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Seeing this, the sheriff hurriedly pulled the reins tightly. Fortunately, his horse was well-trained and calm, so it was not startled by the sudden change. The Horn Knight's hand instantly reached for his whip, and a stern look flashed in his eyes. He was about to shout at the woman to get out of the way. However, at this moment, Sheriff Edmund slowly raised a hand, stopping him.

"Enough blood has been shed today." His voice was calm and firm, silencing the restless crowd around him. "Knight Edim, she is your fellow believer. Go and see her child."

Knight Edim dismounted without hesitation and took the baby from the grateful woman's hands. His hands once again shone with silver light. The crowd around him gasped in unison. For ordinary civilians, witnessing a true healing miracle was truly a rare opportunity.

Soon, the silver light faded, and the baby seemed calmer, though his cheeks were still burning red. Knight Edim carefully cradled the baby in his arms and walked to the front of the cart. He looked up at Hopper and said, "My power is better suited for healing wounds. Ms. Hopper, do you have any herbs for fever?"

As Hopper took the swaddle, her fingers accidentally touched Edimu's hand. A sharp, needle-like stinging sensation instantly spread through her fingertips, nearly causing her to drop the swaddle. Hopper was secretly thankful that she was wearing a veil and didn't show any suspicious expression.

A pure, uncontaminated soul, perhaps even unbaptized. Hopper looked at the baby's wrinkled and dirty face, swallowed involuntarily, and pretended to touch his forehead, which was surprisingly hot.

She then handed the swaddling clothes to the natives beside her and began to search her bag. After a while, she took out a pile of sacks of various shapes and sizes, which were filled with various herbs.

"Here you go," Hopper carefully selected several herbs, placed them in an empty bag, and handed it to Edimu. She carefully held only one end of the bag to avoid touching the knight again, and said, "Willow bark, chamomile, honeysuckle, and mint. Have the child's mother make a decoction or tea out of these herbs and feed it to the child."

"Asmodeus of the Coiled Serpent Canyon, I truly didn't mean to do any good. This was all to ensure the smooth progress of the mission. Please don't deduct my soul merit," Hopper prayed silently in his heart, but his face remained expressionless. "I promise to find an opportunity to poison three innocent people in the future to make up for my 'mistake' in helping mortals for free today."

Of course, Asmodeus couldn't hear Hopper's earnest prayers. After all, the boss wasn't so idle as to cross boundaries and monitor every devil on their mission. However, for the devils, suspecting their superiors of being fully aware of every misstep in their work had long become a deeply ingrained habit.

Edimu reached out and took the herbal bag from Hopper, nodding. He carefully examined the herbs in the bag, expertly tied the bag, and then returned the bag and the child to the mother. The woman stood up, tears of gratitude streaming down her face, as if she were about to bow in thanks. However, her movements were awkward and stiff, making her look more like she had a leg cramp, which was quite comical.

Sheriff Edmund stroked his mustache and nodded with satisfaction. Then, his voice steady and commanding, he spoke: "Return to the ranks, Knight Edim. Also, give this woman who has offended the sheriff's team three lashes as a warning to others."

As soon as these words were spoken, a murmur of surprise erupted from the crowd, and everyone whispered to each other, their faces filled with shock. The woman's eyes widened in disbelief, staring at the sheriff, her eyes filled with fear and confusion. At this moment, Edim's hand had already reached for his whip.

Edim's voice lacked his usual kindness. Behind his mask, his eyes were cold as he stared at the woman. "I sympathize with your child's plight, but this is no excuse for you to rashly offend the sheriff's team. Now, please turn your back to me and kneel to accept the punishment you deserve."

Hopper covered her face, pretending not to dare to watch the execution. A little blood fell on her hand with the whip flying and the woman's screams, all of which made her feel sincerely comforted.

"Ah, the fragrance of order and law, I really like this place more and more." The corners of her mouth rose slightly, her eyes flashed with excitement, and she even wanted to applaud and cheer for the sheriff and the knights.

