Kingdom's Bloodline

Finally, before night fell, Dean signalled to the merchant group and announced that they were going to camp and rest.

As the sun set in the west, Thales tried his best to help the mercenaries do some things that were within his power, such as pitching tents in order to make himself look less burdensome. However, since he had never done this before, he was clumsy and awkward. The only consolation was that Quick Rope, who was a newbie, was not much better than him.

After being at a loss as to what to do and making plenty of errors for half an hour, Thales and Quick Rope, a layman and a newbie, managed to pitch three shapeless and crooked tents for the mercenaries before those on shift duty returned.

The mercenaries’ tents were packed closely together at the back of the slope.

Thales could see that there was quite the rift between these warriors who risked their lives for money, and the ones they were protecting.

While removing their goods from the camels, the merchants subconsciously glanced at the mercenaries’ weapons, as if they were afraid that the mercenaries would pounce on them anytime. Even their tents were pitched far away from the mercenaries’ tents. This made the latter’s tents seem especially prominent. But because they were afraid of danger, these protected merchants did not dare to stay too far away from the fighters. So, something funny happened. The mercenaries’ tents were concentrated on one spot, while the tents of the other people in the merchant group surrounded those of the mercenaries while keeping a certain distance, spreading out in the shape of a fan. The camels at the periphery surrounded them too. If somebody were to stand on the sand dune and look at these tents, he would find that they looked exactly like a seashell.

Thales, drenched in sweat and exhausted, and Quick Rope, who was still in high spirits, were the first ones to sit beside the tents. They watched as Mickey, Schubert, and Dean started a fire at the front. The mercenaries sat down on the campsite, one after another.

"The nearest supply point shouldn’t be far away. The weather these few months have been quite good, and the water source did not really move. Breeze is scouting ahead, and should be able to find it soon." The head of the mercenaries, Louisa Dante, who just came back from the front of the group, sat blissfully at the campsite and unequipped herself.

Dean nodded.

"Ask everyone to be more vigilant and sleep earlier today." Dean ran his hand over his bald head and furrowed his eyebrows as he contemplated something. "I intend to depart earlier tomorrow just in case."

Louisa arched an eyebrow. "No problem."

She turned towards the other mercenaries. "Did all of you hear that?"

Schubert and Mickey nodded and said nothing.

"Of course, we will do as you commanded." Quick Rope responded quickly with a beaming face. "Does Madam Dean have anymore requests?"

Louisa kicked up a cloud of sand with a cold expression as a response.

"Ow, boss! I was referring to ’Madam’ Dean. It’s my new nickname for him. I wasn’t referring to you!"

Quick Rope held his hands over his head in a pitiful manner.

The furious Louisa kicked up another cloud of sand at him.

Thales listened to the conversation between Louisa and Dean curiously. From what he could see right then, Dean’s status in the group was so high that even Louisa listened seriously and carefully to his suggestions, almost to the point of following all of his advices.

’Could it be that it’s really as Quick Rope said, that Louisa likes Dean and hence...’

"But I’m still very worried, Dean." Old Hammer led his horse into the campsite with furrowed eyebrows. He found a place for his extremely agitated horse. "The small campsite today..."

Dean sighed. "I know. I talked to Tormorden. I’ll negotiate with him again."

Old Hammer furrowed his eyebrows. "But you know what sort of person Tormorden is. How are we going to negotiate with him?"

Dean shook his head. "We’ll think of a way."

Thales pretended to massage his aching legs while acting uninterested to the conversation, but he was actually listening carefully.

At this moment...

"So..."

A sly voice appeared.

The mercenaries and Thales turned.

"You wanted to negotiate with me about something?"

A man with glossy hair, gorgeous patterns on his clothes and a beer belly approached them. He had a pair of sparkling eyes located above his cheeks, and he looked exactly like a pig.

His footsteps were rather pretentious, as if he was walking deliberately on the stage.

"Seth, Seth Tormorden." Dean sighed and said to the man with the sly face and stiff movements. "We were just talking about you, our generous employer.

"What brought you to our campsite?"

"Oh, my hardworking fighters." The master of the merchant group, Seth Tormorden raised the pot in his right hand and said with a hint of haughtiness and a deliberate accent, "Of course it’s a reward.

"A good knight will never let his steed starve, and a good general won’t let his soldiers go hungry."

Thales furrowed his eyebrows. If he did not make a wrong guess, Tormorden seemed to be deliberately speaking with Eternal Star City’s accent.

The mercenaries stared at one another.

No one paid any attention to the merchant group’s master.

Tormorden’s smile was rather stiff. His arm, lifted up high, ached a little, and he could only put the clay pot down gently. He coughed and reminded all the people. "Grape wine from Sera Dukedom, a small token of appreciation from me to reward all of your hard work over the last few days."

The mercenaries looked at Dean in unison.

"We are still working, Seth, and can’t consume alcohol," the bald mercenary said politely and coldly.

Tormorden’s expression froze momentarily.

"Great, Dean. I’ll tell my connections in Blade Fangs Camp about your professionalism. You know, I’m quite close to all the major merchant groups. And I’ll tell them that everyone in the campsites of Blood Fangs Dune should look for you when they’re looking for mercenaries. And I’ll also mention to Baron Williams about how conscientious all of you are."

