Pseudo-Villaines

To The North

Ural Mountains.

This mountain range is located to the north of Dublin. Stretching from the east to the west, the Ural Mountains line up for hundreds of kilometers. It is a natural fortress for many countries.

The ground is hard and rocky. It is not suitable for productive farming. Farmers can only be found on the banks of the river because only there is land that can be planted.

But instead, the land in this region contains a variety of very valuable materials. As a result, most of the resident professions here are mineral ore miners. They dug the ground and caves and mined various high-value minerals there.

The results of their hard work were then sold to various countries and brought various agricultural products, clothing, alcohol and others to their region instead.

Jean is on her way there, along with one of her women, Priscillia. He took part in a merchant caravan owned by HuCas carrying a horse cart filled with sacks of wheat, barley, beans, and many barrels filled with wine.

"Waaahh..... The conditions here are much different from those in the lowlands huh. The types of trees that grow also look quite different when compared to those in the coastal area."

Jean did not expect that Priscillia would be this enthusiastic. At first, he seemed reluctant. Maybe because this woman didn't feel too comfortable being around Jean.

But Jean herself never thought that Priscillia was so happy when she went to a new place. Jean could see the twinkle that shone on Priscillia. He could only smile wryly at Priscillia's child-like manner.

"Be careful or you'll fall later. Come on, just sit quietly. You're free to walk after we get there."

Ah, but free. Priscillia remains engrossed in her own world without heeding Jean's warnings. He was just afraid that Priscillia would fall off the wagon.

'Somehow I even look like a father yelling at his stubborn daughter.'

Bad boys should be punished. Therefore, Jean pulled Priscillia who was standing on the edge of the wagon into her lap. A cute little scream came out from the silver-haired girl's mouth. But he didn't fight back at all. Instead, he leaned his head against Jean's chest.

The journey continues. Several times the carts they were riding in shook due to the rough surface of the ground. A cold, dry wind blew, piercing the skin and giving it a stirring chill.

The journey from Saint Georgia City to one of the nearby kingdoms in the Ural Mountains ranges from one to two weeks. Depending on the condition of the road they are traveling and how fast they are walking.

Jean, Priscillia, and her merchant caravan reached their destination. It is a small town within the territory of the duchy of Eisen, the independent dukedom closest to the (former) kingdom of Dublin.

Although small in size and protected only by walls made of wood, the city is quite crowded. This is a stopover to the center of Dukedom Eisen, it is only natural that many people transit to this place.

"Mr Jean, we're here. I will book the best accommodation for you and Miss Priscillia first. Please wait here for a minute."

One of the drivers approached Jean. It seems that he is no stranger to this city because he often stops here. Jean smiled faintly and gave a bag containing coins to pay for the inn.

"Use this to pay for lodging. The rest, wear it all you want."

That alone is enough to make the coachman sumringah. He thanked Jean many times and ran to make a reservation.

Moments later, the coachman returns to Jean with a key to him. This was the key to the room he was going to occupy.

Jean pulls Priscillia's hand. Her expression looked very excited, but Jean could feel that this girl was exhausted. Maybe because he was not used to sleeping outside.

That day they decided to rest first. Who knew that a problem was waiting for them. Aye right?