Chapter 97: Emerald Harbor

The effect of the flogging was immediate, and the crowd hurriedly retreated to the sides to make way for the woman, fearing that they would repeat the woman's mistake. When they saw the bodies lying on the trailer, several young children were frightened and burst into tears.

Thus, they entered the Emerald Harbor's gate, carved with waves and mermaids, at a speed far exceeding expectations. According to Sheriff Edmund, this was all due to the knights' majestic aura, which successfully deterred those scoundrels with evil intentions.

However, Hopper was more inclined to believe that this was just a small privilege brought by power. After all, just when they crossed the suspension bridge, the guards faced the orcs and the natives, two obviously suspicious people, but did not conduct any inspections.

Hopper instinctively touched the ring on her left hand. Though it looked like silver, it was in fact meticulously crafted from tungsten. A must-have for this mission, it had been generously gifted by Lady Harsh. Unlike typical transformation rings, this one not only possessed a transformation function but also possessed the magical ability to evade detection. As long as she avoided provoking those with true vision, she wouldn't have to worry about her true identity being revealed.

The wind from the passage carried a damp, salty smell, the scent of seawater. The journey was drawing to a close when Judith unexpectedly took the initiative and asked, "Knight Yaron, is it okay for us not to be inspected? Aren't you checking for shapeshifters for the celebration?"

Knight Yaron wasn't sure if he hadn't heard or was just choosing his words, but the lively Knight Hewei was the first to break the silence, explaining, "Based on our past experience, shapeshifters usually choose to be low-key and ordinary, blending in with the crowd to avoid attracting attention."

Knight Hervey's words were brief, but their meaning was clear. Judith and Hopper's appearances were too striking. Neither beautiful nor utterly ugly were the types of looks a shapeshifter would choose, as they would easily attract too much attention and increase the risk of exposure.

Edimu, who was riding in front, silently took out a small handful of tightly tied branches and leaves from his saddle strap, lit it, and handed it to Hewei. Hewei then handed it to the orc.

The driver, bewildered, held the smoking branch, completely unsure of what to do. Knight Hervey saw this and patiently explained, "Take a deep breath, then pass it on to the next person."

The orc hurriedly followed the instructions, taking a deep puff of the smoke. He coughed and choked, tears streaming down his face. He didn't dare ask further questions, fearing he'd disturbed the knights' playful pranks. The dwarf and the native took turns taking the branch, inhaling, and then passed it to Judith.

Hopper noticed that Knight Edim's speed had slowed down imperceptibly. His hand seemed to be carelessly resting on the hilt of his sword, but in fact his eyes were watching Judith warily. Judith untied a corner of her veil, sniffed it lightly, and then handed the branch to Hopper.

The small torch smoldered in Hopper's hand, emitting a pungent and rich aroma. She sniffed it closely and found it was rosemary and wormwood - herbs said to be used to neutralize the magic of shapeshifters, more than enough to deal with ordinary shapeshifters.

"It's a shame I'm not a shapeshifter. If you really doubted me, you might as well just throw holy water on me." Hopper mentally rolled her eyes at Edim's caution. To dispel his doubts, she met his gaze, untied her veil, took a deep breath, and then pretended to be choked.

Seeing this, Knight Hervey considerately took the herbal torch from her hand and said with a smile, "Look, Ms. Judith, you all passed the inspection successfully. There is indeed no shapeshifter in this car."

"Speaking of which, what kind of celebration are you talking about?" Hopper looked at Knight Aaron and asked in confusion, "Is it a sacrificial ceremony to some god? Or does Emerald Harbor have some kind of unique festival?"

Knight Aaron removed the grass stem from his mouth, gave Hopper a bearded smile, and said, "Miss Hopper, you come from afar, so it's normal that you don't know. To celebrate the coming of age of Lord Speaker Westerling's eldest son, the Speaker will hold a grand knightly tournament next month. Many knights have traveled across the sea to participate."

Hopper smiled back and complimented, "I've witnessed your bravery. I believe that under Sheriff Edmund's leadership, you will surely achieve a good ranking in the tournament."

