Overlord: Start from the Goblin Lair.

Chapter 8 Frome Town
"In short, this is the situation. We were robbed of everything and it would only become more and more dangerous if we stayed any longer," the old man said in a low voice. "So this morning, after receiving today's relief, my wife and I hurriedly left the town of Flåm and set out for home."

"We are too old, and we can't eat or drink much. We can only collect dew, catch insects, and pick tree bark and grass stems... Even if life is hard, it is better than being beaten and scolded over there."

The old man's words sounded bleak, but this was a choice he had to make. Who wouldn't want to live a little better? He just had to make it.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Ron couldn't help but sigh after hearing about the two elderly people's plight, "but I'm afraid the supplies we have on hand won't suit your appetite. Even if we want to help you, we are unable to do so."

Raw plasma and roasted meat cubes are not suitable for consumption even by normal elderly people, let alone those in these difficult times.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” the old man waved his hands repeatedly. “We didn’t expect to meet anyone when we came back. We just wanted to spend the rest of our lives in the village. Now we can go back to our own home and have a good night’s sleep. Thank you!”

The two elderly villagers walked to the next house with staggering steps. Ron let Driver take over his shift while he went back to sleep a little.

Although in his previous life it was not a big deal for a young man like him to stay up until one or two in the morning, he still had to get up early to travel tomorrow, so it would be better to rest early - unless they planned to rest in the wild tomorrow night.

Ivy in the house had also woken up. The ointment had worn off and the noise outside had made her too nervous to sleep. It was not until Ron came into the house that she felt relieved and fell asleep again.

The next morning, Ron knocked on the old man's door. After getting the exact location of Frome Town, he set off with Driver and Ivy.

The wilderness of this world is full of dangers, so the distance between settlements is usually not too far, and it can be reached in half a day or a day. For example, the old couple set out in the early morning and arrived in Fromm at night, so it would be much faster for Ron and the other two to travel on foot.

The sun was just above his head when Ron climbed up a hill and looked down. He saw the small town called Frome.

From a distance, it is located on the bank of the river called Leven, surrounded by green hills. With neat stone walls three meters high on all sides, a magnificent two-story mansion is located in the center of the town, at the intersection of the streets. The red tiles on the building sparkle in the sun.

Looking inside from the hill, you can see shops, pubs and many pedestrians on the street. Although it is not as prosperous as the city where Ron lived in his previous life, it is still a lively scene.

However, when Ron's eyes fell outside the city, he saw a completely different scene.

It was a refugee camp, separated from the town of Flåm by a simple fence and makeshift tents. Countless people who had fled the disaster from different villages and regions gathered together, waiting for daily relief from the town.

When Ron and his friends approached the camp, they saw that the tents were filled with homeless people, their clothes were ragged and their faces were haggard. In this temporary camp, there was a lack of basic living facilities and clean conditions, and people could only rely on the limited resources provided by the town to survive.

There are all kinds of smells in the refugee camps, a mixture of dirt and stench. Scarce water and inadequate sanitation lead to the spread of diseases and infectious diseases. Medical resources are limited, and people are at risk of getting sick and injured, but cannot get timely treatment and care.

In this environment, a suffocating atmosphere permeated the camp, and people's eyes were full of helplessness and despair. Some people wandered aimlessly in the camp, looking for a glimmer of hope and help, while others sat quietly aside, silently enduring the suffering they had experienced. And some people broke into tents one after another, cursing and taking away almost all the supplies inside while crying and begging.

"This is just like our lair." Driver wrinkled his nose. He was a goblin, but that didn't mean he liked the crowded, dirty, and messy environment. If possible, he hoped that he could at least have a separate room like the boss, and have subordinates and servants to provide him with three meals a day and all his daily needs. "Keep your voice down," Ivy warned in a low voice, "If they find out you are a goblin, we will be in trouble."

Dreverdor rarely argued with the half-elf. This was no longer their land, and he was alone.

"Yo! Look what this is!"

Although the camp was in chaos and disorder, the arrival of Ron and the other two obviously attracted the attention of some people. Just as they were looking around, four or five strong men blocked their way.

These people were slightly different from the other refugees here in terms of their appearance and physique. Both men and women were over 1.8 meters tall, with broad shoulders and strong waists, and most of them only wore a leather coat made of thick animal skins.

In addition, their hair and beards were tied with various small braids with rubber bands.

The group of people who stopped Ron and his friends seemed to have just looted a tent. Their hands were full of various daily necessities and food, and they were looking at Ron and his friends with unfriendly expressions.

They came from the north.

Ron smelled the cold scent on them. Even though they had escaped so far from that icy hell, the smell still did not dissipate.

No wonder they dared to fight here. They were the strongest, most ruthless and fiercest guys who had survived the most extreme environment. Even when everyone was in poor condition, ordinary farmers were powerless to fight them.

"Are you new here?" The middle-aged man in the lead was probably two meters tall. He looked down at Ron and spoke in a very poor common language, "Do you know the rules here?"

"Rules?" Ron took a half step back cautiously. "If we want to talk about rules, I'd rather talk to the manager here."

"Manager?" The man from the north laughed out loud, as if Ron's request was so ridiculous. "There is no manager here! I, Halleck from the northern Dire Wolf Tribe, have the final say here!"

"Now, hand over everything you have, and go find the relief officer of this town, and give me all the food and water you can get! Otherwise, as long as you are still here, we will beat you three times a day!"

"Once in the morning, noon and evening!" A tribesman next to Halek growled in agreement, while making all kinds of strange and terrifying expressions and movements.

The other tribesmen were even more excited, and it looked like they were going to use Ron as a teething stick.

Ron: "...Oh no, we met a real barbarian!"

(End of this chapter)