Kalick only came downstairs when
It was already evening by then, and Tager led Lorist toward the arena. The Flame and Blood Tavern was actually very close to the arena district — just through a small alley and they reached the boulevard encircling the royal court district. Across the boulevard was the camp formerly occupied by the Imperial Guard Corps. Though the Imperial Guard had already marched out to war, the camp was far from idle. A row of multicolored banners fluttered at the camp's entrance, and people wearing all manner of leather armor drifted in and out, brandishing swords and spears...
Before they even crossed the boulevard, several people rushed over from the camp and surrounded Tager and Lorist.
"Hey, you two must be here to answer His Majesty's call and join the camp, right? I'm Jason, vice-captain of the Sembach Mercenary Corps. I'd very much welcome you brave warriors to join our company..." A skinny man in worn-out leather armor said to Tager and Lorist with great enthusiasm.
"Get your ragtag mercenary company out of here. Less than fifty men, and most of them are broken-down stragglers — old and weak. Join your company just to die? Brothers, we're the Tiger Shark Slave-Hunting Corps under Duke Guvman. We've got over three hundred men. Joining us is your best bet..." A tall man standing nearby first trashed the skinny man's so-called mercenary company with a contemptuous look, then turned to recruit the two.
A red-faced hulk bellowed, "Join our Galiel Slave-Hunting Squad! We provide equipment and weapons, mate — all free of charge. Don't miss this opportunity!"
"We're Grand Duke Holik's mercenary company. We've only just been formed, but the pay is excellent — a bottle of sweet wine every day!" A fourth man, a middle-aged fellow in full chainmail, shouted, unwilling to be outdone.
Now it was clear — all of these people were here to recruit and beef up their forces.
"Our respects to all you brave warriors," Tager answered with a grin. "It's just that the two of us are from the Peterson Trading Company of the Commercial Alliance. We came to your kingdom first to open trade routes and establish an office, and second to broaden our horizons through travel. We saw how lively it was here and came over to take a look. Sorry to disappoint you all."
Well, upon hearing Tager declare his identity, the men sighed and turned back. But one of them stayed behind.
"I know you," the man said, looking at Tager.
"And you are?" Tager scratched his head. He didn't recognize the man in front of him.
"You're a friend of Bailopu and the others. I've seen you drinking with them," the man said.
"Oh..." Tager let out a sigh of relief. He'd thought for a moment he'd slipped up somehow. "Hello, I'm Tager. Do you know what happened to Bailopu and the others? We got separated during the breakout from the inner city of Nubit Port. I couldn't find them..."
"Bailopu is dead. When we charged the enemy's defensive line at the gap between the two hills in the highlands, I saw Bailopu fall to the ground with several arrows stuck in him," the man said.
"What about Filinde, Clelando, and Chelva — do you know them? Do you know where they are now?" Tager asked. These were all the shady friends he'd made back in Nubit Port.
The man shook his head. "I don't know them, but I think I've heard the name Chelva before. He should be in this camp. Want me to take you to look for him?"
"Who are you?"
"My name is Dray. I used to be a supervisor in Nubit Port's logistics and transport department. Now His Majesty has forced me into the ranks of the Redemption Army," the man said.
"The Redemption Army? What's that about?" Tager was curious.
"Nothing much. After we broke through and fled to the royal city, our king flew into a thunderous rage when he heard we'd lost Nubit Port. Even Duke Guvman and Duke Holik were ordered to stay in their estates and repent. As for the rest of us, His Majesty stuffed us all into this camp and said we're to form the Redemption Corps. Once we recruit twenty-four thousand men, we'll head to the front lines to assist the Imperial Guard Corps in retaking Nubit Port. That's why all these people are recruiting cannon fodder for their respective units..."
"Cannon fodder?"
"Yes," Dray answered. "Many mercenary companies and slave-hunting squads took heavy losses during the breakout. So they need to recruit new blood, and once we reach the front lines, they'll send these newcomers charging in first. That way, even if the losses are enormous, the core of their original teams stays intact. On top of that, the heavy casualties will show how 'brave' they were, which earns them rewards."
"They can get away with that?"
"Of course. His Majesty has already issued the conscription order, so anyone who wants to join the army will come, and then those teams divide them up. In a few days, once we've got the numbers, we'll march for Nubit Port. Whether I survive or not will be up to Sigwa's grace." A bitter, helpless smile crept across Dray's face.
