Caravan

In Eladia, traveling merchants were hardly respected figures, especially human merchants. Some races even lumped some of them together with swindlers and thieves.

Merchants from the Northern Kingdoms wandered abroad for long periods, dealing day in and day out with dwarves, gnolls, and many other races. They were exceedingly sly and deceitful; the orcs even called them humans "with two mouths and three hands."

Two mouths because they were silver-tongued and skilled at deception; three hands because their hands were not clean, and they often did things like filching whatever was at hand and stealing chickens and dogs. To orcs, who honored their oaths and always kept their word, this was almost intolerable.

Then why did they allow merchants onto their territory?

Caesar could not make sense of it. He also knew little about the internal affairs of the Stone Crow Clan, so he could only remain hidden in the dense forest atop the mountain and continue watching.

"Oh, my dear Gar, you must understand that the last accident was not my fault. I thought you would never need me again."

The caravan leader looked no older than thirty. A necklace engraved with his family crest hung around his neck; his manner was elegant, and his features handsome. Yet his narrow gray eyes gave him a gloomy air, and he was thin as a pointed blade.

He sat atop that sturdy black packhorse. Though the weather was steadily growing hotter, he still wore a black woolen jacket over hardened leather armor, a sharp contrast to the bare-chested orcs. "I never thought you and I would meet again. What an honor, my friend. Whatever you need, just say the word."

"Food."

The leading orc spoke in a muffled voice. His name was Gar, captain of the hunting party and one of the clan's leaders. Of course, the old chieftain would not show himself for such a matter; Gar was fully in charge.

Gar looked at the humans behind the caravan leader, laughing and chatting among themselves, and barely restrained the urge to twist off their heads one by one. Ever since these damned merchants had played him for a fool last time, he had never wanted to see these smooth-talking bastards again.

"There's plenty of food."

The merchant squeezed his legs against the horse's belly and moved aside two spaces, gesturing for Gar to look at the packhorses laden with cargo behind him. "But Gar, what will you use to trade for it?"

"Furs, like before."

Furs were all the Stone Crow Clan had. Gar tilted his head to the right, and dozens of female orcs immediately came forward carrying great quantities of dried animal pelts.

"Ha, hides again."

The caravan leader clapped his hands. The sheen of oil on his nostrils gleamed brightly as he said with brisk generosity, "All right, Gar. I'm a merciful man. How could I refuse a friend's request? Let me think about how to give you a friendly price."

"How about this? I'll take a loss—ten jin of food for one jin of fur." The merchant's words immediately stirred a wave of whispers among the orcs.

"Ten jin."

Gar muttered, "Roy, that's too little..."

Beast pelts might be nothing worth mentioning in the jungle, but the orcs knew something of their value. In the human world, they were bona fide luxuries, sought after by countless nobles and easily sold out.

"It's not too little, my friend."

Roy looked at him earnestly. "Things aren't like they used to be. Your stuff isn't popular anymore. The dry season is almost here; even noble lords won't need it anymore. I'll have to go to great trouble to transport this stuff south before I can sell it."

"And—"

As he spoke, Roy's expression turned solemn. He urged his horse two steps forward and looked down at Gar. "Orc, do you know how expensive food is right now? The Northern Kingdoms are locked in a fierce war with Green City. There are thirty thousand mouths in the south waiting to be fed, and food cannot keep up with demand."

"Friend, I'm an honest merchant. I won't force anyone to buy or sell. If you're unwilling, I won't press you. Perhaps you can go to the Northern Kingdoms yourselves and take a look. Maybe you'll find a better buyer there."

Roy sneered inwardly. Other than him, Roy Brando, son of a count, what other traveling merchant had the means to cross the Wilds and trade with these stupid humanoid races?

And letting these orcs go to the Northern Kingdoms themselves was an even bigger joke. Compared to the Northern Kingdoms, the Stone Crow Clan was like insects hiding in the grass, liable to be crushed at any moment.

After mocking them inwardly, Roy gestured for the knight behind him to come forward and lifted his chin. "Go see what the goods are like."

The knight dismounted as ordered and strode over to the female orcs. Without the slightest courtesy, he picked up a beast pelt from the ground and ran his hand over it.

"Very rough. It was dried straight after being skinned, without any treatment. It even pricks the hand."

The knight spoke loudly, then raised the fur to his nose and sniffed it. Obvious disgust appeared on his face. "Mm... it wasn't skinned cleanly either. The smell of blood is strong."

"You see?"

Roy spread his hands toward Gar. "If I take this batch of goods, I'll still have to send it to the mill for several rounds of processing. And this stuff isn't light, either. One pelt can weigh seven—"

"Enough."

Gar cut him off, afraid that if he listened any longer, he would not be able to stop himself from tearing the man in front of him apart alive. Thinking of the tribe's dwindling food supplies, and the black dragon that had promised to guarantee their provisions, he almost forced the words through clenched teeth. "We'll trade!"

"Oh, I'm so angry."

On the mountaintop, Luna lay beside Caesar's ear, her little fists clenched tightly. "Aren't they orcs? Why don't they just rob these humans?"

"Rob them?"

Caesar's gaze lingered on the high-ranking knights clad in refined steel armor, and he smiled. "Could they win? Their opponents aren't helpless people with no ability to fight back."

Not to mention that there was a priest in the group, merely judging by the aura and bloody stench surrounding these people, one could tell that they might be merchants today and become bandits or mercenaries who killed without blinking tomorrow—in ungoverned Eladia, people were more or less like that.

"Not even with you?" Luna asked.

"Perhaps."

Caesar nodded, then shook his head. "But that caravan leader may be a noble of no small standing. Even if they successfully robbed and killed them, the Stone Crow Clan would then have to face humanity's endless campaigns of retribution."

He stared at the necklace hanging around Roy's neck. Though he could not make out the meaning of the design carved into it, it was obvious that the necklace was worth a great deal and made of exceedingly expensive materials.

Even if an ordinary merchant possessed such a treasure, he would never wear it openly around his neck and swagger about with it on display.

"Without power strong enough to disregard the rules, there will inevitably be concerns on every front."

Caesar sighed. This was precisely why the Stone Crow Clan had been threatened by him to the point where they had not dared make a move.

Yet watching the orcs' actions, he still found it somewhat puzzling. "What I don't understand is why, after being oppressed to this extent, they still insist on trading humans for food."

"You don't know?"

Luna looked at him in surprise, wearing an expression that said, I don't believe you. "Because of you!"