The veteran driver for Frick is 62 years old this year, making him one of the oldest members of the local dealership. Pen | fun | pavilion www. ｂｉｑｕｇｅ。 As a native of the Northland, he has been watching the Gate of the North since he was a child, and has watched the town grow from the size of the year to the city it is now.

Listening to the sound of the wheels of the carriage running over the stone streets, Flick was also trying to get all sorts of information about the Gate of the End of the North from the old coachman's mouth. Along the way, although the topic often turned to an inexplicable direction for some reason, the two barely talked about each other.

The old coachman's nostalgic chatter is not known to be true or false, but he can learn a lot of information about the changes in the city's streets. The city has changed more in the last decade or so than in decades, and there are many things that even Frick's father may not have had a chance to see.

"When I was a child, it was just a grassy beach nearby. ”

As they drove through the streets along the riverbank, the old coachman said slowly: "We had nothing to do but help the family with the farm work, and when we were not working, we would catch a few fish in the river and make tooth sacrifices - no one could have imagined that this would be the case in a few decades." ”

It may not have been a good time, and the people who lived here had to worry about how to fill their stomachs every day, and the city was not called that name, and the word "Zhongbei" also referred to the castles and high walls beyond the streets, and the white land further north that no one wanted to set foot on.

But when he said this, the element called "nostalgia" in the old coachman's eyes became more profound, which may have some special meaning for him. His gaze swept over the surrounding streets, as if he could see through the gray buildings that occupied the ends of the streets.

"I, I said, you merchants, how can you do business!"

Just as the old coachman was nostalgic for his past life, a shout that pierced people's eardrums suddenly came from not far away. Startled by the shouting, Frick and the old coachman subconsciously followed the sound and finally found people in front of the street like a wall.

It was a grocery store open on the street, and you could see the goods scattered on the shelves in the distance. Frick stuck his head out of the carriage and could see a wrought iron sign reading "Lind and Wally's Department Store" hanging on the gray wall above the human wall.

Most of its goods are ropes, bandages, or rudimentary potions, and is apparently one of the city's many shops for adventurers. Strange to say, although the store occupies a good position on the street, both the signs and the display shelves look dirty, and the goods are not attractive, and it is hard to imagine that such a large number of adventurers can gather in front of its door.

It's just that they obviously didn't come to buy anything - judging by the shouts of the leader, it looked a bit like they had come to the shopkeeper to ask for an explanation. Seeing that they all looked menacing, if it weren't for the patrol police nearby to control the situation, I'm afraid they would have already done it.

It's hard to know what's going on from just a few words, and Flick has no interest in meddling in something that doesn't concern him. He and the old coachman reached a silent tacit understanding in just a few breaths, and chose to leave this place of right and wrong as soon as possible.

"Ahem...... It's a self-interested guy again. ”

After walking a long distance, the old coachman slowly spoke: "Over the years, there have been more and more adventurers who want to go to the end of the north, and to be honest, I don't see any honor in these guys, they are like flies that smell blood and gather on the corpses......"

Looking back at the adventurers who were still yelling at the edge of the shop, his face suddenly clouded as if he were looking at something dirty. He stretched out his free hand in the direction of the adventurers, first making his five fingers stick out like forks, and then gently drawing a wonderful pattern.

It was one of the gestures used by the people of the Northland to ward off evil spirits, and Frick could tell that the old coachman clearly disliked the adventurers who had come here from a foreign land. These rabbles clearly disrupt order in the city, but with the character of an old coachman, it is difficult to utter an offensive swear.

After all, if it weren't for the influence of the adventurers who came and went here, this place would not have been able to develop to the current level by relying only on the occasional export of some special products from the side of the Gate of the End of the North. The vast majority of the contributions to the development of the Gate of the North have come from adventurers.

As the number of "treasures" brought back to the core of the empire from the unexplored lands of the end of the north has increased year by year, it is clear that the number of adventurers has become more and more - there is no doubt that it is these adventurers who want to travel to the end of the north to find treasures to prove their worth.

