Caravan

Baron Todd nodded, indicating that he understood.

The truth was indeed so. The Red Dragon before him was beneath resorting to deception.

As the disregarded thirteenth son of the family, he had angered his father by meddling with power at North Wind Fortress and had been granted the remote Sigg Town as his fief.

Rather than a grant, it was more like exile.

This sparsely populated town bordering the Storm Highlands had insufficient military strength. Should it face any outside invasion, whether from giants or True Dragons, it would spell his utter doom.

He might as well seek out the stronger outsiders nearby, using them to preserve his own authority and expand his power. Then, when the chance arose, he could break free of their control, compete with his brothers, and win his father's favor.

With that thought, Todd said ingratiatingly, "Thank you for your sincerity, Lord Flying Flame. I am delighted that we can cooperate with you—the great Red Dragon."

Keosius gave a slight nod. "Baron, please remember this well: recognizing Ember Nest's complete sovereignty over the Storm Highlands and compensating us for your rash conduct are the prerequisites and foundation of our cooperation."

Todd said, "I will keep it in mind."

A hint of mockery entered Keosius's voice. "Then please return to the Baron's Manor with your loyal subordinate. I hope to see what I want tomorrow."

"Yes, Lord Flying Flame."

Baron Todd looked at Hart in the distance. His hatred for Hart's betrayal was buried deep in his eyes, nearly impossible to suppress.

But when he thought of the Red Dragon before him, he did not dare fly into a rage at once. He could only force a stiff, insincere smile onto his pale face.

Seeing this, Hart broke out in beads of sweat.

But then he thought of how the Red Dragon now had his back. Not only was his life safe, but he would even serve as Ember Nest's spy to keep the Baron in check. With that, he returned a provocative smile.

"Let us go, Baron."

Hart practically ground his teeth as he spoke the final words.

Keosius watched the two men, each nursing hatred and hidden schemes, leave side by side. A perverse sense of satisfaction rose within him.

The conditions he had proposed appeared "equal," but they were in fact ill-intentioned. Todd likely saw that much as well, but he had no room to refuse.

Station troops and take charge of trade.

Once military and financial power in a region were both in Keosius's hands, Baron Todd would be nothing more than a puppet. And in Keosius's plans, once the players descended, even the Baron would become dispensable and be replaced.

The Red Dragon watched Baron Todd's thin back.

After signing the contract, this Baron had not become his thrall.

That was because he was a Vampire Spawn—a greedy creation filled with a vampire's thirst for blood, while also being controlled by the vampire who created him.

When a vampire performed the evil Ascension Ritual and became an ascended vampire immune to sunlight, all its Spawn would become sacrifices and dissolve into bloody water.

However, if a vampire permitted its Spawn to drink its blood, the Spawn would become a true vampire, no longer controlled by its creator. Of course, very few vampires would do such a thing.

In the vampire-related quests of his previous life, Duke Brad had ultimately performed the Ascension Ritual. Fortunately, the players stopped him. Hundreds of them stormed the castle's underground chambers and blasted the place apart, resolving the crisis.

"Tsk, tsk."

"A Vampire Spawn trying to win its master's favor."

"What a pitiful creature."

Keosius's pupils flickered faintly in the darkness before vanishing.

The next morning.

A fairly large caravan loaded with goods departed Sigg Town.

The townsfolk were already accustomed to caravans. Although the guards of this particular caravan wore heavy armor that concealed their faces, draped themselves in black cloaks, and were inexplicably tall, its leader was Hart, whom the townsfolk knew well and who had not appeared for several days.

Since Hart was leading it, it had to be the Baron's order.

And coveting the treasures of this "Bloody Baron" was undoubtedly foolish.

Thus, the townsfolk hurriedly restrained their curious children and deliberately looked the other way, afraid of being seized and made into slaves worked to death.

Hart rode in the middle of the convoy.

The tall guards marched on either side, breathing heavily.

Hart could not see their faces, but since they were Ember Nest's troops, he could roughly guess that they were Hobgoblins or Bugbears. Yet he was not overly alarmed. These monsters were precisely what ensured his survival.

After returning to the Baron's Manor last night, the enraged Baron Todd had threatened him repeatedly and even hurled vicious curses at him. Yet in the end, he had not dared harm Hart's life, allowing Hart to see through the Baron's bluster.

Baron Todd did not dare anger the Red Dragon.

That was Hart's conclusion.

The caravan carried armor, weapons, and a full twenty incomparably precious Magic Scrolls. That was enough to reveal Baron Todd's eagerness to please.

Rather than a trade, it was more like a tribute.

"Haa..."

Anzeta's winters were just this cold. Hart exhaled a plume of white breath and could not help wrapping his thick fur clothing tighter around himself.

Snow continued to fall. The heavily laden wagons left deep ruts in the vast white snow, while the sizable caravan became a trail of black dots amid the snowfield.

"Awooo—"

A strange sound came from a snow-covered hillside.

It was long and shrill, like some mournful wail.

The guards transporting the goods took it for the wind and paid it little attention.

But Hart was experienced. He listened carefully for a moment, then immediately became alert.

"Stay on guard! That isn't the sound of the wind!" Hart shouted.

Several white-furred figures moved like ghosts through the snow-covered landscape on the distant hillside. They charged toward the caravan, releasing terrifying howls like cries of grief.

"Yetis!"

Hart recognized the monsters at a glance.

These burly creatures strode proudly across high mountain peaks, constantly hunting for food.

Even amid blizzards, Yetis would cross bitter cold and wind-driven snow when lured by the scent of prey.

Hart inwardly cursed his luck. Encountering Yetis in a snowstorm could not have been worse; one careless mistake could lead to their entire force being wiped out.

He instinctively wanted to call for the caravan to flee, only to see those "guards" pull away the black cloth covering their bodies.

These "guards" stood nearly two meters tall, large and powerful. Fangs protruded from their mouths, while their muddy yellow eyes burned with battle lust and thirst for blood. Their crimson skin stood out sharply against the snow, even covered in sparse scales.

—They were Hobgoblins.

They were Dolo's most elite troops.

"Almost forgot. We're all monsters on this side too."

Hart stared in astonishment and muttered to himself.