Colin did not actually say anything important.

He merely asked whether Roland had any other needs, then told him he could stay in Far Harbor until the ships arrived, with all expenses covered.

Roland politely declined.

Although less than a year had passed since he transmigrated to this world, he was no longer alone.

In that time, he had met many close friends and received their help more than once.

Sean, Peyton, John, Hawk, Darco...

Since he had decided to leave the Golden Valley Kingdom, both feeling and reason demanded that he say goodbye in person.

Aside from those friends, there was one more person he wanted to take with him.

Far Harbor's white city walls receded behind him until they vanished from view.

Roland touched the bracer-shaped white bone on his left wrist with his right hand, thoughts stirring.

"Although Mr. Bronson has limited talent on the path of a Warlock, he is deeply learned and obsessed with research. He has considerable accomplishments in magic-related theory."

"He has remained in Blackwater Territory only to obtain research funding. If I have him come with me to the River Kingdoms and rely on Colin's deep pockets to free him from the restraints of funding, perhaps he can develop even more novel Spell Circuits..."

While Roland was thinking, a familiar voice sounded beside him.

"Hey, Roland!"

Darco rode closer, curiosity shining in his eyes.

"I wanted to say this earlier..."

He looked Roland up and down in his new outfit and whistled.

"That set of gear really is impressive!"

The young noble reached out and tapped Roland's pauldron. The metal gave a clear, pleasant ring.

"This workmanship, tsk..."

He sighed in admiration.

"His Majesty Morne's reward really is extraordinary..."

Roland noticed the envy Darco failed to hide. He lowered his head and examined his brand-new equipment, and a smile tugged at his mouth.

Beneath the sunlight, the blue-and-white refined steel plate armor gleamed with a cool metallic luster.

The breastplate was engraved with delicate wave patterns, while the pauldrons had been cleverly shaped into seagulls with wings spread for flight.

The deep blue cloak lifted in the wind. Even the scabbard at his waist bore the same exquisite blue-and-white wave crest.

The armor carried dignity without sacrificing agility, producing measured metallic sounds as he moved.

Even someone who knew nothing about armor could tell at a glance that this equipment was far superior to ordinary armor.

Roland knew perfectly well why it was so fine.

He had accepted Colin's recruitment.

If this had merely been a reward to satisfy Morne, then with that merchant's miserly nature, Colin would never have taken out armor of this quality.

"Still..."

Darco turned to look not far away, compared the two sets of armor, and spoke again.

"I still think pure black armor looks more imposing. When I become a Knight in the future, I'll wear a full suit of black armor like Lord Gundar!"

Following Darco's gaze, Roland looked toward Gundar, who was leading the guards not far ahead.

This famous Knight had not appeared here to escort the two of them, of course. Under Morne's orders, he was heading to Dawnlight Territory to wipe out the remaining forces of the Church of Truth and take control of the territory along the way.

Since their routes overlapped, Roland had asked Gundar to travel together.

With such a powerful Knight present, any danger on the road was not worth fearing.

Based on Roland's performance during the martial display, Gundar had not refused.

However, unlike Colin, Gundar did not seek further conversation.

Perhaps Roland's strength still had not reached the level where this commander would actively try to befriend him. Perhaps Gundar was simply taciturn by nature.

Either way, he did not mention service at the border again during the journey, nor did he exchange unnecessary pleasantries.

Under Gundar's lead, Roland and Darco passed through Dawnlight Territory without obstruction and encountered no harassment from thieves or bandits.

Under this iron-blooded Knight's thunderous methods, the remnants of the Church of Truth in Dawnlight Territory were completely purged.

The only unexpected matter was the news that Gavin's youngest son, Mason, had disappeared.

"Clop, clop, clop..."

Hooves echoed, slow and heavy, along the quiet road.

Darco looked back at the bleak village behind them and sighed softly. Then he noticed Roland had gone still and asked with concern, "What's wrong, Roland? Tired? Blackwater Territory isn't far ahead. Hold on a little longer. If you really can't..."

"I'm fine, Darco."

Roland raised a hand and interrupted him. After joking casually for a few words, the group continued onward.

His gaze, however, remained fixed on the empty air before him.

In his vision, a line of golden text flickered faintly.

[Basic Riding has reached max level]

[Upon inspection, you qualify for the upper occupation: Squire]

[Requirements: Strength 8, Agility 8, 2/2 max-level horse-taming-related skills, 3/3 max-level short-weapon-related skills, 0/3 max-level long-weapon-related skills, 1/1 max-level ranged-weapon-related skills, kill enemies from horseback 0/100]

[Host does not meet the requirements]

"As expected, maxing Basic Riding can unlock a new occupation, and an upper occupation at that! But..."

Roland rubbed his smooth chin, thinking.

"Although it's called [Squire], it doesn't seem to have much connection to the Transcendent Professional Knight. Looking at these requirements, it's more like... cavalry?"

