Chapter Eighteen

The day of departure for the Lion City had come.

"Young Lord, we've finished loading all of the cargo," said one of the servants.

There were three carts in total. The first was meant for Lark's personal use, while the rest were filled with products, servants, and guards.

Lark nodded, his eyes transfixed on the second cart. It was the one carrying the Kalrane Stones, the main purpose of this expedition. Due to the limited time, they were hardly able to fill an entire barrel with Kalranes, but it should be enough for now. After all, the goal of this visit to Lion City was to assess the prices of goods and create connections with the merchants.

"Good work everyone." Lark clapped his hands twice. "Board the carts."

After everyone boarded the carts, the caravan started moving out. Sitting near the bowfront, Lark had a clear view of the road ahead. He saw the soldiers running through the town, carrying their spears with them. Some of the residents were plucking out Poison Clouds from the ground and placing them inside their baskets. They passed by a group of workers along the way, their bodies filled with dirt as they merrily chatted.

A town bustling with life.

This was a scenario that would have been impossible several months ago.

After surviving through the winter without even a single casualty and furthermore, being given ample food, job, and security, the residents of Blackstone Town have gone through visible changes in just a few months. People no longer appeared to be on the brink of death, their bodies no longer skin and bones.

"Old man," said Lark. "How long will it take us to get to the City?"

The coachman slapped the reigns. "Two days, if we don't run into trouble along the way, Young Master."

"Trouble?"

"Well," The old man scratched his stubbles. "Unlike Blackstone Town, monsters would sometimes appear near the Lion City. I don't really get why the area near the Endless Forest is free of monsters, but the other regions are far from being peaceful. Once we reached the Galphea Forest near the Lion City, although low, there'll be chances of encountering monsters, you see."

The coachman chuckled. "But don't worry, Young Master. There's a really low chance of that happening. Winter's just ended, after all. Those guys don't get active until the end of spring."

This was one of the greatest mysteries of Blackstone Town for Lark. According to what he'd heard, the other regions were infested with monsters that it was impossible to travel safely without escorts. But Blackstone Town, although surrounded by a forest so large that it was called 'endless', was free of such problems. Even the Goblins living in the forest never once attacked the town.

The Prey River.

Lark looked at the river that flowed through the plains. Unlike the Rile River, this one was colossal, probably large enough for several masted ships to pass through side by side.

Lark frowned. The river was drying up. By estimate, the water was probably only around the waist of a man. With the current state of the river, Lark would have to modify his plans of using the Prey River to create an irrigation system for the western lands.

The coachman saw the expression of Lark. He sighed. "I've heard that the locals used to fish in this area. But a year ago, the water in the river suddenly started drying up. Don't know what caused it, but it's quite hard to catch a fish nowadays. Stay all day and you might not even catch a single one."

A year ago? It's something that happened just recently, huh? No wonder the merchant that used to live in the Mansion did not mention it.

"Right when the river's started drying up, the Black Famine suddenly hit the Kingdom," mumbled Lark. He looked up the sky and sighed. "No wonder everyone's dying of cold and hunger. I'm just glad no one died this winter."

Silence befell them. The caravan kept moving west, towards the direction of the Lion City. They soon entered a small forest.

The coachman broke the silence. "Maybe the decision of the Duke was right." The old man smiled softly. "Sending the Young Master to this town… is probably the best choice, after all."

Seeing the old man suddenly sentimental, Lark curiously asked, "What do you mean?" He leaned on the metallic wall of the bowfront, his eyes gazing at the sea of trees.

"Forgive this old man for saying this, but you've changed a lot, Young Master," said the coachman. The rattling of the carts as they passed through the root-blanketed ground served as background. "How should I say this? The young Lord seemed calmer and more composed after coming to this town. Back in Gryphon City, the Young Master was…"

A total brat – the coachman did not dare say the words out.

"Is that so?" Lark simply shrugged. He opened a small pouch and took out some bread. "Want some?"

The coachman shook his head. "This old man is still full. But thank you, Young Master."

Lark stared at him. "Say, Gramps. You used to be a soldier before, right?"

The coachman was obviously startled by the question. He turned around and faced the Young Master.

"Keep your eyes on the road," chuckled Lark. The old man averted his gaze.

"How?" said the old man.

"It's obvious, Gramps. Those scars. Those trained movements. A normal servant wouldn't move like that." Lark sipped some water from the flask. "So, why did you decide to work for the Marcus Family? I'm pretty sure a veteran would have found a better job than being a coachman."

The coachman smiled at the Young Master's insight. "Only Sir Gaston and the Duke knows of my past. I didn't expect that the Young Master would see through it. I guess this should be expected of someone with the blood of the Marcuses, huh?"

A wild boar appeared in front of them. After seeing the caravan, it ran away into the thickets, disappearing from sight. Birds chirped as a gentle breeze passed.

"The Young Master's right. I used to be a soldier, you see. A soldier of the Marcus Family. Just like other soldiers, I've been sent to numerous battles. The last one took several fingers off my hand." The old man showed the Young Master his left hand. It was missing two and a half fingers. "And an arrow shot through my knees. I'm just glad I'm able to walk now, but for the battlefield… I had no choice but to quit being a soldier."

