Despite witnessing the tragic scenes with his own eyes, life had to go on. After burying the dead, the caravan leader reluctantly ordered the group to depart, marking the village off their trade route.
A day later, a small town appeared faintly in the distance.
"Looks like tonight we'll have fresh bread, cold ale, and some hot-blooded wenches!" the caravan leader called out to the group, his voice filled with excitement.
The merchants perked up. After days of travel, there was nothing more tempting than the prospect of a warm meal and a chance to unwind.
As they got closer, the outline of the town became clearer. Over a hundred two-story wooden buildings were scattered about, and the dusty, yellow roads crisscrossed like wild grass, stubbornly wedged between various dwellings. A thin trail of smoke rose into the air, likely from the forge of a blacksmith at work.
"I'll treat everyone tonight to the local specialty—blood sausages from Weinasang! They're so good they'll make you forget your mother's name!" the caravan leader shouted with enthusiasm.
"Ah!" The group broke into smiles, their weariness momentarily forgotten, their steps quickening as they approached the town.
However, reality did not live up to their expectations.
Outside the town's wooden walls, a large camp of white tents had been set up haphazardly. Mercenaries in varying types of armor were maintaining their weapons in the open spaces between the tents. The air was foul, tainted by the pungent stench of urine, and while the mercenaries tried to do their business downwind, the accumulation of smells made it nauseating.
As Mike Bai furrowed his brow at the unpleasant sight, a group of cavalry approached. At the forefront was a commander, his cloak stained but the flag held by his attendants unmistakably signaling his status—a knight.
The knight rode up and halted his horse. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword, his eyes sharp and disdainful as he spoke, "Merchant! State your business."
"Honorable knight!" The caravan leader quickly jumped down from his carriage, bowing respectfully. He spoke in a tone that was as flattering as possible. "We are from the Toulouse Woods Trading Company, just passing through."
Seeing the knight's cold, impassive expression, the caravan leader hastily produced a silver dinar from his pocket and offered it with a deep bow.
"A small token, no offense intended." Though the leader smiled, inwardly he winced.
The knight took the coin, his expression softening slightly. He removed his hand from the sword and shifted his gaze from the leader to the caravan's wagon.
"What's in the wagon?"
"Just some grain, nothing valuable," the leader answered quickly.
The knight nodded and signaled for his attendant to approach. The servant drove his horse up to the wagon, and, with the apprentice's panicked assistance, lifted the tarp. Bags of flour, bundles of sausages, and dried fruit were revealed.
Wiping a nonexistent bead of sweat from his brow, the caravan leader thought to himself that the twenty silver dinars wouldn't even satisfy this greedy knight.
The knight gave a satisfied nod and ordered, "Take them into the town!"
"Sir, this is...?" The caravan leader asked, clearly puzzled.
"Don't worry," the knight responded with a casual air. "This is a good thing for you. The Baron is buying your grain."
Led by the knight's attendant, the caravan slowly passed through the town's outskirts, now transformed into a mercenary camp. The sight of the heavily laden wagons drew the attention of many, and some mercenaries were eager to strike a deal with the caravan. However, they were quickly shooed away by the attendants.
Once they passed the outer perimeter, the scene changed. A bustling marketplace awaited them. The air was alive with noise, with merchants hawking everything from weapons and armor to healing salves. Soldiers haggled with the vendors, seeking better prices, while the sound of cart wheels creaked as carts loaded with swords, spears, and arrows were pushed out of nearby warehouses.
The sheer number of soldiers had fueled the market's distorted prosperity.
The attendants guided the caravan to a warehouse. Four guards stood at the entrance, and Gold, feeling uneasy, couldn't help but glance around. Today was the most people he'd ever seen in one place.
"Enno!" Gold casually approached Mike Bai, hoping to ease his tension.
Mike Bai, chewing on a stalk of wheat, turned to him. "What's up?"
"Enno, you've seen a lot, right?" Gold asked, curious. "Can you tell me what's going on here?"
"What's going on?" Mike Bai replied casually. "They're getting ready for war."
"War!" Gold exclaimed, surprised. "With so many people?"
"This is nothing," Mike Bai said with a smirk. "There are barely six hundred men here. Add in the mercenaries outside, and maybe six hundred more. That's it."
"Six hundred people is still a lot!" Gold thought, realizing he'd never seen so many people gathered in one place before.
"Whether it's a lot depends on the enemy's numbers. If the enemy has a thousand men, then six hundred won't be enough to fight them off," Mike Bai replied nonchalantly.
"A thousand!" Gold's eyes widened, clearly unable to fathom such a large battlefield.
He nervously asked, "What if the enemy comes now? What will we do?"
"Don't worry, I was just messing with you," Mike Bai chuckled. "The rebels have three barons at most. Even if their territory is rich, it's doubtful they could even muster a thousand soldiers."
Gold breathed a sigh of relief at this news.
As they continued talking, the caravan leader emerged from the warehouse, his face a mask of frustration and despair, as if someone had died.
Seeing the leader's distress, Mike Bai approached him. "Boss, are you okay?"
"It's nothing," the leader replied, wiping his eyes and fighting back tears. "Just... a bit heartbroken."
"Huh? Did they get your grain for cheap?" Mike Bai asked, offering some words of comfort. "Don't worry, it's just money. As long as you're still here, that's what matters. Losing a little money isn't a big deal."
"No," the leader replied with a bitter smile, wiping his eyes. "The Baron paid twice the normal price for my grain."
"Wait, what? Then why—?" Mike Bai was utterly confused.
"Because I've lost out, lost out big time!" The leader was hitting himself in frustration. "If I'd come two days earlier, I could have sold it for three times the price!"