Even as they spoke, they had already passed through the dark corridor. Emerald Harbor was nestled in a seaside valley, and the city gate they were standing at happened to be the commanding height of the northern slope. Even then, it wasn't yet completely dark. Emerald Harbor's distinctive dark green roofs, staggered and layered, blended seamlessly with the vast sea. And in the valley, the lights of countless homes, like fleets of night fishing boats, dotted across this dark green ocean, a breathtaking beauty.

Sheriff Edmund raised his hand to signal everyone to stop, then turned to the people in the convoy and said, "I think this place is safe enough. Let's say goodbye here."

Before the coachman could finish his words of thanks, the knights silently and quickly formed an orderly column behind the sheriff. At Sheriff Edmund's command, they sped up their pace, and soon even the fluttering flag disappeared among the undulating roofs.

The driver had to go to the local coachman's guild to settle down. He hurriedly unloaded the goods from the cart and left. As a merchant, the dwarf simply hired the natives as temporary followers to help him carry the luggage and goods.

Hopper wasn't in a rush to find a place to stay. After all, most creatures in this city were probably less dangerous than herself. The succubus strolled leisurely through the streets, wondering if she should try to swindle a soul or two to test her skills, or if she should hold off for now and open a herbal medicine shop somewhere to conceal her identity.

Hopper's ears twitched. As a commercial port, Emerald Harbor had no curfew, and there were sailors and citizens out at night seeking pleasure. And amid the clamor, she was sure she heard a familiar voice.

She looked up and found herself standing at the door of a tavern with a brightly colored sign hanging on the iron railings.

"Hanged Elf? What a nice name!" Hopper laughed as she read the sign. The moment she pushed open the door of the tavern, a mixture of sound waves, heat, the aroma of food and the smell of wine hit her in the face. The force was like an iron fist, almost knocking her out again.

The Hanged Elf's name wasn't particularly elegant, but it was a rather large tavern, packed with at least fifty smelly sailors and a dozen unbuttoned courtesans. They even had a small stage constructed from boxes and tattered canvas for the artists who came to perform.

This made Judith, who was sitting on the stage in a black dress, traveling cloak and a veil, look particularly out of place.

Chapter 98 Sing, Nightingale

Emerald Harbor is a city of sailors, merchants, and adventurers. It's the first stop for adventurers seeking to make a name for themselves in the Northern Continent, and the final refuge for those unfortunate souls who can't make it out of the harsh North.

Therefore, for the owner of the Hanged Elf Tavern, Miser Kidd, a woman wearing a long woolen cloak and a veil walked into the tavern alone, which was not a big deal. There were as many adventurers in the Shade District as there were drunkards in the Wave District, some of whom were weird and unruly.

"Besides," the miser thought as he poured wine into his glass and glanced at the woman sitting upright at the bar, "even with a long cloak, her heart is broader than that of Lily's mother's fifteen daughters combined."

Thinking of this, the miser couldn't help but look towards the stage with a headache. He was filled with regret. He really shouldn't have agreed to let that withered poetess perform on stage just to save that little money. The poetess had been singing all night. Although her singing was not the worst the miser had ever heard, she was undoubtedly the most boring and restrained poet he had ever met.

"Snake of Pleasure, couldn't you have given this foolish woman even a little ability to attract men?" the tavern owner muttered, pouring a glass of dark beer for the cloaked woman and charging her only two coppers. "Who on earth would want to hear 'The Triumph of the Parr Army'? Can't she sing something more appealing like 'The Breastfeeding Werewolf' or 'The Priest in the Rain'?"

Hopper took the discounted stout and watched Judith on the stage with interest. She had never heard this piece of music before, but judging by the speed and frequency of Judith's strumming of the strings, it was definitely not a simple piece of music.

However, the drinkers didn't seem to appreciate it. After she stopped playing, the drinkers in the pub were all immersed in the intoxication of alcohol or enjoying the attentive service of the waitresses. Not only did no one cheer or give tips, there was not even a symbolic applause.

Until the patron sitting nearest her spoke drunkenly. He wore a dark red cotton coat, more refined than the others, and was clean-shaven, a distinguished presence, clearly not one of those lowly sailors. The young man, his face flushed with wine, raised his glass and called out to the poet, "Sing a merry tune, Nightingale, in praise of the beauties present."

