The caravan rolled into view, its procession of wagons draped in garish fabrics that fluttered like festival banners in the breeze.
The axles groaned under the weight of exotic goods.
The spices leaking their pungent scent into the air, crates of shimmering silks, and iron-bound casks that sloshed with liquor. It came to a halt before Areius's command post, the old wooden building they found when him and the scouting team first came here. Where the warlord conducted his dealings.
The armored men flanking the wagons moved with the precision of seasoned fighters, their breastplates polished to a deceptive shine that belied the nicks and scratches of hard use. One wagon, heavier and more fortified than the rest, bore a sigil of a golden scale painted in flaking gilt.
The Krags swarmed around the newcomers, their hulking forms outnumbering the merchants' escort three to one. Yet the guards didn't flinch. They stood tall, their faces impassive beneath sallet helms, hands resting on sword pommels with the ease of men who'd stared down worse odds. Their discipline reminded him of, does elite soldiers he saw on the TV, those with the quiet readiness of veterans who measured threats in heartbeats.
The lead merchant, a florid man in a velvet doublet stitched with silver thread, waved jovially. "Greetings, friends! We bring wares from the southern cities!"
He was tall and lean, early thirties by the look of him, with a carefully trimmed beard and oiled hair. His clothes screamed wealth, a stark contrast to Femi's ragged attire, crusted with dirt, and old blood. The merchant's fingers glittered with rings, each one a tiny proclamation: I have money and i am important.
With a theatrical flourish, the merchant gestured, summoning a dozen guards to flank him as he strode forward. Areius waited, his expression unreadable until the last moment, when it cracked into a smile that didn't touch his eyes. Goruk, having abandoned his post near Femi, loomed at his chieftain's side, along with a dozen other Krags whose scars and scowls spoke of countless battles.
When the two leaders met, they clasped hands in a grip that made the merchant's knuckles pale. Femi could only imagine the man's fingers grinding together. Behind them, the guards and Krags traded glares, tension thickening the air like storm clouds. Yet both Areius and the merchant, ignored the silent feud brewing at their backs.
Femi's snout couldn't help but frown, he was pissed. "If they didn't like each other, they should've kept them out," he grumbled, the rope wrapped around him as he shifted, was a good reminder of his on treatment.
"But if it's me, no hesitation then." He snorted. "Because I didn't come with an armored convoy, eh? I no blame you guys."
The irony wasn't lost on him. He'd been dragged into this camp half-dead, and the Krags had treated him like he hadn't been living with them. But these humans? They got smiles and handshakes.
Femi, could only sigh to the Krags attitude. Truly only the strong can survive here.
He tried to listen in on the conversation, but even with his big ears, from this height all he could manage was some few parts.
Too bad the language was another frustration. He'd never understood why he could comprehend the guttural growls of Krags and the chirping dialects of goblins, but human speech remained a tangled mess. He'd picked up fragments during his time in the merchants cage, but most of this conversation slipped past him like smoke.
"Victor, I'm glad to see you," Areius said, to the merchant.
"it's always a pleasure to speak with you, Areius ," the man replied, his wide smile never wavering.
Areius smiled back at him and then gestured behind him, to were the raided goods the Krags "acquired" was arranged for display. Which included stolen silks, cheap clothes, and crates of provisions, weapons and more.
"It's good of you to come all this way. You won't be disappointed with what we have for you," he told him.
Victor's eyes gleamed. "Truly, you never do. I always profit from your goods. That's why I brave the White Wilds to come here, even with its terrors." He sighed theatrically, as if recounting some grand tragedy.
"That may be why, i find dealing in such "exotic" goods so thrilling ," Victor then added with a chuckle.
"Well, then, I think you will be pleasantly surprised at what we have for you here. You should be able to sell it for quite the profit," Areius told him.
Femi's nose wrinkled. He understood the word "goods", well. the merchants that took him referred to him as that enough times for him to figure out what it meant.
The "goods" in question weren't just objects. Among the crates were people, the merchants and servants who'd refused to be taken in under Krag rule. His stomach turned.
"Ah, this place is brutal. No help for the defeated. Truly a jungle where the strongest live well." He said while sighing at the scene, contemplating life cruelty.
