Starting with the goblin extermination

Walking down the street, Logan felt like a pile of shit, stinking up. Although he had been very careful in the sewers and hadn't let any slime get on him, the lingering smell still made passersby wrinkle their noses.

However, nowadays, there are many people like him in the Adventurers' Guild.

It's afternoon now, the peak time for task delivery.

Some people squeezed into the crowd with their bare bottoms, showing no shame whatsoever. Some even clutched goblin ears in the queue, drops of blood dripping onto the floor.

Logan felt sorry for the guild's cleaning staff; it was incredibly dirty there.

The goblin Kruger was picking up a crystal core with two fingers. He looked at it with disdain, then accurately tossed it into the tray: "11 crystal cores, the reward is 3 silver eagle coins plus 30 copper coins. Please take them, Mr. Logan."

He produced a bunch of coins, and now Logan has a total of 3 silver coins and 40 copper coins, at least he doesn't have to sleep in the stables anymore.

"By the way, although you are very efficient, this smell... it makes even money lose its fragrance."

Logan ignored his nonsense, grabbed the money, and turned to leave.

He was almost fainting from the fumes.

Take a shower. I must take a shower right now!

......

Although the public bathhouse in Riverwood smelled like a pot of boiling old rag soup, it was still much better than Logan himself.

The air was thick with steam, which covered most of the mold and grime.

Logan, naked, submerged himself in the huge hot water pool.

"hiss--"

The hot water stung his skin. Logan looked down at his reflection in the water. The striking blond hair was both strange and familiar, and felt somewhat out of place in a country where red and black hair were the dominant colors.

The surroundings were not quiet; people were walking around swinging towels, some were scrubbing their backs, and some were chatting. It was quite noisy.

Several locals looked at his hair and the not-yet-fully-healed scars on his body and whispered among themselves.

"Refugees from the north."

Logan heard the word, but he didn't care. He lay comfortably in the pool, eyes closed, feeling the steam caressing his pores.

A long-awaited rest.

Emerging from the bathhouse and changing into a newly bought coarse linen shirt and trousers, Logan felt as if he had finally become a human again.

Although buying clothes cost him another silver coin, it was still better than running naked in the street.

There were still many pedestrians on the street, but looking up, it was getting late, and the orange-red sunset appeared on the distant horizon.

Logan opened the Adventurer's Handbook, his finger tracing the expensive inns before finally stopping at a corner of the western district of Riverwood.

The Sleeping Dragon Tavern

Note: The best inn for low-level adventurers. Strong drinks and all-you-can-eat food. The owner, Vant, a former adventurer, has a terrible temper, but it's absolutely safe—as long as you don't cause trouble on his turf.

That's it.

Logan pushed open the tavern door in front of him.

crunch--

It was cooler but also darker inside than outside. Adventurers sat around a large wooden table, some shaking dice and shouting as if they could win back the money they lost in the previous round. Others waved their glasses and drank with their friends.

In the dim light, waiters moved about, carrying wooden platters of drinks and food, deftly dodging outstretched feet or weapons.

In the corner, a bard was strumming his lyre and singing a vulgar tune...

This does feel like another world.

Behind the counter in the very center sat a giant-like figure.

His entire body was covered in golden scales, his vertical pupils were staring at the ledger, and a broken dragon horn looked somewhat ferocious.

He is the tavern owner, the dragonborn, Vante.

"stay?"

Vante glanced at Logan, his voice low and rumbling like thunder.

Another new face. He wouldn't give the kid a second glance just because he's good-looking. After all, what use is a beautiful dead person?

"Yes, how much is it for one night? 50 copper coins?"

Logan confirmed this, referring to the information in the manual.

"That's right, 50 copper coins, a bed, and a bolt that's jammed shut." Vant stretched out his large hand. "Pay first."

Logan weighed the money bag in his hand. If he added food or other expenses, he wouldn't even have enough money left to last five days.

"Stay for one night, and get me a set meal number three." Logan glanced at the menu above his head and ordered the cheapest one.