"I'm sure you'll live to be a hundred," Tager flattered. "Maybe you'll even earn enough merit for His Majesty to elevate you to the nobility." He then pointed at Lorist. "My brother here has never been to this city. I want to take him to see the famous royal arena first, open his eyes a bit. After that, we'll come find you. How about we head to the Flame and Blood Tavern for a few drinks?"
Dray nodded. "Alright, I'll go look for Chelva and the others for you. When you come find me, just ask the sentries at the camp entrance for Dray of the Thunderfire Mercenary Corps. They all know me."
This was arguably the most magnificent structure in the Hamidas royal city besides the palace itself. From the outside, it looked like two orange segments laid on the ground, pressed together and joined — very much like the sports stadiums from Lorist's previous life.
"There's a wild mulberry tree in the alley to the left of the main gate..." Tager murmured to himself. "Yes, that's the spot."
The alley was extremely secluded and smelled terrible. Countless spectators who had come to watch the gladiators fight to the death had used this little alley as an open-air toilet after the shows, and even the base of the stone walls had been stained a greenish-yellow by years of urine, giving off a nauseating stench.
Yet on these gray-blue stone walls, someone had drawn over thirty marks in crude, childlike strokes — two horizontal lines crossed by one vertical line.
Tager held his nose and said, "My lord, every time Al went in, he'd draw two horizontal lines on the wall. He'd only add the vertical line when he came out. Other people would just think he went in to relieve himself, and even if they noticed these marks on the wall, they'd write them off as a child scribbling..."
"Thirty-one, thirty-two, thirty-three, thirty-four..." Tager froze when he reached that number. On the wall, there were only the two horizontal lines with no vertical mark — which meant that after Al entered the royal arena, he never came back out.
"Let's go. We'll ask at the arena," Lorist said.
The soldiers guarding the arena entrance knew nothing. After Tager slipped each of them a large silver coin, they finally called over their squadron captain. However, the captain flatly denied that Al was still in the arena, insisting that Al had left two days ago after finishing his sword practice, and that he too found it strange that Al hadn't come back these past two days, and so on...
Lorist tugged at Tager's clothes, signaling him to leave first.
On the way back, Lorist told Tager with certainty that something had happened to Al. The arena's squadron captain had been evasive with his eyes, unable to even look Tager in the face while speaking. Lorist planned to sneak into the arena that night to find out the truth.
Tager thought this was far too risky for Lorist. He suggested they wait until tomorrow and visit Viscount Timba, asking the viscount to intervene and investigate Al's whereabouts at the arena.
Lorist shook his head. Tager was about to press further when he suddenly heard someone shouting his name. Looking up, he saw Dray from the Thunderfire Mercenary Corps, with several others standing beside him — one of whom was Chelva, the friend he'd made in Nubit Port.
Chelva came over laughing and threw his arms around Tager in a bear hug, congratulating him on making it to Hamidas royal city in one piece. Then he demanded a treat. Chelva said that ever since fleeing to the royal city, he'd been completely penniless — apart from filling his belly at the camp, he hadn't so much as gnawed on a meat bone. It was cabbage soup and black bread every day, so bland he could taste birds. Now that he'd caught Tager, this big spender, he was going to make him pay for a proper feast, and introduce him to a few friends while he was at it...
Well, here was another Kalick. Tager generously treated everyone to a hearty meal and drinks at the Flame and Blood Tavern. On the way, Tager briefly recounted how his group had escaped their ordeal, then let out a deep sigh.
"What's wrong, brother Tager? Why the long face? Don't tell me you're upset about treating us to a free meal?" Chelva said, sounding displeased.
"No, it's not that. My brother and I just went to the arena, only to find that a companion who'd been staying in the royal city and practicing swordsmanship at the arena every day has gone missing. I'm really worried about him. I don't know how I'm going to face my uncle when I get back." Tager furrowed his brow and sighed mournfully.
"What happened?" Dray asked.
"Brother Chelva, you know this — when I first came to Nubit Port, there was a fellow named Al with me. He's my uncle's son, came with me to see the world. He's a martial arts fanatic, only cares about sword practice. Then when you and the others took us to the royal arena to watch the fights, my brother heard he could spar with the gladiators and insisted on staying behind. Today when I went to the tavern, the owner said he hadn't been seen for two days. I went to the arena to ask, and they said my brother left the day before yesterday and never came back...
