A Mage Reborn: Legacy of the Fallen Emperor
Chapter 75: A Cry for Help

Chapter 75: Chapter 75: A Cry for Help

"Ghk!"

"Are you alright?"

"Ugh... My gut... it’s killing me."

"Water..."

"Hey! Stay with me!"

The scene was gruesome. Bodies, delirious with pain, sprawled amongst the dense undergrowth. The air hung heavy with the groans of those clutching their bellies. Su moved through them, a picture of concern.

"How long until the physicians get here?"

"Gods... Who knows? They left on foot. Should be here sometime tomorrow, right? Assuming they don’t get lost."

Su’s ears perked up, catching snippets of conversation. If the physicians arrived tomorrow, treatment would follow, and the journey would resume. Slowed, certainly, by the loss of able bodies, but they would reach Mereloff eventually.

Tch.

Su’s gaze swept down the ridge, a low murmur escaping their lips.

"Which is closer? Mereloff, or Hawan Kingdom?"

A man, slick with cold sweat, answered, voice strained. He seemed to be talking to distract himself from the agony.

"We haven’t come far. Hawan’s closer."

"And the road to Mereloff’s treacherous. Hawan’s mostly flat, isn’t it? ’Til you hit the mountains, at least."

"Then the physicians from Hawan Kingdom will get here first."

"Don’t trust those damn quacks, though."

"Too many of those wandering folk, for sure. Still, it’s a proper kingdom. They wouldn’t just let a healthy man die, would they?"

"Gods... I just want to go home. Need to be in my own bed for a few days. Not lying here on the mountain, covered in dew."

A collective sigh of exhaustion rippled through the group. Su, ignoring them, approached the cauldron and pretended to stoke the fire. A quick glance around, then they discreetly sprinkled in a dose of yellow scorpion venom.

Just enough to make ’em wish they were dead. Not enough to actually kill ’em. Almost feel bad... almost.

Yellow scorpion venom was known for intense abdominal pain. A lethal dose was fatal, but diluted in this massive cauldron, it wouldn’t be a problem.

"Hey, could I get some warm water?"

"Of course. Just a moment. I’ll let it cool first."

Su turned, a bright smile plastered on their face. Then, they flitted among the patients, radiating an aura of saintly compassion.

"Is she with the caravan? Blessing at least someone’s unharmed."

"Right. If it weren’t for those who skipped that cursed dinner, we’d all be dead."

Su wiped their brow, chuckling.

Damn it, if I get out of this, I swear I’m never leaving the desert again.

Inner thoughts might not match the outward appearance, but Su was nothing if not dedicated to the role.

Now, when the physicians from Hawan Kingdom arrived, a little subtle persuasion should send them packing.

"Hey. Hold it."

As Su was about to fetch the water, a hand clamped down on their wrist. The caravan’s Deputy Leader. He seized Su’s hand, turning it over, examining it.

"What the, hell..."

Su was so startled, the curse died in their throat. The man frowned, suspicion confirmed.

"These aren’t ordinary hands."

"What? They’re not that big!"

"It’s not the size. Calluses on your knuckles and palms. The kind you get from throwing punches."

Su’s feigned surprise vanished, replaced by a glare. The Deputy Leader glanced pointedly at Su’s inner pocket, voice low, threatening.

"Make it easy on yourself. Hand over whatever you just put in your pocket."

"You’ve got way too much time on your hands, spying on me."

Only a single cart stood between them and the rest of the camp. A shout would definitely alert the others. Su ground their teeth.

"You’re really killing the mood for someone who’s been helping everyone."

Su’s smirk was unsettling. The Deputy Leader drew a dagger, intending to intimidate.

"...You little shit, who the hell are you?"

Thwack!

Su’s fist shot out, connecting with the Deputy Leader’s jaw. He crumpled, unconscious. Just then, several people, clutching their aching bellies, stumbled around the cart.

"What happened?"

"Heard something break..."

"Uh..."

They stared, bewildered, at the unconscious Deputy Leader and Su. Clearly, they couldn’t grasp what had just happened.

Then...

Rustle!

A noise from the bushes, followed by a figure emerging. A stranger, hooded, panting, clearly exhausted from a long trek.

"...What’s going on here?"

"Where are we? Damn it!"

The stranger, a woman, pushed back her hood. Su’s eyes widened in recognition, and they screamed.

"Aaaah! Bandits!"

"What?! Bandits?"

"Damn it! Weapons!"

"Wait, hold on! Listen!"

The cry of "bandits" spurred the ailing caravan guards into action. They staggered to their feet, drawing swords. Barely able to stand, but the threat of bandits left them no choice.

The woman retreated, a look of utter disbelief on her face.

"Hey! Why are you calling us bandits? We’re investigators from the Imperial-"

They were the central investigation team, searching for Mary and Chel’s bodies. Su, recognizing Erica’s face, had acted swiftly. Simultaneously, they knocked over the cauldron, dousing the fire.

Hiss!

Clang! Crash!

"Aaaah! Kill them! Kill them!"

"What the hell?! Damn it!"

"Fire! We need a fire!"

