The fish soup was incredibly savory, and the fried fish was equally delicious. Viscount Tiba and Carrick finished the entire pot between them.
Viscount Tiba was puzzled: "We're all full, so why are you cooking more?"
Lorist gestured toward the big slave named Hannu and the old mute slave.
Carrick was dismissive: "They're slaves. We don't need to feed them. They can have the fish heads we're done with..."
Tager shook his head with a smile: "Carrick, we're on the run now, not on a leisurely picnic. Taking care of every person in the group is the key to ensuring our own safety. Look at that Hannu—put bluntly, he's the Viscount's mount. Even if he were just a horse, we'd have to feed and water it so it doesn't cause us trouble on the road. If we don't let him eat his fill and he's too weak to carry the Viscount, who knows when we'll manage to escape this danger..."
Viscount Tiba nodded: "Tager is right. It's these two slaves' good luck to be able to eat the same food as us."
Since they had to wait for the two slaves to finish eating before setting out, Tager took the bag of roasted flour—ostensibly found on Knight Aus but actually planted by Lorist to frame him—and baked it into small flatbreads to serve as rations for the journey. By the time everything was packed and they were ready to go, it was already afternoon.
No one paid any mind to the Knight Aus over there, groaning in pain and crying for help, as if they didn't even see him. After Lorist had broken his limbs and stripped him of his clothes, the once-Golden Knight had been reduced to a cripple, left to lie there and await his end...
Before setting out, the Viscount stopped Viscount Tiba from climbing onto the shoulders of the big slave called Hannu. He said nothing, simply making a few hand gestures. Viscount Tiba was puzzled and turned to ask Tager: "What does he want?"
Tager said: "My lord, Locke believes it is highly inappropriate for you to ride on this slave's shoulders. It's too conspicuous — you'd easily be spotted and become the enemy's first target. He suggests carrying you on his back instead..."
Viscount Tiba asked: "Then why doesn't he just say so?"
Tager replied: "My lord, Locke is habitually a man of few words. He simply doesn't like talking."
Meanwhile, the Viscount had already taken the clothes stripped from Knight Aus, torn them into strips, and woven them into a soft basket-like carrier. He brought it over and gestured for Viscount Tiba to climb onto Hannu's back, then used the soft carrier to bind them both securely together.
Viscount Tiba was quite pleased with the carrier. He asked Tager whether he could have this guard called Locke transferred to his service, offering to pay a handsome price.
Tager shook his head. "My lord, Locke is not a slave, and he is not my bodyguard either. He is an elite combatant whom the merchant guild spent over a decade carefully cultivating. He answers only to the Guild Master himself. Don't let the fact that he currently accompanies me and follows my orders fool you — when real danger strikes, he has the discretion to decide whether to flee on his own. For the guild, they would rather lose me than sacrifice someone like him. They will spend enormous sums training a man of his caliber into a Great Swordmaster, so that he can eventually become the guild's pillar of military might."
"Oh? Then how do they produce such people?" Viscount Tiba was genuinely interested in this topic.
"My lord, it's not just our Peterson Merchant Guild. All seven great guilds in the Commerce League operate the same way. They take in young orphans and, based on their aptitudes, train them in either letters or martial arts. Once grown, they become the backbone of the guild. A guard like Locke has already been selected from among a thousand — and when they advance to the Golden rank or the Great Swordmaster level, the guild will have spent at least a hundred thousand to several hundred thousand gold Fortes on them." Tager answered.
"Then why don't you just hire Great Swordmasters from outside instead of going through all the trouble to train your own?" Viscount Tiba was quite baffled.
"Viscount, we do hire Great Swordmasters from outside, but it's rarely a viable option, unless they're a known quantity." Tager pondered for a moment before continuing. "Our merchant guild is different from your nobility. Because we're in the business of trade, confidentiality is paramount. We find it very hard to trust the loyalty of anyone not raised within our own ranks. If a trade secret were to leak, it could cause catastrophic damage to our business."
"I see." Viscount Tiba nodded in agreement. "Indeed, hiring Great Swordmasters from outside is also troublesome. The one I paid a fortune to hire only knew how to demand money and perks, and he'd give me attitude when I asked him to do anything. In the end, when it really came time to fight, he was useless. All five of them went out, and not a single one came back..."
As Viscount Tiba grumbled, Tager quietly consulted with Kalick and quickly learned the full story.
It turned out that when Lorist had made his landing, the Rank 2 Great Swordmaster hired by Viscount Tiba had led four of the Viscount's Golden Knights and a three-hundred-man slave-hunting party to intercept the landing force. The result was their complete annihilation; not even a single messenger returned. This left the Viscount without any high-level fighters to guard him, forcing him to flee with only two slaves.
