Chapter 161: The Departure of the Caravan
The atmosphere in the village’s central courtyard was bustling. Wooden wagons, loaded with supplies and reinforced cages with iron bars, were already lined up near the south gate. Mentz supervised the final tie-downs while soldiers of the armed guard checked the mechanisms of their rifles.
To one side, under the strict custody of four armed officers, stood the group of female prisoners. Nomre, her face smeared with dried mud and her eyes bloodshot after enduring the [Curse of Pain] through the night, remained chained hand and foot alongside her three followers. All four trembled in the morning chill, shivering without having tasted a bite of food.
"Great Shaman," said Mentz, stepping up and bowing his head respectfully. "The caravan is ready to set out for the second settlement. Route reports are clear, and the guards will maintain constant watch over the prisoners throughout the journey."
Kellar walked slowly toward where Nomre stood. Noticing his imposing shadow, the woman raised her head with rage, but upon locking eyes with Kellar’s golden gaze, an instinctive shudder ran down her spine and she dropped her eyes to the dirt, grinding her teeth.
"Make sure Vael receives the written directive," Kellar said to Mentz in a booming voice, ensuring the prisoners heard every word. "Nomre goes to the bottom of the iron veins. If any of the others try to cause trouble on the road, the guards have full authorization to use the whip without hesitation."
"Understood, Great Shaman," replied the escort captain, giving the signal to move out.
Whips cracked over the draft beasts and the wagon wheels began to creak against the frozen mud. The group of prisoners was forced to march on foot behind the last cart, dragging their chains amid muffled sobs and hushed curses.
Kellar watched the column depart until it disappeared behind the southern hills. Then, he turned to Mentz with a calculating expression.
"Today begins the integration of the new watchmen," Kellar declared. "Gather Tobias and the rest of the young former slaves in the parade grounds. It is time to teach them how to hold a club and defend their place in this tribe."
The march on foot along the main thoroughfare turned into hell for the group. The morning chill cut to the bone through their dirty, tattered clothes. As they advanced along the main road skirting the outskirts of the Red Forest, the vegetation grew thick, dark, and suffocating. Trees with crimson leaves cast menacing shadows, and the air smelled of damp earth, stagnant moisture, and fresh blood.
Although the presence of the soldiers kept smaller creatures at bay, the ferocity of the environment became glaringly obvious a few hundred meters down the main road itself.
A crash of snapping branches and dry rifle reports echoed near the riverbank. Rounding a bend, the group stumbled upon an army patrol finishing off an imposing beast: a ten-meter-long scaled caiman trying desperately to flee back to the river, dragging its tail while several bullets pierced its armored back until it collapsed into the mud.
The four female prisoners turned pale at the sight of the jaws packed with stake-like teeth, flinching back in terror against their chains. Even Nomre, who usually boasted about her raw strength, swallowed hard seeing the size of the dying creature.
The soldier in charge of the escort stopped, observing the scene with cold detachment before turning back to them with a dark smirk.
"Even if this main route seems clean and safe thanks to the village patrols, it isn’t," said the soldier, gesturing toward the giant reptile. "This forest can devour you at any moment. That’s why the patrol has to go out daily to clear the perimeter and prevent beasts from gathering near the roads. If any of you think about causing trouble again or trying to run, remember that out there are no laws... only hungry stomachs waiting for fresh meat."
The four women moved forward in silence, quickening their pace with heads bowed as the caiman’s trail of blood faded into the underbrush, finally grasping the true danger of the territory they inhabited.
Still shaken by the sight of the caiman, the group marched until the caravan finally sighted the timber and stone structure of the Red Forest outpost, before the wagons could cross the security perimeter, a sharp, deafening shriek echoed from the canopy of the crimson trees.
From the thick foliage fell dozens of agile shadows. It was a Red Monkey ambush.
"Ambush! Defensive formation!" roared the officer in command.
The four prisoners screamed in terror as confusion took over the trail. Without thinking twice, they threw themselves into the mud beneath the rear wagon’s frame, covering their heads with their bound arms. From their spot on the ground, they witnessed the battle firsthand: the muscular, hairy limbs of the apes landing mere feet away, the blinding flashes of gunpowder, and the dry thud of explosions shaking the earth.
The Overlord Tribe soldiers maintained discipline with brutal courage. Forming a shield wall and opening fire at point-blank range, they repelled the wave. Bullets shattered the primates’ skulls mid-air, staining the air with warm blood and thick smoke. Within minutes, the ground was strewn with the corpses of the red monkeys, snuffing out the attack as quickly as it had begun.
When the gunfire ceased, Lennis walked through the smoke looking over the perimeter defenses. Several timber beam structures lay destroyed by secondary blasts during the fray.
"Damn it!" Lennis spat onto the dirt, clenching his fists in rage as he surveyed the damage. Turning toward Brak, he added tensely. "This is bullshit. They’re hitting us with ambushes more and more often. We need to report to the Great Shaman; this can’t go on like this."
Brak filed the edges of his hand axe, looking cold-eyed at the forest line before locking eyes with Lennis.
"No," Brak answered bluntly. "This is our mission and we must complete it no matter what. The Great Shaman doesn’t need us bringing him problems—he needs results."