Chapter 18

Chapter 18

The sun rose, and the day grew warmer. Anci stirred from his slumber, roused by the sounds of birds and rustling leaves. Their crude makeshift tent was far from ideal, but it had served its purpose for the night.

“Can’t believe we traded the inn for this place,” Anci complained as he munched on yesterday’s bread.

Lansius sighed, thinking of the inn’s comfortable bed. “At least we had the roasted meat,” he said.

“Oh, that finely seasoned and juicy meat,” Anci said.

“So tender,” Lansius commented, and they shared a laugh.

“So, what’s your story with that blonde?” Anci asked, changing the subject.

Still groggy from his night watch, Lansius paused. “Felis? We barely know each other. Why do you ask?”

Anci stroked his chin. “Well, she’s not an ordinary girl, you know.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Mm . . . should I tell you, or should I not?” Anci teased.

“Forget it. I can always ask her myself.”

Lansius’s defiance made Anci laugh. Despite their differences, the two bonded easily. Anci, born Archibald, came from a family with a history of serving as squires. He told Lansius his grandfather had been a knight, but his father never earned the title. Anci himself barely made it as Sir Peter’s squire due to his imposing physique.

The sun continued to climb, but nobody entered or exited the manor. Nevertheless, the two continued their scouting mission. The area was remote, with only a handful of hamlets within a day’s journey, so the road was practically empty, with only the occasional birds flying and circling around.

Lansius fell asleep after breakfast while Anci kept watch for any signs of danger.

“Oi, oi . . .” called Anci.

Lansius wearily opened his eyes and crouched beside Anci. “What did you find?”

“A carriage.” Anci gestured in its direction.

Lansius looked toward the lone incoming carriage.

“Well?” Anci asked impatiently.

“Well, what? I don’t think that’s our reinforcement.”

Lansius had expected tens of men and several warhorses, especially considering the six gold coins he had given.

“Oh, that’s one of the slavers, all right.” Anci grinned wickedly.

Lansius squinted, trying to follow Anci’s train of thought. Meanwhile, Anci withdrew deeper inside their shelter and retrieved his broadsword.

“What are you going to do with that?

“Information gathering.” Anci laughed and strolled out in a relaxed manner.

“By the ageless.” Lansius scrambled to tie his sword to his belt, grabbed his bag, and hurriedly followed Anci. When he found him, Anci was already standing in the middle of the road, blocking the carriage. Though not particularly tall or big, he was muscular and as intimidating as a bear.

The two horse-drawn carriages stopped as they saw Anci blocking the road. The coachman looked at Anci wearily, and shouted, “What do you want?”

“Just some questions,” Anci said while shouldering his broadsword.

“Go on,” the coachman replied.

“Do you know anything about slave trade?”

That surprised everybody. Normally, a baronet could only muster a dozen men or two, while a knight would only have himself, his son, and his squire. Only a baron could command such a number.

However, Hugo didn’t let that fact bother him. “Why do you need to keep them there?”

The coachman looked like he might snigger at such a question, but Anci had slapped him once, which broke one of his front teeth and made his cheeks swell. “T-the slavers wanted to keep the price high. They keep the slaves there and only sell a few.”

“Isn’t slave trade legal? Why bother with hiding and smuggling?” Lansius found it hard to grasp.

“The goods bound to Feodosia are bad batches. The too old, too sick, crippled. They’re only good for the Eastern Kingdoms,” the man reluctantly explained. “The young, healthy, and those with skills, they command a high price. The purveyor will secure them before Feodosia’s slaver arrives.”

“And then sell them to who?” Hugo asked.

The man looked left and right before answering meekly, “Anyone with money. The barons, baronets, knights, even rich city folks.”

“In Midlandia?”

He nodded and added, “Also Rhomelia, Elandia, Nicopola . . .”

The smuggler’s answer triggered a murmur among the men. Many felt sickened that fellow Imperium subjects bought slaves.

“Lies! No men would take slaves under his household!” one of Hugo’s men said from behind, followed by a ruckus of support.

“The Eastern Kingdoms are human too, but they used slaves for everything,” the smuggler said and unintentionally silenced the place.

“All right, that’s enough. Anci, get the men to rest and arrange for scouts,” Hugo commanded.

Anci whistled and waved his hand. It was enough to direct the men outside.

At least they’re listening to command easily . . . but thirty against a hundred?

Lansius felt that victory was slipping away.

As the surrounding area was being emptied, Hugo asked the smuggler again, “Do you know anyone named Archie?”

“I never ask their names. It’s better that way . . . less guilt.”

Anci knelt beside the smuggler and whispered, “Try to remember.”

The man nodded fervently, out of fear. Hugo gave him Arte’s description, but the coachman shook his head.

“Are you the only one transporting slaves to this Den?” Lansius asked.

“Of course not. I’m merely a middleman. They got others as well.” Sensing the opportunity, he drove the point home. “I think your Archie friend must be with one of them.”

The interrogation gave no concrete evidence about the young lord’s whereabouts, but stopping wasn’t on their mind.

Hugo checked the knots on the man’s wrist, nodded to Anci, and strolled out. Afterward, Lansius approached the smuggler. “A female squire with fierce eyes. Have you seen one?”

The man hesitated for a moment. “I recall taking one into the Den, but she never opened her eyes.”

“What happened to her?” Lansius asked, his voice laced with a chilling edge.

The coachman swallowed hard, his eyes darting nervously between Anci and Lansius. “I don’t know. She had a bandage wrapped around her head. The men carried her both in and out. That’s all I know.”

Lansius let out a weighted sigh, leaving the coachman behind as a flurry of mixed emotions began to consume him.

It could be her . . .

The decision to follow Felis’s lead was starting to appear more justified. Instead of wandering aimlessly in Feodosia, he found himself in a place where the prospect of rescuing his friend seemed abruptly within grasp.