Lorist, listening from nearby, had to suppress a laugh. So, the Rank 2 Great Swordmaster who had fought so fiercely with Yingjie Lieke upon their landing was the very one this Viscount Tiba had dispatched! In the end, that Great Swordmaster had met his death, shot by a steel crossbow bolt while fleeing—dying like a rabbit with an arrow in it.
Viscount Tiba began to show genuine interest in the merchant guild's plan of adopting orphans and training them. He hoped his own family could similarly cultivate a batch of useful and utterly loyal talents. As for orphans, he wouldn't need to collect them; he could use the family's "house-born" slaves instead.
Beside him, Kalick explained. It turned out that "house-born" slaves were little slaves born from male and female slave pairings—some even the illegitimate children of raped female slaves. Because these little slaves were born into slavery, they lacked the spirit of freedom and resistance found in slaves captured from the outside. They were very docile and readily accepted their status as slaves.
Like that old mute slave, he was a second-generation house-born. The slave giant, Hannu, was a third-generation house-born; his parents, just like the old mute, were second-generation house-born. In the original slave markets of Nubitai Port, house-born slaves cost roughly double the price of those captured from outside.
Viscount Tiba's idea of training house-born slaves was good, but Kalick also pointed out a critical oversight in the Viscount's thinking. In the Kingdom of Haniabad, slaves were forbidden from carrying weapons. They could learn to awaken their combat force, but they were absolutely not permitted to bear arms, for that would pose a direct threat to their masters...
As they walked and chatted about everything and nothing, the conversation between Tager, Viscount Tiba, and Kalick flowed pleasantly. Lorist, meanwhile, gleaned a great deal of intelligence about the Kingdom of Haniabad and the royal capital of Hamidas. For instance, the current king of Haniabad, Lude III, was a one-star Golden Knight. Also, the three Great Swordmasters patronized by the royal family were of a caliber far superior to those hired by the various nobles, and so on...
The dinner consisted of four wild rabbits and three pheasants caught by Lorist, and everyone gnawed on the meat until their lips glistened with grease.
According to Viscount Tiba and Kalick's descriptions, they had now reached the edge of this hilly region. If they continued for another half-day tomorrow, crossing two small hills, they would arrive at the royal city's plain. Viscount Tiba said he had once gone hunting here with his brother-in-law, Lude III, and roughly remembered the terrain. Once out of the hills, half a day's travel would bring them to a royal estate, where they could then take a carriage or horse back to the royal city of Hamidas.
The next morning went smoothly, and they quickly crossed the two small hills, reaching the boundary between the hilly terrain and the royal city's plain. They then walked for another afternoon, passing through a vast wheat field before sighting an estate in the distance.
Viscount Tiba incessantly urged and cursed the slave giant named Hannu, who was carrying him, demanding he go faster. Although Viscount Tiba had been carried the whole way, he still considered himself to have endured a long, exhausting journey. At this moment, what he desired most was fine wine, a good meal, and a soft bed to sink into, so he could rest properly for the night.
Lorist, who was walking ahead, suddenly stopped. He cocked his head, listening intently, then turned and made a few hand signals before crouching down to conceal himself in the wheat field, which reached about waist-high. He soon vanished from sight.
Tager grabbed Viscount Tiba's clothes, hushing him in a low voice and signaling Hannu to crouch down as well.
"Stop," he whispered. "Lorist says something seems wrong with the estate ahead. He's going to investigate first."
Kalick said skeptically, "I think everything looks perfectly normal. What could be wrong? Isn't this just your own paranoia talking?"
Viscount Tiba added, "If we hurry, we can still make it in time for a hearty dinner, take a hot bath, and get a good night's sleep. Tomorrow, we'll be in the city by noon if we just get in the carriage. Can we stop fussing about now..."
Tager said gravely, "My Lord, Kalick, I trust Lorist completely on this. He has an innate sense for danger. Just now he pointed out that the wheat is all ripe, yet along this entire path we haven't seen a single harvesting slave. That is highly unusual..."
Kalick's face changed as well when he thought about it: "You're right, my Lord. If everything were normal, we should have seen harvesting slaves working along the way. The fact that we haven't seen a single person up ahead likely means something has gone wrong at the manor. Did you forget that the enemy has cavalry? I suspect they've already entered the King's City plains. What if the manor up ahead has already been occupied by the enemy, and they're lying in wait for us to walk right into their trap?"
Viscount Tiba was frightened now too. The five of them huddled behind an earthen mound, anxiously waiting for Lorist to return.
It was over an hour before Lorist came back. He exchanged a series of hand signals with Tager and said a few brief words. Viscount Tiba and Kalick heard everything clearly, and their hearts sank. Because Lorist had said: cavalry, hanged, revolt...
