The sun dipped below the horizon, gilding the last streaks of evening clouds.

Noting the deepening twilight, Fate sought a place to rest. Conveniently, a small village nestled at the mountain’s foot sent up wisps of cooking smoke.

He still wasn’t sure where he was. The tomb had no clock—no telling how long he’d been digging. But spotting the Karno Empire’s imperial banner and a lord’s standard fluttering above the village, he figured he must still be within Karno territory.

Descending the slope, he glimpsed villagers moving in the distance. The lively hum of voices swelled closer, wrapping him in the warmth of mortal life. Elders chatted over tea in the fields; youths bustled with farm chores—hurried, yet vibrant.

Fate felt a quiet pang of reflection.

This remote village, far from any town, was self-sufficient. No one here went hungry or cold.

Truly, things were far better than before.

Reaching the village gate, he found a crowd gathered. At its center stood a man in velvet robes and several servants, shouting loudly. Their lavish attire clashed sharply with the villagers’ simple linen—clearly outsiders.

Villagers listened with mixed reactions: some intrigued, some bored, others just lingering for amusement before drifting off.

*What’s happening?*

Amid the clamor, Fate—positioned at the edge—couldn’t catch their words. He edged forward, hesitated, then lightly tapped the burly man ahead.

“Huh? Who is it?” The man turned, irritation flickering across his face. Seeing Fate—and the white sack on his back—a trace of curiosity surfaced. *A traveler?*

His gaze snagged on Fate’s rare white-gold hair. *Noble scion slumming it?* …No. No young master dressed this plainly.

“Pardon me, sir,” Fate asked politely, “could you tell me what they’re saying?”

“Ah, you’re from out of town?”

“Yes. Just passing through—I forgot my map.”

“This area’s called Fude Region. The village shares the name: Fude Village, under Earl Buckley’s domain.” Impressed by Fate’s courteous tone, the man elaborated patiently.

“Those folks? Merchants under a noble’s banner. Their wagon hit a snag nearby—‘stuck in marshland,’ they claim.” He added with a smirk, “*Marshland*, sure.”

“Marshland? Doesn’t look like it here.”

“Obviously not.” The man sighed lightly. City folk wouldn’t get the farmers’ slang. “They’re stranded. Offering five copper coins upfront to help; one silver coin to whoever contributes most if they succeed.”

“What trouble?”

“Interested? Listen, brother—if these profit-chasing merchants are paying, it’s serious.” He snorted. “Probably bandits in the woods. Their own guards failed. You think *we’d* survive?”

*Bandits?*

Fate’s brows furrowed slightly.

He scanned the valley: mountains encircled the village completely. No bandit would camp here—it was too isolated. Bandits struck near roads, not barren hollows. How long to wait for one ‘job’? They’d starve.

*Not bandits… something else.*

…How much *was* a silver coin worth?

Fate tilted his head. A genuine blind spot. As Imperial Guardian Knight Captain of the Karno Empire or Legion Commander of the Sanlan Kingdom, he’d never handled coin. Meals, clothes—servants arranged all. His salary? Stored untouched.

Years of that left him indifferent to money… until now, when he couldn’t afford a meal.

“Is one silver coin enough for food?”

“…Hah?” The man blinked, unsure if Fate was joking or utterly naive.

“What kind of question? In town? Maybe not. Here? One silver coin feeds a family a whole month.”

“I see. Thank you.”

Fate murmured “Excuse me,” slipped through the crowd, and waved to catch the speaker’s eye.

“Pardon the interruption, sir. Would you consider me?”

The noble’s attendant had already “convinced” thirteen hot-blooded youths—*eager volunteers*, let’s say—to join as temporary hands. Normally, mercenaries demanded half-pay upfront; under one silver coin? Unthinkable. But these country lads? Ten coppers had them jumping.

He didn’t expect them to fight. Just draw attention. Be decoys. Cannon fodder. More bodies = better.

Seeing Fate volunteer, he didn’t even glance at his face. “Good! Another one! Here’s your advance. Perform well—bonus awaits!” He pressed five copper coins into Fate’s palm.

Watching Fate receive payment instantly, several envious youths rushed to sign up.

At twenty recruits, the attendant halted registration. A subordinate distributed crude weapons.

“Take these! Fight bravely—the reward’s waiting!”

“Relax! The enemy’s just infants. Honestly, if we weren’t short-handed, would this golden chance fall to *you*?”

After such smooth talk, the wide-eyed youths were ninety percent convinced: this was luck raining from the sky.