Chapter 323 : Slave Merchant
Chapter 323: Slave Merchant
Hode’s voice was rather calm, his eyes only fixed on the fire pit before him, while his hand held a wooden stick, stirring the dry wood in the flames.
However, Zeke suddenly felt a trace of fear.
Earlier today, the people of the Comrades Group had discussed Aen’s recruitment notice. Both he and Hode had overheard it, and after the Morning Star had set, Hode had called him out.
Talking with Hode alone was not the first time.
In the past, he had pulled Hode aside alone, to discuss arrangements concerning the Comrades Group.
Or rather, it was him unilaterally telling Hode what to do, and letting Hode, the leader of the Comrades Group, carry it out.
He believed Cooper was loyal to Hode, but he did not believe Cooper could keep secrets.
Yet now, Zeke suddenly realized, this was the first time Hode had sought him out, and not merely for matters of the Comrades Group.
Taking a deep breath, Zeke finally said, “I have not received the King’s orders for a long time.”
He spoke the words aloud, for he thought, since Hode could already guess he acted on King Aureus’ command, then there was no need to keep leading him on.
After all, he was here to assist Hode, not to persecute him.
Rather than letting Hode completely distrust him, it was better to lay everything bare.
“The last contact was only the King telling me to help you gain a foothold here.”
Hode asked, “When was that?”
Zeke replied, “The end of February.”
Hode said, “It has already been a month and a half.”
Zeke stayed silent and did not respond.
Throwing the wooden stick into the fire, Hode asked, “Can you contact him on your own?”
Zeke shook his head. “I am a true Northlander. I do not know magic.”
Hode said, “Northlanders do not usually have such clever minds.”
Zeke replied, “The King does not believe Northlanders should abandon their minds.”
Hode asked, “Then why not learn magic?”
Zeke answered, “Because magic is weak.”
Hode said, “Yet Greenwood once used magic to kill tens of thousands of fishmen in one stroke.”
Zeke retorted, “Fishmen are weaker.”
Hode smirked. “Now I truly believe you are a pure Northlander.”
Zeke again fell silent.
Hode asked, “How often did you contact him before?”
Zeke replied, “The longest gap was five days. The shortest was twice in one day.”
Hode remarked, “So he was watching me rather closely.”
Zeke hesitated but chose not to mention Aureus’ remark that Hode lacked a brain.
Exhaling, Hode pushed off his knees and stood up. “I am going back to Frozen Furnace Fortress to find him.”
Zeke rose as well and urged, “The west is in chaos now. Although those nobles have not taken Frozen Furnace City, traveling westward from here means crossing the Marquis of Cohen’s territory. He is in full war readiness, and with the domineering nature of a Northland Marquis, he will never allow us to pass.”
Cohen Taylor—one of the three remaining Marquises of the North.
Hode said, “He will not refuse, not if he does not wish to be targeted in this critical struggle for territory by a warrior wielding a Holy Relic.”
Holy Relics belonged exclusively to the Church, miraculous artifacts akin to Sacred Treasures. With Greenwood merchants spreading their influence, the Northland nobles had also learned of their existence.
The sheer number of Sacred Treasures and Holy Relics said to be in the Church’s possession was what had kept the great Northland nobles from eradicating Greenwood during peacetime.
Only in times of war, when blinded by bloodlust, did the Northland nobles sever trade routes without hesitation.
“You have a Holy Relic from the Church?!” Zeke was surprised. Yet, thinking of Hode’s identity, he continued, “Perhaps you lived too long in Greenwood and forgot how domineering the high nobles of the North are. They do not fear threats.
“Unless you hold overwhelming power, stronger than Marquis Cohen’s Fifth Tier—say, the Sixth Tier. Otherwise, to him, the threat of a mere Fourth Tier warrior would be nothing more than a bard’s farcical performance.
“Of course, if you truly held the power of the Sixth Tier, you might as well consider becoming the Supreme King.”
Hode was renowned as the leader of the Comrades Group. Before becoming a mercenary, he had been a Punishing Knight of the Church, though this fact had been suppressed.
In Greenwood, only those in the upper echelons of power knew his identity, and none dared speak of it.
