In an estate on the outskirts of Mayo Town, despite it being deep into the night, the log cabin was still brightly lit.
"Seven! Seven! Seven!"
"Oh no, why is it a five!"
"If you're out, stand aside and don't block the way."
Huddled at the door, Lauren's face was gloomy, pulling his body into the wool blanket his mother had sewn for him to ward off the cold.
With the back of his head resting against the door frame, he could clearly hear the sound of dice shaking by his father, a leather artisan.
The foul smell of stinky socks, the scent of alcohol, the rancid odor of grease as a supplement, with the stench of vomit as the main course, countless smells seeped through the door gap, swirling around Lauren's nose.
These 800 mercenaries had been stationed in Mayo Town for over three months, specially left here by order to guard the exit of Blackbone Marsh.