"Everyone knows we brothers are from the Peterson Trading Company. We came to your kingdom on business to open trade routes and establish an office. Naturally, we have our own set of signals and contact marks. We just discovered that the mark my brother Al left behind indicated he entered the arena but never came out. So we asked the soldiers guarding the arena, and they just shook their heads and said they didn't know. Then they called over their squadron captain, who gave us that answer..."
"Are you saying brother Al has gone missing?" Chelva jumped to his feet. "Forget the food. Let's go back. I'll gather the men and search the arena..."
"There's no need..." Tager hastily held Chelva back. "I appreciate your brotherly loyalty, but you can't do this. If things get out of hand and His Majesty blames us, nobody can bear the consequences..."
"What's there to be afraid of? I'm heading to the battlefield in a few days anyway — dying early or dying late doesn't make much of a difference. The arena only has two hundred guards right now. If we want to stir things up, now's the perfect time. Make a big enough scene, and maybe we won't even have to go to war." Chelva shouted.
"Huh?" Tager asked in surprise. "Last time you brought us here, didn't you say there were a thousand Imperial Guard soldiers guarding the arena? How come there are only two hundred now? What if the slave gladiators revolt?"
"Even if they revolted, they couldn't find weapons... Besides, we're camped right in front, aren't we? If anything really happened at the arena, we'd move in to put it down. I can't speak for other things, but when it comes to handling those slave brothers, every one of us is a pro. Don't worry, Tager — the royal city won't descend into chaos."
"Oh, by the way — it's said that on the day we're set to march, His Majesty will stage a grand gladiatorial spectacle. All sixteen hundred-plus slave gladiators in the arena will be split into two sides for a massive battle, an offering to the God of War, to win his favor and ensure our victory..." Dray interjected, showing off how well-informed he was.
"Oh, I'm sure that gladiatorial show will be quite a spectacle. I love watching the fights." Tager turned to Chelva. "Anyway, brother Chelva, don't do anything rash. I plan to visit Viscount Timba tomorrow. I believe the viscount will help me investigate brother Al's whereabouts at the arena, considering we traveled together. Tonight, let's just drink to our hearts' content — no one goes home sober..."
"Deal! No one goes home sober!" Chelva perked up excitedly.
They soon arrived at the Flame and Blood Tavern. The moment they walked in, Chelva, Dray, and the others were already shouting for the owner to bring out the best wine and food. Tager asked the owner if Kalick was upstairs. The owner said Kalick had headed out after drinking three bottles of fruit wine and hadn't returned yet.
Chelva patted Tager on the shoulder. "Don't worry about Kalick. I think he has a cousin somewhere in the royal city — he probably went to visit. By the way, brother Tager, book me a room. I've been cooped up for ages."
Tager turned around and saw that Chelva had, at some point, already gotten his arm around a tavern serving girl and was flirting shamelessly. He chuckled and said to the tavern owner, "Owner, I'm booking all the empty rooms upstairs for the night. Any brother who wants to relax can take someone up. Come back down for drinks when you're done — everything goes on my tab."
With that, he slapped a gold note on the counter, drawing a round of cheers and praise for his generosity.
Dray didn't take a serving girl upstairs. He liked his drink, and after three or four bottles, he grew interested in the silent Lorist, insisting on challenging him to a drinking contest.
Lorist refused the challenge. He told Dray that as young master Tager's bodyguard, he couldn't drink. But Dray wouldn't take no for an answer, badgering Lorist relentlessly. In the end, Tager ordered Lorist to drink — he couldn't deny his friend face.
Lorist said with a pained expression, "Young master, I can't hold my liquor."
Then, under Dray's insistence that any real man could drink, he downed three bottles of fruit wine. He sprayed it all out on the spot, collapsed face-first onto the ground, and passed out cold — sending everyone into fits of laughter.
Tager complained, "You guys are something else, insisting on getting someone drunk when he can't handle his liquor. Now who's going to help me carry Lorist upstairs to my guest room so he can sleep it off? If he goes back and gives me a bad review, I'm done for."
Downstairs, the tavern was buzzing with noise. Tager and his friends had only just begun their night's revelry. From the adjacent rooms came waves of rhythmic slapping sounds, mingled with the tavern girls' moans — real or feigned. In the dark room, the apparently dead-drunk Lorist opened his bright eyes and quietly rose...
...(To be continued.)