The Flinn Trail is very long.
It was built during the heyday of the dwarves. In terms of age, it is a product of the same era as the [Eternal Frozen Wall] on the edge of Palotus.
Once, it was the only path connecting [Sharp Spirit Ice Bay] and [Silver Frost Plain].
But since several tribes disappeared or changed due to wars, it has become a rugged, remote ancient road with too high altitude fluctuations and inconvenient for caravans to pass.
A team came up on the dirt road behind Duwa Village, and the laborers looked sideways - someone actually came from this direction.
[You came to the Duwa tribe, the village was bustling, and all kinds of travelers did not pay much attention to you. ]
Ken drove the Fei Wolf and led the troops here.
When they were far away, they saw the smoke rising from the furnace.
The magma of the volcano surged from the ground, and three mountain passes were converted into workshops. Each of them was a towering giant tower, with huge cracked emblems carved on the outside, mottled with years, covered with rusty and broken iron locks, dirt and strange vines.
Regarding the emblem, some people say it is the symbol of the old god Xienbio, and some people say it is the private seal of several masters of the dwarf kingdom.
The furnace nurtured for countless years swallows a large amount of precious consumables every year. Its majesty can be felt from afar, and the roar is like the sigh of the old giant god.
[Location: Duwa Village]
[Prosperity Level: C]
[Number of Residents: 4622]
[Number of Troops: Unknown]
Ken felt the temperature from afar. Although it was not hot, the severe winter seemed to have disappeared in this land. Only the [Permafrost Waterfall] in the distance would blow cool breeze from time to time, reminding that this is still the North.
The magma buried deep underground and the icebergs that never melt all year round actually appeared in the same place and lived in peace for so many years.
Magical nature and desirable craftsmanship.
There are flowing wells in the village that are introduced by water channels, which supply the residents with daily living and cooking, as well as the water needs of the travel caravans and horses. There are also many people squatting near the outer river.
Children playing and busy laborers, everyone just glanced at Ken and his team and continued to work on their hands.
The road is very wide, with rough black bricks and muddy ruts, but no damage can be seen.
There is a pine forest in the distance, and there are farmers who are responsible for planting. They use magic and secret techniques to take care of these "top firewood", but judging from the fragments in the mud cracks, most of the furnaces in the workshops still use coal mines as fuel.
Near the entrance of the village, horses are blocked to block the way.
The militiamen in charge of standing guard have bare webbed feet, their fingers are particularly thick and short, and they look a bit dark and fat.
[Indigenous people of the Duwa tribe]
He stretched out his right hand wearing an arm guard and stopped the team.
"The troops are not allowed to enter Duwa Village."
Ken followed the other party's instructions and looked outside. There was a large plain nearby without any ridges. There were old bonfires and traces of camping on the open ground.
The troops had to be stationed outside the village.
The three war banners swore to guarantee that even a warmongering person like Frengandor was willing to follow the ancient Old Covenant. Which fool without eyes dared to invade the [non-war zone]?
Duwa Village is always neutral, and craftsmen can forge with peace of mind.
Ken turned back.
He led the team to find a quiet place, rebuilt the tent, arranged various matters, and told the sentinels to pay attention to other people in the distance.
There are many temporary camps.
Most of them are far away, and you can see the different styles of construction and various totems with mottled paint.
It's not spring yet, and it will become more lively when the vendors start to sell goods frequently.
Ken finally brought Kuima, two [chanters] who wanted to see the world, and two strong riders to carry goods... and do odd jobs.
The sentry did not approach again.
He sat on a stone bench, holding a round hammer, concentrating on studying a steel handle in front of him.
The most important building in Duwa Village is the blacksmith shop, which exists in the form of a workshop. The rest of the shops, houses, warehouses and sundry rooms are built based on it.
All kinds of livestock and mounts were pulled onto the street.
Cargo horses, camels, and even antler deer with tufts of mane.
The furnace of the blacksmith shop was red and lined up in long lines. The beasts had all had new shod and saddled.
Ken asked a scholar and a rider to inquire about the news. If his [Currency: 714G] was still enough, he would buy mounts for the team.
Duwa Village gave people a very lively feeling, as if everyone was busy.
"Watch your animal, bastard. If it poops again, I'll chop off its hoof!"
The merchant had a mean face. He raised his chopping knife and yelled at the stall next door.
"Where's the food package? Bastard, the bacon is for tolls!"
Ken watched the quarrel and was knocked away by a child with high hip bones. The other child hurriedly turned back and disappeared in the crowd.
The hunter apologized to him and chased after him.
"Stop, little bastard!"
"There is no room for negotiation. The food in the camp is only in and not out now. It's very chaotic in spring."
"That frost bear is tough. Good guy. It must be worth a lot of money. Wait until I recruit a team again or buy a batch of refugees to use!"
...
The prosperity of the North does not rely on local people.
Travelers, bounty hunters, speculators, officials and merchants, and civilian merchants all gathered here.
Ken's southern face is not eye-catching. He keeps a low profile and observes the surroundings silently.
Everyone in the camp likes to wear masks.
Locals mostly use animal bones, decorate with manes and then paint totems.
Their exposed skin is mostly covered with tattoos.
Some veterans or warriors will tuck their helmets under their arms, stand in groups of three or five, and bargain with open and closed postures.
After all, no one wants to waste the money and food exchanged for their lives.
Warlocks or adventurers who value privacy will have collars higher than their mouths, and the brim of their cloaks can cover their eyebrows.
Unlucky and gloomy.
No one wants to get close to them, always feeling that they are related to the undead or some strange events.
The fabrics of the vendors' clothes are very delicate, and the leather protective gear worn by the coolies are mostly filled with coarse wool and cotton.
Ken stopped observing.
He straightened his back and looked up, looking at the northern main road with snow dust in the distance.
The giant beast named [Da Ke] was lying on the ground. It was as tall as a tent and required at least six people to control it.
Its four hooves shook up the snow dust, sending out distant vibrations.
The cargo boxes behind it were stacked high, and the tendons used to fix them were woven into a net. There were many people around, following on foot or riding snow lizards.
Among them were caravans that had left, small tribes migrating north, mercenary teams that had accepted commissions, and even wanted criminals.
Some people in the Duwa tribe were running a black market.
Although the village was a safe zone, everyone had their own business outside this area.
The refugees were crowded in the most dilapidated low houses, which could not even be called homes. They could only exchange food by doing hard labor during the day.
Duwa Village did not allow refugees to live permanently, and they would be expelled if the number exceeded a certain number.
There were strict regulations on positions and apprenticeship quotas in the village workshop, so there was no way to stay here.
Ken stood on a high place and looked into the distance.
At the end of the village road, more stationed teams can be seen. Refugees gather nearby, begging for work or shelter. In late winter, food is scarce and everyone longs for a home.