"I don't know for sure, but it's been about the last decade...... The young people who come to this city are too impetuous compared to their predecessors. ”

He pondered for a long time, and finally could only choose to use "impetuous" to describe the adventurers of recent years—this may be a milder adjective that he had racked his brains to come up with. In fact, these adventurers have been far more impetuous lately than they have been in front of a store.

At the cost of a booming business, there were many security problems in the areas around the city. Illegal expedition gangs, smuggling routes, and thieves in cities and highways...... All sorts of problems have plagued city administrators.

Someone once joked that, at least for now, it was only the people who came here who caused chaos in the Gate of the North, and there were no monsters that could not be reached. For the vast majority of its inhabitants, a life of abundance is much more important than other trivial matters.

The Gate of the North Gate of the Old Coachman's youth was not a place that would interest too many people, and even the people who lived here admitted it. Riverbanks overgrown with weeds, mostly abandoned fields, and walls that have been unmaintained all year round...... These are the most intuitive portrayals of this town back then.

Although it was once a "town", it was probably not as developed as some of the well-run villages in the central plains of the empire. Although they are not so poor that they can hardly make ends meet even if they get up early and work late at night, the people who live here still live a thrifty and hard-working life.

Today, however, the once grassy riverbank has become a thriving street, and there is no shortage of manpower in the farms outside the city. To put it bluntly, the lives of the inhabitants are far better than they were before the adventurers visited, and all of this can be seen with the naked eye.

These reasons may have largely influenced the decision-making of the town hall, and those who manage affairs have turned a blind eye to the trouble caused by outsiders as much as possible. After all, no matter how much chaos goes wrong, it's an indisputable fact that this new city is gradually prospering.

The old coachman then laughed twice, then slowed down a little and said, "It seems a little inappropriate for a man like me to say this...... But more than a decade ago, when there were only a handful of adventurers who went to the end of the north, the ones I saw were the ones who really qualified to call themselves 'adventurers'...... I remember one of the young men, well, it seems to be called Sierra Leone or something......"

His eyes wandered a little as he spoke of these things, as if he was trying to search for fragments from his memories - no wonder, it was probably more than ten years ago, and even those with very good memories would have spent a lot of time recalling.

Apparently he didn't notice that when he mentioned the surname "Sierra Leone", the eyes of the guests sitting in the back seat suddenly lit up. It may have been a name that came to him by chance, but in Frick's case, it had a special meaning.

It was really nowhere to find the iron shoes, and it took no effort to get it, but the old coachman's careless words made Frick's nerves collapse. He had thought that he would have to spend a lot of time in the city looking for clues about his father, but he didn't expect the clues to come to them now.

"Are you talking about Sierra Leone......

So he suppressed his feelings, and said calmly, "Can you please tell me more about him?" I think I probably know who the adventurer you are talking about - I'm afraid it's not just me, and there are probably not many adventurers on this street who don't know him. ”

As he spoke, he folded his hands over his chest, pretending to be interested in what the old coachman had to say, and invited him to continue the conversation. However, contrary to his steady tone, his eyes already revealed a glint of excitement, almost revealing his mood.

The carriage had moved away from the area where the adventurers had been disturbing, and the sides of the slightly narrow streets had suddenly become much more deserted, and even pedestrians were rare. At the beginning of the day, the sun on the horizon had gathered its last rays of light, and at the moment when night had just fallen, the street was a little too quiet.

"Ahem, if you say so, Mr. Scrivener, then it seems that I am not wrong about the old man, and that young man—no, not young now—is indeed not a small man!" As if to dispel the uneasiness that accompanied the strange silence, the old coachman deliberately cleared his throat before saying, "No wonder, I remember that he was a great weight among his companions. ”

As he spoke, the carriage, under the control of the old coachman, had already stepped onto the bridge across the White River, leaving the new city and heading towards the old town. It was still a few blocks away from the library of the North Gate, where Flick was going now, enough for him to get a lot of information out of the old coachman's mouth.

So he smiled softly and listened silently to what the other party had to say.