The plains at the border of the Frost Kingdom.
Agata pulled the linen scarf around his neck and exhaled a breath of cold air.
The demon race, the Frost Kingdom, and the sacred religion had been fighting on this plains for who knows how many years. The long years of war had caused the plains to be a complete mess, as long as one dug a little under the snow, one would be able to dig out a corpse.
Therefore, this place had become a paradise for most ‘ghouls’. Of course, the prerequisite was that these fellows could avoid the magical beasts that lived on the plains and the orcs that would appear from time to time.
All of these factors caused the frost plains to be very dangerous for Agata, a solo traveler. Perhaps her luck had been pretty good recently, as she did not encounter any magical beasts or thieves along the way.
“Are we still close?”
