"So what are you guys doing right now?" Tagel asked curiously.
"Well..." Carrick gave a bitter smile. "From yesterday till now, we've only chewed on a couple of wild fruits—nothing else has gone down our stomachs. We camped by the creek last night and just filled ourselves with water. This morning, Viscount Timba was so hungry he couldn't take it anymore and sent his slave to catch fish, but after almost an hour the man hadn't caught a single thing..."
"Then why is the viscount walking around barefoot?" Tagel asked.
"Ah, the viscount has never suffered like this before. After just a short walk yesterday, he got two huge blisters on his feet. After that, he rode on that slave's back the whole time..." Carrick jerked his chin toward the big man fishing in the creek. "But when he got down last night and touched the ground, he screamed like he was being murdered. This morning he had the old slave rub his feet, as if that somehow made the pain go away..."
Tagel was dumbfounded. "No way—those blisters have to be lanced or they'll never heal. You know that..."
"Who dares say that? The viscount is afraid of pain, and there's nothing proper to lance them with. I've got nothing on me except this sword, and the viscount brought nothing besides his two slaves. Slaves aren't allowed to carry weapons. As for that
"Then come with us. With a deadweight like that, you won't even be able to run if something happens. Better to leave early." Tagel whispered to Carrick. In his eyes, having Carrick along would be enough to get through the checkpoint at Hamidas royal city. Why follow that pale-faced noble and suffer? That pampered lifestyle would make the whole journey miserable—and on top of that, there was an unpredictable Gold Knight hanging around. Who knew what might happen?
Carrick shook his head. "Can't do that. We still need to find someone to serve once we reach the royal city. Without money or influence, the king will conscript us and ship us to the front lines. If we escort Viscount Timba all the way to the royal city, we'll have performed a great service. The empress has only this one brother—their parents died young, and the viscount was raised by her. Once we deliver him safely, we won't need to worry about our future. Like that trading company you want to start—if Viscount Timba was backing you, nobody would dare cause you trouble."
Tagel tugged at the sparse hairs on his chin, thinking for a long while. "So we really have to escort this viscount to the royal city?"
Carrick nodded.
Tagel stood up. "Then I'll go make nice with him first."
"Your Honor, I happen to be carrying wound medicine and tools. Shall I treat the injuries on your feet?" Tagel approached the large boulder where Viscount Timba was resting and bowed respectfully.
"You have wound medicine? You can treat my feet?" Viscount Timba was overjoyed. He thrust his left foot straight at Tagel. "Quick, fix it up—I can't even touch the ground now. The slightest touch and it's agony..."
Looking at the left foot thrust before him—its skin as delicate as a baby's—Tagel immediately understood why the viscount was such a coward about pain. This man had clearly never suffered a day in his life. The fact that he'd only developed two big blood blisters after all that walking meant he'd probably covered over a hundred meters at most.
"Your Honor, lancing the blisters will sting a little, but once the medicine is applied, you'll feel a cool, soothing relief. This is the finest topical medicine from our trading company—just a dab stops the bleeding and regenerates the flesh. In twelve hours, the scabs will form and fall off, and your feet will be as good as new."
As he spoke, Tagel produced a small silver case from his belt and flipped it open to reveal a curved, flat-tipped silver needle. With practiced hands, he lanced both blisters, drained the blood and fluid inside, wiped them clean with a strip of white cloth, then scooped a dollop of jelly-like ointment from the flat end of the needle and gently applied it to both wounds.
When Tagel pierced the blisters and wiped away the pus, Viscount Timba's face twisted in pain and he let out whimpering groans. But the moment the ointment touched his skin, the viscount let out a long, relieved sigh. "Ahh... that's nice. Cool and soothing—no more pain at all."
Tagel wrapped the viscount's foot in a strip of thin white linen. "Your Honor, the treatment is complete, but please try not to put weight on your feet or walk on the ground for six hours—let the scabs form first. In twelve hours when they fall off, your feet will be fully healed."
Viscount Timba sat up with a grimace, examining his feet. "Er... thank you. Once we return to the royal city, I'll reward you handsomely..."
"No need, Your Honor. We're companions on this journey and should help each other. Being of service to you is my privilege..." Tagel's words were smooth and ingratiating without being off-putting—a big part of why he got along with everyone.
A large hand extended in front of Tagel. "Let me see that medicine."
It was Sir Aust, who had materialized at the viscount's side at some point. Tagel didn't think much of it and handed over the silver case. Nobody expected Sir Aust to open it, take a sniff, and declare: "Not bad. Good medicine."
Then he tucked the silver case into his belt, turned, and walked away.
Tagel was stunned...
Viscount Timba was stunned...
Carrick was stunned...
What was this? Outright robbery?
"What is this?" Sir Aust barked.
"Sir Aust, what are you doing?" Viscount Timba spoke up.
Sir Aust turned around and addressed the viscount with an air of absolute seriousness. "My lord, I am your bodyguard and your only Gold Knight. If we encounter enemies, I'll need to charge into battle and carve out a path for you. So I have to consider how to maintain my combat effectiveness. That medicine is excellent—it'll let me stanch bleeding quickly if I'm wounded, without hampering my fighting ability. I think it's best kept on my person..."
