The Secret

The lord wanted powerful evocation spells, like Fireball or Magic Missile, to sweep away his enemies. But the Ogre's thoughts were simple: it just didn't want to be beaten by the overseer.

If the goal was to avoid beatings, it was indeed hard to find anything more practical than Stone Skin and Obscuring Mist. In a way, it perfectly met their immediate needs.

The successful awakening of the two Ogres liberated their long-suffering kin. The Ogres returned to their past lives of idly whiling away their days. However, at the lord's instruction, people would occasionally try various methods to stimulate them.

For example, while they were devouring their food, a few people would rush out, shouting and waving torches. Or, just as the Ogres were sound asleep, a bucket of cold water would suddenly be poured over their heads. Or, even when the Ogres hadn't done anything, the Centaurs would use blunt arrows to practice target shooting on them.

Although results weren't immediately apparent, Richard firmly believed that such stimulation would definitely help induce awakenings.

The two awakened Ogres were familiar faces at High Mountain Keep, the oldest and most senior among the slaves, the Hum-Ha Duo.

Although Richard found their spells somewhat underwhelming, they were at least better than nothing.

The Hum-Ha Duo were very dependent on this short little person who always fed them dried meat. Richard easily recruited them into the system, turning them into two hero units.

He formally assigned them names: the one who mastered Stone Skin was called Hum, and the one who mastered Obscuring Mist was called Ha.

An uneducated common person's intelligence was typically around seven or eight points, while a human mage's was conservatively estimated at fifteen points or more. The system panel, however, showed the Hum-Ha Duo's intelligence as a pathetic two.

Besides patrolling, the barbarians and Centaurs had an additional task: taking the two clumsy behemoths around to attack unsuspecting bandits and level up as quickly as possible.

Lately, for some unknown reason, there had been an abnormal number of wandering bandits in the wilderness. Desperate outlaws with bloodshot eyes, ready to fight anyone they saw, were everywhere. Gunther had dissected their stomachs; apparently, they contained only grass seeds and tree roots.

Regardless, for High Mountain Keep, a small frontier outpost, to now have a full three-person spellcasting team, including the Kobolds, was an extravagantly over-the-top setup.

Only Nehru was utterly depressed. In the three-person team, there was a leader and a deputy leader, two official positions, leaving him as the sole common member.

The Voya Merchant Guild's caravan arrived at High Mountain Keep about ten days later, bringing the previously ordered Halfling cooks and white crystals. Richard noticed that the scale of their mercenary escort was several times larger than last time; they even had over a dozen elven archers with pointed ears.

Elven standards were always as breathtaking as their fees, and their presence could only mean the guild had spared no expense on their escort.

Annie didn't accompany the caravan this time, but One-Eyed Dragon, a mercenary who had stayed at High Mountain Keep for a while before, did.

Richard took the opportunity to chat with him while they were watering their horses. "Franz, long time no see."

One-Eyed Dragon was leaning casually against the carriage, bantering with his companions, when he saw Richard approach. He immediately straightened up and put on his hat. "Good day, my lord."

"Has something been happening in the wilderness lately? It seems a bit chaotic."

"The situation is indeed quite tense. A large bear-man tribe called Waning Moon suddenly moved south, thoroughly crushing the local smaller tribes. Now, everything's in a complete mess."

"Not just that," a young skirmisher next to him added. "A few days ago, natives went crazy and charged Corun City. But they were all so starved, they ran like Goblins and couldn't even move. The Three Lions Legion took them all down with two volleys of longbow fire."

"The Three Lions Legion should quickly drive out the bear-man tribe, Lord Richard. You don't need to worry about it," Franz said, nervously fiddling with the brim of his hat.

The skirmisher blinked at Richard, not understanding why an old mercenary like Franz was so respectful.

Not far away, at the foot of the hills, two figures cloaked in dark blue hooded robes passed by. They appeared to be over three blades tall and walked forward without looking back.

"Leader! Wait for me!" Following them was a short little person in a similar hooded robe, no more than one and a half blades tall. Their short legs couldn't keep up with the tall figures ahead.

This attire couldn't help but make one wonder. Franz and the skirmisher's gazes followed them until they disappeared around the corner.

Richard had no intention of satisfying their curiosity. He patted One-Eyed Dragon's shoulder. "Franz, go to the storeroom and get two barrels of ale to quench your thirst. Tell them I sent you."

"Who was that guy?" The skirmisher waited until Richard had walked far away before asking.

"Someone awesome you can't afford to provoke," Franz shrugged. "Come on, you brat, I'm buying you ale."

After the caravan left, Richard and his subordinates scoured the area where they had stopped.

Some traces were simply unavoidable. For example, a cart carrying coal, even if carefully covered with canvas, would inevitably leave behind some coal dust on the road.

"It's strange. Last time, Annie transported coal, and this time, they sent over a dozen elves to transport coal again." Richard tossed the coal dust on the ground and brushed the loose dirt from his hands. "I had no idea there was such a large market for this stuff in the wilderness. They definitely have a secret."

"Let's go after them and hit them up. We'll know everything then," Gunther said viciously, making a chopping motion with his hand.

When he was in charge, he was somewhat careful despite his rough exterior, but ever since joining High Mountain Keep, he seemed to be increasingly lazy about thinking, always wanting to charge in headfirst when faced with uncertainty.

Hert put his thumb and forefinger into his mouth. As soon as Richard nodded, he would immediately blow his whistle to summon his tribesmen.

"No need." Richard turned and walked towards the lord's hall, taking the opportunity to lectured the two warmongers. "Everyone has their secrets. It's enough for us to know that the Voya Merchant Guild isn't an enemy for now. There's no need to investigate what specific secrets they're hiding."

Hert and Gunther exchanged glances and both pouted. If anyone else had said that, it would have been fine, but where did their own lord get such confidence?

The current lord's hall was a relatively spacious dugout, and the new Halfling cooks were staying inside.

The fishing villagers had pulled out a lot of crabs from the river that morning. Richard had a basin of them marinated with soy sauce, chili, green onions, and ginger, which he placed on the hall's table, not having had time to eat them yet.

Most High Mountain Keep residents had no desire to try this uncooked, shell-clad food soaking in black liquid, but the Halflings were clearly an exception. These short, stocky individuals, who ate an average of six to eight meals a day, had the purest and most sincere love for good food. How could they object to trying it?

When the lord entered, he found several Halflings gathered in a circle, eating with loud smacking sounds.

"Is it good?"

As he spoke, he casually opened a wooden box on the table. Inside were four large, crystal-clear white crystal balls that the caravan had just delivered.

"Delicious!" A Halfling, smacking on a crab leg, gave him a thumbs-up. "My lord, this is the freshest and sweetest thing I've ever eaten."

Richard smiled kindly.

The Halflings' authority in matters of food was beyond doubt. He had initially worried that Pompeians might find this taste hard to accept, but now it seemed his worries were entirely superfluous.

Compared to Pompeii's relatively monotonous diet, the complex cuisines in his mind were also a treasure.

The lord had already planned it out—train a few Halfling chefs, and once the unrest in the wilderness subsided a bit, open a hotel in Corun City. With his unique culinary skills, those inbred nobles would be addicted like drug users. Kings and bishops alike would be miserable if they missed a day, crying and begging to throw money at him.

And he definitely wouldn't offer unlimited supply. He'd hold an auction for membership slots, charging fifty gold coins per person.

Wouldn't getting rich be completely within reach!

"Can... can I still eat?"

Habi the Halfling looked at his new boss, watching a silvery thread of drool trickle from the corner of his mouth.