The tavern erupted in laughter, and several waitresses responded by toasting to the man. The poet stood up, bowed, and picked up his lute again. "Then I will sing for you the story of the brave and fearless adventurer, Alysia Astamasha, the Eternal Blade of Arvandor."

She tuned her harp, cleared her throat, and sang the first line: "The gaze of the self-sacrificing mentor fixed upon you, and the threads of fate quietly began to spin. Alicia, the brilliant light of the elves."

However, before she could finish the second line, another black-bearded drunkard interrupted her loudly: "Oh, my little nightingale, please spare me. It has been three hundred years since the elves left this world. Who still wants to hear stories about long-eared, flat-chested women? Give us "The Milkmaid"! "

The tavern erupted in playful laughter, and two of the patrons had already begun to sing in fragments: "Oh, oh, the milkmaid, getting up early in the morning, leaving the bedroom, naked."

"Hey!" The young man who first asked for a song suddenly blushed and shouted angrily, "I came here first. I just want to listen to Alicia's songs. Stop messing around here!"

The black-bearded drunkard nonchalantly rested his feet on the table, his chair barely supported by its legs. He squinted at the young man and retorted with disdain, "Where did you come from, you young brat? You're so immature! Let's sing 'The Milkmaid' to get you to drink more milk so you can grow up quickly. Stop making such a fuss here."

The young man kicked over a chair, jumped up, and rolled up his sleeves, ready to rush over and fight with the black-bearded drunk. Just then, a stern-faced man beside him grabbed him and shook his head. The young man's chest heaved with anger, and he gasped for breath. But in the end, he suppressed his anger, glared at the black-bearded drunk, picked up the chair, and sat down heavily.

Seeing this, Miser Kidd slammed his wooden cup on the bar, attracting everyone's attention. He raised his voice loud enough for everyone in the tavern to hear, "Guests, calm down! The night watchman is eagerly waiting to catch a brawler or two so he can fine them. You, the poet, sing that song of Alicia first, then sing 'The Milkmaid' twice!"

Blackbeard seemed to sober up a bit after his interruption, and swallowed the taunts he had been about to offer the young man. Everyone turned their attention back to the poet. Judith sat down calmly and spoke again, her voice still trembling slightly. "You know your mission is shining brightly in the distance. The warmth of home no longer holds you back. Pack your bags and set sail for the distant land."

Her voice was calm and gentle, but it was soon drowned out by the clamor of the patrons. As her singing received no response, she grew increasingly unsure, a gloomy look flickering in her eyes.

Hopper moved his fingers, quietly casting an emotion-detecting spell. Suddenly, a fuzzy taste rose in her mouth: the taste of anxiety, mingled with a cold fear and a bubble of self-destruction. Hopper smacked his lips. Judith was suffering because her songs were unpopular. As a kind-hearted demon who enjoyed fulfilling others' wishes, how could he not help?

The succubus calmly surveyed the tavern, keenly sensing the surrounding atmosphere. She didn't detect any spellcasters. So, she quietly cast a spell, connecting with the poet's mind. Then, with a gentle hint, like a push from behind, she guided Judith down the path of a reckless performance, striving to attract everyone's attention.

Judith on the stage seemed to have made a decision. She stood up and suddenly swept the strings with great force, making a loud and piercing noise that instantly attracted the attention of everyone in the tavern.

Then, she grabbed her headscarf and yanked it hard, exposing her warty face to the crowd. In the dim light of the whale oil lamp, her face was distorted and terrifying, even more terrifying than the ancient demons of the abyss. The waitresses turned pale and screamed. The poet shouted at the top of his voice, "Everyone, please listen to the ugliest poet in the entire northern continent sing "The Milkmaid" for you!"

There was a brief silence, like the calm before a storm. Then, the patrons erupted in enthusiastic cheers and deafening whistles, setting the entire tavern ablaze. The poet twisted her body awkwardly and laboriously, strumming the lute wildly, while the patrons stared at her in amazement, soon joining in the chorus.

