Do ratmen dream of the sacred tree of spirits?

Chapter 112 The Kingdom of Draco

"The Holy Kingdom of Elves?"

Fafner noticed that Ms. Nina seemed genuinely puzzled; didn't she know about this country?

What's the status of the currency I have? Can I still use it?

"Hmm—I stumbled upon some currency issued by the Finance Committee of the Elven Holy Kingdom. I wonder if it might be located near our country, but I don't know much about geography."

"Really? I've never heard of the Holy Kingdom of the Elves. The closest kingdom to Draco is the Free City of the Cellars. I don't know about the others either."

Is this Draco's land?

The Kingdom of Dragons —

"Excuse me, does Draco exist in the Steel City?"

"Haha, Fafnir, of course not, but there are still quite a few Scaled Ones. All the Scaled Ones in the country are equally detestable. They look down on us as always."

"By the way, could you please take a look at these currencies for me? Are they usable?" Fafnir finally decided to show them to Ms. Nina.

Ms. Nina stopped what she was doing and examined the coins that Fafner had handed her: "This is really rare, I..."

I've never seen this kind of currency before. I don't think there's a big problem. Copper coins probably can't be used, but these well-made silver coins definitely can.

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It might be worth more than a silver shield issued domestically.

Fafnir abandoned his plan to immediately head to the Steel City. He felt he needed to make thorough preparations over the next few days, starting with language. Fafnir hadn't expected his proficiency in the "Universal Language of the Western Continent" to be so strong. After mastering the basic alphabet of the Common Language of Draco, he had been constantly learning spoken language from Mr. Koling these past few days, and he had almost mastered the basic spoken accent. Fafnir could now converse with Mr. Koling more smoothly. However, Nina and Mr. Koling's educational level was not high, and they couldn't teach Fafnir the more subtle grammar and written expressions between the Universal Language of the Western Continent and the Common Language of Draco.

Meanwhile, under Ms. Nina's guidance, Fafnir visited the regularly held market these past few days. He bought two sets of clothes and also broke off his silver shield from the Elven Holy Kingdom into his own currency. Fafnir wanted to pay Ms. Nina and Mr. Corling for their lodging and meals, but they resolutely refused to accept it. So Fafnir bought them a piece of cured meat as a gift instead.

He had a total of five Elven Holy Kingdom silver shields in his pocket, which was a huge sum of money. Fafnir felt that he was really lucky and wondered where the original owner of this body got all this money from.

In the past few days, Fafnir has simply washed and dried his blood-stained robe, and of course, he has also avoided letting Nina and the Collins see the bloodstains. He has now changed into a thicker new coat, and Fafnir has also found a long cardboard box to put his sword in in order to avoid attracting attention.

Fafnir also took a bath by the creek during a relatively warm midday, which made him feel extremely relaxed and comfortable. "Dear Ms. Nina and Mr. Corling, thank you very much for your help these past two days. Goodbye!" Fafnir bowed to them and left before dawn, embarking on his journey to the Steel City.

"Take care on your journey, my kinsman Fafnir, farewell!"

"If things aren't going well in the city, you're welcome to come back here. You can find some odd jobs in the village and make a living. Also, thank you for the smoked meat!" Ms. Nina said goodbye to him.

Mr. Coling also said, "Fafner, goodbye! Be careful not to trust anyone. Many people in the city are bad. If things don't work out, go back to the village. Life as a self-sufficient farmer is quite good—"

Throughout the journey, Fafnir kept thinking, and the experiences of the past few days gave him plenty of energy to contemplate the future.

He believed he had to try and find a job in the Steel City, since five silver shields would eventually run out, and a job might give him a basic foothold in this world; he needed to solve the problem of survival first.

The two-hour journey was quickly completed, and Fafnir saw the Steel City. The gray city walls were much taller than he had imagined from Ms. Nina's description, at least a dozen meters high. They appeared to be made of huge stones, with a dark luster polished by coal smoke and the passage of time. At intervals on the top of the walls stood arrow towers, and gray flags fluttered in the wind, perhaps embroidered with dragon scales. Fafnir observed the scene with some excitement.

A short queue stretched out at the city gate, mostly on foot, interspersed with a few oxcarts and horse-drawn carriages. Fafnir stood at the end of the queue. On either side of the city gate stood several guards in dark leather armor, holding spears and short swords at their waists. One of the guards, who had a pair of horns on his head, was checking the identity documents of each person entering the city.

Fafnir certainly didn't have official identification, but he wasn't entirely unprepared. He touched the piece of paper in his pocket, a "Crypt City Resident Certificate" that he had bought at the market two days ago for a few copper coins. The handwriting was messy and the stamp was blurry, but after being verified by the Nina Colling couple and several other villagers, this kind of identification was just a piece of waste paper in the Steel City.

The procession moved slowly forward. Most people were allowed to pass directly, with only a few stopped and questioned. When it was Fafnir's turn, the guard checking the documents glanced down at him and asked, "Ratman? Where did you come from?"

"Hello, I'm from the Cellar City."

"Where's your identification?"

Fafnir handed over the paper, and the guard took it, glanced at it, then looked up at his face: "Why is the stamp so blurry?"

"I got caught in the rain on the way here and it was soaked in water," Fafnir replied without changing his expression.

The guard handed the paper back to him, muttering, "Go inside, don't cause trouble."

Fafnir took the certificate, strode through the city gate, and entered the steel city.

The scene inside the city was very vivid, with wide and smooth streets, and most of the brick and stone buildings on both sides were two or three stories high, with shops on the ground floor, their signs lined up one after another.

The sounds of hammers from the blacksmith's shop, the aroma of wheat from the bakery, and the goods piled up outside the general store created a bustling and vibrant atmosphere. The streets were teeming with pedestrians. Fafnir noticed that there were indeed quite a few Scaleborn—those from the Draco Kingdom with dragon blood—whose distinctive feature was that while they were similar in size to humans, they had scales on their faces, necks, or limbs. Of course, the number and color of the scales varied among these Scaleborn. What they had in common was that most of them wore respectable clothes and walked calmly along the street. Humans around them would naturally give them some distance. Ratmen were much less common on the streets; occasionally, one or two would appear, which Fafnir found rather endearing.

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