Bear School Astartes

Chapter 422. Sintra

"The Amel Mountains can be considered a sort of dividing line between the north and the south."

On their journey, the high vampire introduced the destination to the Demon Hunter with a gentle and magnetic voice.

"When defining north and south, besides the Yaruga River which we’re about to reach, there’s also the Amel Mountains. In many books, the meaning of ’Northern Territory’ refers to this vast stretch of land north of the Amel Mountains and south of the Giant Dragon Mountains."

Vampires are an alien race that mistakenly entered this world through a convergence of heavenly spheres long ago.

But their lengthy lifespans make these creatures more knowledgeable about the world than most of the native inhabitants.

At present, Regis is riding a piebald mare, and his standard and experienced riding stance indicates that even high vampires prefer to ride horses during long journeys.

Perhaps it’s to hide themselves, or maybe it genuinely conserves energy... Lann cautiously speculated.

"Alright, thank you for the explanation."

Lann tugged the hood over his head, making sure his silver hair was completely covered.

"Even though I studied this knowledge before setting off, I still appreciate your teaching."

"If I didn’t get it wrong... you’re saying I seem a bit like someone who loves lecturing others?"

Regis pondered for a moment before reacting.

"No, that’s not a flaw. If I had knowledge as rich as yours, I’d probably seize every opportunity to talk endlessly too. After all, it feels quite delightful, I understand."

"Ah, thank you for understanding."

Regis twisted his upper body on horseback and made an exaggerated bow to Lann.

The Demon Hunter discovered that this high vampire had a slight penchant for performance.

Completely different from those cold vampires he had imagined before.

"We will soon enter the territory of Sintra."

Riding along the tree-lined avenue, thanks to the absence of rain over the past days, the road was fairly pleasant to travel.

But should the weather turn gloomy, this road, which could stir up yellow dust clouds, would quickly become a muddy, pot-holed path.

During their ride, they frequently saw remnants abandoned by the roadside due to shattered wheels or broken axles.

The goods were either taken by their owners or nabbed by nearby residents, leaving only worthless remains encrusted with dried mud scabs.

"Did it rain heavily here recently?"

Lann inquired of the vampire beside him, who was basking in the sunlight.

"Yes, the rainfall came suddenly and was quite considerable. During those days, the road was almost like a market, with many merchants with broken wagons seeking ways to sell their goods quickly. Otherwise, if the horse hooves got soaked and ruined, they’d end up losing their investment."

Regis talked eloquently.

"I earned a bit during those days; the merchants’ feet were almost rotted in the mud, and my athlete’s foot potion sold out completely."

Well, this high vampire is quite the businessman too.

Lann gently clapped his hands on horseback, and Regis gave a modest smile.

The dry road surface made riding easier, and before night fell, neither the Demon Hunter nor the vampire made a stop along the way.

They rode straight to the largest city in Sintra—the capital that shares the country’s name, Sintra City.

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The entry fee wasn’t expensive, indicating that the country was relatively stable at the moment.

As the vampire and Demon Hunter entered the city, the sun had already set, and most of the shops on the streets were closed for the day, with only those places operating overnight beginning to light lamps.

Such as taverns, casinos, and brothels.

"Oh, if you have any needs, please don’t mind me."

Walking alongside the horse, Regis suddenly seemed to remember something and spoke to Lann.

The young man tilted his hooded head in confusion.

"What are you talking about?"

"Uh, what I mean is... your kind, Demon Hunters, have a higher hormonal secretion, don’t you? Unlike ordinary people, that’s what the books say."

"That doesn’t mean we’re all a bunch of nymphomaniacs who must indulge day and night, alright? Oh, I see, the book you read must be ’Freaks, or A Description of Demon Hunters’, right?"

Lann swung the arm holding Bopai’s reins, his tone exasperated.

"That’s a work filled with slander and delusions. If you read enough, you’ll notice: not only does it label Demon Hunters as freaks only skilled in slaughter, but also as depraved meat worms who must indulge daily, childless persons coveting others’ kids... to be honest, don’t you discern when reading?"

"Perhaps..." Regis smiled gently, "Maybe this is the ’error’ that inevitably occurs in the spread of knowledge. After all, for most people, having just one book is good enough."

"But fortunately, the world also corrects those inaccurate pieces of information. Like letting me meet you, a real Demon Hunter."

Lann shrugged nonchalantly, "Well, I feel truly honored to help correct your misconceptions, Regis."

As he spoke, the two happened to pass by a fairly lively tavern.

This tavern was not as bustling as the ’Mermaid Song’ they passed earlier but more lively than the small inns in remote corners with no lamps lit.

The medium-level setting was just right for the Demon Hunter and vampire duo.

"I’ll go tie up the horses first."

Regis took Bopai’s reins, and with his piebald mare, headed to the inn’s stable.

Lann nodded and then pushed open the door to enter, walking directly to the bar counter.

In the dim light, the owner, who had just gathered some wine bottles, looked up to see an unusually tall hooded man standing before him.

But he didn’t show surprise.

This is Sintra, a place full of excellent men!

In the eyes of Sintra People, a charming man should at least look like this: his head should touch the ceiling, his shoulders match the width of the door frame! He should curse fiercer than dwarves, and his roars should be akin to buffalo! Whether day or night, he should emit the smell of horses, sweat, and beer at least thirty paces away.

The guy before him might have a decent build, but the hood made him seem mysterious, lacking the scent a man should have.

So, by Sintra’s standards, he’s not considered a good man.

"What do you want to have?"

The tavern owner spoke coldly.

He habitually wiped his hands with the canvas apron at his waist, then lifted it to clean the bar counter.

On the bar counter, aged grease had mixed with dust, forming a sturdy black layer.

When the apron passed over, Lann could feel quite a bit of stickiness.

"Two rooms, and take care of the two horses."