Othua's War Banner

Chapter 1 0001: Ken Bouvier
Hiss, it's so cold.

The homeless curled up tighter on the plush bedding.

A bandage was wrapped around his left arm, soaked in bright red.

The charcoal flames in the fireplace dimmed, revealing his knightly face in a southern capital.

Sharp-edged, handsome and resolute.

But it was covered in cold sweat, and he seemed to be in great pain.

He had a dream.

In the dark forest, the bonfire sets up the moonlight.

The red-eyed wolves rushed towards him with salivating corners of their mouths.

"Ho!"

The wanderer snapped his eyes open.

[You wake up in the northern wilderness, this is the land of sword and magic in Osua. 】

The fire made a halo of light in his vision.

The sound of the pattering rain was blocked by the wooden house, and the strong wind wailed at the cracks and gaps. The night in the wasteland seemed never calm.

"Joan, he's awake."

"Bless the old gods, you are still alive."

The homeless man was slightly dazed, he heard the sound of conversation, someone walked towards the edge of the bed quickly, crying with surprise, as if a good thing finally happened in a bad life.

He turned his head in a daze, but what caught his eyes was the text annotation.

【Malnourished girl】

[Attitude: Worried]

The waking wanderer shook his head violently, confirming that the commentary was not a hallucination.

He felt a cold and delicate palm pressed against his forehead.

"are you still there?"

The girl's voice was as thin as a mosquito's moan, revealing unconcealable anxiety.

She had heard from village priests that the soul would die before the body, and that shamans and conjurers liked to steal the souls of the seriously injured.

Those who wake up in the wasteland are not necessarily people.

"I am fine."

Facing that face, he could think of no other answer.

The girl named Joan slumped down, wiping away her tears with a smile. Her face was very haggard, and the old coat on her body didn't fit her well.

Wanderers have swollen heads.

Freezing rain seeped through the walls, and a bone spear pierced into the fireplace. Sparks flew into the dark house, making it even more warm.

He turned his head and looked over.

A wounded man lay in a creaking wooden chair.

He was dressed in heavy fabrics, his beard was tied around his chin with a dark ring, and he smelled of medicine mixed with blood, even from the bed.

【The seriously injured Orion】

[Attitude: Uneasy]

"Wake up, great."

Orion's smile was far-fetched, and his voice was weak.

"Hamsin." He introduced himself, "I rescued you in the forest two days ago."

The homeless man was slightly stunned, and immediately nodded his thanks.

The old hunter smiled kindly and asked, "You, do you still remember your name?"

"I……"

At this time, a frightened light flashed outside the house.

The water curtain gathered and dripped on the iron fire cage, making a sizzling sound, and the broken clay pots holding the rainwater rattled instantly.

The homeless person's forehead is swollen and painful.

The continuous sound of thunder made his scalp numb. The wooden bed was not cut finely enough, and his fingers stuck into the cracks with constant force.

【You forget the past, fate teases the fool, praises the brave, the strength deep in your heart is eternal. 】

The notes surfaced, and the pain gradually weakened.

"Ken Bouvier."

He moaned the name over and over again, as if grasping at straws of reason, trying not to break down.

Joan stepped forward to help.

She felt a layer of cold sweat in Ken's muscular arms.

Maybe it's an illusion...

It seemed that the roaring wind outside the house gradually subsided.

"Okay, it's okay." Hamsin comforted. "It's normal to not remember what happened after experiencing this kind of thing."

Because of his awakening, the original depression in the room was diluted.

The night was dark.

Several people gathered around the fireplace to keep warm and shared fish porridge.

Qiong Shu hugged the edge of the bed and gently closed her eyes.

You need enough sleep to work, and you won't feel too hungry when the sun rises early.

Ken looked down.

There is a piece of grass under your feet, and the wet soil is mixed with gravel, with obvious graininess.

He was lost in thought.

Although I can't remember the experience, I vaguely remember some common sense.

Osua continent.

The old gods have become active, and sword and magic have become the last resort.

Kingdoms contend for hegemony, and city-states stand everywhere.

