Plan (5)

"It's the Flame Demon Curse."

Several orcs spoke in rough, hoarse voices, like tree bark grinding against tree bark. As they spoke, they approached the humans lying on the ground.

Roy's eyes appeared to be shut, but on closer inspection, a faint slit remained open. He sat slumped against the wall, watching the orcs' every move.

The pendant around his neck was actually a magical item. Forged by dwarves, then inscribed and enchanted by the archmages of the Northern Kingdoms, it protected him from curses.

In truth, Roy was doing quite well. Even in such blistering heat, his body remained normal, and he had barely broken a sweat.

But the little scoundrel still put on a dying act. First, he wanted to conceal the magical item in his possession. Second, his intuition told him that this Flame Demon Curse had come far too conveniently. Something was amiss.

He wanted to see what these orcs intended to do next and find the root of the problem.

"What do we do? We don't have a priest to save them."

He heard several orcs discussing it among themselves. For some reason, these green-skinned fellows had suddenly become incredibly loud, every sentence sounding as though it had been roared.

"Small ones are deceitful and cunning. I hate them, but we can't let them die in front of us."

The orc commander Gar's voice rumbled like thunder rolling across the land, making people's ears ache. "...Give them that."

"But the chieftain said that thing should not be revealed to outsiders if possible." Another orc named Orkash spoke, apparently unwilling, his words stiff.

"Forget it. What will these people remember after they wake up?"

Roy narrowed his eyes and saw the commander rudely cut off the dissenter. Amid the rustling sound of fur rubbing together, the orcs took out a waterskin from beneath their fur coverings, crouched beside the fallen humans, and fed them something to drink.

What was this?

Roy was not entirely sure. Keeping his guard up, he did not swallow when the orcs fed him water, instead holding it in his mouth.

Though he knew these fellows were unlikely to pull a trick like poisoning him, one could never be too careful.

Fortunately, the orcs seemed to treasure the liquor in the waterskin and were extremely frugal, giving each person only two small sips. If there had been any more, his cheeks would have puffed out, and he would not have been able to hide it.

After every fallen person had been fed, Roy saw Orkash put away the waterskin, wrap it back into the fur he wore, and even give it a pat before returning to the side to wait quietly.

The liquid was sweet, carrying a fruity fragrance and a coolness that made Roy want to swallow it despite himself. Yet he still forced himself to endure. At a time like this, he could not afford to let down his guard.

Fifteen minutes later, he heard several soft groans. The few drops of fruit pulp the orcs had fed them seemed filled with miraculous magic, reinvigorating the failing hearts of the fallen attendants and loosening their stiff limbs.

They squeezed strained, low cries from their throats, then slowly sat up and gradually regained the ability to move. Their bodies were still weak and in terrible condition, but they had at least escaped unconsciousness.

The curse had been lifted?

Roy's nerves twitched.

He was not some narrow-minded, ignorant orc. He knew that in Eladia, there were indeed many ways to lift the Flame Demon Curse without relying on a priest's dispelling spell. But those were all expensive, precious items or potions brimming with magic, not things these orcs could possibly obtain.

What had the orcs given them to drink?

With that thought, Roy finally swallowed the fruit pulp in his mouth.

It flowed down his throat and through his whole body as though it possessed life, carrying a lingering sweetness. Its cool breath slipped through his limbs, soothing away the exhaustion in his body and making him unable to resist perking up.

"My lord, forgive our incompetence..."

At that moment, his attendants forced their weak bodies to kneel before Roy. They lowered their heads in shame and begged his forgiveness.

For servants of the Brando Family, failing to protect their master was the greatest sin. They had merely taken a trip through the Duru Basin, yet they had failed to hold on and collapsed one after another.

If those orcs had harbored ill intentions, would Young Master Roy not have been like a sheep thrown into a tiger pack?

Ordinarily, Roy would have harshly rebuked them. But now, he had no mind for it. His thoughts raced as he considered something else.

Trade was not his main profession, but after so many years of dealing with countless races, coupled with his naturally quick and shrewd mind, Roy swiftly realized the enormous profit hidden within the fruit pulp the orcs had given them.

In the Northern Kingdoms, setting aside things such as magical potions and magical items—which were difficult even for him to get his hands on—ordinary people and minor nobles had no other recourse when afflicted by the Flame Demon Curse besides seeking help from priests.

As a result, whenever the dry season arrived, the churches of Kaki Territory were packed day after day. The farmers and stonemasons who died from the Flame Demon Curse were even more numerous than could be counted.

Yet now, he had discovered within the Stone Crow Clan a strange liquor that could directly dispel curses.

Moreover, even setting aside its value in lifting curses, its one-of-a-kind flavor alone would make it highly sought after throughout the Northern Kingdoms. There would be no need to worry about sales.

Investing in the green dragons was a long-term return. Before Green City defeated the Northern Kingdoms, the Brando Family's investment would be difficult to recoup. Kaki Territory was currently operating at a loss, and left with no alternative, his family had even resorted to cheating foreign merchants. But that was not a long-term solution.

Roy had to find a way to fill the funding gap.

It was right before his eyes.

This was a treasure waiting to be unearthed. Roy had not expected that although the orcs had failed to lead him to a true gold mine, they had delivered another surprise into his hands.

"Come on, fragile humans. This place seems terribly dangerous for you." By then, the orcs were already pulling them away.

Roy sank into thought, the matter of the gold mine long cast to the back of his mind. He tried hard to recall every word the orcs had said, refusing to miss even the smallest detail.

Judging from the information the orcs had inadvertently revealed during their conversation, the Stone Crow Clan should have been brewing this fruity liquor for a long time. They were merely restricted by an order from their chieftain, who was a wizard, and forbidden from revealing it to outsiders.

The chieftain?

This was an unimaginable resource, and Roy's ambition would not allow him to miss such an opportunity. "Perhaps... I should speak with that old fellow."

Sifu, the leader of the Stone Crow Clan—it was not so much that he was unwilling to deal with human merchant caravans as that Roy had deliberately avoided this wizard.

To be honest, he was deeply wary of the old fellow. When he had first entered the Stone Crow Clan, he had asked Anrien about the man's strength.

But Anrien's gaze had shifted uncertainly, and he had hemmed and hawed, saying that he could not accurately judge it either. Yet from that reaction alone, Roy knew the other man was definitely stronger than Anrien.

There was an old wizard of unfathomable depth within the Stone Crow Clan.

That was the true reason Roy had not dared do anything to this small tribe. If not for that old fellow, he would have long since subdued this pack of foolish orcs through forceful means.

If he wanted to negotiate with the old fellow, Roy would have to carefully prepare his words in his mind.