As night fell, the bonfires in Blackrock Spire gradually flared up, and the laughter of the greenskins drifted from the square, mingling with the sounds of finger-guessing games from the tavern.
Kurzadh carried a string of sizzling squig barbecue, and in his other hand, a pot of freshly brewed green mushroom wine. His steps were light as he headed toward the thatch hut where Antonio was imprisoned—it was a secluded little wooden hut, originally meant for hobgoblin scouts, but it was tidy after being cleaned up. Two hobgoblin spearmen guarded the entrance, and upon seeing Kurzadh, they immediately stopped roughhousing and bowed.
Pusing the door open, the light inside the hut was dim; only a small oil lamp was lit, illuminating Antonio's pale face.
He lay on the bed, his eyes fixed on the thatched roof, his gaze hollow. He exuded a sense of utter despair, not even reacting to Kurzadh entering the room.
Kurzadh walked to the bedside, placed the squig barbecue on the small wooden table at the head of the bed, and set the wine pot beside it, making a slight noise.
Only then did Antonio slowly turn his head and glance at the items on the table—the golden-brown roasted squig meat was still dripping oil, emitting a rich aroma; the pot of green mushroom wine was wooden, carved with simple patterns, giving off a rugged feel.
But he only took one look before turning his head away again, saying hoarsely, "Thank you... I don't have an appetite."
Kurzadh said nothing, settling down on the edge of the bed. He picked up a skewer of squig barbecue and took a bite. The crispy skin wrapped around the tender meat juices, and the aroma instantly filled his mouth.
As he chewed, his gaze rested on Antonio—the youth was only fifteen or sixteen, an age when he should be studying and riding horses in a noble manor. Yet, due to family infighting, he nearly lost his life, and now, captured by greenskins , his despair was imaginable.
Kurzadh recalled his own past life experiences, having also been betrayed by someone he trusted. He understood that chilling feeling deep in the heart all too well.
He swallowed the meat and spoke in a steady voice, without the usual gruffness of greenskins , instead carrying a rare gentleness: "It doesn't feel good to be stabbed in the back by the person closest to you, does it?"
Antonio's body stiffened abruptly. His fingers unconsciously clenched the straw mat beneath him, and his eyes instantly reddened.
He didn't speak, but tears slid from the corners of his eyes, soaking the thatch on his pillow.
"Anyone who is schemed against by their own brother and forced to jump off a cliff would feel pain," Kurzadh continued. He didn't say "Don't be sad," nor did he preach grand principles. He's done this countless times as Henry when recruiting new gang members.
He simply squatted down, meeting the gaze of Antonio lying on the bed. "This pain isn't fake or being overly sensitive; it's genuine, like having a piece of flesh gouged out of your heart."
This sentence was like a key, instantly opening the floodgates of Antonio's emotions.
He couldn't hold back any longer. His shoulders trembled slightly, and tears flowed faster, but he bit his lip hard, refusing to cry out—even in this desperate situation, his inherent noble pride wouldn't allow him to lose control in front of a group of greenskins .
Kurzadh sighed inwardly as he watched him desperately hold back his tears, and continued, "You don't need to feel like you weren't good enough, which is why your father ignored you and your brother schemed against you. They failed in their duty as family.
It was your third brother who threw away brotherly affection for a title; it was your father who only saw family interests and disregarded the life of his own son. The fault lies with them, not you."
Antonio suddenly turned his head, his azure eyes filled with shock, as if this was the first time anyone had ever said such a thing to him.
Growing up, he had grown used to hearing things like, "If you worked harder, Father would like you," and "If you knew how to please people like your third brother, you wouldn't have been sent away to manage the trade route." Even he himself had come to believe that he wasn't good enough, which was why he ended up in this situation.
But now, this greenskin chieftain was telling him that the fault was not his.
"Is... is it really not my fault?" Antonio's voice was tearful, tinged with disbelief.
"Of course not." Kurzadh nodded definitively, his tone resolute. "It's not your fault that your mother's family declined, and it's not your fault that you're not good at pleasing your father. They used you as a stepping Kurzadh for their own interests. They are the bad ones, not you."
Antonio's tears flowed even harder, but he no longer held them back, finally sobbing out loud.
The grievances, fear, and anger suppressed for days erupted completely at this moment.
Kurzadh did not interrupt him. He simply sat beside him, quietly keeping him company, slowly munching on the half-eaten skewer of squig barbecue in his hand.
After crying for quite a while, Antonio gradually calmed down. He wiped his tears with his sleeve, the hollowness in his eyes diminishing, replaced by a degree of clarity.
He looked at Kurzadh and whispered, "Thank you... no one has ever told me these things."
"It's okay to be sad, but don't get trapped in that sadness." Kurzadh handed him the squig barbecue. "You are only fifteen or sixteen; you have a long life ahead of you. You deserve to partner with warmer people and deserve a better life, not to be confined to that cold place, the Earl of Coventry's mansion, and be treated as a disposable pawn."
Antonio took the barbecue but didn't eat it immediately; he just held it tightly in his hand.
He looked at the golden-brown roasted meat skewer, and his gaze gradually changed—from initial despair, to later grievance, and now, subtly revealing a hint of defiance.
He thought of his third brother's hypocritical smile, his father's disappointed gaze, and the expressions of his older brothers and sisters when they privately mocked him as "the son of a fallen noble." A surge of unprecedented anger rose from his heart.