"Er..." Viscount Timba was pampered, but he wasn't stupid. He glanced at Carrick, who shook his head.
"Um... Tagel, I think Sir Aust makes a good point. Why don't you leave the medicine with him for now? I'll compensate you once we reach the royal city." Viscount Timba said, a touch embarrassed.
"It's no trouble, Your Honor..." Tagel said with a smile, then waved Lorist off.
Lorist expressionlessly stepped aside, clearing the path.
Sir Aust spat on the ground in front of Lorist with a sharp "Pah!" and swaggered back to his large stone slab, settling down with a self-satisfied air.
For a moment, the atmosphere by the creek was painfully awkward. No one wanted to speak.
"Damn it, Hannu—are you ever going to catch a fish? I'm starving to death..." Carrick turned and yelled at the big slave splashing around in the creek, grasping at a change of topic.
"Ugh..." Tagel watched the big slave thrashing about with no results and shook his head. "He's useless like that. Have him come up and gather some firewood instead. I'll have Locke catch some fish for you—we haven't eaten this morning either, so it works out for everyone. Locke, go get us some fish."
Lorist nodded without a word, walked to the creek bank, and gestured for the big slave to come ashore.
The big slave called Hannu turned to look at Viscount Timba. The viscount snapped, "He told you to come up—didn't you hear? Go gather firewood!"
Lorist planted his feet on two large boulders, gripped his sword in his right hand, and stared intently at the water, waiting in silence.
Carrick asked in bewilderment, "Can he catch fish without even going in the water?"
Tagel laughed. "Don't worry. Locke's specialty is woodland hunting. With him around, we'll never go hungry..."
Before he finished speaking, Lorist's longsword plunged into the water like a bolt of lightning. Water splashed upward, and a palm-sized creek fish with black stripes writhed at the tip of the blade. With a flick of his wrist, Lorist sent the fish sailing through the air to land right in front of Tagel.
Tagel burst out laughing and shouted, "Get more! We'll make a fish soup!"
Lorist nodded to show he understood.
Carrick was momentarily stunned. "Tagel, a bit of fire-roasted fish would be fine. How are we going to make soup? We've got nothing to cook in."
Tagel grinned. "Carrick, honestly, my Silver Swordmaster title is more than I deserve—my swordsmanship is a disaster. But the benefit of reaching the Silver rank is this..."
He drew a dagger from his belt, channeled his combat force, and a flash of white sword glow flickered across the blade. Then he picked up a smooth river stone, and with the dagger traced two quick circles. Stone dust hissed downward, and in moments, a crude stone bowl materialized in Tagel's hand.
"See? Once you hit the Silver rank, you don't have to worry about lacking eating utensils in the wild." Tagel said proudly.
Carrick and Viscount Timba stared dumbfounded. So a Silver Swordmaster could be used for this?
*Plop*—another creek fish landed at their feet. Tagel fished out a small knife and handed it to Carrick. "You clean these fish. I'll find a suitable stone and make a proper stone pot."
Carrick looked at the knife in his hand, then at the fish, and finally tossed the knife to the old slave in the grey robe. "Mute, you clean these fish. I'm going to build a cooking stand..."
The creek was teeming with fish, though the largest were only palm-sized. In no time, Lorist had speared about thirty of them. Then he went into the nearby grove and returned quickly with a haul of mushrooms and wild greens. By then, Tagel had finished carving a large stone pot, washed it clean, and placed it on the cooking stand Carrick had built. He poured in creek water and set it to boiling.
Lorist dropped a dozen fish into the stone pot, added the wild vegetables and mountain mushrooms, then pulled two small bamboo tubes from his belt—one containing salt, the other a spice powder—and sprinkled some of each into the pot. All that remained was to let it simmer a while longer and the fish soup would be ready.
Tagel and Carrick pan-fried fish on a nearby flat stone.
Carrick was already gawking at the parade of bottles and jars that kept appearing from Tagel's person...
"This one's butter, that one's fine beef tallow. See, you just brush the oil onto the fish with this little brush, and you can fry it. Oh, and hand me that small silver case—it's got salt in it. And that longer silver tube holds a spice powder I'm fond of. I need to brush it onto the fish—just wait till you smell that aroma..." Tagel chattered on, explaining each item to Carrick.
"Wait, Tagel—how are you carrying all this stuff? When I recruited you into the inner city, you weren't carrying any bundles!" Carrick marveled.
"You survive in style," Tagel replied.
Carrick sighed. "The Peterson Trading Company really lives up to being one of the Seven Giants of the Commercial Alliance. They think of everything."
Tagel laughed. "Carrick, this treasure belt of mine is custom-made. Someone like Locke doesn't have one half as good as mine, nor did he prepare half as thoroughly. Look, I've even got a hidden pocket here—it's got gold dollar bills and a dozen gold Forde coins. So even if I make it to the royal city, I'll have money to spend. Not like you, without a single copper to your name."