Just when everyone's attention was attracted by the poet with strange appearance and crazy performance, only Hopper saw a thin human pushing open the door of the tavern and walking in.

The man appeared to be no more than forty years old, his face sullen and impassive beneath a silver-plated headband. He wore black studded leather armor and matching high-soled boots. Beneath his grimy black cloak, the metal components of his crossbow and sword hilt glimmered, reflecting a cold light. This dignified appearance, combined with the holy symbol he pinned to his cloak, made his identity clear.

Hopper stared at the holy emblem engraved with a sword splitting the demon's skull, and couldn't help but wail in his heart:

"I'm not so unlucky, am I? I just cast a spell and summoned the Inquisitor?"

Chapter 99: The Judge

From the ornate verses of bards to the fables passed down by grandmothers, the priests and paladins of the good gods are the primary forces in exorcising demons. However, in the eyes of demons, these servants of the good gods are like ripe raspberries: attractive in appearance, yet riddled with thorns. Despite their thorniness, their alluring aura remains irresistible to the demons.

The true culprits of the demons, and indeed all demons, are the clergy of the three gods of order. They are the Pyrrhonians of the Church of the Burning Sun, the Exorcists of the Church of the Eternal Sleep, and the Inquisitors under the command of Blood Father, the Punisher, Prector. The Pyrrhonians are primarily responsible for punishing believers corrupted by evil and undertaking large-scale cleansing to ensure the purity of the faith. The Exorcists focus on exorcising demons and wandering undead spirits that possess humans. And the Inquisitors constantly travel, hunting down heretics and cultists to uphold the orthodoxy of the faith.

Inquisitors, in particular, are loyal followers of the Punisher, but in reality, various churches often commission them to hunt down spiritual bond masters, blasphemous priests, and followers of demons. Their long-term special missions have made them extremely sensitive to various strange events and magic, seemingly possessing superhuman intuition and insight.

Hopper, hiding behind her veil, discreetly observed the Inquisitor as he entered the tavern. She unconsciously straightened her back, her mind secretly on guard. The spell she had just cast didn't use much magic power. Were the Punisher's dogs' noses really that sharp?

By this point, everyone in the tavern was so absorbed in Judith's bizarre performance that no one noticed the Inquisitor approaching. With each step the Inquisitor took, Hopper's nervousness grew. Finally, the Inquisitor stopped in front of Hopper, his gloomy eyes scanning him with a blank expression. Then, he walked around and rapped his knuckles on the bar to get the bartender's attention.

"I'm Judge Igor." The judge's voice was as cold as he was. But Miser Kid immediately put down his cup and rag, stood up straight, and looked at him as if he were facing a formidable enemy. If one hadn't seen it with one's own eyes, no one would have imagined that this tall man, at this moment, was as submissive as a puppy.

Igor merely stated his name, and before he could ask, Kidd launched into a long, uninterrupted explanation: "I swear to the Perfect Man, Lord Igor, I truly haven't noticed anything unusual. My tavern hasn't served a tiefling in at least ten years."

"I smell an evil stench of sulfur," his words made Hopper's heartstrings taut. But the Inquisitor's attention was focused on the boss, who was huddled and trembling, and he didn't notice Hopper's abnormality. "Has anyone of note appeared in the past week?"

Kidd forced a smile that was uglier than crying. He swallowed hard and said, "Your Excellency the Inquisitor, sir. As you know, my tavern has dozens of sailors and adventurers coming in and out every day. I really can't keep track of everyone."

The Inquisitor said nothing, simply staring at the tavern owner. Unconsciously, the other patrons gradually noticed the Inquisitor standing in front of the bar, as well as the silent owner. Judith also stopped playing the piano and singing. The black-bearded patron shouted to the owner, "Hey, miser, what's with that expression on your face? Did a snake get into your crotch?"

He laughed twice at his own witticism, but that solitary laugh echoed in the quiet tavern, seeming particularly abrupt and harsh. Kidd had an expression of reluctance and squeezed out a few words from between his teeth: "Shut up and be polite in front of Inquisitor Igor!"