He gathered his thoughts and examined the job change requirements.

"Compared to [Warrior], [Squire] has much more complicated requirements. Fortunately, I already satisfied most of them when taking other occupations. It's just..."

His gaze landed on the three long-weapon-related skills, and Roland frowned.

In ground combat, unless one fought in formation as part of a legion, long weapons were often less practical than short weapons because of their length and lack of flexibility.

The guards in the estate, such as John, mostly had only a shallow grasp of spear usage.

The true advantage of long weapons was usually shown in cavalry charges.

But in the Golden Valley Kingdom, horses were already rare.

The horses raised in the estate's stable were mainly used to deliver intelligence, not for combat training.

At present, he had no suitable environment to learn more refined long-weapon techniques.

"Forget it..."

After considering it for a while, Roland shook his head.

"There are only three months left before I go to the River Kingdoms anyway. If there really is no way, I'll have Colin help me find an instructor proficient in long weapons when the time comes."

Darco's excited urging came from ahead again.

Perhaps because this was his first long journey away from home, the young noble had become especially lively the moment they entered Blackwater Territory.

"Roland, hurry up! There's a village not far ahead. We'll spend the night there!"

"Coming!"

Roland answered loudly, squeezed his horse's sides, and followed.

He still did not know whether Baron Forsling had awakened from his coma. Even so, compared to the unsettled Dawnlight Territory, Blackwater Territory was clearly much safer.

The journey remained calm. After only a few short days, the familiar outline of the estate entered view.

Before they even approached the estate, they saw a somewhat thin figure standing before the gate.

"Father!"

After recognizing the man's face, Darco cried out in surprise and urged his horse into a gallop.

As he drew near, he executed a clean, beautiful dismount.

But when he saw Baron Forsling's pale complexion, his throat tightened.

"Father, you... you've awakened?"

"Darco!"

Forsling looked at his son's sun-darkened face. Warmth appeared in his eyes, only to vanish at once.

He lowered his voice and reprimanded him.

"As the eldest son of the Collins family, you are not allowed to cry!"

"Yes!"

Darco reflexively straightened his back, blinked away the wetness in his eyes, and scratched his hair awkwardly.

"I was just... too excited, Father."

"I know, Darco..."

Looking at his son's evasive gaze, Forsling sighed and reached out to pat his shoulder.

"I have heard about what happened in Far Harbor. You did well."

He paused.

"It seems that while I was unconscious, you have grown into a reliable man."

The sudden praise left Darco at a loss.

He looked around awkwardly and stiffly changed the subject.

"Father, where is that old... I mean, where is Knight Beckham? Didn't I tell him to remain at the estate?"

"Mind how you address him! You must show Knight Beckham proper respect!"

"Yes... yes..."

Seeing his son fall back into that timid manner, Forsling shook his head helplessly.

"Since I have already awakened, I had Knight Beckham return to the Black Fir Forest garrison."

He lowered his voice and explained, "Although those monsters have all withdrawn into their lairs for some unknown reason recently, we absolutely cannot let down our guard."

As he spoke, Forsling waved toward the people behind Darco, signaling for the others to enter the estate first.

Roland understood. He nodded to Darco, dismounted, led Blackwind by the reins, and walked through the estate gate.

After returning to the long-missed apprentice dormitory, briefly packing his luggage, and taking off the blue-and-white armor, Roland did not delay. He went straight to the smithy.

After seeing Hawk, Roland explained his plans and intentions in detail.

Unexpectedly, the always strict old blacksmith did not scold him. Instead, he enthusiastically explained the customs and social system of the River Kingdoms.

"Right!"

Hawk suddenly remembered something. He turned and took a parchment scroll stamped with a hammer-shaped seal from deep within the counter.

Through the faintly visible words, Roland recognized it as a letter of recommendation about him.

"This is a recommendation letter for the Blacksmith Guild."

Hawk gazed at the young man before him, gratification and reluctance mingling in his eyes.

He patted Roland's shoulder heavily, his voice still booming.

"Joining the guild requires recommendations from two members. You'll have to figure out the other one yourself. After all, in all of Blackwater Territory, aside from me, there's only that stubborn old Henry..."

At this point, the old blacksmith suddenly changed tack and jabbed a rough finger against Roland's chest.

"Your forging skill is decent now, but you're still a little short of the guild's assessment standard."

He gave the instruction earnestly. "Don't neglect your craft after you reach the River Kingdoms. Understand?"

"Yes, Master Hawk!"

Roland bowed deeply, gratitude filling his heart.

Without this old master's careful cultivation and appreciation, he absolutely could not have achieved what he had today.

"All right!"

Hawk pulled Roland upright and waved a hand with easy boldness.

"If you get the chance, remember to come back and visit. Let me see how much your craft has improved by then!"

"No problem, Master Hawk!"

After a few more words of small talk, Hawk turned and went back to work.

