Kroie raised an eyebrow, looking a bit confused at Tristan's question. Granted, the white-haired man's accent seemed a bit different, indicating that he might be from another country, but surely he had heard of the Elementals in his travels?
"You've never heard of Elementals? A guardian race imbued with the gifts of the gods, that can use magic to control fire or ice or other elements?" Kroie replied. "And as for why the Watchtower preacher was in the square, I'd imagine that he'd be trying to recruit more members to his organization. But I don't think they're that successful getting new members up here in the north, since this region tends to be more religious and respectful of tradition. Not to mention the fact that this land wasn't attacked by Kayarost's horde fifteen years ago," the lad continued, taking another bite of his food.
Dock workers were loading large, heavy crates onto several barges, carrying on in their usual, stereotypical manner. The men were cursing, bragging, challenging their co-workers to brawls later that evening before they'd go have a drink at their favourite pub, and other things you'd expect from people of their profession. However, there seemed a few things that were a bit unusual. For instance, normally there wouldn't be soldiers guarding the loading dock, and two ironclads keeping watch from the river, though barely any smoke spouted from their stacks at the moment. The merry slime girl was spotted by one of the soldiers rather quickly, and he quickly approached her.
"Miss, you're not supposed to be here, I'm afraid," he said, the tip of his halberd a few yards away from Blue.
