"Didn't they block the road? How are they allowed to pass?" "Oh, that's a slave transport." Boc looked disdainful. "The Golden Lineage cannot be treated as slaves, so those nobles have to find them elsewhere." The night wind lifted the tarp, and sure enough, beneath it were iron cages packed with all sorts of demi-humans: the demi-humans seen before, ugly Misbegotten, and some Pot People. These Pot People are also living beings—simply a 'pot' with limbs. They are usually used as cannon fodder, or as toys for the nobles to amuse themselves.
Because the inside of the pot is flesh and blood, when it explodes, the visual impact is quite strong. Some even feed them various kinds of flesh to pass the time as pets. Meeting those gazes, Throne felt a bit annoyed. But having seen enough dirty business, he couldn't be bothered to meddle. He just glanced at the knights accompanying the carriage and asked casually:
"By the way, we're still quite far from Caelid. What's the reason for blocking the road?" "The noble lords have lost their minds, I suppose. Oh, look, Ars is back. He should have some news."
A merchant walked over from the checkpoint, looking unhappy. He took a cup from a companion and gulped it down. "It's damn ridiculous. They're blocking the road over such a trivial matter." "Tell us, which noble lord is in a bad mood and playing at blocking the road?" "It has nothing to do with them. A dragon burned down a village at noon, and Count Brant here said he wanted to gather troops to subjugate it, so he blocked the road." The merchants were stunned, then burst into laughter. "Has this Count blown his brains out?
With such a fanfare of an expedition, the dragon can just flap its wings and leave." Dragon slaying has always been the act of a lone hero. Dragons aren't stupid; why wouldn't they run when they see an army coming? Boc was also laughing until he couldn't catch his breath. Just as he picked up his cup, he felt something was wrong. He turned his head and saw Throne, who had stood up holding a box, frozen in place. Throne's eyes were narrowed, and the corners of his eyes twitched involuntarily. For a split second, he felt a terrifying killing intent. "Little brother, y-you, what's this?"
As the words fell, the killing intent vanished without a trace. Throne paused for a moment, then revealed a kindly smile. "I didn't expect that dragon to still be around. It must be hard on these noble lords. I'll go get some rest; you all continue drinking." "Alright, come by and do business with us often!" Friendly greetings followed him. Throne didn't look back, moving away from the campfire and into the cold night. He kept silent and walked straight back to the carriage. Sellen was reading with a twisted expression on her face.
Seeing Throne bring back a large box, she curiously poked her head over, but curled her lip after finding no precious experimental materials. "It's all stuff for fighting. Sigh, when will you ever become a proper scholar?" Sellen wore an expression of 'you are a lost cause,' then was surprised to find that Throne didn't even respond to her, whereas usually, he would have started talking back. "In a bad mood?" "Not really, just underestimated the bottom line of some people. In The Lands Between, heroes who act with chivalry really are useless."
Throne buried his head in organizing the box, taking out items from his spirit-calling ring and placing his tools of murder on his person. Sellen raised an eyebrow. Having spent so much time together, she rarely saw Throne like this—a calm exterior concealing a raging fury. "What happened?" "Just some fallout regarding Agheel." "Do you need my help?" "No need. I'll handle this. You just drive the carriage to Summonwater Village, and remember to go slowly." "Nagging." Sellen nodded. She didn't presume anything, continuing to read without looking up. "Then go and come back quickly.
"You said heroes are useless. So what's useful?" Throne slid the Banished Knight helmet over his head, his lips twisting into a bloodthirsty grin. "Asura."
The moon hung full and heavy in the sky, casting its cold light over the landscape. The night wind bit at exposed skin. Throne leapt from the carriage, letting the moonlight wash over him. The people waiting in line nearby were deep in sleep, oblivious to the sudden appearance of a 'Banished Knight' in their midst. Does it matter if Agheel lives or dies, as long as the goal is achieved?
It wasn't a miscalculation—just an underestimation of human malice. That's all.
The nobles could suppress the truth, letting a dead dragon continue to 'live.' As long as it still wreaked havoc, the nobles of Limgrave had their excuse to cut off resources to the Haligtree Army. No need to waste fortunes on a meaningless war. Leaking the news? Dead men tell no tales. When Agheel was needed, it had to be alive. When it wasn't, it could finally rest. "Poisonous, yet perfectly aligned with the interests of Limgrave's nobles. Against that kind of collective greed, laws and conscience mean nothing."
