glancing to see Gunther approaching the barking dog and calmly soothe it with aggressive, yet reassuring petting. It calmed down soon enough too and with the source of trouble finally removed, the horse seemed to finally regain its cool too though it stayed pinned under Mordred until its owner rushed by.

  "By the Divines, I'm sorry for the trouble! He's got a warhorse sire, great for blitzing through bandit holdups, but too skittish to be a proper battle mount," the merchant profusely apologized. That explained why the equine had been strong enough to make Mordred struggle for a moment. "Is anybody hurt? No? What a relief!"

  "Sorry for being a little rough with him," she mentioned and gently released her hold on the horse. It shakily got back up and trotted over to its master, who reassured it with a pat on the snout. "But I had to step in and stop the rampage as soon as I could."

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  "He's sturdy, he can handle a bit of roughhousing. Doesn't look like you did anything worse than a small tumble. Ah, I suppose I should pay a mercenary like you for your service…"

  "Don't worry a single bit," Mordred told when they began to fumble for their coin bag. "I'm an adventurer. Helping out is just what I do."

  Gunther, watching nearby, held back a small chuckle from the way she introduced herself. He definitely noticed the way the youth now looked at her with awe and yearning, in that similar way that they had looked upon him with ambition. Looks like maybe they'd found a new role model to aspire towards, a better one he daresay.

  ...Was it too late for him to swap careers at his age? He supposed he could always ask the two later if that was a possibility.

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  "What's the matter?" Alderash asked, looking actually concerned given how the merchant caravan behind had been halted. "Some sort of fight in the streets?"

  "No, it was just a spooked horse," Gionre summarized after receiving the report from his subordinates. "Almost ran wild and injured the crowd if an...adventurer hadn't stepped in to stop it."

  "Adventurer? Don't you mean mercenary?"

  "No, that's how she apparently labeled herself. Refused to be paid too, saying she just wanted to help out," commented the legion commander with a raised eyebrow. "Odd. But I suppose that there's all types of people in the world."

  "Indeed. How peculiar," the elf merchant considered with a frown. Then he shrugged. "But well, I suppose that we'll take aid freely given. Perhaps we could repay the favor one day though by giving her a discount on our wares."

  "You're the one from the merchant republics, you know your business," Gionre grumbled and issued a command once receiving confirmation that everything was fine now. The caravan picked its pace back up, heading towards the castle at the center of Gabion. It was only appropriate first to make themselves known to the ruling house and announce their intentions before opening shop. On the way, the orc general studied the streets of the city, noticing both the damage and ongoing reconstruction efforts. "Hmph. They seem to be recovering well."

  "Indeed. I would have thought the place to more devastated by our arrival, but whoever is is in charge seems have a good head on them about getting back to business," praised the elf merchant. He returned a wave that some construction workers made his way while passing by. "That's good. I like smart customers."

  "Really? Thought you would like ones who can't count, would be easier to shortchange them."

  "Gods, no. I'd disappoint all my instructors if I were so dishonest in my dealings. Everything might have a price, but always at a fair rate."

  They approached the castle soon enough and entered through the gates. Gionre craned his head slightly to see the impassive guards on the wall watching closely, but respectfully. It was looking like what he'd heard about the professionalism of House Cordis was right; they took their duties quite seriously. Which meant that he probably should temper his southern expectations- this far west from the capital was probably not going to have many creature comforts. It was hardly something so distasteful after having gotten used to campaigning, but still, he supposed he was nostalgic for the taste of the opulent courts-

  He started on the horse he rode on upon catching sight of what could only be the Duke of Gabion, alongside his family. So too did Alderash on his wagon, unabashedly staring at the attires they had come out to greet them with. "My goodness," he said in a low tone, sounding actually nervous as he swallowed. "That is quite a striking- and rich- robe."

  The commander of the Third Legion wouldn't have described it as robes, in his personal opinion. Those ordinarily were far more loose and flowing, in that ornate and extravagant way that had been the definition of imperial court fashion for decades. Of course there had been novel takes like the usage of garish color or excessive lace to try and spice things up, but those had similarly also conformed to at least the general design of 'more is better.'

  What the nobles of Gabion wore had a far different appearance guideline in comparison, one that was surely alien to the norm of the imperial capital. The two men, the duke and his heir likely, wore something that instead looked quite sharp and striking, consisting of an outer black coat layer that contrasted with the rich red shirt beneath. The coat itself was another curious oddity, with how it sharply cut into what could almost described to be fangs at the back, likely to not overwhelm too much with the crimson cloak they wore too.

  There was no other way of putting it: the formal attire looked remarkably refined. Gionre almost wanted to inquire on where they had acquire such memorable attires for his own wardrobe. Maybe he should even send some back home for the men in his own family.

  Alderash meanwhile was glued to the appearance of the two women. The dresses they wore weren't the ordinarily puffy and ostentatious ones used by ladies of the court, nor the drab and subdued tones for those learned individuals. Instead, they were of a surprisingly sophisticated cut of deep scarlet, drawing the eyes to the figure instead of burying it as was the imperial fashion. Whatever skin they showed was covered up a thin sheer, almost as if protecting it from the sun. Ah, that was right- House Cordis were vampires, weren't they? Hence why they stood in the shade.

  With a start, the merchant realized then that the shadows of the building actually help accentuate the surprising fashion on display. The darkness cast over the four seemed to actually only bring the accented colors of their dress out further, almost glowing so. It was like it was made to be best worn in the dark while still retaining their quality if brought to light.

  "Honored guests," began the older vampire among them, speaking up when the caravan had come to a halt in the bailey. "You have traveled long and far. Be welcomed to the Duchy of Gabion, and partake in my family's hospitality."

  "A-ah, yes," the merchant stuttered first, getting off his wagon and bowing low to the noble. "It would be an honor!"

  The orc had a more measured recovery, dismounting and pulling out a bottle of wine from the saddle bags. The duke reciprocated when a servant brought forth a bottle too and the imperial hospitality rites were performed. Good, so they were still in the empire, for sure.

  But really- was this truly the western frontier province that had been besieged by monsters? They would have to find out.

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