That's right, that's what adventure is like!

Chapter 123 Departure

Midday.

Pure white clouds, as white as cotton, float in the blue sky, their edges illuminated by the sunlight, as if edged with gold.

A gentle breeze swept by, and large swathes of green grass swayed slightly, like ripples on water, pushing layer upon layer toward the horizon.

The wheels rolled over the soft soil, making a slight crunch and leaving ruts of varying depths that stretched from beneath our feet to the horizon.

Roland sat in the back of the carriage, leaning against the pile of goods, basking in the warm sunlight, and squinted his eyes contentedly.

Three days after leaving Duanyan Town, the cold winter was finally completely left behind, and the vibrant early spring season gently arrived.

As the proverb says.

—"The new wine of March, paired with the wildflowers of April, embracing the delicate sprites, rolling around on the grass in May."

It was warm and delightful.

The only problem was that Roland wasn't entirely sure if the proverb was translated correctly, since it came from Elvish materials he had only studied for two days.

Fortunately, he has a friendly teacher who can help him with his learning of a foreign language anytime, anywhere.

"The one I'm holding isn't a wood elf, it's my own little daughter."

A clear, cool voice, like moonlight, came from the crystal worn around the neck, pointing out the problem: "The information you have was probably written by a wood elf."

"In their tradition, there is indeed a custom of rolling around on the grass with children, the purpose of which is to share feelings about nature and enhance the magical resonance with the forest."

This answer made Roland realize something, and he casually erased the text in his notebook on his lap and changed it to the correct translation with charcoal.

At the same time, he couldn't help but wonder: "Elena, are you so sure? Did you witness such a scene with your own eyes?"

""

"Of course," the elf named Elena said calmly, "some wood elves carry a trace of blood from our moon elf ancestors, and the relationship between the two races is quite harmonious."

"In the 453rd year of my life, I was invited to the territory of the Wood Elves and witnessed the customs I just described."

"You could even say," she said with a touch of nostalgia, "that after the child rolled around in the grass, I had to use magic to clean the mud off her body. I wonder if she's still alive now—"

Roland listened quietly, without interrupting Elena's somewhat lengthy narration.

He doesn't reject this form of communication; even without firsthand experience, he can learn a lot of knowledge and culture through the narration of elders.

In particular, the Moon Elves do not have fixed cities or settlements; they love to explore and travel, and know many secrets.

Someone like Elena, who has lived for over six hundred years, can gain valuable knowledge even from casual conversation, which might come in handy someday.

when-

Two crisp metallic clanging sounds came from behind, drifting melodiously into the air, accompanied by whispers that interrupted Roland's thoughts.

"Finally, it's time to eat—this damn bumpy road is making my back so stiff I can't straighten up or bend down—"

"What should we have for lunch today? I'd like to have the stew from yesterday; it was really good. And if we could have a couple more beers too—"

""

"Shh—Quiet! Lady Lucia is coming down, keep formation!"

It's lunchtime.

When Roland looked up subconsciously, he saw the dazzling sunlight pouring down, coating the wooden box with a layer of golden light.

He jumped off the train and slowly walked towards the front of the convoy.

As they passed by, the guards leading the horses on both sides put their hands on each other's shoulders, bowed slightly, and their eyes were full of respect.

This is certainly not easy.

Besides Roland's status as a formal professional, another reason was that he was appointed as the head guard of the caravan.

As for why—it's because Hogg had spoken to the team owner, "Wolf Migration" Starlo, and the association president's face was still quite valuable.

Conversely, Roland must also bear some responsibility.

For example, deciding what to have for lunch today.

Don't underestimate this responsibility; for a team of 127 people, getting meals is no simple matter.

The first thing to consider is the issue of food supply.

Of the 127 people, 53 were informal professionals, 4 were formal professionals, and a considerable number were orcs and half-orcs.

Dwarfs have a much higher food requirement than normal people.

Even now, despite having brought three large cartloads of grain and smoked meat with them on their journey, a quarter of it has already been consumed.

Currently, it's about 12 days' journey to the next supply point marked on the map, so we should definitely save resources as much as possible and collect supplies on the spot.

However, it's not something you can just put into your mouth any flower, grass, wild animal, or bird. There are many poisonous creatures in the wilderness, and if someone dies from eating them, it would be a huge problem.

Although there are a few experienced food gatherers and chefs who screen the food, Roland himself is ultimately in charge of the final selection.

After passing two carts piled high with goods and circling five old guards squatting by the roadside smoking pipes, Roland finally saw the cooking area.

Five iron pots had already been set up there, with firewood burning brightly underneath, and the water was gradually boiling, bubbling and steaming, with hot air mixed with pungent smoke drifting out.

A short figure stood by the pot, stirring the contents with a spoon thicker than his forearm.

It was a halfling.

She wore a white apron stained with oil, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, revealing her hairy skin. Her messy brown curly hair was casually tied back, with a few strands hanging down and sticking to the sides of her face.

Hearing footsteps, he turned around, revealing a round face flushed red from the heat, a bead of sweat still clinging to the tip of his nose, and an unchanging smile on his lips.

Happy.

Anyone who saw him like this would find it hard to believe that he was a professional-level wanderer. If it weren't for Staro's introduction, Roland would hardly have noticed.

Perhaps this is what makes wanderers so terrifying.

He walked to the pot, where Habi had already stopped stirring and was looking up at him, waiting for him to speak.

"Lord Kalan, what would you like to eat today?" The halfling's tone was lighthearted, typical of his race, but his eyes were quite serious.

He's a professional when it comes to food.

But it is precisely because Harpy is too obsessed with "food" that Staro dares not entrust him with this responsibility, otherwise he would probably be eating dirt after only a few days of glory.

Fortunately, Roland wasn't that stingy.

He glanced at the boiling soup pot, then at the guards staring expectantly, pondered for a moment, and finally made his decision.

"Mixed soup, with smoked meat diced, dry rations broken into pieces and thrown in, two pieces of black bread for each person, and then the foragers to gather some wild vegetables to add in."

He paused, then added, "Also, everyone gets a bowl of ale at noon today. If they don't drink it, they'll go crazy."

"Remember, only one bowl."