The Town of Vinasan

Despite witnessing the tragedy firsthand, life must go on. After burying the bodies, the caravan boss had no choice but to reluctantly set off again, erasing the village from his trade route.

A day later, a small town loomed in the distance, barely visible to the caravan.

"Looks like we'll have hot bread, cool ale, and fiery serving girls tonight!" the caravan boss shouted to the group.

The caravan members' spirits lifted. After days of travel, nothing could help them forget their fatigue better than these comforts.

As they got closer, the outline of the town became clearer. Hundreds of two-story wooden houses were scattered about, with earth-yellow roads crisscrossing like weeds growing tenaciously between various dwellings.

A few wisps of black smoke rose, likely from the blacksmiths at work in town.

"I'm treating everyone tonight. We'll feast on Vinasan's specialty, blood sausage. It's so good it'll make you forget your mother's name," the caravan boss shouted cheerfully once more.

"Whoa!"

The caravan members exchanged knowing smiles, their bodies momentarily forgetting their exhaustion as they quickened their pace. Finally, an hour later, the caravan approached the town.

But things were not as pleasant as they had imagined.

Large white tents were pitched haphazardly outside the town's wooden palisade, and mercenaries in various armors were maintaining their weapons in the open spaces between the tents.

The air was far from pleasant; although the mercenaries relieved themselves downwind, the accumulated stench was still overwhelming.

Just as Norn frowned in disgust, a troop of cavalry rode over. The captain, despite having several stains on his cloak, was undoubtedly a knight, as evidenced by the banner held high by his attendant.

The knight reined in his horse beside the caravan. He placed his hand on his longsword, his eyes piercingly fixed on the caravan, his tone dripping with contempt, "Merchant! State your business."

"Esteemed Knight!"

The caravan boss quickly leaped off his wagon, bowed deeply, and replied in the most ingratiating tone he could muster, "We are a caravan from the Toulouse Woolen Merchants' Guild, just passing through."

Seeing the knight's still cold expression, the caravan boss hastily pulled out a handful of silver dinars from his pocket and bent down to offer them.

"A small token of our respect," the boss said, his face full of flattery, though his heart was aching at the loss.

The knight accepted the silver coins, his face finally softening a bit. He removed his hand from the sword and shifted his gaze to the wagon behind the boss.

"What's in the wagon?"

"Just some grain, nothing of great value," the boss replied.

The knight gave a signal, and his attendant immediately rode over to the wagon. With the apprentices' somewhat flustered help, he lifted the cover, revealing sacks of flour, as well as bundles of sausages and dried fruits.

The caravan boss wiped away a nonexistent bead of sweat, thinking that the 20 silver dinars he had just given wouldn't have satisfied the greedy knight.

The knight nodded in satisfaction and instructed his attendant, "Take them into the city!"

"Sir! What?" the caravan boss asked in surprise.

"Rest easy! It's for your good!" the knight replied, his tone softened a bit by the earlier bribe, "The baron wants to purchase your grain."

Led by the attendant, the caravan slowly passed through the town's outskirts, which had been turned into a makeshift barracks. The grain-laden wagons attracted the attention of many mercenaries, some of whom wanted to strike a deal with the caravan, but were all stopped by the attendant.

Once inside the city gates, the scene was surprisingly bustling. The market on one side was a hive of activity.

Various vendors had set up their colorful stalls, hawking weapons, armor, and even medicinal herbs. Many soldiers were bargaining with the merchants, hoping to get a better price. Occasionally, conscripts would push carts out of the nearby warehouses, loaded with bundles of swords, spears, arrows, and other supplies.

The sheer number of soldiers had unexpectedly spurred the local market into a distorted prosperity.

The attendant led the caravan to a warehouse and gestured for the caravan boss to follow him inside.

Seeing the four guards at the warehouse entrance, Jinn felt a bit uneasy. After all, today had been the busiest day he'd ever had in terms of meeting people.

"Enno!" Jinn casually walked over to Norn, hoping to ease his tension.

Norn, with a straw in his mouth, asked, "What's up?"

"Enno, you're from the big city and have seen a lot," Jinn said curiously. "Can you tell me what's going on here?"

"What else?" Norn replied nonchalantly. "There's a war coming."

"A war!" Jinn was taken aback for a moment. "So many people?"

"How many do you think there are? Including the mercenaries outside, there can't be more than 600 at most," Norn said, recalling what he had seen on his way into town. There were at most a hundred tents outside, and the small town could only accommodate the knights and their squires.

"Six hundred is still a lot!" Jinn felt like he had never seen that many people in his life.

"Whether it's a lot or not depends on the enemy. If the enemy has a thousand men, we wouldn't stand a chance," Norn pointed out.

"A thousand!" Jinn gasped. The idea of a battlefield with over a thousand people was unimaginable to him.

Jinn then asked nervously, "What if the enemy attacks right now?"

"Don't scare yourself. The rebellious baron doesn't have that many men," Norn laughed.

"Didn't you hear the boss? There are only three barons in the rebellion. Even if their lands are wealthy, it's questionable whether they can gather a thousand men combined."

"Oh!" Jinn visibly relaxed upon hearing this.

As Norn and Jinn chatted idly, the caravan boss walked out looking dejected, as if he had lost his father.

Remembering that the boss had been decent, Norn approached and asked, "Boss, are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Just heartbroken," the boss replied, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, a deep sorrow etched on his face.

"Huh? Did those nobles lowball you on the grain?" Norn thought for a moment, then comforted him, "Boss, don't take it to heart. As long as you're safe, that's what matters. After all, money is just a material thing. It's okay to take a loss sometimes."

"No," the boss wiped away the tears from the corners of his eyes and said in a very sad tone, "The baron bought my grain at twice the normal price."

"Huh? Then why are you... like this?" Norn was confused by this turn of events.

"I lost big, I lost big!" The boss lamented, slapping his head in frustration.

"If I had come two days earlier, I could have sold it for three times the price!"