Some apprentices nearby had overheard part of the conversation and mistakenly thought Roland was merely leaving Blackwater Territory for a long journey.

Because Roland often helped them complete tasks on ordinary days, his relationship with everyone was very harmonious.

During the midday break, the apprentices held a simple but warm farewell gathering for Roland in the dining hall.

After saying goodbye to George and the other blacksmith apprentices, Roland went to visit John.

Unlike Hawk's earnest instruction, the old soldier was extremely direct about Roland's decision to leave Blackwater Territory.

"You should've left long ago!"

John held a wheat straw between his teeth and waved a hand carelessly.

"If I had any real ability, I wouldn't come to this damned backwater even if you beat me to death!"

After agreeing to drink with the old soldier that night, Roland hurried to that remote little house.

Before he even entered, he heard the scratch of a quill racing across paper inside.

The familiar sound made Roland smile, and he pushed the door open.

The room was as messy as ever.

Books and tools were scattered across the floor, leaving almost nowhere to step.

Bronson looked even more disheveled.

His already patched robe had gained several more holes, and his hair was a tangled mess.

The only comforting thing was that his figure had not continued to grow thinner. It seemed he had at least listened to the reminder to eat on time.

"Roland?"

Bronson raised his head. After seeing who had arrived, he jumped up in excitement and nearly tripped over the clutter on the floor.

"Listen to me! I made a major discovery!"

He gestured wildly with both hands.

"I discovered that the concentration of Mana Elements of different attributes varies significantly between regions! For example..."

After pouring out every discovery in a torrent of words, the scholar finally smacked his lips with lingering enthusiasm. Only then did he remember to ask, "Right, how was the white bone I had Young Master Darco bring to you last time? Was it useful?"

"Surprisingly useful."

Roland showed the white bone worn on his left hand, smiling slightly.

"And I can already cast cantrips successfully."

"Ha! Your talent really is astonishing!"

After briefly exchanging updates, Roland told Bronson that he would soon go to the River Kingdoms.

Just as he expected, when the scholar heard there would be ample research funding there, he agreed without the slightest hesitation.

"When do we set out?"

Bronson asked impatiently, excitement shining in his eyes.

Seeing his eagerness, Roland smiled helplessly.

"I still need to visit a friend in Mist Creek Town. It won't take too long."

He paused.

"You might as well pack your luggage first. Once I return, we'll set out for Far Harbor and wait for the ship."

"No problem!"

"Right!"

Roland suddenly remembered something and took an ancient-looking pendant from his chest pocket.

It was the item that had fallen from the Church of Truth leader's avatar after Roland killed it with Fire Bolt not long ago.

"Mr. Bronson, could you help me look at what this is?"

Bronson accepted the pendant and narrowed his eyes to examine it.

A moment later, he said with some hesitation, "This seems... somewhat similar to the magical implements recorded in ancient texts."

"Magical implements?"

"That's right."

Bronson sat down with the pendant in hand, observing it as he explained.

"Before the Final Era, some Spellcasters, in order to conserve Spirit consumption, would often inscribe the runes of specific spells onto implements in advance. When using them, they only needed to inject Mana Elements to quickly cast the spell..."

Roland understood.

"Like those Spell Circuits you researched for drawing Mana Elements?"

"That is far from the same thing."

Bronson waved a hand in embarrassment.

"The craft of making magical implements is extremely complex and precise. By comparison, my research is merely the crudest application of Spell Circuits."

After thinking for a moment, Bronson reminded him gravely, "Roland, before we understand what spell is inscribed in this magical implement, I suggest you don't use it recklessly. The spells from before the Final Era are strange and varied, and many do not even have surviving records."

He rubbed the pendant lightly.

"For safety's sake, why not let me study it for a while first?"

"Of course. Then I'll leave it to you."

Roland agreed readily.

After a few more words of small talk, Bronson buried himself in his research again.

Seeing this, Roland quietly withdrew from the room and closed the door behind him.

"Hawk, John, Bronson... Right, and Darco."

Roland patted his forehead and laughed at himself.

"I've been with him almost every day lately. I nearly thought I'd already told him I was leaving..."

Thinking this, he called over Matthew, the attendant Darco had assigned to him, and asked about the situation. After learning that the young noble had been in a private discussion with Baron Forsling in the reception room ever since returning, Roland decided to tell him another day.

As he wandered idly, Roland arrived at the training field without noticing.

After asking the old soldiers present and confirming that none of them were proficient in long weapons, Roland looked at the darkening sky and strolled toward the dining hall.

Before he even entered, a rough curse came from inside.

"Finally caught you! Where'd this little bastard come from, sneaking in here to steal food?"

Hearing the voice, Roland frowned in confusion, then stepped into the dining hall.

Following the sound, he saw a bearded chef cursing while gripping something in his hand.

It was a little squirrel with reddish-brown fur, struggling desperately.