"Wow." Quick Rope’s expression was very over the top. He flashed a big smile. "Thank you very much, Master Tormorden, you sure know a lot of important people."

Tormorden’s expression froze.

The master of the merchant group soon got out of his embarrassment and continued smiling slightly. He looked at Thales. "Oh, child, I’m glad to see that you had recovered. What is your name?"

Thales was startled for a moment due to suddenly being called.

He smiled unnaturally. "Erm, thank you, Master... Tormorden. I am... I am Wya."

Tormorden sighed. "Ah, Wya, a good name. You know, a few days ago, I hesitated for quite a while regarding whether I should save you... You know, child, I’m not a cold-hearted villain. But I have to take care of this merchant group, which is small but concerns ten something families. Any decision of mine might affect some family’s livelihood and future... Do I save a person who has nothing to do with me and endanger my other loyal friends? This was a hard decision."

Tormorden shut his eyes and shook his head a little. "Haih, my great-grandfather was a noble too, and once served the ’Virtuous King’. You might not know him, but he was a King of Constellation. That king, Mindis the Third often reminded my great-grandfather that as a noble, they must not only take up the responsibility of looking after others, but be enthusiastic in doing so.

"This sentence became our family dictum, and was passed down from my great-grandfather to my grandfather. My grandfather often reminded my father, and my father often reminded me that we must not only take up the responsibility of looking after others, but be enthusiastic in doing so.

"So, in the end, I decided to allow you to stay in my group, child."

Tormorden stared at him with a solemn expression. "You have to thank King Mindis the Third, child. Because of his advice, I made this difficult decision, and you, who was in a predicament, got a new lease on life."

’Thank...

’Mindis the Third?’

Thales forced a smile. He was rather at a loss as to what to do.

Thales’ face contorted as he stared at Tormorden, who had an indifferent expression, and nodded, not fully understanding what was going on. "Ha, ha, of course, haha, yes."

Quick Rope made a vomiting gesture behind Thales. "You and the king... you make it sound as though you know him very well."

Tormorden’s wiggled his ears. "What?"

"Nothing, Master Tormorden!"

Quick Rope reacted very quickly and smiled brightly. "You’re indeed the descendant of a noble, you’re amazing!"

Tormorden smiled and nodded in satisfaction.

Louisa burst out laughing.

"So." Dean sighed and cut the awkward conversation off. "Seth, you don’t have to bribe us with wine. Why don’t you get straight to the point? What business have you come here for?"

Tormorden furrowed his eyebrows a little, as if he was dissatisfied with Dean calling him by his first name.

The greasy-haired Tormorden clasped his hands together and raised his chin so high that it was higher than his ears. "I’m thinking about what you said yesterday, Dean. What was that about? What did you mean by ’going back’?"

The mercenaries furrowed their eyebrows one after another, anxious and doubtful.

Thales’ curiosity was also piqued.

’Going back?

’What’s going on?’

"I meant it literally, Seth." Dean shrugged, as if he was not bothered by what Tormorden said at all. "You saw that campsite in the morning, and those corpses too. We should give up going to the Tower of Eradication to avoid the potential dangers, or, at the very least, we need to take a detour."

Tormorden pursed his lips a little.

"Give up?"

He inhaled deeply.

"Based on what I know, Dean, and also what all of you saw, those places were just a few small campsites that were hiding places of desert bandits." Tormorden remained solemn and haughty, looking like he was listening humbly. "Is there a need for us to take a detour? This would seriously affect your reputation. And you also know that some of our goods have expiry dates..."

"You saw those campsites, we all saw them." Dean cut him off rudely. The bald mercenary shot a glance at his companions and furrowed his eyebrows. "The people there, regardless of whether they were desert bandits or not, all died. They died not far away, and their bodies were covered in wounds inflicted by various weapons."

The mercenaries’ expressions became very unpleasant. Quick Rope even widened his eyes.

"That wasn’t an isolated incident. Over the course of our journey from Boxing Stone to the Mouth of Lizards, there were not less than five places like that. And it was not just desert bandits. There were also small groups of people of unknown origin who suffered the same fate. I suspect that there were also merchant groups."

Dean turned towards Thales. "And you met Wya. According to him, there was no one at all when he came here from the north. It was as if all of the desert bandits and exiles, who are everywhere in the desert, disappeared overnight."

Thales thought of something.

’All of them... disappeared...’

Dean said flatly, "So, I sincerely suggest to you that—no, I strongly suggest to you, Seth, that we stop going forward."

Tormorden inhaled deeply, as if he was maintaining his last bit of composure.

The next moment, Tormorden lifted his head abruptly and punched his palm!

"I don’t understand!

"Desert bandits and exiles... Isn’t it good that these troublesome losers and scums who obstruct the trade routes died!" Tormorden did his utmost not to change his expression, as if this was more befitting of his status.

"We have one less thing to worry about. And I want to congratulate all of you, Big Dean. Because of their death, your group’s work became a lot easier... Didn’t I employ all of you professional bodyguards to eliminate their threat? What do all of you think, honorable fighters..."

