Two days later, the trade caravan set off.
Nearly thirty carriages, over a hundred horses, and a team of about a hundred people majestically exited the city. Harald stood on the city wall, shaking his head with a displeased expression. These caravans originally would have set sail from his port, allowing him to collect a large amount of taxes. However, now with the port closed, everything is ruined. He could only make a profit from these merchants before letting them leave.
"Mr. Boris, what are you doing?" Laine noticed that Boris, the leader of the Blood Axe Mercenary Corps, along with a few injured members, were packing their things and leaving in another direction.
"Us?" Boris smiled awkwardly, "We probably can’t offer much help on the road anymore. Mr. Laine, I originally thought I could still contribute. But..." This update is available on novel fire.net
After speaking, Boris hesitated to continue. It was clear that his injuries from battling the Beastmen had not fully healed.
After the conversation, Laine learned that Boris planned to take the injured, including Banda, back to the Nord Royal Capital Frost City for recovery, with a few healthy mercenaries accompanying them for care.
"I understand, I wish you good luck." Laine understood him.
"Also, please tell Lady Trovik on our behalf that the Blood Axe Mercenary Corps owes them a debt in Jialan, which we have now repaid. In the future, we wish to have no further connection with them." Boris’s face was inscrutable, and he slowly diverted his gaze, looking at the road back, his voice tinged with sorrow: "The Jialan Council gave us a lot, but demanded even more from us; everything should end."
"Alright, I’ll convey your message." Laine said nothing further; casters offering gratitude in return for favor is nothing unusual. He merely watched as a few people left.
The Gray Blade Mercenary Corps, led by Billger, traveled at the forefront, with Billger himself riding a fast horse ahead of the team by half an hour. Next were the guards and the Blood Axe Mercenary Corps, followed by the merchants and the female sorcerer along with Laine and his group in the middle, with the rear being managed by guards and several wandering knights for flexible deployment.
They hadn’t left the town for long, yet the road was not easy to traverse. The wheels of the carriages constantly rolled over small stones and uneven edges on the roadside, causing pain to the teenage boy inside.
"Ahhhh! It hurts! It hurts!!!" The boy inside the carriage shouted in pain, with one arm wrapped in bandages and slung across his chest, clearly indicating an injury.
It was Banda from the Blood Axe Mercenary Corps. The little mercenary had been injured in the battle at the dock and could only rest inside the carriage now. Fortunately, it was not very serious, just a physical injury.
"Hey Simon, I heard that the Lord of Kaltenhaven held a banquet afterwards! Did you go?" Banda felt very dispirited, lying in his sickbed and repeatedly wondering if Lady Trovik would visit him, but the truth was the female sorcerer never showed up.
"I didn’t go. How could I have the chance? That’s a place for ’high-class people.’ How could we have the qualifications?" Simon shook his head, "However, both the leader and the deputy leader went. They said it was just a normal banquet."
"Yeah, the leader only came back the next morning." Banda looked at the cloudy, weather-beaten sky outside the carriage and sighed, "I was lucky enough to keep my life, but Hans, Riem, and Ballmer are already..."
The little mercenary remembered his fallen comrades from the mercenary corps; after the battle with the Beastmen, the number of the Blood Axe Mercenary Corps had dwindled from over fifty to just a little more than thirty, with twenty people leaving them forever.
"Actually... the leader said yesterday upon returning that he regretted it. He regretted taking Lady Trovik’s commission. We paid way too high a price." Simon checked his crossbow and applied sword oil to his dagger.
"By the way, has Lady Trovik..." Banda hesitated a bit but still asked.
"No, but that knight... well, Mr. Laine asked how your recovery was." Simon’s expression darkened when he mentioned Laine, thinking back to the inglorious incident at the dock where he was forced to apologize to the veteran.
The caravan continued moving, and this section of the road was temporarily safe.
"Looks like it’s going to snow again, with this weather." Laine, riding his tall horse Pinecone, could feel that the sky never seemed to clear up, and a certain worry loomed in his heart.
Yesterday, at the banquet, Villarld had told him some troubling news: the Northern Barbarians had once again assembled armies to march south in force.
This wasn’t the real problem, as the Nord people had, over the years, gotten used to constantly fighting with the Northern Barbarians.
What really concerned Laine was something Villarld had said.
"The walls of the Storm Fortress were found to have undergone some kind of mutation. In some areas of the wall that were frequently attacked, the guards discovered that the walls had grown eyes and tentacles, seemingly gaining self-awareness. The Justice Church believes this was caused by the long-term erosion of the flesh from those Chaos Cultists, so under the auspices of the Justice Church, the walls of the Storm Fortress will be burned and dismantled for rebuilding."
But coincidentally, at this moment, the Northern Barbarians launched an attack, and Laine felt there might be some connection to it.
Never mind, it was hard to think it through all at once. The man shook his head, casting out the chaotic thoughts from his mind, only to notice some snowflakes being flung off his hair.
It was snowing again.
"Oh, enlightened mentor, the weather has indeed been quite strange lately." Laine casually remarked to the Druid riding along the road.