Chapter 144: The Viking Village
After her particularly enlightening conversation with her familiar, Blanche opened her quest window once more.
For once...
No gigantic monsters.
No countdown timer.
No immediate risk of being launched into a wall by an especially touchy goblin.
She reread the objective twice, almost suspiciously.
Her eleventh quest was... unsettlingly peaceful.
All she had to do was visit the Viking village—for the very first time—and spend a few hours there.
That was it.
No final boss.
No ambush waiting around the corner.
No "Survive for twenty minutes with three broken ribs."
She narrowed her eyes.
"...This is suspicious."
Phoenix let out an amused chuckle.
"You're getting paranoid."
"No. Experienced."
By now, she knew the Players well enough to understand that the word simple usually concealed an impending disaster.
Yet this time...
Nothing.
The quest description remained painfully ordinary.
Visit a village.
Observe.
Discover.
An exploration quest, in other words.
And to her own surprise, the prospect excited her almost as much as another battle.
Ever since arriving in the Otherworld, she'd been running endlessly from one objective to the next, one emergency after another. She had never truly taken the time to discover the peoples who inhabited this world—their customs, their homes, their traditions, or the way they lived.
For once...
This mission felt like a chance to breathe.
A brief respite.
An opportunity to learn with something other than a weapon in her hand.
Her enthusiasm faded almost immediately afterward.
Too bad she'd have to complete this quest alone.
She couldn't help imagining Aaron walking a few paces ahead of the group, hands buried in his pockets as always.
Argy enthusiastically commenting on absolutely everything.
Nicky already vanishing between the market stalls to haggle over the most improbable trinkets.
Glen stopping in front of every carved stone with even the slightest historical significance.
And Phoenix sighing dramatically, insisting he already regretted coming.
She caught herself smiling.
Yes.
She could picture it perfectly.
All of them together.
Wandering through the streets like overexcited tourists discovering an amusement park.
Aaron would probably complain that they were wasting their time...
Only to become the first one sampling every local specialty.
Argy would buy every souvenir in sight.
Derek would insist on trying every weapon on display.
And Blanche...
She would simply enjoy watching them all.
Her smile softened.
One day...
They would take a trip like that without a quest forcing them to.
Simply because they wanted to.
Well.
Now wasn't the time to get sentimental.
She had a plan now.
And for the first time in days, that plan genuinely made her want to move forward.
Her energy returned almost instantly.
She methodically gathered her belongings, checked her daggers, her axe, and her short sword, adjusted her cloak over her shoulders, and slipped a few provisions into her pack—just in case.
Knowing her luck, a "simple stroll" could easily become a twelve-hour expedition.
One final inspection.
Everything was in place.
Perfect.
Blanche pulled her hood over her red hair, opened the barracks door, and hurried outside with unexpectedly light steps.
After all...
Perhaps it was finally time for the Otherworld to show her something other than battlefields.
Her excitement vanished almost immediately.
The moment she stepped beyond the newly built palisade, an uncomfortable feeling settled over her.
She didn't belong.
Conversations seemed to slow as she passed.
People's eyes drifted toward her with undisguised curiosity.
Some discreetly.
Others not in the slightest.
The Vikings clearly weren't the sort of people who pretended not to stare at strangers out of politeness.
They looked.
For a long time.
A very long time.
Blanche instinctively glanced down at her clothes.
Her cloak.
Her weapons.
Her boots.
Then she slowly looked back up.
She understood.
She stood out completely.
Compared to the villagers dressed in coarse wool, rough leather, and heavy furs, she looked less like an ordinary traveler and more like a heroine straight out of an old legend.
"Fantastic..." she muttered.
She'd wanted to blend in.
The attempt had failed spectacularly.
The two guards stationed before the massive log gate gave her a thorough once-over.
Their gaze lingered for a brief moment on Rauõr's cloak and her military trousers.
They exchanged a nod.
Then stepped aside without hesitation.
No questions.
No inspection.
Apparently, her newfound reputation opened more than a few doors.
Blanche offered them a polite smile before continuing on her way.
As she walked, the village gradually revealed its character.
The houses, built almost entirely of dark timber, featured steep roofs thickly thatched to withstand the brutal winters.
Intricate carvings of dragons, wolves, and intertwined serpents adorned the beams above the doorways, while long weathered banners fluttered gently in the sea breeze.
The scent of burning wood mingled with smoked fish, tar used to waterproof ships, and spices drifting from nearby market stalls.
Blacksmiths hammered steel beneath the open sky.
Craftsmen shaped barrels.
Women sat outside their homes weaving thick woolen garments while carrying on loud conversations.
Lazy dogs slept in the middle of the streets, completely unbothered by passing pedestrians.
Despite all the attention she attracted, no one approached her.
The villagers simply...
Observed.
The way people observe a stranger when they have yet to decide whether that stranger will become a friend...
Or a story to tell around the fire one day.
Blanche crossed the entire village without the slightest incident.
Gradually, the houses became fewer and farther apart, giving way to an immense shoreline.
Her breath caught.
A vast waterfront stretched before her.
The harbor was enormous.
Dozens of longships, their prows carved into dragons and sea beasts, rested side by side, securely moored to sturdy wooden docks.
Their sails, carefully furled, awaited the next voyage, while the masts creaked softly in the wind.
Sailors carried crates of cargo, uncoiled thick ropes, and repaired fishing nets in a constant bustle that made the harbor feel vibrantly alive.
Beyond it all...
The ocean stretched endlessly toward the horizon.
Steel blue.
Powerful.
Infinite.
The waves broke gently against the pilings with a steady rhythm as gulls circled overhead, crying out in familiar calls.
Blanche wandered away from the bustle of the docks.
She found a quiet spot near the water, sitting on a broad stone polished smooth by countless tides.
A few yards away, several children raced across the damp sand, laughing as they fought imaginary battles with simple sticks they proudly wielded as swords.
A slender young woman watched over them attentively.
She was wrapped in a long gray wool dress whose coarse fabric looked handwoven.
Despite the simplicity of her clothing, her face radiated infinite kindness as she occasionally called one of the more reckless children back with a voice that was firm, yet affectionate.
Blanche couldn't help smiling.
There was something timeless about the scene.
As though, despite monsters...
Gods...
Wars...
And Players...
Some things never changed.
Children laughing.
A mother watching over them.
The sea, endlessly advancing and retreating.
She settled comfortably onto the rock, drew her knees against her chest, and let her gaze drift toward the endless horizon.