In a sense, Hode’s very existence, as the only one stripped of knighthood by the Church, was viewed as a stain upon the radiant glory of the Church.
Aureus had not spread Hode’s past as a Church Knight, nor his Hoover bloodline.
Aureus needed a new Northland faith—not the continuation of ancient bloodlines, nor a man like Hode with “mixed colors.”
“No, it is only that the price has not been high enough.” Hode said, “As long as the cost is great enough, no matter his anger, he will have to endure it.”
Zeke countered, “But he also possesses Sacred Treasures, and his lands are vast. Merely you alone is hardly enough for him to consider the price high. The arrogant Northland Marquises are the ones closest to the essence of the North.”
Hode said, “You should know why he helps me.”
Zeke nodded. “It is so that we may together change the North.”
Hode asked, “Then do you not think keeping promises is a virtue a Northlander should uphold?”
Zeke replied, “Of course it is.”
Hode said, “Then this journey is to fulfill my promise with him. Before I left Frozen Furnace Fortress, I told him, once I had decided, I would return with my answer.”
Zeke said nothing more.
Hode continued, “As for the Comrades Group, I will tell them my decision. I will only take you and Cooper to the west. With the Ring present, the Comrades Group should be able to sustain itself. If they cannot, then Sir Aen is also our friend.”
Zeke said, “I think Cooper should stay here. At the very least, he is loyal to you, and he is the vice leader of the Comrades Group.”
Hode laughed lightly. “Do you mean the Cooper who, after drinking too much, spouts nonsense, with Northland blood clouding his mind, yet refuses to admit his strength is steadily waning?”
Zeke opened his mouth but in the end only said, “Before we leave, I will instruct the members of the Ring for the coming days.”
Hode nodded.
They were decisive men. Having made their choice, they set off westward the very next day.
As for Cooper’s reluctance to venture westward, both Hode and Zeke simply ignored it.
……
The chaos in the western Northland was becoming clearer. Three Marquises and several Earls had carved up the King’s former territories, subduing lesser nobles nearby.
Some were forced to swear allegiance, others slaughtered to the last.
Before entering Marquis Cohen’s land, Hode and his two companions had to pass through vassal territories.
But these vassal nobles ignored them entirely.
Three Northland Warriors, with the leader being the head of the Comrades Group—now that they had already submitted to Marquis Cohen, they would not risk trouble for themselves.
Even so, word of their presence still reached Marquis Cohen’s ears.
Thus, Marquis Cohen returned from the front lines, rushing to the border, leading over a hundred elite warriors to block Hode.
Of the three Marquises, Basil Kent had already secured the loyalty of the First Warrior, released from Frozen Furnace City’s arena, and his fame now surpassed the other two.
Perhaps bolstered by that title, he was also the strongest of the three. Now he was preparing to found a kingdom of his own and crown himself the Grand Duke of the North.
Therefore, with the famed leader of the Comrades Group appearing in his territory, Marquis Cohen sought to capture Hode and force his allegiance.
He cared nothing for the hundred or so fighters of the Comrades Group—only Hode’s name and renown.
So when Hode declared he was the leader of the Comrades Group and merely wished passage to Frozen Furnace City, Marquis Cohen struck without hesitation.
In Northland custom, the strong claimed everything. For Northlanders, the best way to force surrender was to beat a man half to death, then make him submit.
Thus, when Marquis Cohen charged with his warriors, Hode’s expression darkened.
Cooper’s face twisted as well, pulling at Hode to flee.
Only Zeke remained calm. “This is a Northland Marquis, and he is Fifth Tier. We cannot escape.”
Hode’s face turned grim as he nodded, then unfastened the case strapped to his back, drawing out the long-neglected Hunting Fang. There was no time to dwell on the blood-linked yet resistant feeling of the weapon. He pulled back its bowstring.
Now, Hode could draw nearly two-thirds of it.
An arrow condensed, and he loosed it straight at Marquis Cohen.
The pale golden arrow reached the Marquis instantly. Yet Cohen merely opened his mouth and bit down, his jaw crushing the pale golden arrow into shards.
He wore a feral grin, his eyes watching Hode like a hunter sizing up prey.