Throne's gaze shifted to the small castle beyond the checkpoint. Soldiers lined the walls, silent and unmoving, torches flickering in their hands. Another checkpoint stood before the castle, where Kaiden Mercenaries on horseback patrolled in tight formation. They looked sharp, disciplined—worthy of Limgrave's regular army. Hundreds of them. Sneaking in wouldn't be easy. Throne dropped off the embankment, his boots sinking into the soft mud blanketed with fallen leaves. He hunched low and moved forward. In the distance, nobles drank on the watchtower. He extended his thumb, gauging the distance. Too far.
Magic wouldn't reach. He didn't act, instead creeping silently toward the front of the checkpoint. The glow of a brazier illuminated the central open space, where a slave transport stood. His eyes narrowed. A plan formed instantly.
While Throne watched the slave transport, Count Brant—Lord of Summonwater Village and Saintsbridge—did the same. As the owner of the middle section of Limgrave's main road, his family was wealthy, their fortune built on tolls alone.
Of course, as a Golden Lineage noble who had followed the former king from Leyndell, he was shrewd. His businesses extended far beyond road tolls. "Damn that Valkyrie for cutting off the trade route between Limgrave and Caelid." He stroked his handlebar mustache, his handsome face twisted in indignation. The nobles of Limgrave had no interest in The Shattering; they just wanted to make money in this remote corner of the world. "At least now that the war's started, I can recoup some losses through the slave trade."
He swirled his wine glass, his dignified features breaking into a smile. Turning, he raised his glass to the other nobles in the hall. "Gentlemen, I've decided to share fifty percent of the profits from this batch of slaves to compensate for your recent losses." The five well-dressed nobles stared in disbelief. After a moment, they raised their glasses. "May glory belong to the Brant family!" They were all local lords, but in The Lands Between, such minor lords held little power. Supporting two or three knights was a struggle; some were little more than village chiefs.
"We're all of the Erdtree's noble blood. We should help each other." The Count sipped his wine, calm and composed, before pressing his palm down and stepping into the grand hall. His eyes gleamed. "Especially with the great war on the horizon. Unity is essential." "You're right, Count. When our lord fails to protect us, we must rely on ourselves." "Exactly. Godrick has lost all face. He's no longer fit to rule Limgrave." "Heh, but where else would we find a lord as magnanimous as Godrick?" Laughter filled the hall, the atmosphere thick with merriment.
Godrick's grip on power was laughable. After his twisted experiments in grafting, he'd locked himself away in his fortress, refusing to show his face. A lord needs more than a title to rule. He couldn't even keep the great nobles of Limgrave in line. Fort Haight and Castle Morne, remote and defiant, ignored his commands entirely.
"Gentlemen," the Count said, pressing his hands down to silence the chuckles, "as pathetic as Lord Godrick is, he's still better than the Valkyrie." The room fell silent at the mention of Malenia's name. If only they'd killed Godrick when they took Stormveil, things would've been simpler.
But no, they'd left that useless lump alive, leaving no excuse for rebellion. In The Lands Between, the lord-vassal contract was sacred. Godrick still held his title, which meant his authority stood, hollow as it was.
"Count," a baron spoke up, "why don't we fight back? The Haligtree Army's entire supply comes from us. We're bleeding dry!"
This baron ruled fewer than a thousand souls, yet the Haligtree Army demanded a thousand crossbow bolts from him. It was ruinous.
Brant glanced at the bald baron and shook his head. "Fight back? Against the Valkyrie's unmatched might? Do you have a death wish?"
"We could turn to Radahn in Caelid. The Lands Between belongs to the Golden Lineage—any of them could rule."
"Radahn's preoccupied," Brant said, picking up a piece of dried fruit with deliberate elegance. "And Starscourge is as ambitious as they come. Who's to say he wouldn't become the next Valkyrie?"
He set his wine glass down. "Besides, the Haight family of Fort Haight and the Edgar family of Castle Morne refuse to join us. With our position and strength, rebellion is suicide."
The room erupted into curses. Some called the Haights cowards; others branded the Edgars as remnants of a fallen age. Brant sat quietly, letting them vent. It was a difficult situation.
Two major nobles with fortified strongholds were complying without protest. What right did the lords of Limgrave's hinterlands have to resist? Malenia had rewarded their obedience, easing their taxes and shifting the burden onto those she could crush at will.
Their interests were ravaged, yet they were powerless. Anyone who dared to defy her would face the Haligtree Army the moment Godrick—her puppet—issued a stripping decree.