Victor, meanwhile, was practically salivating. "Yes, look at these wares! And those bodies, my clients will be very pleased." He dabbed his forehead with a silk handkerchief. "Let's get out of the sun, shall we? I've brought a list for barter. We'll inspect the items after." he suggested
As they turned to leave, Victor's gaze snagged on Femi. "What a surprise," he murmured, tilting his head. A Ratling was tied to a pole and was intently looking at him. "I didn't know you had a Ratling. To my knowledge they're quite rare in the north. Where' did you find him?"
Femi bared his teeth. "Abeg, remove your eyes from my body!"
"Haha, what a feisty creature, how much."Victor was amused and began to think of an adequate price for this strange ratling.
"That one was taken from the caravan we took, and unfortunately he has already been claimed by one of our warriors, so you know the rules." Areius said with a tone of finality.
Victor sighed, but his smile returned instantly. "Yes, yes. I know rules, well too bad. A pity really, may be I will be lucky next time."He waggled his fingers at Femi.
"Goodbye, Mr. Ratling."The merchant said while waving good bye to femi.
Femi's fur bristled. "This guy's head no normal,"he thought, watching the two of them walk back into the cabin.
Areius led him to the door and they entered together. The Krags and human guards took up position outside.
-------
Left behind, the Krags and human guards settled into a silent standoff. The Krags leaned on their weapons, eyes narrowed, while the merchants guards formed a defensive perimeter around the caravan, hands never straying far from their blades. The air hummed with hostility, thick enough to choke on.
Since everyone else seemed to be jobless and had nothing to do, Femi took this time to relax and meditate on his hunger and thirst, but he was exhausted and with out knowing he started to dose off.
As he was drifting off to sleep, he noticed a figure approaching. His eyelids snapped open, and the sleep that had been threatening to claim him vanished instantly.
"Oh wait, is that...?" he murmured, his eyes fixed intently on the figure.
As she drew closer, he realized it was indeed Vaga. She looked... better. Her body seemed to have regained some of its former vitality, and the shade of green had returned to her skin. Although her arm was still bandaged, and her legs were wrapped in dressings, she looked significantly better than she had when they arrived in camp two days ago.
"It's nice to see you're looking okay," he said, trying to sound casual. "I didn't see you visiting me anytime during the two days, so I was wondering whether you were dead. So What are you doing here?"
Varga huffed. "I was bedridden, so I wasn't able to come sooner. I was hurt worse than I thought." She crossed her arms. " But now that I'm up, I came to get you."
Femi blinked "Get me?" he repeated, confusion etched on his face. "I don't understand..."
The axe was already in motion.
Before he could finish, Vagra threw the axe, the rope split with a snap, and Femi plummeted, a yelp tearing from his throat, until Varga caught him mid-fall.
"Ah! That hurt my stomach!" he wheezed.
"Stop acting like a welp," she mocked, dropping him onto unsteady feet.
"Come with me, I'll get you food," she offered.
"Ah, wait, did you ask for Areius permission?" He asked, confused.
"The two days are over," she said flatly. "I don't need his permission to handle what's mine." Just come and get some food," she said firmly.
With that, she carried me off.
As they walked into the camp, Vaga told me about her recovery. She had been unconscious most of the time, but the old doctor in the camp had stitched her up and wrapped her injuries. She wasn't stable for a while, but she started feeling better on the evening of the first day, and regained her strength on the second day.
She also spoke of how she had heard about what was going on with him and wasn't pleased about it. But she had waited for the punishment to be over before taking action.
Then, as they reached their tents, she turned, her eyes locking onto his with sudden intensity.
"It will take a while before their meeting is over. So, we should use this time to eat and discuss something."
"Discuss what?" Femi asked, looking at her curiously.
"I've noticed a few things about you and I have questions." she said, voice low. "Answer truthfully."
Varga's eyes locked onto mine,Her emerald pupils dilated, a faint glow igniting in their depths
"Have you ever been to a dungeon?"
Femi's blood ran cold.
"Oh boy. They don't catch me," he thought, scrambling for a response.