The day of departure for Lion City had arrived.

“Young Lord, we’ve finished loading all of the cargo,” said one of the servants.

There were three carts in total. The first for Lark’s personal use, while the rest were filled with products, servants, and guards.

Lark nodded, his eyes fixed on the second cart. It carried the kalrane stones, the main purpose of this expedition. Due to the limited time, they had only been able to fill one barrel with kalranes, but it should be enough for now. After all, the goal of this visit to Lion City was to assess the prices of goods and create connections with the merchants.

“Good work everyone.” Lark clapped his hands twice. “Board the carts.”

After everyone boarded the carts, the caravan started moving out. Sitting at the front, Lark had a clear view of the road ahead. He saw the soldiers running through the town, carrying their spears. Some of the residents were plucking Poison Clouds from the ground and filling their baskets.

It was a town bustling with life, which would have been impossible several months ago.

After surviving the winter without a single casualty and after being given ample food, jobs, and security, the residents of Blackstone Town had made visible strides in just a few months.

People no longer appeared to be on the brink of death, their bodies were no longer skin and bone.

“Old man,” said Lark. “How long will it take us to get to the city?”

The coachman slapped the reins. “Two days, if we don’t run into trouble along the way, Young Master.”

“Trouble?”

“Well.” The old man scratched his stubbly chin. “Unlike Blackstone Town, monsters sometimes appear near Lion City. I don’t really know why the area near the Endless Forest is free of monsters, but the other regions are far from peaceful. Once we reach the Galphea Forest near Lion City, there’ll be chance of monsters, you see.”

The coachman chuckled. “But don’t worry, Young Master. There’s a really low chance of that happening. Winter’s just ended, after all. The monsters don’t usually get active until the end of spring.”

This was one of the greatest mysteries of Blackstone Town for Lark. Other regions were so infested with monsters that it was impossible to travel safely without escorts. But Blackstone Town, although surrounded by a forest so big that it was called ‘endless,’ was free of such problems. Even the goblins living in the forest had never attacked the town.

The Prey River.

Lark looked at the river that flowed through the plains. Unlike Rile River, this was colossal, big enough for several ships to pass through side by side.

Lark frowned. As wide as it was, the river was drying up. He estimated the water was only as high as a man’s waist. With the current state of the river, Lark would have to modify his plan to use it to create an irrigation system for the western lands.

The coachman saw Lark’s frown as he looked over the water. He sighed. “I heard the locals used to fish in this area. But a year ago, the water in the river suddenly started drying up. Don’t know what caused it, but it’s quite hard to catch a fish nowadays. Stay all day and you might not even catch a single one.”

A year ago? It happened recently, huh? No wonder the merchant that used to live in the mansion didn’t mention it.

“Right when the river started drying up, the black famine hit the kingdom,” mumbled Lark. He looked up the sky and sighed. “No wonder everyone was dying of cold and hunger. I’m just glad no one died this winter.”

Silence fell between them. The caravan kept moving west, toward Lion City. They soon entered a small forest.

The coachman broke the silence. “Maybe the duke’s decision was right.” The old man smiled softly. “Sending the young master to this town was probably the best choice, after all.”

Seeing the old man sentimental, Lark asked, “What do you mean?” He leaned forward, his eyes gazing at the sea of trees.

“Forgive this old man for saying so, but you’ve changed a lot, Young Master,” said the coachman. The rattling of the carts as they passed through the root-blanketed ground served as background. “How should I say this? The young lord seems calmer and more composed after coming to this town. Back in Gryphon City, the young master was…” A total brat—the coachman did not dare say the words out.

“Is that so?” Lark shrugged. He opened a small pouch and took out some bread. “Want some?” The coachman shook his head. “This old man is still full. But thank you, Young Master.”

Lark stared at him. “Say, Gramps. You used to be a soldier, right?”

The coachman was startled by the question. He turned and faced the young master. “Keep your eyes on the road.” Lark chuckled.

The old man averted his gaze. “How did you know?”

“It’s obvious, Gramps. Those scars. Your trained movements. A normal servant wouldn’t move like that.” Lark sipped water from the flask. “So, why did you decide to work for the Marcus family? I’m pretty sure a veteran could have found a better job than a coachman.”

The coachman smiled at the noble’s insight. “Only Sir Gaston and the duke know of my past. I didn’t expect the young master would see through it. I guess this should be expected of someone with the blood of the Marcuses, huh?”

A wild boar appeared on the road in front of them. After seeing the caravan, it ran into the thickets, disappearing from sight. Birds chirped as a gentle breeze passed.

“The young master’s right. I used to be a soldier, you see. A soldier of the Marcus family. Just like other soldiers, I fought in many battles. The last one took several fingers off my hand.” The old man showed the young master what remained of his left hand. “And an arrow shot through my knee. I’m glad I’m able to walk now, but as for the battlefield… I had no choice but to quit being a soldier.”

The old man’s story was quite common, a fate frequently thrust upon soldiers and veterans alike.