"Gentlemen," Brant said, cutting through the noise, "that dragon cannot die."
He waited for the room to quiet. "Only if it lives can we use the law to resist tyranny. If Malenia continues to demand our resources, it's outright robbery. No noble with honor would tolerate it."
A few nobles nodded. The primary duty of a noble was to protect their land and people.
"But I heard the dragon's already dead," someone muttered.
"It's alive," the Count said coldly, his gaze sharp.
"This evening, a small village under my rule was massacred; not one of the 67 people survived."
The baron who'd spoken earlier froze. The others understood immediately—why the profits from slave trading were suddenly being shared.
"This…" the baron stammered.
"It's binding us to a pirate ship," someone muttered. "What if the Valkyrie finds out?"
The room hesitated, then noticed the graceful maids had vanished. In their place stood tall, savage Kaiden Mercenaries, their sabers gleaming at their waists.
The nobles were suddenly filled with courage. "That's right, I have a small village that will also be attacked." "And me, one of my cargo points is right next to Agheel Lake; it will definitely be massacred by tomorrow, no, tonight!" Seeing this immediate response, the Count smiled. This was the unity he wanted. When all nobles with consistent interests unite, even a demigod would be helpless. The Haligtree Army's military might is peerless, but many things cannot be solved just by having a bigger fist.
He was just about to announce an important matter when he suddenly heard a commotion and couldn't help but frown. "Go see what happened." "Understood." The mercenary nodded slightly and led several men out. However, at that moment, shouts were already coming from outside the castle. "Oh no, the slaves have escaped!" "What??" The Count was stunned. He hurried to the balcony and looked down. The five huge slave transports had been opened, and all kinds of 'goods' were running everywhere. Veins bulged on his forehead instantly.
Without the profits brought by these goods, why would those nobles take risks with him? He couldn't help but roar:
"A bunch of useless idiots, catch them all back!" The sound of hooves rose everywhere. Armored and armed soldiers swarmed out, but in front of them were hundreds of Misbegotten and demi-humans. They were ragged but ran fast. Archers shot two dead, which only made the rest panic even more. Only a fool would stop. Run, run into the wilderness and no one will chase. The soldiers were momentarily stunned.
Killing them all was easy, but dead slaves couldn't be sold for money, so they had to chase hard. They were confused as to how all five slave transports were opened at the same time. "Quite lively." In the shadows at the foot of the castle, Throne watched coldly. He saw the garrison using spears to knock out demi-humans, and the skilled Kaiden Mercenaries using lassos to capture the Misbegotten. But there were too many slaves, and they were fleeing in all directions like an exploded pot. Without being able to kill them, the castle's forces were simply insufficient.
The group of soldiers and knights lost their formation and were running around in chaos as well. Not only that, the people blocked outside the checkpoint also got up to watch the excitement. Some quick-witted ones were already preparing to take the opportunity to rush the checkpoint. If they didn't rush now, were they waiting for their goods to rot or to pay the toll? Hmm, it's about time. Throne nodded with satisfaction and turned back to ask: "Aren't you going to run with them?"
Behind him was a Pot Person, with thin limbs and a diameter of about a meter or so—only a youth among the Pot People. "Hahaha, I, Alexander, never turn my back on an enemy, nor will I hold back against these despicable people! To think they dug a pit to trap me!" Its voice was loud and rough, but it was knocked on the head before it could finish. "Keep it down!" "Oh!" Throne shook his head helplessly. When he first rescued this Pot Person, he was shocked for a moment when it called itself Alexander.
But when it said there were eight Alexanders in the village, Throne couldn't be bothered to pursue it further. Regardless of whether it was that tough guy or not, this courage was not bad. "Do you know how to kill?" "Of course! I am going to become an unprecedented her..." It was knocked again before it could finish, so it quickly lowered its voice. "Ahem, my lord, don't hit me so hard, don't crack me." "Then keep it down and hurry up and follow." Throne ignored it, pulled out two daggers, stuck them into the gaps between the wall bricks, and climbed up meter by meter.
Looking back, he saw the Pot Person clutching the gaps with its hands, following along. Not bad. Throne didn't want to carry dead weight, so he gestured to the Pot Person. "By the way, call me Big Brother from now on."
The full moon hung heavy in the sky, swallowed whole by writhing clouds. Saintsbridge's eastern outskirts buzzed like a kicked hornet's nest—shouts, crashes, the occasional clang of steel. Something was definitely going down.