Chapter 46: The Caravan
Baron Todd nodded, indicating his understanding.
It was true; the red dragon before him had no need to deceive him.
Being the thirteenth son, undervalued within his family, he'd stirred up too much trouble at Northwind Fortress and incurred his father's wrath, resulting in his assignment to this remote corner of Sager Town.
Rather than a noble assignment, it was more like banishment.
This sparsely populated town, adjacent to Storm High Cliffs Ridge, lacked the military strength to defend itself against any foreign invasion. Be it from giants or a real dragon, it would spell disaster.
Better to ally with a powerful outsider nearby, maintain his own authority, grow his power, and eventually break free to compete with his brothers and gain his father's recognition.
With this in mind, Todd said ingratiatingly,
"Thank you for your sincerity, Lord 'Flying Flame.' I'm pleased that we, the great red dragon and I, can cooperate."
Cassius nodded slightly:
"Baron, remember: acknowledging Embers Nest's sovereignty over Storm High Cliffs and compensating for your rash actions is the foundation of our partnership."
Todd replied, "I'll remember that."
Cassius's tone grew slightly playful:
"Then, Baron, you and your loyal followers may return to the manor. I expect to see what I asked for by tomorrow."
"Yes, Lord 'Flying Flame.'"
Todd glanced at Hart nearby, his hatred for the traitor barely contained.
Yet, knowing the dragon was watching, he dared not act, forcing a strained, humorless smile.
Hart, noticing this, broke into a sweat.
But remembering the red dragon's backing, his life now secure, and his role as Embers Nest's spy to restrain the baron, he smirked back in defiance.
"Let's go, Baron."
Hart spat out those last words with barely concealed spite.
Cassius watched the two, filled with mutual hatred and hidden motives, leave side by side, feeling a wicked satisfaction.
His terms had appeared "fair," yet were actually malicious. Todd likely saw through it, but he had no choice.
Military occupation, control over trade.
Once he controlled the region's military and economic power, Baron Todd would be little more than a puppet. In Cassius's plans, even the baron would eventually become dispensable once the players arrived.
The dragon watched Todd's thin frame disappear.
Despite their pact, the baron was not his thrall.
After all, Todd was a vampire spawn—a creature made in a vampire's image, cursed with a vampiric thirst for blood and forever bound to its creator.
When a vampire undergoes a wicked "ascension ritual," transforming into an ascendant vampire immune to sunlight, these thralls are sacrificed, dissolving into blood.
If a vampire allowed its spawn to drink its blood, the thrall would become a true vampire, freed from the creator's control—though few vampires would ever grant this.
In the previous timeline's vampire quest, Duke Brad had attempted the ascension ritual, but it was thwarted by players, hundreds of whom stormed the castle's dungeons in an explosive assault to end the crisis.
"Pitiful."
"An ambitious vampire spawn hoping for its master's favor."
"A truly sad creature."
Cassius's eyes flickered in the darkness before he disappeared.
The next morning.
A large caravan laden with goods left Sager Town.
The townspeople had grown used to such caravans, even though the guards wore thick armor that concealed their faces, black cloaks, and had an unusually tall stature.
But leading them was the familiar face of Hart, who'd been absent for days.
Since Hart led the caravan, it was clearly under the baron's orders.
To even think of stealing from the "Bloody Baron" would be pure folly.
Parents hurried their curious children inside, intentionally ignoring the caravan, fearing they'd be taken as forced labor.
Hart rode in the middle of the procession.
Towering guards flanked him, their breaths audible through their heavy masks.
Although Hart couldn't see their faces, he guessed they were earth goblins or bugbears, given they were from Embers Nest's ranks. These creatures, in fact, were now his ticket to survival.
Upon returning to the manor last night, the enraged Baron Todd had threatened and cursed him multiple times, yet ultimately dared not harm him, revealing his bluff.
Todd was clearly afraid to provoke the red dragon.
This was Hart's conclusion.
This caravan carried armor, weapons, and twenty invaluable magical scrolls, a clear gesture of appeasement from Baron Todd.
Rather than a trade, it was more like tribute.
"Phew…"
Anzeta's winters were harsh. Hart breathed out a cloud of mist and wrapped his thick fur coat tighter.
Snow continued to fall, leaving deep tracks in the snow beneath the loaded carts, turning the caravan into a line of black dots on the white landscape.
"Awooo—"
A strange sound echoed from the snow-covered slopes.
Long and mournful, it resembled a wailing cry.
The guards assumed it was the wind and didn't give it much thought.
But Hart, experienced as he was, listened closely and immediately tensed.
"Stay alert! That's no wind howl!"
Hart shouted.
From the distant slope, figures with white fur moved like ghosts in the snowy expanse, charging toward the caravan with eerie, mournful howls.
"Yeti!"
Hart recognized the creatures immediately.
Towering, hulking beasts, these yetis roamed the mountain peaks, constantly hunting.
Even in blizzards, yetis would brave the cold and snow, following the scent of prey.
Cursing his luck, Hart knew encountering yetis in this weather was as bad as it could get; even the slightest slip-up could mean total annihilation.
Instinctively, he considered ordering the caravan to retreat, only to notice the "guards" pulling off their black cloaks.
These "guards" stood nearly two meters tall, with imposing, muscular builds, their yellowed teeth protruding from grimacing faces. Their murky yellow eyes gleamed with a bloodlust for battle, their scarlet skin standing out against the snow, even adorned with sparse scales.
They were hobgoblins.
These were the elite troops under Dolo's command.
"I almost forgot…we're monsters too."
Hart muttered, stunned at the realization.