“But I’ve sworn to devote my life to the duke. Even if this old man loses his limbs, I will continue serving my lord.”

Hearing the coachman’s story, Lark was curious about what his father was like. In the short time he had interacted with the butler, the servants, and the guards, Lark was sure that they were absolutely loyal to his father. There must be something about Duke Drakus Marcus that made everyone choose to stay regardless of the consequences.

Lark decided that, when given the chance, he would visit the duke. The cart halted.

Lark looked up to see that, on the road ahead, several figures wearing weird masks of leaves and vines stood and blocked the path. They were all holding weapons—axes, short swords, even shovels.

The coachman furrowed his brow. “Young Lord, please stay inside the cart.” The old man jumped down from the cart. Behind him, the guards quickly followed.

“Who are you?” said the coachman. He took out a whip as he surveyed the forest. The guards warily watched their surroundings.

“Leave the carts and everything inside, and we’ll spare your life!”

Lark raised an eyebrow. The trembling voice was a boy’s, probably younger than him. After a careful look, it was apparent that their limbs were thin like twigs, shaking as they held their weapons.

“A kid?” mumbled Clarkson, the Head of the Guards. He unsheathed his sword and the rest of the guards did the same.

The masked figures took a few steps back the moment the guards unsheathed their swords. Their legs kept wobbling, giving the impression that they could fall to the ground at any moment.

“D-Don’t be afraid!” shouted one of them. “We have the numbers on our side! We… We can win!”

“Arthus is right!”

“Yeah! Let’s go everyone!”

“Charge!”

Lark leaped off the cart, landing right in front of the guards and the coachman. “Young Master! It’s dangerous! Please go back inside!” shouted Clarkson.

“You might kill the kids,” he said to the guards. “All of you, stand back. I’ll handle this one.”

Lark pointed a finger to the ground. After a second, vines began to protrude, growing quickly, twining around the legs of the masked figures. Most of them stumbled to the ground, their weapons flying out of their hands. Those that managed to maintain their balance struggled desperately to escape the entanglement.

“What the hell is this?”

“It won’t come off! Damn it!”

Lark slowly approached the group. Seeing him, everyone struggled more fiercely to get out. “Who are you? And why did you attack us?” said Lark.

After receiving no response, he flicked a finger and a monster plant resembling a sunflower emerged from the ground. The monster made a hissing sound, its sharp teeth filled with silvery threads of saliva.

“Noooo!”

“Don’t eat us!”

Lark sighed.

They’re just a bunch of kids. But, why are they doing this? They should have known they wouldn’t be a match for my guards.

“Still not going to talk?” Lark shrugged. “Well?”

“Kill me! If you’re going to kill someone, then kill me!” the kid at the very front of the group shouted. He took off his mask, revealing an emaciated face. His cheeks were sunken, and black smudging encircled his eyes. His lips were crusted and dry. He was probably eleven or twelve, Lark guessed. “I’m the leader of this group! If you’re going to punish someone, punish me!”

The other masked figures sobbed quietly. These guys were nothing but a desperate group of kids.

Lark approached the leader. He stared straight into his eyes. “I can be lenient with kids. Depending on the reason, I may let you go. So, tell me. Why are you attacking us?”

The sunflower monster hissed and a thick thread of saliva dropped to the ground. Even the guards stood back warily from it.

Seeing the monster, the leader gulped. “I forced everyone to do this. If you are going to punish or kill someone, make it me!”

Lark clicked his tongue. “Answer the damn question.” The sunflower monster hissed.

The leader of the bandits once again swallowed. “We need food. The villagers… Everyone… They’re dying.”

Food, huh? They don’t seem to be lying. These guys are wasting away. They’ve probably not eaten anything decent for several weeks.

“How many people are in the village and how far is it?”

The leader did not reply. He simply bit his lip and shut his mouth.

Lark willed the sunflower monster to approach the masked figure on his left.

The leader, seeing this, shouted, “A hundred! There’s around a hundred people living in the village!”

The sunflower monster stopped in its tracks. The kid heaved a sigh of relief.

“How far is it?” said Lark. “This doesn’t make sense. Stealing food would have been easier if you brought adults with you.” Lark was sure by now that the masked figures around him were all kids.

“I can’t tell you where it is.” The kid’s gaze was still fierce, unyielding.

Lark sighed. He flicked a finger and the vines that were twined around the kid’s feet receded and went back to the ground.

With the group of attackers now free, the guards strode to the young master’s side. Lark signaled them to stop.

“If you were grown men, I would probably have killed several of you on the spot,” said Lark. “I’m a bit soft on kids, you see.” He turned to Clarkson. “Give these kids some food and water to drink.”

Everyone was stunned by the orders. “But—”

“Do it,” said Lark, firmly.

“Y-You’re feeding us?” said the leader in disbelief.

“It’s hard to talk with an empty stomach, right?” Lark grinned. “Eat. Drink. After that, I want to hear the full story.”