The house was under construction at an accelerated pace, and the foundation had already been laid that very day—built from scratch, growing steadily like a mighty tree rooted in Landvety.
Rowe strolled toward the Brave Hunter Tavern, located not far from the construction site.
The ongoing war with the Frost Giants had dulled the usual vibrancy of the Brave Hunter Tavern, yet the place still brimmed with patrons. The mouthwatering aroma of barbecued meat lingered in the air, enveloping the establishment in comforting warmth.
During his arduous time in Jotunheim, Rowe had scarcely tasted a decent meal.
The ice bear meat was infamously dry and tough, offering a taste akin to chewing wax. While the meat of the ice worm was more palatable, the lack of proper seasoning made it nearly unappetizing. Worse, if not properly roasted, its venom would remain intact, making the culinary experience not just unpalatable but also dangerous.
So, when the rich and savory scent of barbecued meat wafted toward him from the Brave Hunter Tavern, Luo Wei couldn't help but momentarily lose himself in longing.
"Rack of lamb!" he blurted out with a gleam in his eyes.
"How many would you like?" asked the tavern attendant with a polite smile.
Luo Wei answered without hesitation, "I want ten servings!"
"Alright, ten roast lamb chops coming right up. Please wait a moment," the attendant replied.
Rowe found a table near the window and took a seat, tapping his foot impatiently while waiting.
It wasn't long before the grilled lamb chops arrived, sizzling hot and glistening with golden juices. He pounced on the platter, devouring the lamb with feral hunger, his hands and mouth soon slathered in the flavorful oil and meat residue.
Midway through his feast, he suddenly found his mouth and throat clogged with chunks of roasted lamb. He swallowed hard and paused, remembering something quite amusing.
He was an adult now—he could drink alcohol in broad daylight without rebuke.
"Servant, bring me a bottle of mead," he called out confidently.
Asgard's mead, fiery and potent, was more akin to Earth's strongest spirits. Yet to Asgardians, Earth's alcohol was as mild as watered-down beer.
Rowe paired the mead with his remaining barbecue, sipping and chewing in tandem. The sweet, fermented flavor of the mead complemented the savory richness of the meat, elevating the experience.
A short while later, his cravings gave way to reason. Looking at the five untouched lamb chops in front of him, he frowned and muttered under his breath, "Why did I order ten again?"
Just then, laughter erupted from a nearby table as its occupants stood to leave.
"Tialfi!" someone shouted toward the entrance, "Have you come across a four-horned goat yet?"
Rowe turned instinctively and spotted Tialfi entering the tavern. Instantly, he waved him over. "Tialfi! You're finally here—I ordered lamb chops for you!"
Tialfi blinked in surprise, staring at Rowe for a moment before recognition dawned on his face. "Rowe?"
Rowe grinned. "Just got back from Jotunheim. How've you been? Still haven't found a four-horned goat?"
Tialfi sighed as he took the seat across from him. "No. I think I'm cursed by fate. But I won't give up."
Rowe leaned forward thoughtfully. "If I remember correctly, capturing a four-horned goat qualifies you for the Hunting Festival in Nornheim, right?"
"Exactly," Tialfi replied, picking up a lamb chop and digging in.
"Have you ever been to the Hunting Festival before?" Rowe asked.
Tialfi shook his head. "No, but my brother has. He didn't win anything, though."
"Tell me more about the Hunting Festival," Rowe prompted, genuinely curious.
"There's not much to tell. It's pretty straightforward. Whoever captures the best prey gets a reward from Lord Ullr. When my brother went, Balder won the event by capturing a giant dragon… and the heart of the goddess my brother fancied."
Rowe's eyes widened. "A dragon? Dragons live in Nornheim?"
"They travel across realms," Tialfi said. "Technically, dragons have appeared everywhere in the Nine Realms—even in Asgard. But they're more common in Nornheim. There are also fire dragons in Muspelheim—pets of the fire giant Surtur."
Rowe leaned in closer. "How strong are dragons in combat?"
Tialfi raised an eyebrow. "Thinking about slaying one?"
"Just curious," Rowe muttered.
"Dragons are the apex predators of the universe. Even the weakest adult dragon is stronger than most average Asgardian warriors. If you happen to come across a young dragon—isolated and alone—it's theoretically easier, but such luck is unheard of," Tialfi explained.
He added, "There are two main things the Hunting Festival values in prey: strength and rarity. A baby dragon, while not strong, is rare enough to secure first place."
Rowe went silent for a moment.
Of the five ingredients he had yet to gather for his talent mixture, the blood of a young dragon seemed like the hardest to procure.
Given that Nornheim was one of the few realms where dragons were common—and it was under Asgard's jurisdiction—it seemed his only viable option.
He turned back to Tialfi. "What if I join you in the forest next time you go sheep hunting?"
"You sure you want to follow me?" Tialfi asked skeptically.
Rowe hesitated. Right, would Tialfi's notorious bad luck cancel out his own good fortune?
Still, he chuckled and said, "Yes."
Tialfi's appetite rivaled a beast's; he finished the remaining five lamb chops with ease and patted his stomach contentedly. "Wanna head out now?"
Rowe nodded. "I'm in."
The two left the tavern, crossed a wooden bridge, and entered the vibrant Landvety Forest.
The vegetation was wildly overgrown. Towering trees brushed the skies, and in some areas, the grass was so thick it could double as a table surface.
Greenery blanketed everything in sight.
"Bah… baa…" A bleating cry rang out from ahead.
Tialfi squinted. "Sounds like a lamb. Don't need to check."
"What if it's a four-horned goat's baby?" Rowe suggested.
Tialfi paused. "Then definitely don't check."
Rowe remembered that Tialfi had a strange creed he followed strictly—never harm young creatures, even animal cubs. It was because of this belief that he had once skipped catching a four-horned goat's baby and missed the Hunting Festival.
What past event had driven him to that conviction, Rowe could only guess.
"Wait—"
Another bleat rang out, deeper and fuller this time.
"Let's go check that one out," Tialfi said. "Might be a fat sheep. The Fat Sheep Tavern pays a premium."
The two followed the sound and soon spotted a goat grazing in the grass. Upon seeing them, the goat bleated and bolted.
"Too skinny," Tialfi said, already turning away.
They continued wandering the lush forest, encountering several sheep along the way. But Tialfi dismissed each one for not being plump enough.
More than two hours passed before they finally spotted a massive sheep—bulky and rich with meat. It practically screamed "barbecue."
"Bah-baa!" The oversized sheep tried to flee.
Unfortunately for it, it was too fat to run fast.
Tialfi lunged forward, grabbed its horns, and wrestled it to the ground.
"Bah-baa!" the sheep screamed, trembling in fright as it struggled. But Tialfi held firm.
He drew his blade and, with a single motion, ended its life.
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