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The Slime Farmer

Desislaf Rimet finds that his father plotted to make him fail the Sacred Trials. He decides: if this world will not accept him, then he will leave the world! In another world full of wonders, moving forward determinedly, he becomes a farmer of slimes. *** Desislaf Rimet is the eleventh son of the Lord of Rimet, the sixteenth child. He has failed the Trials that would make his family proud and cement his station as a noble worthy of his family's name. He discovers that his father plotted to deliberately make him fail and it is the end of all he knows. He cannot be happy in his father's court, and leaves. After all, there's a World Gate conveniently in his father's territory, isn't there? He will leave to see the wonders that await him in another world! Only...the world beyond is more complicated than he imagined. Also, what is this slime? An animal, a vegetable, or some mystery being? *****

Jin_Daoran · Fantasie
Zu wenig Bewertungen
132 Chs

The Missing Caravans 2

The road from the Lowpool forked an hour's ride from the gates. Or rather, the trade road running from Ecthys to Agamarl was reached an hour's ride along the main path that went to the Lowpool.

Going northwest on the road, a rider would in three days reach Ecthys, the closest city to the Lowpool. Going further along, the road followed the curve of the River Indar until reaching a picturesque town now called Chatalment, but formerly known as Asvarmalen, which formerly stood proud and thriving in the shadow of Asmovare Castle.

The castle was now gone, but the town was still one of the most beautiful on the river. The streets were paved in stone and the roofs of the houses were nearly uniformly shingled in tough red ceramic.

After Chatalment, the road veered a few more degrees northwards past farms and woodland to end in the small city of Seranne on the banks of the great river.

Going south on the trade road, a rider would reach the town of Genlet in two hours. Genlet was a mining town and specialized in metalcraft. Going further along the road, the particularly known towns before reaching Agamarl City were Kerner which specialized in making paper from flax and sedges, Nelarent which bred the best boar-lizards in the central mountains, Uisenver which sold vital ingredients harvested from a nearby blessed land, and Lembre which had successfully bred rocblood winged horses some centuries back and supplied all the winged horses of the empire.

Riding further along the trade road, the city of Agamarl on the banks of the River Indar would be reached two weeks and a half after Genlet should the rider not linger too long on any one stop. Past Agamarl, the road split into several branches, though riding the main road would get a traveller to the imperial capital city of Carmedel in another week or so.

The River Indar was one of the busiest rivers in the imperial mainland.

Taking a barge of goods from Ecthys to Agamarl took about six days on the river. One would think it the primary trade transport, but mainly it was used to trade from river city to river town to river city.

The Indar trade road was long established, and ancient. Every town on the road had particular products for trade, towns that could not be reached by only taking the river. It was why despite the several large rivers in the imperial mainland that promoted great trade, the wagon caravans were prolific – they were the primary transport for villages and towns to sell their goods to the river cities that spread their goods to other cities.

For instance, mystic sable crab aside, the Lowpool was particularly known for whisker-snake and ironhead rockworm, both which preferred stiller waters than rivers to dwell in.

The tender white meat of the whisker-snake or the pleasantly nutty chewiness of rockworm would never have been spread beyond a few villages if not for the regular trade caravans that made the Lowpool a particular destination on the Indar trade road.

Defi learned all this from Helan, as after Genlet the leaders slowed down enough from the swift pace to talk comfortably. The mayor of Genlet was worried as well, as the caravans had not reached his town. A scouting party had been sent out as well.

His normal story of being from the south was enough for her to launch into a conversation about the local area.

Helan's parents were merchants who had settled in Ecthys and had bought a house in the Lowpool where they decided to raise their children. She was the third of their children and would soon go to the city to start making contributions to the family business, as she had recently fulfilled an apprenticeship with an apothecary in Agamarl.

"I wanted to become a cook, but father said it had to be Feurimvit, the vital cookery school town near the capital, before he'd allow it." Helan's smile diminished. "I didn't pass the tests, of course, but I did get to explore the castle a bit."

Defi was startled. There was a whole castletown set aside for teaching cooks? In matters of food, Ascharon was truly…

He really should no longer be surprised about things like this.

"You sound so sure you wouldn't pass, is it that difficult to get in?"

Helan gave a long exhale, old sadness and nostalgic dreams. "Feurimvit trains the imperial chefs. Of course it's that difficult."

Defi realized that this was the school that Sarel had been invited to.