Tormorden turned towards the other people.

The mercenaries said nothing.

Dean heaved a long sigh with a look of exasperation.

"No, you don’t understand what I meant, Seth," the bald mercenary sighed and said, "Those corpses of the desert bandits were found not far away from their campsites. This shows that they were killed while fleeing from their campsites in a rush. It means they encountered enemies that they could not fend off, to the point that they didn’t even think about fighting back. After they discovered the enemies, they fled desperately.

"But they weren’t able to escape.

Dean said gravely, "Five campsites, and forty something armed, experienced, and cruel desert bandits were unable to escape."

Tormorden froze for a moment.

Dean lifted an eyebrow and said, "Listen to me, Seth. Turn back and look for other routes for all of our safety’s sake."

Master Tormorden’s expression still did not change. But his act of constantly rubbing the fabric of his clothes exposed his mood.

"He has not told all of you, right? Regarding the matter of us going back straight?" He turned towards the female fighter. "Captain Dante, what do you say?"

Louisa smiled a little.

"We follow whatever Dean says," Loiusa said resolutely, "He represents the entire troop."

Thales could not help but notice that the other people’s expressions were as usual, as if they were used to this scene.

Tormorden was not able to maintain the indifferent look on his face anymore. He ran his hand across his hair.

This was when Thales realized that the hair on Tormorden’s head was sparse—he was balding.

The balding man gritted his teeth hard and said, "Dean, why do you think I am taking the risk of being driven out by Blade Fangs Dune to make this journey?"

Dean shrugged.

"You want profit."

"Yes, profit!"

Tormorden seemed to have found an outlet to vent. He raised his index finger and said fiercely, "Motherf*cking profit!

"So many merchants who were good at negotiations and skilled at scheming lost their lives in the desert, but we still enter the desert, one after another. It’s because this is the only thing that keeps us going as we take the risk to enter the desert. Profit, and profit!"

His eyes were widened, as if he wanted to seek consensus from all the people within his field of vision. "First of all, Eckstedt and the Alliance of Freedom are going to war. Next, the Constellatiates want to seal off the desert. Do you know what this means? It means that the entire supply line is being cut off. Whether it is because the Northlanders are going to war, or because the Constellatiates are going crazy, the conclusion is that the route to enter Eckstedt from the Golden Passage will be sealed off. The route to Constellation from the desert will also be obstructed!"

Tormorden seemed to be exasperated. "Do you know, soon, a two hundred ounce sack of marijuana which is produced in the Archipelago of Long Corridors and sold for five Tormonds in Constellation will be priced at twenty Raikaru in Eckstedt! Even after deducting the expenditure from bad money [1] and remittance, we can earn a net profit of almost seventy to eighty King Shawlon! A bottle of finely brewed wine from the Sera Hills is priced at forty-five Keller at the Southern Kingdom Market. If we travel further into the desert, it can be sold at a high price of eighty Shawlon at the Tower of Eradication. A refined piece of velvet from Sword Lake costs twenty Tabiso in Alumbia Kingdom where it is produced, but if you head north from the desert, it can be sold for a couple dozens Raikaru! A barrel of Eternal Oil, an Everlasting Lamp... All the goods you can imagine can yield profit as long as they are at the right place. And what’s the reason behind this? The supply and demand of the market! I dare to wager with the Tormorden Family’s reputation that within the next month, the prices of the goods from the south will go up in the north, while the goods from the east will go out of stock in the west. Where else can you find such a good opportunity?

"And after coming all the way here, you’re suggesting that I turn around and return to Blade Fangs Dune, submissively letting the Constellatiates confiscate my goods?"

The mercenaries stared at one another.

"If there’s a need." Dean remained unmoved and shook his head. "Losing goods is better than losing our heads.

"If you ask me, this is our biggest profit—our lives would be worth nothing if we go forward. But if we turn around, we at least have a chance to continue to be mercenaries and merchants."

Tormorden fixed his gaze on Dean, his gaze did not move an inch.

But Dean only stared calmly back at him, as if what Tormorden said just now was nothing but nonsense.

"Like what you said, Master Tormorden." Dean added. "This is a hard decision."

Like a deflated rubber ball, Tormorden went limp.

Finally, Tormorden exhaled and put on a sour face like a rooster who lost in a c*ckfight.

"Can anyone tell me what in the world happened ahead that is so serious that I have to give up the entire merchant group’s profit?"

Dean shook his head. "I don’t know.

"If I really have to say something, Seth, there’s someone."

"There’s someone?"

Dean nodded. His gaze was extremely solemn. "’There’s someone’. There’s someone in the desert where we are right now, who are hunting down all living beings according to their plan, at a large-scale, and they are doing it effectively.

"And even the sandstorm isn’t able to stop this massacre.

"They’re not far away ahead of us."

Translator’s Note:

1. Bad money: A term in Gresham’s law. The theory holds that if two kinds of money in circulation have the same denominational value but different intrinsic values, the money with higher intrinsic value will be hoarded and eventually driven out of circulation by the money with lesser intrinsic value. (Source: the Free Dictionary)