While they talked, the fish finished frying. Carrick carefully transferred the fish to a stone platter, intending to bring it to Viscount Timba.
The viscount was thrilled—he'd been starving for hours, and the aroma of fried fish made his mouth water.
A large hand reached over and took the platter.
"My lord, as your bodyguard, I need to taste these fish first to make sure they're safe." Sir Aust said, grabbed a fried fish, and began eating. "Not bad. Passable." Before long, nothing remained but a fish bone. Sir Aust licked his lips, walked over to Tagel, and grabbed the two nearly-finished fish from the stone slab, gobbling them down in huge bites.
"You—" Viscount Timba's face flushed red with fury. He was about to explode, but Carrick shook his head urgently at him. Helplessly, the viscount clamped his mouth shut, his face cycling between white and green.
After finishing both fried fish, Sir Aust tossed the stone platter aside and pointed at Tagel. "You—hand over that belt..."
Tagel stumbled back two steps. "Not a chance—"
Sir Aust drew his sword. A golden sword glow blazed along the blade, and a vicious grin spread across his face. "You want to fight a Gold Swordmaster? I'd rather not get blood on that belt of yours. Hand it over nicely, and I'll spare your life."
Lorist charged in from the left.
Sir Aust laughed. "A Black Iron dares challenge me? I'll make an example of you—"
With a casual horizontal slash, Sir Aust was certain this overconfident Black Iron guard would have his sword shattered and his life ended.
*CLANG!* The golden-glowing sword was sent flying high into the air. Sir Aust's face went white with shock. Before he could recover, a figure had closed the distance. A fist grew larger and larger before his eyes, and *CRACK*—it connected squarely between his eyes and the bridge of his nose. His eyes bulged, blood sprayed from his nose, and a gong seemed to crash inside his skull. Sir Aust's whole body began to sway.
The blows came one after another, swift as lightning and thunder. His right hand was seized, twisted—Viscount Timba and Carrick could see it clearly. Locke, Tagel's Black Iron guard, had grabbed Sir Aust's right arm, wrenched it downward, and driven his left knee upward. *SNAP*—Sir Aust's right arm snapped on the spot, and his sword clattered to the ground...
"AARGH—" Sir Aust screamed, but the cry was cut short as a savage knee slammed into his midsection. His body curled up and crumpled to the ground...
Everyone watched in stunned horror as Sir Aust was reduced to a punching bag in the hands of this Black Iron guard called Locke. Not a soul had imagined that a Gold-rank knight could be completely helpless against a Black Iron guard. By the time Tagel snapped out of it and shouted for Locke to stop, Sir Aust was already barely conscious, crumpled on the ground.
Lorist lifted his foot and stomped down. *CRACK*—Sir Aust's left leg broke. The poor knight jolted from unconsciousness into agony, then immediately passed out again from the pain.
Lorist bent down, first retrieving the silver case from Sir Aust's body, then stripped him of everything—not even leaving him his undergarments. He carried the entire pile of spoils over to Tagel and set them down. Then, as if nothing had happened, he strolled over to the stone pot, ladled out a bowl of fish soup, tasted it, and added another handful of firewood beneath the stand. It looked like the soup needed to simmer a bit longer...
Carrick and Viscount Timba looked at the naked Sir Aust lying on the ground over there, then at Locke calmly tending the fire over here. The two exchanged bewildered glances, identical expressions of disbelief on their faces.
"Um... Tagel... don't you think it's strange? Your trading company's guard is just a Black Iron..." Carrick finally tugged at the man who was rummaging through the pile of spoils on the ground.
Tagel didn't even look back. "What's strange about it? Locke may be a Black Iron, but his bare-handed combat ability is unmatched in our entire trading company. None of our Silver Swordmasters can take him in hand-to-hand. Even a Gold Swordmaster can fall to him if they let their guard down. 'Black Iron Locke, Silver-rank Invincible'—that's his title..."
Viscount Timba and Carrick finally understood. No wonder—Locke had blocked Sir Aust's very first strike, closed the distance, and abandoned his own sword to beat Sir Aust senseless with his bare fists...
"Hmm? That's odd. Carrick, why were you guys starving? This Sir Aust was well-provisioned—look, here's salt, dried meat, a small bag of toasted flour. Just add water and cook, and you get a pot of porridge more than enough to fill your stomachs." Tagel stood up, holding several small pouches in his hands.
Viscount Timba and Carrick's attention was drawn over. Recalling how famished they'd been last night, the two glared venomously at Sir Aust, unconscious and sprawled on the ground. No wonder—Sir Aust hadn't said a single word about being hungry last night. He'd been eating everything by himself! Even Viscount Timba now wished he could run the man through a few times.
With Sir Aust the Gold Knight around, Viscount Timba would never have given Tagel any real importance. Now that Sir Aust was out of the picture, they would have to rely on Tagel for the rest of the journey. And once they reached the royal city, with Viscount Tagel vouching for them, everything would become much easier for him to maneuver...
...to be continued.