The story of the old man was quite common, a fate frequently visited by soldiers and veterans alike.

"But I've sworn to devote my life to the Duke. Even if this old man loses his limbs, I will continue serving my Lord."

Hearing the coachman's story, Lark started getting curious on what his father was like. In the short time he had interacted with the butler, the servants, and the guards, he was sure that they were absolutely loyal to his father. There must be something about Duke Drakus Marcus that made everyone choose to stay regardless of the consequences.

Lark decided that once given the chance, he would visit the man once.

The cart suddenly halted. Lark saw the reason why.

In front of them, several figures wearing weird masks – made of leaves and vines – stood and blocked the path. They were all holding weapons – axes, short swords, even shovels.

The coachman furrowed his brows. "Young Lord, please stay inside the cart." The old man jumped down the bowfront. Behind him, the guards quickly followed.

"Who are you?" said the coachman. He took out a whip as he surveyed the forest. The guards warily watched their surroundings too.

"L-Leave the carts behind and everything inside! And we'll spare your life!"

Lark raised a brow. The trembling voice was that of a boy, probably younger than him. Now that he had a careful look, it was apparent that their limbs were thin like twigs, shaking as they held their weapons.

"A kid?" mumbled Clark, the Head of the Guards. He unsheathed his sword and the rest of the guards did the same.

The masked figures took a few steps back the moment the guards unsheathed their swords. Their legs kept wobbling, giving the impression that they could fall down the ground at any moment.

"D-Don't be afraid!" shouted one of them. "We have the numbers on our side! We… We can win!"

"Arthus is right!"

"Y-Yeah! Let's go everyone!"

"Charge!"

Lark leaped off the cart, landing right in front of the guards and the coachman.

"Young Master! It's dangerous! Please go back inside!" shouted Clark.

"You might kill the kids." He said to the guards. "All of you, stand back. I'll handle this one."

Lark pointed a finger to the ground. After a second, vines started protruding out of it, twining around the legs of the masked figures. Most of them stumbled to the ground, their weapons flying off their hands. Those that managed to maintain their balance desperately tried getting out of the entanglement.

"What the hell is this!"

"It won't come off! Damn it!"

Lark slowly approached the group. Seeing him, everyone desperately struggled to get out.

"Who are you? And why did you attack us?" said Lark.

After receiving no response, he flicked a finger and a monster plant resembling a sunflower emerged from the ground. The monster made a hissing sound, its sharp set of teeth filled with silvery threads of saliva.

"N-Noooo!"

"D-Don't eat us!"

Lark sighed.

They're just a bunch of kids. Really. But, why are they doing this? They should have known that they wouldn't even be a match for my guards.

"Still not going to talk?" Lark shrugged. "Well?"

"Kill me! If you're going to kill someone, then kill me!" The one at the very front of the group shouted. He took off his mask, revealing an emaciated face. His cheeks were sunken, and black circles encircled his eyes. His lips were crusted and dry. He was probably eleven or twelve, Lark was not sure. "I'm the leader of this group! If you're going to punish someone, punish me!"

Sobs leaked out of the other masked figures. As time went by, it became more apparent that these guys were nothing but a desperate group of kids.

Lark approached the leader. He stared straight into his eyes. "I'm a bit lenient with kids. Depending on the reason, I may let you go. So, tell me. What's the reason for you guys to suddenly attack us?"

The sunflower monster hissed and a thick thread of saliva dropped down the ground. Even the guards of Lark warily took a distance from it.

Seeing the monster, the leader gulped down. "I forced everyone to do this. If you are to punish or kill someone, do it to me!"

Lark clicked his tongue. "Answer the damn question."

The sunflower monster hissed.

The leader once again swallowed. "We need food. The villagers… Everyone… They're dying right now!"

Food, huh? They don't seem to be lying. These guys are skin and bones. They've probably not eaten anything decent for several weeks.

"How many people are in the village and how far is it?"

The leader did not reply. He simply bit his lips and shut his mouth.

Lark willed the sunflower monster to approach the masked figure on his left. The leader, seeing this, shouted, "Around a hundred! There's around a hundred people living in the village!"

The sunflower monster stopped in its track. The leader heaved a sigh of relief.

"How far is it?" said Lark. "And it doesn't make sense. Stealing food would have been easier if you brought the adults with you."

Lark was sure by now that the over a dozen masked figures around him were all kids.

"I can't tell you where it is." The gaze of the leader was still fierce, unyielding.

Lark sighed. He flicked a finger and the vines that were twined around the feet of the kids receded and went back to the ground.

Seeing this, the guards immediately went to the Young Master's side, but Lark signaled them to stop.

"If you were grown men, I would have probably killed several of you on the spot," said Lark. "I'm a bit soft on kids, you see." He said to Clark. "Give these kids some food and water to drink."

Everyone was stunned by the sudden orders.

"But—"

"—Do it," said Lark, firmly.

"Y-You're feeding us?" said the leader of the kids in disbelief.

"It'll be hard to talk with an empty stomach, right?" grinned Lark. "Eat. Drink. After that, I want to hear the fully story."