To welcome the new members, High Mountain Keep held a grand bonfire feast after nightfall.
Of course, this was merely a desolate, remote wilderness. A solitary moon looked down upon the earth, and it was difficult to find any sign of human habitation for dozens of miles around. But at least at this moment, there were enough people to make the place lively.
Whole cows and sheep were tied to roasting racks, their fat sizzling and dripping beneath the orange flames. Barrel after barrel of ale was opened and poured into the stomachs of the High Mountain Keep warriors, which could hold even more than the barrels themselves.
When Richard roasted the meat, he used some Soy Sauce. At last, those stubborn, crude brutes reluctantly admitted that it did seem to be an edible seasoning after all.
Unexpectedly, the centaur women rated it very highly. Women naturally had more refined tastes and liked the salty, savory flavor that could cover up the gamey smell of beef and mutton.
They asked the lord of High Mountain Keep for some. In return, more than a dozen centaurs played horsehead fiddles and performed their race's most traditional hoof-stomping dance in the open space.
A yearning for beautiful things was a language that needed no translation. There was hoof-stomping in the Pompeii Opera House as well, and it was very popular. Richard had seen it when he was in the Southern Province.
But when the centaurs danced, their four hooves struck the ground in turn, making even the pebbles on the ground tremble and bounce along. It was an innate racial advantage that could not be imitated. Compared to such powerful and stirring rhythm, the human dancers' performance was like a clumsy and unsuccessful imitation.
Richard led everyone in a round of thunderous applause.
"Back when we were on the ice plains, we also used to get together and have some fun during the summer." Gunther grinned foolishly, pouring ale into his mouth like water.
"Boss, did you know? The summer solstice is an important festival for us Highlanders."
There were only two seasons on the ice plains: winter and summer. Winter covered everything in ice and snow while freezing winds howled endlessly. Summer, meanwhile, was shorter and more precious there than in the south, so the barbarians regarded the day summer arrived as the most worth celebrating day of the year.
Richard knew this common knowledge, so he nodded.
"Gunther, were you brought to Pompeii by a slave-catching party?" Richard was curious about how the barbarians had ended up as slave gladiators.
The slave trade had never truly been banned in Pompeii. Some major slave merchants formed slave-catching parties to capture natives and turn them into slaves, but those third-rate armed groups logically could not have been a match for barbarians.
"A slave-catching party? I did see them during the first few years after I began hunting." Gunther began recalling the past with a foolish grin. "They weren't very strong, but to be honest, they usually had plenty of supplies."
"Of course they did. Who would do that kind of work if they were an expert?" Nehru quietly wandered over and added his comment.
He should have been staying with the slaves, but the slaves of High Mountain Keep had become slaves entirely because of him. As a result, he was being ostracized there and only got the grilled large intestines that had not been washed properly.
"So the great elder soon figured out one thing—the tribe didn't need to hunt dangerous mammoths and saber-toothed tigers at all. As long as we attacked slave-catching parties, we could live quite well. For several years, no one in the tribe died of hunger anymore. More children were born than in previous years, and we even captured many people alive and sold them for money."
Gunther leaned back and lay on the ground, letting out a long, comfortable sigh. "Thinking about it now, those really were the carefree years of my youth."
Nehru was drenched in cold sweat. He suddenly felt that the slaves looked much more amiable and hurried back at an even faster pace.
"What happened after that?" Annie joined the conversation as well. She was holding a cup of hot beer mixed with spices and sipping it slowly.
Hot beer, night, bonfire, and stories—a classic combination.
"After that... sigh, afterward, there were fewer and fewer slave-catching parties." Gunther shook his head and sighed, sounding exactly like an old farmer describing a potato harvest failure.
"Everyone found it very puzzling. Why were there still as many elk, snow bears, and mammoths as in previous years, while the slave-catching parties alone grew fewer and fewer? So the great elder had me lead my brothers south to see if we could organize our own slave-catching party and go to the ice plains."
Gunther took a large gulp of beer. "But somehow, we ended up in the arena and were told that we had signed gladiator contracts."
"A group of barbarians organized a slave-catching party to capture barbarians!" Richard laughed so hard that he doubled over, clutching his stomach. Given the barbarians' wooden brains, coming up with a self-sustaining business like that was truly remarkable.
"You all think the others are idiots." Annie summarized it softly.
The bonfire feast lasted until the moon reached the middle of the sky, when the excited residents gradually grew tired. Richard's face was slightly flushed, but every warrior who had tried to outdrink him had been carried away by his companions.
As they were about to disperse, Annie suddenly said to him, "Lord Richard, thank you for taking care of me during this time. I may be able to return very soon."
"Mm. Remember to settle the meal expenses." Richard was gripping a beef bone and sucking out the marrow with all his might, completely too occupied to pay attention to her.
"..." Annie looked at his face covered in grease and could not help giving a soft laugh. "Lord Richard, is there anything you need? Perhaps I could bring it along the next time I pass by."
"Wait a moment..." Richard wolfed down two final bites of roasted meat, then waved for the servants to clean up the stalls.
The roasted meat choked him so badly that his eyes rolled back. He quickly picked up his mug of ale and took two gulps. "Hire two halfling cooks for me. The barbarians and these centaurs are far too terrible at cooking!"
"And get me several pieces of white crystal, at least as big as a fist. The purer, the better."
Crystal had very limited uses in the wilderness. Annie felt that she had guessed his intentions. "You want to use white crystal to pass off as expensive gemstones and deceive the natives?"
Richard had never heard of such a shameless method. He silently noted it down, but said aloud, "I usually just rob whatever catches my eye. There's no need to go to the trouble of deceiving anyone."
He went to the storeroom and brought out the chest excavated by the Gale Wolf tribe, handing it to Annie. It contained gold and silver of various forms, roughly worth three to five hundred gold coins.
"If it isn't enough, I can provide more, but make absolutely sure you bring my cooks and crystals."
The Half-Elf did not understand why a Pioneering Territory in its developmental stage would be seeking these things, but based on what she had learned about Richard over the past few days, asking would certainly be pointless.
This man had a terrible personality and was nothing like a noble. He enjoyed watching people suffer even more than a street thug did.
Annie said petulantly, "They say women are more changeable than the sea, but I think you're even harder to read than a woman, my good lord."
"Let's just take that as a compliment." Richard waved his hand and walked toward his room without looking back.
Annie stood where she was, watching his back. Suddenly, she made a mocking face, narrowing her eyes, pursing her lips, and sticking out her tongue.
"I thought about it again. High Mountain Keep has a lot of people, so at least five halfling cooks will be needed. Five." Richard suddenly turned around, spread the fingers of one hand, and emphasized it again.
In the moonlight, Annie smiled. Her dignified bearing was so impeccable that even the strictest etiquette teacher could find nothing to criticize. "Of course, my lord."
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