As if a powerful predator had fixed them in its sight, all three of them felt a chill run through their bones.
Zeke could not keep calm either; his voice came out sharp and urgent. “Is the Church’s Holy Relic just like that?”
Hode’s voice trembled slightly. “Let the arrows fall for a while.”
He had never seen anything like it: an arrow fired from the Hunting Fang had actually been bitten to pieces.
He knew how the Hunting Fang worked—the fired arrow served as a marker, and after that marker, it usually took about four or five breaths before the arrow rain descended.
But if the marker arrow was shattered like this, would the arrow rain still come?
Of course it would. If a weapon of that rank were so easily nullified, it could never have become something to be feared.
Even in daylight, the glittering points in the sky were blinding. Marquis Cohen halted, and the warriors charging with him, sensing something wrong, also skidded to a stop.
When they noticed the arrow rain in the sky and tried to flee, it was already too late.
Thunderous impacts pounded the ground, gouging pit after pit; the Northland warriors were torn apart by the dense volley, mingling perfectly with the soil.
Hode and the others’ pupils constricted violently. They saw the Marquis standing amid the arrow rain, arms outstretched, head tilted back to face it.
When arrows that would shred a northern warrior’s flesh struck Marquis Cohen, they barely pierced to a single arrowhead’s depth; the blast that followed merely tore the lamellar armor on his body, leaving a wound the size of a fingernail.
“Is this a monster?” Hode muttered.
“This is the sheer might of a northern Marquis—overwhelming strength,” Cooper said, his body trembling but his eyes alight with a fierce excitement. “When the Lord was still alive, he was even stronger than this.”
“Run!” Zeke shouted. Only then did Hode and Cooper snap out of it and turn to flee.
Behind them, Marquis Cohen clasped his Holy Relic in both hands.
The Relic looked crude, like a wooden shaft driven into a round stone head studded with protrusions.
He strode through the arrow rain, gripping the wooden haft, planted his feet, and let out a roar before he hoisted the Relic aloft.
The weapon’s imminent release made the three run all the harder; none of them dared to look back.
“Heh—hahahahaha!” Watching their fleeing forms, Marquis Cohen laughed madly. He swung the Relic, intending to hurl it and shatter the road before their escape, to change the terrain ahead and make that Comrades Group leader—who had loosed such weak arrows—feel real power!
But just as the arrow rain ceased and he prepared to smash the Relic down, a dried, skeletal hand pressed directly onto the weapon.
Cohen was certain of the force behind his swing; no other marquis would dare to physically withstand him. How then could such a gaunt hand stop his Relic?
The body was desiccated to the bones, robed in the garments of the Northland King, wearing a crown. Under the crown, sparse pale hair fluttered in the wind. Eyes that seemed to emit a bluish light met Cohen’s.
“Aureus?!” Cohen cried in horror. “You’re not dead? And you’ve obtained such power?”
“Hah…” Aureus opened his mouth; a white breath, colder than Northland air, exhaled. His voice cut like the northern gale. “Cohen, even now, I see greed in your eyes.”
Cohen laughed and jeered, “Look at you—since you’re dead, lie quietly in the ground and don’t burrow out. But if you’ve come out to hand me this power, then I should be the one to thank you.”
Aureus’ voice sounded like a sigh. “That is precisely why the Northland can only be the Northland, and Northlanders can only survive in the Northland.”
Cohen roared; muscles bulged as he delivered a brutal kick to Aureus’ chest.
There was no resistance—the kick tore through Aureus’ body. A segment of spine and some desiccated, bloodless entrails were flung onto the ground.
Even after inflicting such damage, no joy showed on Cohen’s face.
His pupils constricted violently. To him, Aureus’ body lay motionless; the withered face bore no expression.
He felt his leg freeze inside Aureus’ form, unable to move. A biting cold crept along his limb and seeped into his body.
His flesh stiffened until he could no longer move.
“So, Cohen, as a Northland Marquis who enjoys glory, you should become a brick in the north’s path into the future,” Aureus said, raising an empty right hand and gently placing it against Cohen’s stout chest.
Just as Cohen’s kick had pierced his body, Aureus’ hand slid into Cohen’s chest without resistance and drew out his heart.
