The Kingdom's frontier had been peaceful for many years now. The Beastmen were hardly a concern—plus, with the icy snowy terrain, even if they wanted to invade, they would have been powerless to attack from this direction and would have looked elsewhere.
In Jon's view, it was simply impossible for the Beastmen to invade.
After a brief exchange, the servant bid farewell to Jon, leaving him to return to his solitude.
Night had fallen completely; the stars were absent in the cold sky. Jon sat beside the fire, in a silence as profound as a dung beetle pushing its ball.
Silent and contemplative in the pervasive calmness—an everyday occurrence—Jon wondered why the servant did not find the possibility of a Beastman invasion along the border utterly boring.
"Why is that...
It's obvious that the Beastmen will never come to attack.
Why isn't he bored with such a thought?"
Jon closed his eyes, trying to imagine a horde of Beastmen crossing the ice and snow, brandishing their Swords.