"Package number three, twenty copper coins."

Vante pointed casually.

"Find a place to sit down and don't cause trouble."

Logan found a corner to sit down.

A moment later, the waitress slammed the tray onto the table.

The portion size is truly impressive.

A bowl of bubbling, brown soup was emitting the aroma of onions and lard. The ingredients inside were not visible from the outside, but Logan stirred the bottom of the bowl with a wooden spoon and scooped up a tenderly stewed pork rib, along with some chopped turnips and beans.

He picked up the brick-sized black bread, wrapped a piece of dry smoked meat inside, and soaked it in the soup for a while.

As the bread absorbed the oil and became thick, Logan took a big bite. The rough grains rubbed against his throat, and the meaty flavor and broth slowly went down his throat, which was very refreshing.

Although he was used to the delicacies of society in his previous life and always looked down on white food, Logan now gave the food in front of him a thumbs up.

There was no way around it; he was just too hungry. The portion of this third set meal was indeed quite generous, and he ate his fill.

The food was quickly devoured in a flash.

Logan let out a painful burp, took a sip of water to rinse his mouth, then leaned back in his chair, staring blankly at the pub.

North Nordland is over; this is the Kingdom of the White Eagle. The biggest difference between the two countries, besides hair color, is the diversity of their races.

In the past, Logan rarely saw non-human races in the countryside of North Nordland, but here, he could easily find orcs, dwarves, and even half-elves on the streets.

There were quite a few in the tavern, of course.

Across from Logan, there were two dwarves, one old and one young, drinking wine and eating meat, their mouths greasy.

And sitting next to them was a familiar figure—

Is it that old man from the sewer?

The old man changed his clothes; though still slovenly, at least he wasn't wearing slime on his head anymore. He still held a bottle in his hand, staring at Logan with a dazed look, then surprisingly raised his glass, as if to greet him.

Logan was a little confused, but still politely raised his water glass in response.

"Hey..." the old man mumbled a word, but before Logan could hear him clearly, he slammed his hand on the table and started snoring.

"That old bastard..." Logan sighed and looked away.

A loud crash came from the other side of the tavern as tables and chairs overturned.

"You damned thief!"

A scarred orc roared as he kicked a thin young man in the stomach. The young man curled up on the ground, clutching a bundle tightly to his chest, refusing to let go even as his face was covered in blood.

"That's mine... I didn't steal it..."

"Still dare to be stubborn!"

The other two henchmen were chuckling as they surrounded him, punching and kicking him.

The patrons in the tavern watched the spectacle with their glasses in hand. After all, in Riverwood, this kind of thing was more common than eating.

Logan frowned. He didn't want to get involved, but judging from the man's appearance, he might get beaten to death if he didn't intervene.

"I said—"

A somber voice drowned out the noise.

The owner of Vante behind the counter made a move.

He charged in like a bull.

Before the scarred orc could react, Vant's massive dragon claw had already gripped his face, then shoved him backward with a loud thud on the floor.

"Fighting is prohibited in my shop."

Immediately afterwards, the huge tail swept across like a steel whip, and the two henchmen flew out of the gate like sacks, crashing heavily onto the street.

Finally, Vant picked up the dizzy orc like a chick, strode to the door, and casually tossed him aside. The orc, weighing over two hundred pounds, flew out like a rag doll and crashed heavily into the muddy street.

"Who else wants to fly farther than him?"

Vant dusted off his hands, pulled up the young man whose face was covered in blood, and then looked at Logan.

"What are you looking at? This kind of thing happens seven or eight times every night in Riverwood. You can't possibly control it all."

Logan nodded blankly, picked up the package, and walked up the stairs, still preoccupied with what had just happened.

Everything happened in the blink of an eye; Logan didn't even get a clear look at the two henchmen's faces before the farce was over.

It seems that the boss of Vant is as powerful as he is temperamental.

Anyway, the manual is right, it's safe to live here as long as you don't cause trouble.