Chapter 72: The Firefly Adventurers—Extraordinary Becomes the Norm!

An Imperial Banner Knight, even if not an outstanding commander, was at least a great landowner. Someone of such status ought to be living a life of comfort and privilege, yet here he was venturing into the wilds—this surprised Leo greatly.

Moreover, the heavy full plate armor he wore was nearly equal in weight to its bearer, heavier even than the armor of the Imperial armored cavalry. When dismounted, these cavalrymen naturally suffered a reduction in speed, yet he moved as if unburdened by his armor. No ordinary person, however strong, could accomplish this; he must be a superhuman.

Leo’s mind became lively at once, and he reached out to shake Harkins’s hand. “Sir Harkins, greetings!”

In the Northlands, the customary greeting was an arm clasp, a tradition born from the poverty and rugged terrain, where people traversed mountains and rivers and clasped arms to signify mutual support. The handshake, however, was a custom of the southern regions. The Orlantis Empire was founded on martial prowess; everyone wore armor and carried weapons, and when meeting friends or family, they would remove their helmets and gauntlets and shake hands as a gesture of peace.

Having met the leader of the adventurer party, the other members gathered round.

A giant man, nearly two meters thirty tall and even more robust than an orc, stepped forward with a broad grin. “My name is Barrett.”

This colossal man wore hard leather armor scarred by sword marks, the chest split open to reveal a dense thicket of chest hair beneath. Over this, he wore an oversized chain shirt and draped a long bear-fur cloak across his shoulders. His arms, as thick as an ordinary person’s thigh, were bare, holding two heavy war axes. Axes weighing dozens of pounds, meant for execution by two hands, were like single-handed axes in his grasp.

Behind him stood a slender man, less than one meter sixty, hidden within a black cloak, only the edges revealing bits of black leather armor and a quiver of crossbow bolts. He spoke coldly, “Fisher.”

Beside him was the young ranger, Lynch, who looked at Leo without speaking.

“This is Lynch, our young ranger,” Old Pete introduced cheerfully. “As for me, I’m Old Pete, the cook of our adventurer party.”

Looking at the six adventurers, Leo felt as though he stood before the character selection screen of a role-playing game, filled with a sense of fantasy.

He introduced himself with enthusiasm. “My name is Leo Mundo, captain of the Riverbay militia, and your guide. I’m very glad to meet you all. I hope in the days to come we can help each other and get along harmoniously!”

Denise looked at the fully armored Leo and nodded with satisfaction. To move freely in seventy or eighty pounds of gear meant he was at least physically fit enough to be considered a competent warrior.

Even if he was merely playing the part, he was strong enough to keep pace with the adventurer party. Moreover, his eloquence and quick mind meant there was little worry about communication issues or the need to guard against foolish mistakes. This was much better than her first impression.

So Denise extended her hand and reintroduced herself, “My name is Denise, a historian and initiator of this expedition. Mr. Mundo, welcome to the Firefly Adventurer Party!”

“In that case, let’s prepare to depart,” said Leo decisively, immediately taking charge. “First, send all your horses to the lord’s manor stable. Retrieve them when we return. Meanwhile, I can arrange a few donkeys to carry our supplies.”

“Tents, sleeping bags, weapons, equipment, food, medicines—check everything and make a list to report, so we don’t miss anything.”

The adventurers exchanged uncertain glances. Had they hired a captain?

Leo, as the militia captain, was accustomed to leading men in battle. These preparations were not only taught to him by Ulyan, but also ingrained through the cautiousness of his soul from a previous life. At this moment, his instructions came out almost instinctively.

Old Pete was the first to react, showing no objection, and began to work while urging his companions, “Check everything, check it all.”

Leo called several militia members to lead the horses away to the stable, returning with three donkeys. Tents, food, and other supplies were packed and divided among the donkeys.

Noticing Denise’s confused look, Old Pete explained quietly, “In the wild, donkeys are more useful than horses. Traversing mountains and rivers, it’s easy for horses to injure their hooves. If danger arises, you can abandon the donkey as a decoy. Horses, on the other hand, are faster than people and too valuable to lose. Listen to him, he’s right.”

“It’s only March—temperatures in the Northlands swing wildly between day and night, and there may still be snow. Don’t bring that box of clothes; besides what you’re wearing, just pack two more warm jackets.”

Denise grew anxious and asked in a low voice, “But what about changing clothes?”

Old Pete hesitated, then replied, “That’s up to you.”

After everything was packed, Leo led the adventurer party through the village, heading north along the riverbank to cross upstream.

A few miles upstream, at a fork in the river, lay a shallow crossing where the water barely reached their knees—perfect for fording. Leo had brought the militia to ambush wild boar-men using this very crossing.

As for taking a boat to the opposite lumber camp and heading north from there, they would have to cross two ravines along the way. These ravines, though only five meters wide and seven or eight meters deep, posed no problem for people but were impassable for donkeys.

There were no roads in the wilds—a three to five meter-wide ravine, a seven or eight meter-high cliff, such obstacles were everywhere.

If Leo were alone, he could easily overcome such minor obstacles. But with a larger group and more supplies, it became troublesome, relying on familiarity with the terrain to avoid them in advance.

This was one of the roles of a wilderness guide: ensuring the adventurer party did not waste an entire day because of a small ravine.

Leo was already very familiar with this sea of woods, having traversed it once with the militia, so he moved with ease.

Leading a donkey, he guided the party as if on a leisurely outing. As they walked, he engaged in conversation.

“Sir Harkins, isn’t it exhausting to wear such heavy armor?”

“Not at all.”

“With such strength, you must be a superhuman, right?”

Sir Harkins glanced at Leo, exchanged a smile with his companions, and did not answer.

Instead, Denise replied proudly, “Our Firefly Adventurer Party doesn’t recruit ordinary people—everyone is superhuman.”

Leo was astonished; this was unexpected. In his mind, superhumans were important figures, at least rare talents. In the Northlands, any superhuman willing to swear fealty to a count would be granted a manor outright, instantly becoming a landed knight, and wouldn’t even need to develop it themselves.

Why did it suddenly feel so cheap?

“All superhuman? Even you?”

Denise answered with composure, “I am a mage.”

Leo looked at her, expressing deep doubt.

Denise smiled, raised her hand, and with a gentle rub of her fingers, conjured a flame between her thumb and forefinger.