Blackbeard's face, flushed with alcohol, suddenly turned pale. He was so frightened that he leaned back and fell to the ground with his chair. He didn't care about the pain in his buttocks and hurriedly got up, apologizing repeatedly.

The Inquisitor, not taking his eyes off Kidd, simply waved his hand casually. Blackbeard and the other patrons, as if granted amnesty, hurried out of the tavern. Within five minutes, the once bustling establishment was reduced to only four people. Judith remained on the stage, carefully picking up the tips the patrons had just thrown her. Meanwhile, Hopper had the Inquisitor, whether intentionally or not, step on the corner of her cloak. An ordinary woman, encountering the Inquisitor, would never have the courage to demand that he remove his distinguished foot.

Kidd's face paled. As Judith picked up the last coin and turned to leave the tavern, his uneasiness grew stronger. Finally, as if making up his mind, he trembled and pulled a flat paper package from under the counter. He placed the package on the bar, fumbled with it, and showed the contents to the judge.

The miser said in a voice almost on the verge of tears: "I really didn't know there was anything wrong with this thing. The damned Sticky Fingers sold it to me five days ago. He swore at the time that this was a treasure passed down from his grandmother. Bah! I knew at first glance that this must be stolen goods, but I..."

The Inquisitor pulled a dagger from his belt, causing Kidd to shudder. However, the Inquisitor wasn't using the knife to slash the boss's throat. He carefully lifted the contents of the package. It was a long ribbon, meticulously embroidered with gold thread and inlaid with tiny gemstones. It gleamed faintly in the dim light. The Inquisitor examined it for a moment, then brought the ribbon to his nose and sniffed. "Interesting! A garter that smells of sulfur. Who is this Sticky Fingers you're talking about?"

The miser took a deep breath, as if he had mustered up all his courage, and then spoke out all his words in one breath like a machine gun, fearing that if he paused in the middle, he would no longer have the courage to continue.

"His original name was Tressler, and he was the only son of the Kane family. Because he often stole small things, everyone here called him Sticky Fingers. Although the Kane family is now penniless and has even pawned their armor, their ancestral home is still in the Twinkling Star District, so he should still be living there. I really don't know where he got this thing from, I swear!"

The Inquisitor ignored his defense and simply lowered his head to carefully rewrap the garter. Only then did he seem to notice that he had stepped on Hopper's cloak. The Inquisitor casually removed his foot and walked towards the door, saying, "My apologies, Madam. I'm sorry for taking up your time. I wish you a pleasant evening. Also, you have excellent taste in wormwood and rosemary."

Hopper lowered her head and rubbed her fingers together, a layer of white powder falling off. She breathed a sigh of relief. Ever since accidentally touching Edimu after he had cast a spell that afternoon, her entire finger had been peeling. Fortunately, the Inquisitor hadn't noticed.

She pretended to look for money in her bag and deliberately lingered for a few minutes, making sure the judge had gone far away. Then she stood up and tied her cloak tightly, which still smelled of the sheriff's incense. Then she straightened her clothes and turned to leave the tavern.

The succubus stood on the street, sniffed the air, and then chose a side path away from the Inquisitor. After a few steps, she saw a strange-looking object hanging at the end of the path. She squinted her eyes and looked for a long time before she recognized it as the black-bearded drunkard. However, he had been shaved clean off, and he was hanging upside down from the tree like a large white pig waiting to be slaughtered, his body twitching slightly, looking extremely miserable.

Hopper wrinkled his nose, disgust flashed in his eyes, and left.

Chapter 100 Do you have that kind of medicine?

The nobles of Rhaadan City have always been proud of their secluded mansions nestled deep within the Starry District. These mansions are often spacious enough to house their entire families, and behind their formidable stone walls lie gardens laden with fruit and flowers, fountains crafted from rose stone mined from the wastelands, statues carved from the purest marble sourced from the ocean, and prayer rooms built from fragrant incense wood.

Lady Iris of the Parma family, however, abandoned her most cherished duty of tending the mansion today and departed the Sparkling Star District in a carriage with the curtains drawn tightly. She didn't want anyone at the mansion to know her destination, so she only brought a personal maid with her. Her destination was a humble shop in the Shady District.

