Chapter 13: Faith

When I arrive at Nakitel, I see an army resting here. They could be my potential customers. Strange, why are they yelling at the people?

Are they searching for something?

"His highness ordered us to capture traitors alive. We were informed that traitors possess certain items. Have a good day" The knight raises his sword

"There are traitors? Who could be?" A citizen whispers to another

"I guess that old rich man in the alley" Another whispers

"Maybe Valwor the mad a traitor"

These kinds of conversations, I know them. When I was Dasmuth, I had to search for traitors among our kins. The people tend to speak ill of those who they hate.

"You there, do not move" The knight points at me

"I am just a merchant" As I raise both of my hands in the air

"SEARCH HIS GOODS! NOW!" He points his sword toward my wagon

****

"Sir, there are only weapons and dried fruits" A servant bows to the knight

"Even the bottom of the wagon?" The knight glares him

"Even that sir… sir… sir." He is shaking

"Sorry for causing you inconvenience. You may pass" The knight smiles

"It is fine, I often get used to those robberies" I smiles back

"I heard there is a mad merchant who would torture bandits horrofyingly" The knight puts his hand on his chin

"I heard about that too. I wish that I can do such thing" I sigh afterward

"Well, happy trading then. May Lamento bless your fortune" He puts his right hand index finger on his forehead and then swipes down through his heart.

"Same goes to you" I do the same as he did

****

After troubling villagers for a while, it seems the knight has captured five suspects and detained them on the wagon. I think the trial will be held at a nearby big town where they will get interrogated. I am quite disappointed that they didn't ask me about the recent batch of weapons. Oh well, time to get back to my shop. I will think about things I would do around this afternoon.

****

Traitors, those would sell out their own country for their own benefits. The most obvious evidence that traitors usually have is letters. In this case, whoever possesses any letters containing orcish language can be interrogated. If his letter mentions anything about the military, he shall be executed without any further question.

Fortunately, this event could help me out fairly. Framing Slived Rethennori should be easy. There two are things that I heard about him along the road. One is that he did business with orcs before, especially delivering weapons to Black Fang tribe. Two is that he knew orcish language in writing and speaking.

These kinds of information are valuable to me. Because the knight suspected this man for quite a time when the war broke out. I heard a rumor that he was in custody for few days and was then released.

Wait.

Instead of framing this one, how about turning him into a spotlight of rebellion against the king?

First thing first, to be sure, I must kill him then.

****

The night comes, it is still half moon tonight. I go to the alley to meet that jester again.

"Hello old customer, how may I help you?" he stops his music when he sees me

"Slived Rethennori, where is he?" I show my heavy money bag to him

He shows three fingers: "Three silver"

"Here you go." I put three silver coins on his hand.

"That man. I saw him lodging at Drunken Mule this morning. Now, I think he is resting there"

"How many guards does he have?"

"Are you planning to kill him?" He glares me

"If I say so?" I smile

"Listen man, I do not want to feel guilty about this. I don't want to have bad karma. This information is not for sale" He shakes his head slowly

"How about I ask about other information?"

"Tonight is enough. Go away." He returns to his song

"See you later then" I turn around

"Before you leave, I warn you one thing for free. If a father sees his son die, he would kill the murderer without hesitation."

The song is still echoing through my head.

****

I walk to Drunken Mule in the form of a dwarf. Short, bulky and 70 years old. Carrying my thunderstick on my back, wearing leather armor like a hunter and a mask on my face.

As soon as I approach the receptionist

"I wan' te meet Slives Rethonneri in person" I slam my hand on the counter.

"Please mister, this time around, you should keep quiet" She looks worried

"I dun care, call Slives Rethonneri or I blast my thunderstick to that pillar" I pull my thunder stick out with one hand

"You mean Slived Rethennori?" She raises her both hands

"Ye, whatever. Call him now," then I point the candle next to him ",Ye hav' until half of dat candoo" I rest my thunderstick vertically against the ground.

****

It is almost half of the candle. I raise my thunderstick up.

