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During the short argument between the Orc-Faerie pair and the Elven guards, a carriage had made its way onto the bridge and was now right behind them.

It was on its way towards the Elven nation from Human lands.

The carriage stopped just a couple of steps away from Bash, and the coachman had called out to protest the blockage.

He was a man with a full head of silky, long blonde hair, and a pair of pointy ears on each side of his head – an Elf.

He wore a uniform similar to that of the two Elven guards watching over the bridge, albeit slightly less armored and more formal – most likely a public official.

“I want to enter this country, but they won’t let me through the checkpoint.”

“Hmm? An Orc…?”

Realizing that Bash was, in fact, a pointy tusked green Orc, the coachman shot a suspicious glare at him, before turning towards the guards.

He had judged that of the two parties present here, his brethren were far more trustworthy.

“You over there, explain what’s going on!”

“Yes sir!”

The coachman was apparently higher in the hierarchy than the border guards.

The two Elven soldiers stood at attention and began to explain the situation.

An Orc had suddenly popped out of nowhere, saying he needed to enter the country because he was looking for something.

Furthermore, he had a suspicious looking Faerie as a companion.

He claimed to be a legitimate traveler – not a stray Orc.

No matter the way they looked at it, this whole thing was suspicious, and so they had blocked the pair’s passage.

“You there, Orc, are what these two saying correct? Are you truly not a stray Orc?”

“They’re correct. And no, I am not a stray.”

“Do you swear on it?”

“By the name of the Great Orc King Nemesis, I swear that my words are true.”

Hearing those words, the coachman let out a sigh of relief – it looked like the Orc really wasn’t here to cause trouble.

He knew the significance of that Orcish oath – that only a handful of warriors could invoke the name of the Orc King, and that the one swearing the oath was ready to face death if his words were found to be lies.

In other words, this individual in front of him was an eminent personage from the Orc Nation and had the approval from the Orc King to go out of the country.

Yet, that raised another question…

Why was he here?

What was he looking for?

However, this raises another question.

If he didn’t understand this Orcs motives, then it might be better to not let him pass…

“It’s fine, let him through.”

These were not the coachman’s words.

This remark came from a passenger – from inside the carriage.

It was a woman’s voice.

“The war is over, and the Orcs have been keeping their word and stayed quiet. Sure, we get stray Orcs coming around ever so often, but all of our countries have bad apples, right? Anyways, if he’s a legitimate traveler and even has the Orc King’s stamp of approval, let’s not give him a hard time.”

The unexpected help made Bash’s heart skip a beat.

The crisp, clear voice of Elven women had always fascinated the Orcs, and the Hero was no exception.

“But… Lady Sonia, I’ve never heard of travelling Orcs.”

“It’s been three years. Just because they’re Orcs doesn’t mean they’re completely uncivilized. I’m sure some of them travel. And listen, if that old man Nemesis gave it the go-ahead, it should be fine.”

“So we should believe in them without any proof?”

“Proof? You do know what it means for an Orc to mention the name of the Orc King, don’t you?”

“I do, yes… but stray Orcs don’t fall under the Orc King’s authority anyways, so there is still the possibility that they are just talking out of their as… ahem… mouths.”

“Of course there’s a possibility! But think about this for a second. If an Orc really wanted to enter the country, they could just sneak across the Ammet River. That’s what all the stray Orcs we’ve come across have done so far, right? But these two, they came right up to us, mentioning the names of both the Orc King and Houston? You know, that Houston. Houston the “Swine Slayer”. If they were lying, they’d come up with better names to drop, wouldn’t they?”

“Hmmm… alright. If Lady Sonia says so. Hey, you two, clear the way!”

At these words, the Elven soldiers promptly lowered their bows and moved aside.

The coachman, satisfied, whipped the horses, driving the carriage forward onto the bridge and passing by Bash.

The Hero gave way to the vehicle, looked up, and said in a stoic voice.

“Thank you.”

An answer came back, but not from the driver.

“Hmm, don’t worry about it! We have peace now, let’s get along.”

A beautiful Elven woman had sat up on her carriage seat and looked out of the window.

She had a high, slim nose, narrow sky-blue eyes, a sharp chin, and long ears.

She had a petite stature and very modest breast – a typical Elf.

A pointy wide-brimmed hat held back her silky blonde hair, and she wore a deep green robe – a caster’s outfit.

“Well, it’s to be expected of me to be magnanimous after all, I’m amazing…. So, you’re – ah!”

The woman whose figure had just appeared through the carriage window jumped in surprise as soon as she noticed Bash’s face. She then bumped her head on the top of the window frame, falling backwards into the carriage with a groan.

A dull thud rang out as she hit the ground, but the sound was lost in the rattle of the wagon’s wheels rolling on the uneven stone and never caught the coachman’s attention.

The lady had most likely fainted within the carriage, without anyone noticing.

Well, under normal circumstances, Bash, with his super-orcish senses would have realized it.

Unfortunately, he was lost in his own little daydream.

“How beautiful…”

It had been a while since he had seen an Elven woman.

And this particular Elf wasn’t just a regular beauty – she embodied the peak of Elven aesthetics itself and had fully captivated Bash with her looks.

Oh! How sublimely marvelous were Elven women!

Bash had never truly looked at them in a mating point of view, as they were his enemies back then, but they truly were the ideal women.

Human women had a certain pleasant plumpness to them, which Elven women didn’t have, but the latter had a different sort of charm – sharp, angular traits and slim, modest, attractive bodies.

The Hero had a hard time deciding which was the best type of woman.

But he had to conclude that in terms of sheer beauty, the Elves easily won out.

Houston was saying the truth after all.

Bash’s goddess was here.

“That was…? Huh? That Elf just now, haven’t we seen her somewhere before?”

Zell tilted her head, puzzled by this foreboding sense of familiarity.

But Bash didn’t even register those words, as he followed the carriage in front of him like a lost puppy.