"Richard!" Cui Beixi and Helen came out from the bamboo forest. Gortani, clad in her fitted leather armor, carried a long cross sword and stood behind them with an indifferent expression.
The "Song of Dorott" sung just now was so grating. The master and disciple, who were meditating on the natural elemental power in the bamboo forest, couldn’t bear it and came out to see who was brazenly ridiculing Beamon on Beamon’s territory. This text is hosted at novel·fıre·net
The arrival of the three beauties was like a sudden ray of light to the pockmarked human trader, a profound greed appeared in his eyes, and the crystal ball in his hand subtly shifted towards a new direction.
The two Piegel knights were dumbstruck. It was apparent they recognized Cui Beixi and hurriedly removed their helmets on their war pigs, commending her with a tap on their breastplates.
"So, it’s the Shalba trading group." Cui Beixi stared at the flapping red flag and sighed, turned to Richard and said, "Let them pass, Richard".
"Not possible." Richard pointed to the sign of his toll station, "If you want to cross, leave your toll. No means no, whether you live or die is not my concern!"
His fluent words sounded like those of an habitual bandit rather than a lord.
"The Shalba trading group controls five out of nine of our Witherspoon weapon workshops. They pledged to add five more next year. We’re currently at war with the Desert People, therefore we urgently need their high-quality weapons. Do you understand what I mean?" the beautiful female snake guide said.
"So that’s how it is." Richard hesitated for a moment. "I suppose we’ll let them pass this time. After all, it’s in the interest of the kingdom and punishing the Desert People is something I’ve always wished to do."
Helen gave a sweet smile on the side.
Cui Beixi also smiled with relief. For the first time in many days, the beautiful snake guide has found Richard to be pleasing to the eye.
"You can actually understand the worries of the kingdom?" Gortani almost didn’t recognize Richard and looked at him in an odd way.
"It’s the responsibility of a noble. After all, the one I serve is the Beamon Kingdom." Richard smirked.
"Move this barricade! Peasant!" When the two Piegel knights heard the lord’s words, they pointed triumphantly at the Mastiff man Bellamy.
Bellamy looked at Richard.
Richard waved his hand, indicating to let them pass.
The mercenaries passed by Richard with sneers.
Helen let out a scream, burying her head into her guide’s chest while Cui Beixi and Gortani frowned.
Vieri spat and walked away in anger.
The mercenaries and Bepsy prostitutes laughed heartily. Bellamy picked up the stick beside him, ready to charge, but Richard held him back.
Richard’s gaze became focused.
The mercenaries found his look hilarious.
A row of carriage wheels left a trail of marks, even the rotation of the wheels seemed to mock Richard.
The stumbling slaves were tethered to the last carriage, the shackles on their feet dragging with a harsh sound. The pus from the frostbite on their bare feet dyed the red soil.
They might be a group of filthy slaves, but as they passed Richard, they emanated a captivating scent, different from Helen’s. It was a delicate medicinal smell. Despite the chilling wind, it stimulated Richard’s senses.
Based on Richard’s understanding of Dorott’s current situation, since the Shalba family intended to bribe the "Lecherous Prince", they should be buying Fox Tribe or Swan maidens. But there were no female Beamon among these slaves, only Deer Tribe men ranged from four-feet-tall children to white-haired old men, with a maximum of twenty young and strong slaves.
This left Richard puzzled. For what purpose did these human slave traders bring these Deer Tribe people to Dorott from miles away?
An old Deer Tribe slave with a limp stumbled when he tried to climb the river bank. Yanked forward by the rope, he fell, and the large cart didn’t stop, dragging him along and leaving a long trail of blood on the hard grass roots and frozen soil.
A few slaves with disheveled hair tried to pull him up but the cart dragged them forward, leaving them only to futilely shout. The slaves’ messy hair was full of dry grass, their dirty faces bore the red stripes unique to the Deer Tribe, and the fire branding symbolizing their slave status.
Richard squinted his eyes and reached out to lift the fallen Deer Tribe man. A whip struck the slave before Richard could do so, leaving a deep cut under the broken flaxen cloth. The hot blood splattered on Richard’s lips.
"Damn guy! He’s been slowing us down this whole journey!" A one-eyed bulky mercenary coldly retracted his whip.
"Stop! Stop!" The Deer Tribe slaves strained against the ropes fastened to their wrists. Despite the mercenary’s angry shouts and the mercilessly whipping, they held on and managed to halt the carriage.
The four horses struggled to move forward under the shouting of the coachman but didn’t budge a step.
The young Deer Tribe slaves closest to the carriage clenched their teeth, their wrists oozing a dark red color along the rope. Regardless of how fierce the mercenaries’ whips were, they refused to let go.