Asher, William, and Finch stepped into the Rivelle Territory, walking beside the Knight who guided them. Although the Knight had no idea who they truly were, the fact that they were from the Star Academy was more than enough to command attention. Whether they were nobles or commoners did not matter at this moment; what mattered was that they represented one of the most powerful institutions on the Empire.

As they crossed the threshold into the bustling territory, a wave of vibrant existence seemed to burst open before their eyes. The streets overflowed with movement, people darting from one place to another, their voices merging into a singular hum of urgency and anxiety. The air buzzed with tension, yet beneath the chaos was an unspoken order, a sense of controlled madness. Merchants shouted over one another, stalls clattered with the weight of wares being unloaded, and the scent of metal, dust, and sweat filled the atmosphere.

People crowded around shops and open stalls, eager to purchase goods and essentials, especially food in large quantities. Both Normal and Enduron horses, alongside various beasts and tamed monsters, pulled heavy carriages that clearly belonged to traders. The ground trembled faintly beneath their weight, the rhythmic thuds of hooves merging with the din of voices.

"During times like Monster Tides, there's always a shortage of food and essential resources," the Knight began, his tone calm yet carrying the faint weariness of experience. He didn't hurry; his steps were deliberate, measured, as though he wished to leave an impression upon Asher, William, and Finch's memories. "People want to stockpile whatever they can, just in case disaster strikes. Unfortunately, this desire leads to a sharp increase in the prices of nearly everything, food, water, clothing, weapons, armor, you name it."

He paused briefly as they turned down a crowded lane where barrels of preserved meat and grain sacks were being hoisted from wagons. "But," he continued, his tone steady, "the Lord of this land does not allow greed to run rampant. He permits merchants to raise their prices only within a reasonable range. Anyone who dares to exceed the imposed limit will have everything they own confiscated, their wealth, property, even their homes. The Lord is strict, but fair. He knows how easily chaos can spiral in desperate times."

Asher said nothing. He merely listened, his eyes quietly observing everything around him. These were things he did not know, truths about the world beyond the walls of the Star Academy and Wargrave Estate. William and Finch, however, were familiar with it.

Being sons of a Baron, they had grown up within the structure of noble territories and had experienced the anxiety of crisis from a different vantage point. Their family lands had faced sieges before, from various full-fledged Beast Tide. Back then, they had been unawakened, somewhat trained, but too valuable to be risked on the battlefield. Even after awakening, their parents had forbidden them from joining the front lines, believing their destinies lay within the Academy walls.

No parent would gamble their child's life before their potential was realized.

Unlike them, Asher had spent much of his early life confined within the Wargrave Ducal Estate, caged until he awakened barely a year ago. The world beyond had been a mystery to him, a distant reality observed only through stories and secondhand accounts. Now, walking these streets, he could finally feel the pulse of life, the anxiety, the resilience, the struggle to survive.

His eyes trailed over the architecture. Many buildings bore cracks across their stone walls; some were half-collapsed, while others leaned slightly, patched together with makeshift repairs. The pavement beneath his boots was uneven, cracked and littered with potholes filled with muddy rainwater. Yet no one seemed to mind. To the residents, such decay was normal. Their lives moved forward regardless.

Through his Sense Dome, Asher detected faint heartbeats from an alley nearby, children, weak and frail, huddled in the shadows. Even with the Monster Tide approaching, they had been left there, abandoned to fate.

He didn't speak of it aloud, but his chest tightened. He had a soft spot for abandoned children, for those who had no one to care for them. Once, he had been the same, an orphan wandering the streets of Earth. Yet he couldn't compare his past to theirs. He had always had a roof over his head, food to eat, and clothes to wear. These children had none of those luxuries.

'I'm not in a position to help anyone right now… and certainly not in another noble's territory,' Asher thought, his face betraying no emotion.

His mind drifted back to the Wargrave Estate, and he instinctively compared the Rivelle Territory to the Wargrave Duchy. The difference was staggering. Even from a simple glance, the Wargrave lands were like a paradise in contrast. Clean streets, organized commerce, well-fed citizens, it was as if the Duchy existed in another world entirely.

'No wonder they built a statue for Father,' Asher thought silently, his gaze softening. He had underestimated the devotion the Wargrave people held for Azeron Wargrave. He had underestimated the scale of the Beast Tide itself. To maintain peace and stability while facing such calamities year after year required not just strength, but immeasurable wealth and management.

'Why do Beast Tides even occur?' Asher wondered, his brow furrowing briefly before he shook his head. It wasn't a question for him to solve, not yet, at least.

As they continued forward, a large caravan of merchant wagons rolled into view. The moment they stopped, people surged toward them, waving coin purses and shouting orders. Asher watched as a few merchants smiled greedily; for them, this was a golden opportunity. After all, which merchant wouldn't rejoice at the sight of demand exceeding supply?

During such chaotic times, merchants didn't need to sell through retailers. They sold directly to consumers, cutting out middlemen entirely. It was the most profitable business model during crises, though one that often bred resentment among local traders. The merchants here were well-prepared; each carriage was guarded by hired mercenaries or seasoned adventurers.

Despite the looming threat of the Beast Tide, the promise of profit drew them in like moths to flame. Fear was outweighed by greed, yet these were not reckless men. Asher could tell that most of them had survived numerous tides before. Their calmness came from experience, from understanding how to protect both their lives and their earnings. They hired only the best, warriors capable of slaying monsters or men with equal ease.

After all, it wasn't as though the merchants themselves would fight on the front lines. They would remain deep within the safety of the city walls, while their hired protectors handled any creature that managed to slip through wall defenses.

'I wonder how many mercenaries have killed their employers out of greed,' Asher mused silently, his sharp eyes drifting away from the crowd. Human greed was often more dangerous than any monster.

The Knight's voice drew him back from his thoughts. He continued his steady explanations as they passed through the bustling streets. "That building up ahead is the Merchant Chamber, where trade agreements and prices are regulated. Beyond it lies the Adventurer's Guild, where mercenaries gather and missions are distributed. And there" he pointed to a modest structure made of polished stone and wood "that is the Local Territory Library. It's open to commoners, scholars, and anyone eager to learn, especially those who cannot afford books of their own."

The trio glanced at it as they passed. Even amidst the tension of looming disaster, a place dedicated to knowledge still stood. Somehow, that quiet building seemed to defy the chaos surrounding it, a sanctuary of wisdom in a land preparing for war.

Asher took one last look around, his eyes reflecting both curiosity and quiet contemplation. The Rivelle Territory, with all its flaws and order, painted a clear picture of how fragile peace truly was. Here, every face carried a story, of fear, endurance, or greed.

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