"I don't want to be like this anymore..." Antonio's voice was soft, but firm. "I don't want to be looked down upon by them, and I don't want to flee like a stray dog either..."
Kurzadh's eyes lit up. He knew his words had taken effect.
He put down the wine pot, leaned forward slightly, and his tone became somewhat inflammatory: "You don't want to be looked down upon? Then let them see that you are the most capable person to inherit the title in the Earl of Coventry's mansion! Make those who schemed against you, and those who neglected you, all have to look up to you in the future!"
"But... I have nothing." Antonio's eyes, which had just brightened, quickly dimmed again. He gave a bitter laugh. "I don't have the influence my third brother has, I don't have my father's favor, and even my trade caravan was bought off... What do I have to fight them with?"
Watching Antonio's dejected look, a knowing smile curled on Kurzadh's lips—he had finally reached the point he wanted.
He raised his hand and patted Antonio's shoulder, saying easily, "You don't, but I do."
Antonio abruptly looked up at Kurzadh, his eyes full of confusion.
"You know about Katushir Hold, right?" Kurzadh asked. Antonio nodded—Katushir Hold was a neutral princely fiefdom, situated between several major powers. Its commerce was developed, and it was not governed by any kingdom, meaning anyone with ability could obtain a noble title there.
"You can go to Katushir Hold and start there by acquiring a noble title first," Kurzadh said slowly. "Katushir is a neutral zone, so it won't hinder you from returning to Prince Patton's Fiefdom later to contend for the Earl of Coventry's title. Instead, it can provide you with assistance—with a noble title, you'll have three times more authority when speaking in Prince Patton's Fiefdom."
Antonio's breathing instantly quickened, and a light reignited in his eyes.
He had thought about escaping Prince Patton's Fiefdom, but he had never imagined he could stage a comeback in this way.
"I can help you." Kurzadh continued to dangle the bait. "The capital you need to start trading in Katushir, I will provide—I confiscated a lot of gold coins and jewels from the slaver Squad we ambushed earlier.
Greenskins don't use these things, so they're just gathering dust in the warehouse. The connections you need, I can also help you establish—I can contact the greenskin tribes in Katushir Hold, as well as some human merchants."
Antonio was completely stunned. He looked at Kurzadh's greenskin, at those eyes that held calculation yet were not without sincerity, and his heart was filled with doubt—there was no such thing as a free lunch. Why would this greenskin Chieftain help him?
"What do you want?" Antonio asked calmly, not letting joy cloud his judgment.
He knew very well that the greenskin Chieftain before him would never help a captive for no reason.
Kurzadh laughed, thinking the young man was quite clever.
He picked up the wine pot, poured himself a cup of green mushroom wine, took a sip, and then slowly said, "It's simple. After you establish your merchant guild in Katushir Hold, that guild must serve my Blackrock Province—you must prioritize supplying the iron ore, weapons, and grain I need.
If I need to understand the intelligence regarding Prince Patton's Fiefdom, you must pass it to me promptly. Our agreement will only conclude once you successfully inherit the Earl of Coventry's title."
These conditions were not harsh; they could even be called fair.
Antonio calculated in his mind—he needed capital and assistance, and Kurzadh needed supplies and intelligence. It was a win-win situation for both parties.
Furthermore, he was fundamentally a person who repaid kindness. Since Kurzadh was helping him so significantly, it was only right that he served the Blackrock Clan for a few years.
Antonio tightened his grip on the squig barbecue in his hand, his eyes growing resolute. He looked at Kurzadh and nodded solemnly: "I agree! As long as you help me stage my comeback, my merchant guild will definitely prioritize serving you!"
"Good! That's decisive!" Kurzadh burst out laughing, picking up a skewer of squig barbecue and handing it to Antonio. "Here, try our greenskin barbecue. Paired with this green mushroom wine, it's incredible!"
Antonio accepted the barbecue and took a bite—crispy skin, tender meat, with a faint taste of spices. It was even more delicious than the roasted meat he had eaten in the Earl's mansion.
He then took the cup Kurzadh offered and drank a mouthful of green mushroom wine. The sweet taste carried a slight bitterness, and after swallowing it, his whole body warmed up.
The two sat by the bed, eating squig barbecue and drinking green mushroom wine, finding their conversation increasingly congenial.
Antonio was no longer as dejected as before, his eyes filled with anticipation for the future.
Kurzadh, meanwhile, detailed the plan to him—first, he would let him rest for a few days in Blackrock Spire to familiarize himself with the situation of the greenskin tribe, then he would dispatch night hobgoblins to escort him to the main city of Katushir Hold, while also having people transport the gold and jewels to serve as his startup capital for trade.
The light of the oil lamp illuminated the figures of the two men, one green-skinned, the other blond and blue-eyed. Though they were races that should have been enemies, they now sat together like allies around a small wooden table, sharing food and wine, and sharing a secret plan for a comeback and a rise to power.
Outside the hut, the greenskins' laughter continued, and the light of the bonfire illuminated the night sky.
Kurzadh knew that the spark of ambition he had ignited in Antonio might very well become the key to the rise of Blackrock Province—and Antonio also understood that the seemingly rough greenskin chieftain before him would be the most important benefactor in his life.
Or perhaps, a confidant!