The shadows disappeared in the waves, the proverbs on the ancient scrolls were covered with dust, the iron armored cavalry was stained with blood, and the monsters beat their giant wings to break through the thick smoke.

In the most glorious era of the dwarves, there were seven legacy ovens, one of which was the high wall of permafrost.

Its north, that is, the vast frozen land under his feet, is called Palotusbi.

Also known as the North.

Legends of old gods spread in the vast land, tribal wars continued, and the origin of warfare was nothing more than food and trade.

But even the drunks at the Yamaguchi Tavern dare not talk about the stupidity of unifying the northern border.

"Wasteland?"

Ken couldn't help shivering at the thought of this, the coolness in the air made the surrounding environment real.

crackle!

The carbon fire danced like a dream whisper.

Ken recovered from his daze.

He returned the bed to Uncle Xin, and then gently carried Joan onto the recliner, just holding a blanket, and the girl curled up again with her arms around her shoulders.

"She's scared."

Hamsin's wound was so painful that he couldn't sleep. Accompanied by Ken, he talked a lot.

From picking up an abandoned baby in the cargo horse when I was young and naming it Joan, to how the development of the village was restricted by wild beasts, monsters and undead.

Hamsin is a true Santon Kaya.

The ancestors of their tribe founded the village, which is located in the middle of Palotusby, backed by a perennially frozen coastline.

The location is remote, agriculture and animal husbandry are difficult to develop, and the population is relatively stable.

Wars often pass by, but they will not be affected too badly.

Not as brutal as the Red Maple Highlands, nor as tender as the Jianyan Ice Bay, this tribe is known for its simplicity and down-to-earth character.

"Winter is especially hard."

He sighed deeply.

The village was ransacked by bandits some time ago, and the opponents came fiercely, and those who resisted and failed to escape were killed in pieces.

The food was swept away, and the survivors were pale and emaciated.

The ice was too thick for fishermen to cast their nets, and the berry fields were ruined beyond recognition.

"The village is very hungry now, so we can only hunt in the wind and snow."

Hamsin closed his eyes, lamenting the despair of hugging his family every day and not knowing whether he would come back from the forest alive.

Ken was silent by default.

The tall, red-eyed wolves flashed through his mind. These mutant wolves had experienced the hunger of a long and severe winter, and spring was approaching, which was the stage when they were most thirsty for flesh and blood.

[The morning light shines on the scarred village, and the rain freezes overnight. 】

Ken woke up by the fireplace, covered in blankets.

The smoldering coals were covered with ash, Joan disappeared, and Hamsin fell asleep breathing heavily.

He staggered to his feet, looked at the thick totem on the door curtain, was silent for a moment, and slowly reached out to open it...

He was looking for some kind of verification in order to calm down the uneasiness in his heart.

The world is shrouded in magnified white.

The light reflected on the snow was very dazzling, and when the itching around the eyes was relieved, only the strong wind scraped the single clothes, and the smell of animal dung and human voices filled the senses.

He saw row upon row of wooden houses, with dents in the snow.

Joan walks by.

She rolled her wide sleeves around her arms and carried the bucket with both hands, cleaning the dried blood from the debris.

Listen carefully.

There was the movement of turning wood, and faint sighs.

【You stand in the middle of the looted village, and the villagers look at you blankly. 】

Ken lost his mind for a moment.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath of air. It was icy cold and pungent, and the charcoal fire was mixed with the smell of wood. When he opened it again, the disappointment in his eyes was fleeting.

[This is a fact, you are not dead, welcome to Palotusbi. 】

He clutched his heart and felt the blood pumping in his chest.

The strange yet familiar world in front of him is like a more real and huge dream.

"If the wound still hurts, let's rest first." Behind him, Joan exhaled a stream of frost mist into Dong Zi's palm, she asked in a low voice.

"Can you tell me your name again?"

The young man turned his head sideways, his eyelids drooped, and hesitation flashed in his amber pupils.

"Ken," he said, "my name is Ken Bouvier."

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(End of this chapter)