“What a strong heart. Thus, in my eyes, the most worthy of the Northland are these mighty Northland warriors.”
“You should not be trapped in the Northland. You should fight for yourselves, for humanity.”
“Not perish fighting for the north’s curse, becoming the soil that nourishes its will so the curse can bind generation after generation of Northeners…”
Aureus’ body vanished as abruptly as it had appeared; only his voice drifted away on the wind.
After Aureus disappeared, Cohen’s body—still in the posture of having just kicked—shuddered. The wooden haft of his Relic twisted and grew, coiling up his arm and spreading through his body. The circular hammer head retracted with the haft until it became embedded where his hand had been, replacing his hand.
Half of Cohen’s body became encased in wood; the other half retained the eyes he had opened in death.
Slowly, one of the human eyes on the wood-bound side closed; the wooden-encased eye rolled slightly.
Cohen’s body moved. He raised the stone-studded arm and smashed it hard into the ground.
The blow drove half his arm into the earth.
Suddenly the ground trembled. From the soil stripped by the arrow rain around his body, ink-colored shoots began to sprout—sparse and scattered, growing across the ground that had borne the arrowstorm.
Cohen seemed to be dragged by some force, slowly drawn beneath the earth, while the ink-dark shoots kept growing.
When Cohen’s body was fully swallowed, a forest of dark green, waist-high trees had grown in its place.
……
Feeling the tremor from behind, the three ran as if possessed, fleeing for a full day and night before daring to stop.
They had nearly reached Sir Aen’s territory.
“No—we absolutely cannot go back like this!” Zeke said firmly. “We cannot let the Comrades Group see us flee!”
“That terrifying fiend—do you really think we could have charged through him?” Cooper said. He believed they would be marching to their deaths.
Hode finally said, “Perhaps we can detour—sneak into the mountain range that separates the Land of Anathema, and go from there?”
Zeke thought for a moment and shook his head. “No. That range holds many beasts, and dark creatures like snow elves and snow fiends; the terrain is unknown and easy to get lost in.”
“Then the Northwind Mountains?” Hode suggested.
Zeke said, “We’d have to pass through the lands of an Earl and a Marquis.”
Cooper asked, “So what do we do? We were not told to risk our lives to seek an audience with a Northland King who may be dead.”
Zeke considered and said, “Maybe we could disguise ourselves as merchants?”
Hode replied, “We didn’t bring any goods.”
Zeke hesitated and then said, “Slave trading is itself a Northland tradition.”
Hode fell silent.
Cooper nodded. “Sell slaves? In wartime, we can ambush some civilians trying to flee to Sir Aen’s lands. Slave prices rise during war.”
Zeke looked at Hode and asked directly, “Leader Hode, you’re the captain—do you want to decide?”
Hode glanced at Zeke, hesitating.
Cooper spoke bluntly, “What’s there to hesitate about? If you two think this Northland tradition is too barbaric, let me take the lead.”
There was mockery in Cooper’s voice.
As the Comrades Group’s vice leader, he had been with Hode through exiles and even that trip to Greenwood. He suspected that when Puniel pinned him down and beat him, Greenwood planned to use the Hall of Heroes to tame Northlanders.
Cooper admitted he longed for the Hall of Heroes; he wanted a place where, after he fought and died, he might enter that hall and join the valorous spirits of past and future in glorious battle.
That desire and his loyalty to Hode had kept him from revealing Hode’s past. He wanted the Northland he believed in to survive.
Now, as Zeke and Hode staggered in indecision, Cooper stepped forward. He knew Zeke wanted him to volunteer for the grim, traditional task of selling slaves.
Seeing Hode remain silent, Cooper faced Zeke. “Even if we operate as slave merchants, marquises don’t care for continual trade; look at the merchants the marquises repeatedly robbed.”
Zeke shook his head. “We only need the Marquis not to show up personally. We can strike before they notice. Just a few merchants—no Marquis would bother to hunt us down for that.”
“I suspect the reason those marquises appeared directly this time was because of the Comrades Group’s name,” Zeke said, certain in his claim.
“In that case, you two wait here… no, you go catch beasts for food. I’ll go round up some slaves,” Cooper said, standing up at once.