He once again tamped down his mortified feelings at having babbled his mind to her like a child. He was only slightly comforted by the fact that Sarel likely wouldn't care much that he did.

He was no longer that boy that needed a mother.

"Oi, it's Ernye!"

The shout up ahead took their attention. On the road, the tracker was waiting, waving them over.

"Found something, you think?"

One of the others shrugged. "Would she be there if she found nothing?"

They gathered around the middle-aged woman, the scout and tracker.

"The Genlet scout party's trail leads into the woods. This is where the caravans were taken, I imagine." The woman, Ernye, huffed. "Went ahead a bit, before I came back. Could see where someone's tried to cover the wagon tracks. 'Bout five or so wagons, it looks like."

"I see. We should ensure the tradespeople's safety before we head back." Natan ran an evaluating eye over the company. Then turned to the tracker. "Is there any sign of the second caravan? The whole Genlet party entered here?"

"Yes, sir. And no sign of the second, sir."

"The possibility that they might have been captured before this spot?"

The tracker blinked.

One of the others spoke up. "There's a campground not far from here. Samse's caravan right? Traveled with them once. Likes to set camp early around there the day before, then heads to the Lowpool in the early morning."

Natan nodded.

"Miss Helan, mestre Garm, if you would stay here and ensure that the other searchers do not miss the signs? They'll be coming along soon. The rest of us are splitting up. You four," he pointed them out, "you're to follow the Genlet party, see what they've found. The rest with me. We'll see what the campground looks like. If there is nothing up ahead, we'll return here. Send the searchers in both directions."

Defi smiled at Helan in farewell and went with the group heading to the campground. He'd noticed that Natan left behind the people least likely to be able to fight.

"Expecting trouble?"

"Bandits are always trouble." Natan glanced at him, then the spear lashed to his saddle. "Do you know the spear as well?"

"Only slightly better than I do the sword."

Defi had worked hard in combat arts because he had to, because it was needed, because it was a logical use of his time, not because of any particular passion for it. However, likely because of that, his particular masteries did not speak of any great combat prowess. In the rankings of his whole age group he was merely above average, just enough not to shame his lineage.

"I have no idea what value to assign to that," Natan's lips quirked. "But I'll trust that you will fight if needed."

Was that the man teasing Defi for not accepting his offer to learn the sword?

"I will."

The bandits may well have his savras sellers. Of course he'd fight. This was his livelihood too.

They reached the campground in less than a half-hour of cantering. It was a large empty field beside the road, half-screened from total view of the road by alder trees. The tracker Ernye, who had been circling the edges of the field, suddenly waved her hat at them.

By the time they gathered, the first ones there had removed a fake screen of brush from the edge of the field, revealing crushed grass and soft soil bearing the deep gouges of wagon tracks and the peculiarly shaped footprints of the shell-bullocks used by caravans to carry cargo and pull wagons.

"Sir." One of the men looked up from where he'd jumped off the horse to study the ground. "There are graves, sir."

Defi felt a chill skitter down his spine.

"Reorder the bushes that were used to hide the tracks. Lancer Ernye, you can place markers so the others can find this place?"

"I can, sir."

"Good. Let's proceed more quietly. It looks like these bandits are not looking for ransom."

Defi dismounted with several others to move the bushes back into place.

He did hear about that peculiar custom of Ascharon, of ransom banditry. After he learned of the Tesorium and the commerce ministry, and Sarel's reasons to create a merchant company, he looked for more information on Ascharonian trade.

The bolder bandits, rather than steal the cargo and build avenues to fence stolen goods, would ransom the cargo, passengers, and traders to the imperial commerce office. It was a widespread practice, and lucrative if a bandit could evade the imperial soldiers that certainly would be watching his movements.

The insurance of many caravans were high, reflecting this practice.

In such manner, the bandits would not be induced to kill and the traders would still be able to deliver their goods.

Defi thought that this rewarding of theft, by the government no less, more than anything reflected a deplorable lack of security in the lives of the people. He had heard many things about the power of the Ascharonian armies and navy.

There was something wrong, surely, if despite that power, they could not protect the people that plied trade on imperial roads.

They ushered their horses into the trees, following the clear tracks.

Defi passed the disturbed ground, where beneath, the bodies of innocent traders lay, and wondered once more whether his decision to cross that Gate was truly the right choice.

Happy Labor Day.

...except I have not done much labor, aha.

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