Sure enough, Tager said: "Lord Viscount, Kalick, I'm afraid we have a problem. Just now Rock went ahead to scout the manor up ahead. He says there are more than ten cavalrymen there, and judging by their equipment, they're the enemy — the
Viscount Tiba's face went deathly pale: "Then can we still make it back to the city?"
Tager said: "Don't panic, Lord Viscount. Rock says the people at the manor are busy making preparations. He heard they're planning to go to other manors to join forces with the slaves there, so they shouldn't be attacking the city anytime soon. Let's wait here until dark. Once night falls, the people at the manor won't be able to spot us, and we can rush toward the King's City through the night. That way, we should arrive by noon tomorrow..."
Kalick added venomously from the side: "That's right, Lord Viscount. We'll wait here patiently until nightfall. Once we reach the King's City tomorrow, we'll report the revolt at this manor to His Majesty the King. He'll naturally send his great army to slaughter every last one of these ungrateful slaves, as a warning to all who follow!"
The royal manor — once a place of boisterous activity, laughter and celebration — was left receding into the distance behind them.
They marched without stopping for over four hours before finally pausing to rest by a small river.
Kalick said: "Lord Viscount, I recall there's another royal manor along this stream if we keep going a bit further. Shall we go check it out?"
But Viscount Tymbal had already become a bird startled by the mere twang of a bowstring. He shook his head and said absolutely not — this manor was dangerously close to the one where the slave revolt had broken out, barely an hour's ride away. There was a very real chance the slaves here had been incited to riot as well, and Tymbal had no desire to end up as one of those unfortunate souls hanging from the gallows.
Tagel asked, "My Lord Viscount, are there many royal manors on this plain?"
Kalick answered on Viscount Tymbal's behalf. As it turned out, the plain had no name of its own — it came to be called the King's City Plain only after the royal capital was established there. When the Haniabada Kingdom was first founded, the pirates, who produced nothing, had once caused a famine that spread across a wide area, and the people had barely managed to scrape by on fishing alone. Back then, the pirates raided the Golden Coastline primarily to plunder grain, but the coastal nations had grown cautious and adopted a scorched-earth policy, driving up the cost of every sack of food the pirates seized until it simply wasn't worth the effort anymore.
When the second king of the Haniabada Kingdom — Lud I — ascended to the throne, he abandoned the pillaging of coastal nations, won their understanding, and opened up trade routes, finally resolving the kingdom's chronic food shortage. King Lud I then threw his energy into developing the King's City Plain, establishing dozens of royal farms across it and transforming the plain into the Haniabada Kingdom's granary, one that could more or less meet the kingdom's grain needs.
At present, one hundred and twenty to one hundred and thirty thousand slaves worked the royal estates across the plain. If the Norton Family managed to incite them all into revolt, the consequences would be utterly unthinkable. Both Kalick and Viscount Tymbal were weighed down with worry.
They rested for another half hour before pressing on, and by the time the sky began to lighten, everyone was thoroughly exhausted.
Up ahead, the hazy outline of yet another manor emerged from the mist. Lorist went forward to scout it and returned with the report that the estate appeared perfectly normal — the slaves were already under the overseers' control and preparing to head out to the wheat fields for harvest.
Viscount Tymbal and Kalick were overjoyed and hurried toward the manor. Upon arrival, the party received extremely warm and attentive hospitality. After all, Viscount Tymbal was the younger brother of the most favored Grand Imperial Consort — a bona fide member of the royal family. As the estate's steward had put it, the Viscount's presence graced their humble home with glory, though the Viscount and his company did look rather bedraggled…
Viscount Tymbal was in no mood to accept the steward's eager hospitality. He hurriedly ordered a carriage to be prepared, wanting to leave the manor immediately, terrified that lingering too long would allow Norton Family cavalry and revolting slaves to surround and trap them there. It was only at the moment of departure that he had Kalick give the hospitable steward a warning about the slave revolts at the other estates, urging him to prepare in advance.
As the carriage pulled away, the tolling of an alarm bell had already begun echoing across the manor, calling back the slaves who had set out to work the wheat fields.
The sky had grown fully bright. In just over an hour, they would reach the royal capital of Hamidas. The carriage turned onto the main road — there was no longer any need to worry about pursuit from the enemy. After half an hour of travel, the sound of horns rose from ahead. The driver pulled the carriage onto a dirt mound by the roadside, clearing the way for the main thoroughfare.
Banners snapped in the wind up ahead. A column of army in earthen-yellow uniforms writhed forward like a great serpent emerging from a massive fortress in the distance, their formation stretching endlessly. At the very front rode nearly a hundred cavalrymen on horseback…
Kalick threw his fist into the air and cheered: "That's the capital! That's the King's Imperial Guard Corps — they've sortied! Long live them! Long live our Imperial Guard Corps! Long live His Majesty the King!"
…(To be continued.)