He must have been from the Roman Empire period, at least.
As far as the eye could see, there was endless snow, and the wind blew fiercely, with snowflakes dancing in the air like torn cotton.
Herbert ran wildly through the snow in terror, but the snow layer was too thick; every step he took sank deep, expending several times the energy of walking on flat ground.
A pack of ice plain snow wolves followed him leisurely from a distance, their eyes glowing with a faint green light, filled with a biting cold and greed as sharp as the snowfield itself; they had been hungry for a long time.
They were very patient, not wasting a bit of energy, not taking unnecessary risks, quietly waiting for their prey to gradually lose strength, so they could obtain food effortlessly.
But if one were to think their combat power was weak because of this, their sharp teeth and the coordinated tearing of the wolf pack would teach every arrogant person to learn awe.
They were, without a doubt, at the top of the food chain in this snowfield.
Herbert finally couldn't hold on and collapsed in the snow; he had no strength left, and his clothes could no longer prevent his body temperature from dropping. He lay in the snow, feeling his life was about to end.
He seemed unwilling to give up, clutching the snow tightly, trembling all over, wanting to get up again, but his body was as heavy as if bound with iron blocks, utterly unable to rise.
He was, after all, a human, unable to resist the forces of nature.
The surrounding wolf pack also quickened their pace at this moment, preparing to close in, their hunger almost gushing out, their scattered footsteps like the steps of the God of Death.
"Thump~ Thump~"
It was then that the tremor of the earth gradually reached his body from afar. Herbert struggled to raise his head, opening his heavy eyelids, and looked in the direction of the vibration.
The wolves gradually surrounding him clearly showed some unease; they paced back and forth restlessly.
Something even more terrifying than them was approaching…
Finally, with the long howl of the alpha wolf, they abandoned the prey they had followed for so long and fled into the distance.
Herbert's pupils widened slightly.
Accompanied by a burst of smoke, a giant beast shrouded in the blizzard gradually revealed its form before his eyes, seemingly a thing crudely pieced together from a pile of wood and iron, devoid of any aesthetic appeal.
Not to mention whether it could move, such a structure maintaining its shape was already incredibly astonishing.
The front was a huge steel smiling face, with a mechanical red tongue inside.
Below were four mechanical legs, somewhat resembling chicken feet, moving alternately. The mechanical legs were quite slender compared to what they supported, making one worry whether they could bear the enormous object above.
The entire Castle maintained a feeling of being on the verge of collapse yet remarkably stable.
Herbert also remembered his true purpose for this journey at this moment.
In the town where he lived, a legend circulated.
In the northern polar snowfield, there lived a mysterious Wizard, handsome in appearance, powerful in magic, residing in a strange Castle, who fed on the hearts of beautiful maidens.
But no one had ever seen the protagonist of this legend because he lived in the northern polar region, a desolate and icy snowfield, a death trap that had consumed countless adventurers' lives.
The Castle stopped beside him and opened its door, seemingly waiting for him to enter.
Up the steps was an open door, and Herbert could see the warm Fireplace and food inside.
Strength from who knows where allowed him to get up from the snow. He walked into the room, and as he entered, the door behind him automatically closed.
Compared to the cold outside, this room was warm and comfortable.
After opening the door and walking up a short flight of stairs onto the wooden floor, the smell of decay in the room was heavy.
The first thing that caught the eye was the Fireplace in the room, with orange-red flames burning fiercely in the hearth.
Judging by the structure of the hearth, it should also serve as a cooking counter.
However, the most eye-catching thing was the man sitting in front of the flames.
He wore a long coat, had thick short hair, and was quietly warming himself by the Fire.
His prominent nose reflected the firelight, as if coated with a thin layer of glaze.
"Hello." Herbert asked tentatively, "My name is Herbert, thank you for saving me."
The man did not turn around but was silent for a moment before speaking.
"No need to thank me, I was just passing by."
He raised his hand and pointed to a red sofa on one side.
"Sit down and warm yourself by the Fire, your body is very stiff."
Herbert reacted, somewhat nervously sitting on the sofa. The sofa looked like it had been there for a long time, its color dull, with some mottled black spots.
The man then added a piece of firewood to the flames.
Outside the window, the falling snow gradually turned into a blizzard, the wind howling, beating against the windows as if enraged, some ice crystals condensing outside, but inside it was warm as spring.
The flames burned the firewood with crackling sounds, dispelling the chill from his body and the fear in his heart.
The man continued, "Are you here to explore this snowfield?"
Herbert then remembered the purpose of his journey.
He hurriedly got up from the sofa, knelt before the man, and shouted excitedly.
"Respected Wizard, My Lord! I… I want to ask you for a favor."
The man turned his head, looking at him with some confusion at his current state, but still said.
"I am just an ordinary person, not some Wizard."
But how could Herbert believe him? He continued to lower his head and said.
"I know what price I have to pay, even though I am not a beautiful woman, you can take my heart!"
The man's expression became even more bewildered, but fortunately, Herbert didn't look up, so he didn't see his expression.
Soon, he reacted and accepted this premise.
After a pause, he continued.
"So, you risked your life to cross the snowfield alone, just to ask for my help?"
"Yes!" Herbert pressed his head to the ground, trembling with fear, "This is the only way I could think of, that person is a noble, his power is too vast."
"Sounds like a cliché story."
The man thought for a moment and continued to ask, "I have some questions I want to ask you, if you can answer them, I might consider it."
Herbert looked up, his eyes shining with hope.
"Okay, you ask, I will answer whatever you want to ask."
"This snowfield, which country does it belong to, is there a king, if not, what kind of political system exists? What is the situation in the rest of the World?"
A series of questions made Herbert somewhat confused.
Not too difficult, but too basic.
Even people from remote northern towns at least knew the name of their country and some basic history.
However, in legends, most Wizards were learned people, and the temperament and demeanor of the person before him were certainly not those of an uneducated illiterate.
Or perhaps...
Herbert seemed to have thought of something and couldn't help but ask.
"How long have you been here?"
"Not long, I just arrived here too." The man said.
Not long...
Herbert confirmed his guess, because the legend of the Snowfield Wizard had been circulating in his town for at least three to five years.
And three to five years being "not long" for the person before him could only mean that his time scale was not the same as that of humans.
He must have lived in seclusion somewhere for a very long time, perhaps even for hundreds of years, Herbert speculated.
After a pause, he began to explain.
"This snowfield is not suitable for human habitation, it's almost an uninhabited area, with no country it belongs to.
But a little further south is Romir, the small town where I live, which belongs to the Britannia Empire."
"Britannia?" The man murmured softly, he did know this name, or rather, most people should be familiar with its other pronunciation: 'Britannia.'
"I remember that name, it's the Roman Empire's Italian name for the island of Britain."
Herbert looked at the man, thinking to himself, as expected.
Roman Empire.
He must have been from the Roman Empire period, at least.
In that case, he must be over a thousand years old, right?
Herbert's heart tightened slightly, and he continued to explain:
"Now it's Ancient Rome Empire, the Roman Empire has been gone for a long time, but that name indeed comes from there.
Moreover, the Britannia Empire and the island of Britannia are not even the same place anymore."