"Wait, mister dwarf. I am Slived Rethennori. How can I help you?" Slived emerges from the darkness of the upper floor.

"Can we tolk somewhere else?" I point at the alley direction.

"Sure" He walks to me

****

No witness, good

"So what do you want to talk ab…?" His head flies

I slashed his neck off with my dagger

Time to clean up the mess.

Firstly, I must absorb all the blood around the body. Next, I make some threads to manipulate the corpse like a doll. This is the first time I have ever done but it is going well for me. Finally, I reshape myself like a bag and hide my true body inside the . I use my doll to carry my thunderstick. The rest is about getting back to sleep and going out the next morning then.

****

The sun rises, I walk the doll alone to the desert where I can dispose of this corpse, then I can remake a copy body made of sand from the desert. It looks the same as him. Another thing that I realize, by killing this person directly, I gain a soul. A strong kind of soul that gives me strength unlike those weakling monsters or those bandits on the road.

So that means I now have four souls in my body. Three original controlling souls and one was consumed.

Now, a question that has been bugging me hard: | How could Dewion gain so many souls in his body?| is answered by a simple answer : | Soul consumption|.

Not just ordinary souls, a strong enough soul to meet the requirement.

My theory is that Dewion must have killed so many strong people as strong as knights or beyond. I conclude another thing is: eldritch don't have souls.

****

I can control body as long as I am aware and I don't have to be near

I observe that on my way as , the jester seems relieved that I didn't kill .

Back to my shop then, I guess. A new day, a new dawn. I walk along the street to see if there is anything that interests me. Just normal people greeting each other. I remember the time as a jester. I performed on the street to make a living and enjoyed the atmosphere. Cheerful and hopeful. I had moved on from the time when I had been an orphan of war. I had seen the worst of humanity in the gloomiest time. They had eaten each other to survive. I had witnessed a man killed a woman then he ate her. Years later, I lived in peace with cheerfulness. Then… it was all gone. My friends, my patronages and my acquaintances. Give them back to me! You stole everything from my hands, Nortus

I guess when the time comes, I will make a rebellion as and quickly enroll as a soldier then I can infiltrate to the castle after killing some of Todur Nortus's subordinates.

Ha ha ha ha ha. I no longer have faith in you, Todur Nortus. You waged war against orcs, you caused many people to die under your meaningless war. I have seen it on the way, there are many refugees from war. The throne belongs to another worthy man, Todur Nortus. You can't sit there forever.

****

Three days later, in the afternoon, I close my shop. I take a stroll around this village. I think I should head to the bar. I miss the smell of alcohol, miss the scene of fighting and miss the sound of whispering rumours.

"There have been attacks recently from orcs. Their special feature is black fangs" A young folk sips his drink

"Black Fang tribe is known for aggressiveness. They would raid if they are desperate" that old man sitting in front of the young points the ceiling

"I think we should go to Loreahor for sanctuary"

"No, we must take a stand to defend our birth place"

"How are you going to fight against the upcoming swarm of the Black Fang tribe? This Nakitel is done for. I have seen from a distance that there are camps of orcs. They are going to tear down this village house by house, chop people down one by one, and burn everything to ashes, just to take food for their survival!" the young slams the table.

"Then we must take a stance to stop them here, one and for all. All men must take anything he can grab. Sword, pikes, stakes, pitchforks, hoes or even his own fists to fight against orcs. If we don't stop them here, how many more will die? hundreds? thousands? or this entire kingdom to satisfy their hunger?," The elder stands up ", WHO HERE WANT TO LEAVE THIS LAND, FEEL FREE. YOU DON'T DESERVE TO HAVE THE TITLE OF FRONTIER VILLAGERS. A FRONTIER VILLAGER MUST OVERCOME EVERYTHING NO MATTER HOW HARSH THE CONDITION IS. NOT EVEN A DRAGON CAN MAKE US LEAVE" He raises his fist

"LONG LIVE NAKITEL! LONG LIVE NAKITEL! LONG LIVE NAKITEL!" The whole tavern merges into one inspiring cry.