Golden sands stretched toward the horizon, gleaming beneath the sun.

The Golden Desert was famous for its lustrous hue. Once, Ambrose had even believed the sand itself was made of gold. Only later did he learn the truth: some powerful mage had permanently altered the way light behaved here using the legendary spell Terraform.

It looked like gold, but it was still just sand. Take it out of the desert, and it was no different from any other grains.

After many years, Ambrose found himself gazing once more upon this dazzling landscape, and could not help muttering, "There really are people in this world with nothing better to do."

Anyone capable of Terraform had to be a legendary-tier mage, and a formidable one at that.

And yet all they had done was give an entire desert a reflective sheen. It was... Ambrose struggled for a moment to find a suitable word.

Beside him, Catherine handed over a pair of specially made tinted goggles and gestured for him to put them on.

They were designed specifically to block the desert's glare. Without them, a short walk under the sun was enough to leave one half-blind.

Ambrose stared at them, puzzled. "Why? I don't even have eyes."

Catherine, however, was visibly excited. "We're pretending to be adventurers, aren't we? What kind of adventurer walks through the desert without goggles? If someone notices, we'll be exposed!"

Watching Catherine enthusiastically lean into her role-playing, Ambrose could only sigh and slip the goggles on, then stride ahead.

According to Catherine's carefully crafted backstory, Ambrose was a newly minted ranger seeking a druid to help with his bonded beast companion. Catherine herself played the part of a female orc warrior he had hired as muscle.

She had even gone so far as to invent detailed family histories for both of them: how long they had been traveling together, the kinds of spells the last hag they fought favored, how many romantic encounters Ambrose had enjoyed on the road. She had filled several pages with painstaking detail.

Ambrose was speechless.

As expected of an elf on her very first adventure. She was far too excited.

For an old hand like Ambrose, adventuring was just a job, and one that he had set aside long ago at that. He had seen the scenery along this road for centuries. It was hard to feel any real excitement anymore.

With very different states of mind, the two trekked across the sea of sand. To maintain a sense of authenticity, they traveled by camel instead of flying. It took more than half an hour before a towering city rose before them.

This was Sweetdew City, the settlement closest to the desert's natural sandstorm barrier and home to the largest oasis in the region.

Its thirty-meter-high walls were formed from a single mass of magically shaped stone, layered with defensive enchantments capable of withstanding even the fiercest sandstorms.

As Ambrose approached the city gate, he was immediately stopped by a lizardman guard. 𝕗𝗿𝕖𝐞𝐰𝗲𝕓𝐧𝕠𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝐨𝚖

The mottled yellow-green lizardman gripped a spear, his body tightly wrapped in a cloak. At the sight of Ambrose, he leveled his spear and blocked the way.

Flicking his tongue, the lizardman hissed in a sharp, thin voice, "Human. State your name, your identity, and your purpose for entering the city."

Ambrose glanced around. People were passing through the gate freely, coming and going. Even Catherine beside him was unimpeded. He alone had been singled out.

"Why am I the only one being checked?" Ambrose asked, puzzled.

The lizardman replied without hesitation, "Because you are human!"

Ambrose rolled his eyes. Of course. They were guarding against people from the Lyon Empire.

"Fine. My name's Barton, nicknamed Hawkeye. I'm a ranger. I came from Alkhemia. As for my purpose? I'm an adventurer. I go where the money is. I heard there's a war here, so I came to try my luck."

He kept it brief. The lizardman guard detected nothing amiss. Ambrose looked no different from the countless adventurers the guard saw every day. His demeanor, movements, and tone all fit that of a seasoned veteran, aside from a face that looked a bit young.

If anything, the tall orc standing nearby looked more suspicious. Her expression was stiff, her eyes darting, her lips pressed tight, as if something were clearly off.

Yet on closer inspection, she somehow gave off an air of harmlessness, of being trustworthy and in need of protection.

The lizardman guard shuddered. Why would he feel protective toward an orc?

He hurriedly averted his gaze and continued, "Human, prove that you are not a spy sent by the Lyon Empire."

Ambrose spread his hands. "Prove it? How? Want me to recite an excerpt from The Lyon Empress and the Goblin?"

The lizardman burst into laughter. "Ha! I've read that bawdy tale too. It's real spicy stuff!"

"Right?" Ambrose leaned in. "Especially the scene behind the bath curtain."

"I prefer the one under the banquet table at the palace... Ahem. Enough. You're definitely not from the Lyon Empire. Go on in."

Ambrose's literary tastes clearly aligned with the guard's, and he was waved through without further trouble.

Once past the gate, Catherine let out a deep sigh. "That scared me to death. I thought we were about to be found out."