A chaotic battle erupted in the mountain darkness. Swords clashed blindly. Su scrambled up a tree, watching the bloody melee unfold.

Half dead, half fled... hmm. Whether it’s Hawan or Mereloff, this should all be wrapped up before any doctors arrive.

Spreading the rumor about bandits had been effortless. A stroke of genius, really. Su mentally patted themself on the back. With any luck, they’d be back in the desert by tomorrow.

"This can’t be..."

Count Mereloff was speechless. He had anticipated setbacks, but nothing like this.

The physicians he’d dispatched a week prior returned, bringing with them a paltry three patients.

The grand, imposing caravan that the people of Mereloff had so desperately awaited was nowhere to be found—vanished without a trace.

The Count’s gaze darted around, a mixture of confusion and disbelief etched on his face.

"Where are the others?"

"My Lord. It appears... there were bandits."

"What utter nonsense is this?!"

"When we arrived with the guide, they’d already been attacked. Bodies scattered everywhere. We managed to find some survivors further towards Hawan Kingdom, thankfully. They say they were ambushed and dispersed."

"And? Get to the point!"

"The Caravan Leader was severely injured. He returned to Hawan Kingdom, as it was closer. We brought back only those few survivors who were dependent on the caravan."

The caravan’s proximity to Hawan had become the crux of the problem. And since it was the route they’d taken, they were familiar with the terrain.

Mereloff was a border territory of Bariel, while Hawan Kingdom was a large city in its own right. They’d deemed it the most suitable place to regroup.

"Aaarrgh!"

Count Mereloff roared, a sound rarely made. A thin, wiry man, not given to outbursts, but this was catastrophic.

"Damn it all! Damn it! Why did they have to eat that wretched slop! Imbeciles!"

Crash!

Mereloff swept the clutter from the table in a fit of rage. The physicians, weary from their week-long ordeal, recoiled, drenched in cold sweat. They were intimately familiar with Mereloff’s predicament. The territory’s inhabitants would soon be destitute, nothing to eat.

"W-We’ll take our leave."

"Excuse us, my Lord."

Slam!

The physicians scrambled out, each vying to be the first to escape. Mereloff pressed a hand to his forehead, sinking into silence.

"...Steward."

"Yes, my Lord?"

"The price in Sheiron, again?"

Sheiron was a city to the northwest of Mereloff. Unlike Mereloff, which relied on border trade, Sheiron was a flourishing hub of commerce.

But there was a significant obstacle...

"A few days ago, my Lord, a sack of wheat was trading for six silver coins."

The disparity in economic power was stark. Mereloff was a frontier territory, while Sheiron was a major city, second only to the central region of Bariel in prosperity.

In Mereloff, a sack of wheat could be purchased for three silver coins. In Sheiron, it cost twice as much. And that was days ago. Who knew the price now, with the added complication of bandit activity?

"If we were to depart immediately...?"

"I estimate approximately nine days, my Lord."

The mountain range, the very one the caravan had traversed, was the culprit. It encircled Mereloff and extended northwest, a formidable natural defense, but one that demanded a heavy toll. A mere fortnight’s journey to the central region...

"We have no choice. Dispatch a party."

"What budget, my Lord?"

"Accept applications from those in need of provisions. From that list, we shall assemble a trading expedition."

Of course, these provisions wouldn’t be free.

A shrinking population would harm the territory in the long run. Each individual represented a unit of productivity. The standard practice was to provide aid to prevent starvation now, then recoup the cost through increased taxes during the harvest.

"My Lord, a concern."

"Speak."

The Count glared, irritation lacing his tone.

"Reaching Sheiron is one matter, but the return journey is another. The temperature is lower there; snow falls earlier. Crossing the snow-covered pass with such a heavy load... I fear it may be impossible."

"And? Your point?"

Even the experienced caravan had succumbed to unforeseen food poisoning and bandits. It was highly questionable whether the inhabitants of this territory, born and raised here, could successfully navigate such an arduous journey.

"Might I suggest requesting aid from Bratz?"

"What?"

"The road to Hawan Kingdom is, for all intents and purposes, impassable due to the bandit activity. At least until we receive word that the kingdom has eradicated them."

"Steward, I am aware of that. That is precisely why I propose going to Sheiron, is it not?"

"Bratz is said to be cultivating Gulla as a food source. Reportedly quite filling, even in small quantities. Perhaps we could acquire some in the interim..."

The steward’s voice trailed off, silenced by Count Mereloff’s withering glare. One more word, and he would be dismissed.

"Purchase weeds? With our coin?"

"...It would be far less expensive, my Lord."

"Enough. I believed you to be a man of reason, but you are clearly a fool. How can we serve something that even pigs and dogs refuse?!"

"My apologies, my Lord."

"Find out the current prices in Sheiron. Immediately."

The steward bowed his head and exited. Count Mereloff’s actions were not entirely unreasonable, all things considered. It was simply that the situation was far graver than he had anticipated.

Creak.

...Can’t be helped.

Once again, if the master would not act, the servant must.

He returned to his chambers, retrieving parchment and quill. And after a long moment of contemplation, he dipped the pen in ink and began to write.