My Word Is My Bond

"Sword, woman, sold to me. Bandits, border, smuggling."

The warlord did not dwell on the simple question. The sword's origin had no bearing on his tribe.

Ralph explained from the side, "Looks like a bandit sold it to him. That's actually pretty common in Long River Town, my lord. Whenever bandits get their hands on weapons, if they have the right connections, they'll always find a way to sell them to the Gatu people. They won't be tracked down, and they can get the best price—the Gatu people don't know how to smelt metal. It counts as aiding the enemy, but Duke Alma has done plenty of it too..."

Li Ang smiled strangely, as if joking. "Count Oden has done it too, hasn't he..."

Ralph looked around. Seeing that everyone else was busy cleaning up the battlefield, he lowered his voice. "Discarded junk equipment gets sold sometimes too... Everyone sells it, really. The brothers have to make some money, and they need it to trade for Gatu breeding horses..."

Li Ang truly had not expected that. So the Gatu people's strength had been nurtured by everyone else...

No wonder this warlord faction, which produced nothing and only knew how to raid, had remained isolated on the grasslands for centuries without turning into savages.

Their so-called refusal to trade with any faction merely meant they never conducted official trade.

And here he had thought it was all so mysterious...

"Can you find that woman?"

Li Ang poked the somewhat dazed warlord.

"No. Bandits, mountains, cannot find."

"Fine... You gathered such a huge army this time just to cover for Duke Alma? How much did he pay you?"

Li Ang still wanted to satisfy his curiosity.

But faced with such a question, the Gatu warlord stopped speaking. "Kill me!"

What a waste that would be...

Li Ang thought of the warlord's exceptionally fine horse, the warhorse that had not bolted even after taking an arrow wound.

"I said I wouldn't kill you... All right, I won't ask anything about your tribe or army. But casual conversation should be fine, right? What's your name?"

The Gatu warlord looked at Li Ang suspiciously. "Drash."

"All the horses outside are my spoils of war. I need someone who can keep them alive, otherwise their only fate will be becoming hot pot..."

Drash looked at Li Ang with hatred in his eyes.

"Don't look at me like that. I can't help it either. All my men are infantry. No one knows how to care for horses..."

Drash looked at the mercenaries cleaning up the battlefield outside, sighed, and his gaze dimmed. "You, break, promise!"

"Don't talk nonsense! My word is as good as gold!... Huh? You don't understand? I always keep my word... Fine, I'll put it plainly. I intend to have you look after these horses. Otherwise, my men will definitely eat them!"

Li Ang pointed at the iron pot, then waved a finger toward those burly men.

Kloze, in the distance, saw that Li Ang seemed to be waving at him and eagerly ran over. "My lord, are we having horse meat for lunch?"

Li Ang practically wanted to give him a hundred thumbs-up. The guy had not heard a thing, yet his foodie instincts had let him cooperate so perfectly!

Drash finally broke down. "You! Cannot! Eat horses!"

And so, a new line appeared on Li Ang's party list.

'Drash, Groom.'

His favorability was surely not high, but that did not matter—he genuinely loved horses. As long as he could care for them properly, that was enough.

In any case, anyone who could enter the party list definitely would not cause any trouble. The system might not be very refined, but it could at least identify whether someone had joined sincerely.

After regrouping for a day, Li Ang planned to lead the party away. He intended to find another place to establish a territory and deliver the belongings of the fallen mercenaries to their hometowns.

When it came to promises concerning his subordinates, the lord truly kept his word.

Lesley's caravan guards, along with the two fallen Meitengheim people, had also been found in a nearby valley. The Horn Caller Rangers had brought them back.

Eager to return to the grasslands, the Gatu people had only destroyed the caravan and had not looted their equipment.

As before, the Meitengheim people's belongings were entrusted to Kloze.

Meitengheim Infantry, 2/10.

Four Mercenary Crossbowmen had died, and one had been crippled. The current party list read, "Mercenary Crossbowmen, 6/18."

The two refugees, on the other hand, were unharmed.

But everyone else, including Li Ang, was wounded. Aside from the carpenter who had not formally joined the party, fewer than ten people in the entire group remained combat-capable.

It was a heartbreaking loss, but that was the battlefield. Had the Horn Caller Rangers not arrived in time, the casualties would have been even worse.

This time, Li Ang gave no speech to raise morale. He simply carried out his promises in silence.

Fulfilling promises without compromise was far more effective than any encouragement.

The spoils had already been distributed according to each person's achievements, but without exception, everyone asked for them to be sold and for the proceeds to be distributed as bonuses.

It was not because his subordinates had suddenly become noble, pitied their impoverished lord, and wanted to let him profit as a middleman. It was because no one wanted to haul around a pile of chainmail, nomad shields, scimitars, and the like, adding to their burden...

They were all injured... They could not carry it.

But this gave the lord quite a headache—this huge pile of junk would not be easy to deal with. If he handled it carelessly, forget making a profit; he might even have to pay out of pocket!

Li Ang looked at Lesley, who had more or less recovered emotionally, and approached her.

"Lesley, um... Do you want to rebuild your caravan?"

The lord was rather cautious. He did not wish to hurt the poor girl further.

"No, my lord. Thank you for your kindness... I can't rebuild the caravan. Everything I had is gone..."

Lesley's eyes were dim as she toyed with a dagger in her hand. It looked like it might have been her younger brother's keepsake.

"But I don't think you want to sleep on the streets either, Lesley. Your brother fought desperately to help you escape, not so you could end up stranded in a foreign land—you need a job to support yourself."

Li Ang's words were not particularly tactful, but his voice was gentle, filled with the magnetic warmth befitting a great philanthropist.

Ansen could not bear it. "My lord, we should take Lesley with us."

Sarah dragged Ansen away. "Come on, help me look at my hand. Lately, it keeps wanting to hit people on its own..."

Sarah was so clever. She had long recognized the familiar look in Li Ang's eyes whenever he looked at Lesley. It was roughly the same look a capitalist wore when making an employee sign away their life.

Back at the tavern, Li Ang had looked at Sarah the same way.

Sarah swore she would never forget it for the rest of her life. She had never met such a noble before—faced with her obvious flirting and beauty, the guy had only wanted her to do odd jobs for him!

"Lesley, you know, my party is lacking a quartermaster—the pay is quite good."

"Lord Li Ang, if you really want to comfort me, you might as well have a few drinks with me."

"Ahem, all right then..."

Two hours later, the lord spun like a top before plunging headfirst onto a cart. His clothes were disheveled and his face flushed red. "Another drink..."

The ale in his hand spilled all over the ground.

"Lord Li Ang, I'll make a fine quartermaster."

Lesley clinked the cup in her hand against the empty one Li Ang had dropped beside him and spoke calmly.

'Lesley has joined your party.'

By the time the half-dead drunk Li Ang woke up again, Lesley had already sorted everything into categories.

Still groggy, Li Ang resentfully rubbed his faintly throbbing head. He felt he had merely let his guard down... How could Lesley have drunk him under the table?

I didn't do anything stupid, did I?

Only Kloze looked at Li Ang sympathetically. "My lord, that day, more than a dozen of us were no match for her... But who was that Little Sister Number 88 you mentioned?"

Ansen brought over a bowl of hangover soup. "Um... My lord, Miss Sarah is beating up those prisoners again... Even Mr. Ralph can't stop her... It's pretty awful..."

With a group of battered and wounded subordinates, Li Ang set out south.

Ralph, the local guide, had told him about a good place—a masterless village that had just been raided by the Gatu people.

There, perhaps, would be well suited for a Pioneer Lord to develop smoothly.