Secrets

Lord wanted powerful evocation spells, like Fireball or Water Arrow, to sweep away enemy forces for him. But the Ogres had a very simple thought: they just didn't want to get beaten by the overseers.

If it was to avoid getting beaten, it was indeed hard to find anything more practical than Stone Skin and Obscuring Mist. In a way, they perfectly suited their immediate needs.

The successful awakening of the two Ogres liberated their long-suffering kin, and the Ogres returned to their old days of loafing around and waiting to die. However, at Lord's instruction, people would occasionally try to stimulate them in various ways.

For example, while they were wolfing down their food, several people would rush out, shouting and waving torches. Or, when the Ogres were sleeping soundly, a bucket of cold water would suddenly be dumped over their heads. Or, when the Ogres were doing absolutely nothing, the Centaurs would use blunt arrows to treat them as target practice.

Although no results could be seen in the short term, Richard firmly believed that this kind of stimulation would definitely help induce an awakening.

The two awakened Ogres were familiar faces at High Mountain Keep—the Hum-Ha Duo, the slaves who had been there the longest.

Although Richard felt that the spells they had mastered were too useless, they were still better than nothing.

The Hum-Ha Duo depended heavily on the little dwarf who always fed them jerky. Richard easily registered them into the system, turning them into two hero units.

He officially assigned them names. The one who had mastered Stone Skin was called Hum, while the one who had mastered Obscuring Mist was called Ha.

The intelligence of an ordinary uneducated person was around seven or eight points, while a human mage conservatively had at least fifteen. Yet the System Panel showed that the Hum-Ha Duo had a pitiful intelligence of two.

The Barbarians and Centaurs gained another task alongside their patrols: taking the two clumsy brutes around to attack shortsighted bandits and quickly raise their levels.

Recently, for some unknown reason, there had been an abnormal number of wandering bandits in the wilderness. Desperadoes with bloodshot eyes were attacking people everywhere. Gunther had dissected their stomachs, and supposedly found nothing inside but grass seeds and roots.

Regardless, for High Mountain Keep, a small Pioneering Territory, to have a full three-person spellcasting team among the Kobolds was already an extravagantly excessive setup.

Only Nehru was terribly depressed. The three-person team had one leader and one deputy leader—two official positions—and he was the only civilian member.

The Voya Merchant Guild's caravan arrived at High Mountain Keep over ten days later, bringing the previously ordered Halfling cooks and white crystals. Richard noticed that the number of mercenary guards was several times greater than last time. They even had more than a dozen sharp-eared Elven archers.

Elves had always been as suffocating as their fees, so their presence could only mean that the guild had spent heavily on security.

Annie had not accompanied the caravan this time, but the One-Eyed Dragon mercenary who had previously stayed at High Mountain Keep had come.

While they stopped to water their horses, Richard took the opportunity to make small talk with him. "Franz, long time no see."

The One-Eyed Dragon had been half leaning against a carriage, trading dirty jokes with his companions. When he saw Richard approach, he hurriedly straightened up and put on his hat. "Good day, my lord."

"Has something happened in the wilderness recently? It feels a little chaotic."

"The situation is indeed rather tense. A large Bearfolk tribe called the Waning Moon suddenly moved south and gave the local small tribes a brutal beating. Now everything is in complete chaos."

"That's not all. A few days ago, some natives even went berserk and attacked Corun City," a young skirmisher beside him added. "But every one of them was so hungry they looked like Goblins and could barely run. Two volleys from the Three Lions Legion's longbows knocked them all flat."

"The Three Lions Legion should drive out the Bearfolk tribe soon. Lord Richard, you needn't trouble yourself over it." Franz nervously pinched the brim of his hat.

The skirmisher blinked twice at Richard, unable to understand why an old mercenary like Franz was being so respectful.

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

"Squad leader! Wait for me!" A shorty in a matching hooded robe followed behind them. He was at most one and a half blades tall, and his two short legs simply could not catch up with the larger figures ahead.

Their attire inevitably invited speculation. Franz and the skirmisher watched them all the way until they disappeared around the bend.

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

"Who the hell was that?" the skirmisher asked only after Richard had walked a long way off.

"Someone you can't afford to offend." Franz shrugged. "Come on, you little bastard. I'm buying you some ale."

After the caravan left, Richard led his subordinates around the place where it had stopped and searched carefully.

Some traces were impossible to avoid. For example, even if the wagons carrying coal were carefully covered with canvas, they would inevitably leave a few bits of coal scattered along the road.

"How strange. Annie transported coal last time, and this time they're still transporting coal with more than a dozen Elves." Richard tossed the coal fragments onto the ground and dusted off his hands. "I didn't know this stuff had such a large market in the wilderness. They must be hiding something."

"We should catch up and hit them for a haul. Then we'll know everything." Gunther viciously made a downward chopping gesture with one hand.

When this guy had been in charge himself, he had been rough but careful. But ever since joining High Mountain Keep, he had grown increasingly disinclined to use his brain. Whenever he encountered a problem, he wanted to charge in and resolve it with brute force.

Hert stuck his thumb and forefinger into his mouth. As long as Richard nodded, he would immediately whistle to summon his people.

"No need." Richard turned and walked toward the Lord's Hall, taking the opportunity to lecture the two warmongers. "Everyone has their own secrets. We only need to know that the Voya Merchant Guild isn't an enemy for now. There's no need to investigate exactly what secret they're hiding."

Hert and Gunther exchanged a glance, then each curled his lips. If someone else had said that, they might have let it go. But where did their own lord get the confidence to say it?

The Lord's Hall was currently a fairly spacious Earth Dwelling, and the several newly arrived Halfling cooks were staying inside.

The residents who had gone fishing had pulled quite a few crabs from the river that morning. Richard had asked for a basin of them, pickled with Soy Sauce, chilies, scallions, and ginger. They sat on the table in the hall, and he had not yet had time to eat them.

Most of High Mountain Keep's residents had no desire to try food that had not been cooked, was soaked in black broth, and had terrifying shells. The Halflings were clearly an exception. These squat fellows, who ate six to eight meals a day on average, possessed the purest and most sincere love of good food. How could they refuse to give it a try?

When Lord entered, he happened to run into several Halflings sitting in a circle and eating with loud smacking noises.

"Is it good?"

As he spoke, he casually opened the wooden chest on the table. Inside were the four enormous white crystal balls the caravan had just delivered, as clear as water.

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

Richard smiled benevolently.

The Halflings' authority regarding food was beyond doubt. He had been worried that the Pompeians might have trouble accepting this flavor, but now it seemed his concerns had been completely unnecessary.

Compared with Pompeii's relatively monotonous diet, the complicated cuisines in his mind were also a form of wealth.

Lord had already made his plans—train several Halfling master chefs, and once the unrest in the wilderness had somewhat subsided, open a hotel in Corun City. With his unique culinary skills, wouldn't those nobles born of inbreeding become addicted like drug users? Kings and bishops alike would be unable to bear missing a meal, weeping and clamoring to bring him money.

He absolutely would not offer the food without limits. He would have to auction off membership slots too, charging fifty gold coins per person.

Wouldn't getting rich then be just around the corner?

"Can I... still eat?"

The Halfling Habi gazed at his new boss, helplessly watching a thin strand of silvery drool trail from the corner of his mouth.