Generally speaking, most of the nobles of the Twinkling Star District were reluctant to set foot in the Thick Shade District. According to Lady Iris's best friend, Lady Catherine (and fifteen other noblewomen), the place always emanated the "sour stench of the common people." In their view, the only family worth associating with in the Thick Shade District was the Monte family, who had resided in Riyadan City since its founding.

The road conditions in the Shady District were much worse than those in the Sparkling Star District, and the ride was extremely bumpy. Just as Lady Iris was about to lose her dignity and hit the driver on the head, she finally heard him sigh, stop the carriage, and help her lift the curtain.

Because they had stayed in the closed carriage for a long time, after the coachman opened the curtain, the fresh air mixed with the fragrance of flowers was like an alluring hand pulling Ms. Alice out of the carriage.

Most of the houses in the Shady District were row houses called "craftsman houses." At one glance, Ms. Elise was immediately certain of her destination. From the outside, the house looked much like the surrounding craftsman houses, but certain details made it stand out. Blooming roses and jasmine flowers lined the railings outside the doorway. Bunches of dried herbs hung from the eaves, not furs or farm tools. The porch was free of clutter, giving it a remarkably neat and orderly appearance.

"I hope the people inside can fulfill my wish," she prayed silently in her heart.

"This will definitely fulfill your wish," Hopper said as he handed the tightly wrapped herb to the dwarf at the counter. "This is verbena pickled with royal jelly. It will restore your husband's vitality."

"Thank you so much, Ms. Hopper." The dwarf clutched the medicine bag tightly in his hand, his face full of gratitude. "Ever since Prue was attacked outside the city, his health has not improved. It's all because he believed that damn rumor that orcs only attack humans, so he ran out hunting."

Even by dwarf standards, she was no longer young. Time had left its mark on her face, the fine wrinkles around her eyes and mouth like lines carved by time. She sighed, "I'm not sure if the orcs only attack humans, but they've made the tall people in this city unwilling to lend a hand to us shorter people. I had to ask around and consult so many people before I finally found you."

"I was also attacked by orcs on my way to Emerald Harbor." Hopper turned sideways to stir the small crucible on the counter. Steam was rising from it, and the dwarf felt his whole body warm after smelling it. "I haven't been out lately. I thought Lord Monte had dealt with these bandits."

The dwarf shook his head and said, "Those within the city walls, or in the villages near the city walls, might not feel it. I heard that several tall-man villages in the mountains were burned down."

The sound of a door opening interrupted their conversation. Late summer sunlight illuminated the small herbalist's shop. A plump woman, wearing a veil and hood, entered, accompanied by her maid. Though she maintained a low profile, wearing no jewelry, her expensive worsted wool dress and spotless deerskin boots hinted at her noble birth.

Ms. Elise surveyed the herbalist's shop. Like all artisan shops, it had a front-to-back layout. The counter and shelves were filled with a variety of potions, chopped herbs, powdered medicines, and ointments. Beyond the counter, the space for customers was incredibly narrow, barely enough for a chair.

When Ms. Elise saw Hopper for the first time, she immediately understood why Catherine insisted on having her come in person instead of calling the merchants to her house to serve her as the nobles usually did.

The herbalist was significantly taller than Elise, perhaps even taller than her husband. At a tea party with noble ladies, she would undoubtedly be ridiculed as clumsy and uncouth. However, her exceptional height complemented the herbalist's cold yet beautiful features, giving her an air of nobility that stood out from the crowd. Elise was secretly grateful to Catherine; after all, she didn't want her husband to have a herbalist mistress, much less a herbalist daughter-in-law.

"Get this low-class citizen out!" Elise's maid pointed at the dwarf arrogantly and said to Hopper, "I will pay for her herbs. My mistress needs to be alone!"

Hopper raised an eyebrow and was about to respond when the dwarf scurried out, fearing the lady would change her mind and considerately closing the door behind her as he left.

The lady took two steps forward and sniffed. The smell of the crucible made her feel more relaxed. She pointed at the crucible with her round, white fingers and asked, "What is this?"