Ambrose replied calmly, "What were you afraid of? We just can't reveal our real identities. Even if we did, it wouldn't be a problem. We're not from the Lyon Empire, and we're not wanted criminals in the Golden Desert. The more nervous you get, the easier it is to give yourself away. You might as well relax. At worst, you'd just attract some curious stares from the locals."

In truth, the lizardman guard had noticed Catherine's subtle shifts in expression. It was only Catherine herself who thought she had acted flawlessly.

At Ambrose's words, Catherine flushed.

She had never thought that far ahead. The moment Ambrose was stopped, her heart had nearly leapt out of her chest.

Who would have thought he'd talk his way through it in just a few sentences? Curiosity got the better of her, and she asked, "What was that book you mentioned? I've never heard of it."

Ambrose did not explain. He merely said casually, "I'll lend it to you later."

Catherine nodded. The elves had little contact with the Lyon Empire, but if that book could smooth their way through the desert, it was clearly worth a careful read.

Once inside Sweetdew City, Ambrose wasted no time and led Catherine straight to the largest tavern.

Whether mercenaries or adventurers, the rule across the continent was the same: they gathered in taverns, and commissions were posted there as well.

These taverns, scattered across the land, formed a loose network that was not quite a guild, but might as well have been one.

This particular tavern, the Golden Camelbell was bustling. The spacious hall held more than a hundred patrons, all drinking noisily.

The moment Catherine stepped inside, the clamor and the mingled odors made her frown. The elven queen had never seen such a filthy, chaotic environment in her life. With no experience to draw on, she could only trail closely behind Ambrose.

When she saw him sit down at the bar, she moved to follow, only to realize there was just one empty seat. That seat was already occupied by Ambrose.

Catherine froze, suddenly at a loss. What was she supposed to do? Stand beside him and wait?

Ambrose paid her no mind at all. Some things had to be figured out on one's own. Relying on others for constant guidance was pointless.

If she wanted to stand there all day, so be it.

Ambrose ordered a drink that was neither cheap nor expensive, then struck up a conversation with the bartender.

Interestingly, the Golden Camelbell's bartender was also an orc, though older and smaller in build than the one from the Iron Slag.

The orc bartender asked, "First time in Sweetdew City? Need a guide? I can recommend a few good locals."

With a light clink, Ambrose flicked a silver coin onto the counter. "I'm not here to sightsee. I'm just here for the inn and the tavern. I'm here to make money. Got any commissions suitable for a ranger?"

"A ranger? There are plenty of suitable jobs, but we prioritize locals. Or regulars. Since it's your first time here, you'll have to line up at the back and wait your turn. You know the rules."

Ambrose nodded. Taverns acted as intermediaries. Naturally, commissions went to familiar faces first. For someone just passing through like him, without a guarantor, it could take a month or two before anything decent came along.

Of course, Ambrose wasn't actually here to earn money. He was simply reinforcing his adventurer persona.

After chatting a bit more and establishing some rapport, Ambrose said, "By the way, I'm looking to put together a small adventuring party. I'm a ranger, and my friend here is an orc warrior. I'm asking around to see if there are suitable adventurers looking for a group. Preferably spellcasters. Priests, mages, druids are all fine. Bards, not so much."

For an outsider to openly post a commission in a tavern was foolish. The tavern would find all sorts of excuses to jack up the fees: no local guarantor, mandatory insurance for first-time postings, and so on. Ambrose had no intention of being fleeced, so subtle probing was the better option.

The bartender hesitated. "You want to team up with locals? That won't be easy. You're human, after all. You know how... delicate your race is right now."

Another soft clink sounded. This time, only half a silver coin landed on the counter.

The bartender glanced at the reduced tip with mild disdain, but Ambrose's overtly penniless expression made it clear there was no more to be squeezed out of him.

With a sigh, the bartender said, "Priests and mages are in high demand. Lone ones are rare. It's a shame you don't want bards. I've got plenty of those I could introduce."

Ambrose chuckled. "You know why there are so many lone bards as well as I do."

The bartender showed not the slightest hint of embarrassment. "Since you know your stuff, I won't waste time beating around the bush. As for druids, I can ask around, but..."

Ambrose produced another silver coin and slid it over. "No posting. If you find someone suitable, five silver will go straight into your pocket. Otherwise, the brokerage fee will go to the tavern. Seems like an easy choice, my friend."

The bartender's eyes darted back and forth. "I work every other day. Come back here at the same time the day after tomorrow."

Ambrose nodded. That was a preliminary agreement. By the day after tomorrow, there would likely be news.

He was just about to call Catherine over and leave the tavern when he turned around and froze.

Catherine was sitting stiffly at an ornate gambling table. Several orcs, eyes sparkling like stars, crowded around her, shoving chips eagerly into her hands.