The Price of Survival

"Mardias, what are you looking at?"

"Trees, mother. And those birds."

"Can you even see them? I can't. The carriage is moving too fast."

"I can."

Dalia stroked Mardias's hair and then smoothed out the wrinkles on his collar. He did not turn his head, just folded his arms on the carriage window sill, propping up his chin, gazing at the tall green trees that kept moving out of sight along the roadside. The vibration of the carriage wheels and the wind blowing through the carriage window made his fine hair flutter on his forehead.

Travis Sylvan, who was leading the team at the front, looked back and said, "What is young Master Mardias doing? He kept staring out the window, not paying much attention to Lady Dalia."

"He's counting," Jorgen said, following Travis.

"Counting what?"

"The birds in the trees. He remembers each one he sees."

"Don't tell me this is some strange assignment you've prepared for him."

"No. He just likes to do that. Children often have peculiar habits."

"It seems you're adapting well to your job."

"You mean the lecturer in intelligence?"

"No, I mean the manservant. Lady Dalia may not even know her son has this peculiar habit. Do you think Shawl knows?"

When these words came out of Travis's mouth, there was a strange aggressiveness. Jorgen did not speak again.

Today was the 15th. An extra day for mother and son to meet, but Dalia suddenly didn't know what to do. This morning, when she saw Mardias striding through the corridor under the escort of bodyguards, she had muttered several times "I want to spend more time alone with him", but perhaps out of aristocratic habit, it still turned into a picnic with many attendants and servants. At her invitation, Jorgen gave up his plan to investigate the Holy Light Cathedral.

He looked back at the carriage and the secluded trail on the north side of Elwynn Forest. "Vacation," he pondered the word, "yes, this is called vacation."

When they were close to the picnic area prohibited to civilians, Travis shouted "stop, stop" and waved his hand to signal the whole team to stop. "It looks like someone is looking for trouble," he said.

About ten meters ahead of the team, a vagrant staggered out of the grass pile by the roadside and fell to his knees. It was impossible to discern his age, his body filthy and disheveled, like a black stone rolled out of weeds and mud.

"What's going on?" Dalia poked half her body out of the carriage.

"It's nothing, ma'am. Don't come out. We can continue in a moment. Don't worry."

Travis dismounted and walked over to the vagrant. Jorgen followed behind. He looked around, it didn't look like an ambush environment.

When the two came in front of the vagrant, he raised his face, his eyes buried in the coal pile seemed to blink constantly as if unaccustomed to the strong light. His hands were folded across his chest, covered with a relatively intact thin blanket, and there were black blood stains on the blanket. There was also blood stains under his neck.

"Are you hurt?" Travis said.

The vagrant shook his head.

"What's under that blanket?"

No verbal response.

"Open it," Travis drew his long sword, "I said, open it."

"Do as he says. It will do you no harm." Jorgen said.

As the vagrant hesitated, Travis swung his sword at the blanket and flipped it open. The vagrant seemed to think the sword had struck him, and let out a muffled cry. Under the blanket was a dead wild rabbit. Its throat was ripped open, and the blood soaked in its fur gave off a strong stench.

"What's going on? I heard something." Dalia's voice came from behind.

"It's nothing, ma'am. Just stay in the carriage and wait. Tell young Master Mardias a story." Then Travis said to the vagrant, "Get up."

He pointed the tip of his sword at the vagrant's neck. The other did not seem very sensitive to such threats, but still stood up holding the rabbit, swaying a little as if unsteady on his feet. His right leg was also bleeding. Not the rabbit's blood, but a serrated wound.

"I see," Travis said. "You went into the civilian restricted area to find food and stepped on a trap. Right?"

The vagrant hesitated for a moment, then nodded hurriedly.

"So those twenty-year-old traps are still effective! Big news! By the way, how did you kill this rabbit? With your teeth? Jorgen, what do you think? This guy is really something."

Travis laughed. He laughed like a drunken audience teasing a foolish performer at the circus. He pointed the tip of his sword at the vagrant's mouth and said, "Open up. Let me see what kind of teeth can bite open a wild rabbit's throat."

The vagrant opened his mouth wider, his lower jaw sagging and pulling back toward his neck in an unnatural manner, as if hooked by wire and then pried open.

"Ugh, disgusting. Yuk, those are the ugliest teeth I've ever seen. Is that rabbit fur sticking to them? Revolting. Why are you trembling? Don't worry, I won't kill you. You're not worth it."

"Let him go," Jorgen said.

Travis ignored him. "Stick out your tongue." After the vagrant stuck out his tongue, which looked like a charred piece of wood, Travis pressed the tip of his sword between his tongue and lower teeth. The vagrant trembled more violently.

"You don't speak," Travis said, "so you don't need it."

"Enough." Jorgen grabbed Travis's wrist. "What are you thinking?"

"He trespassed into the civilian restricted area, stole something, and left a stench of blood. And Lady Dalia will picnic there. He must be punished."

"So you want the lady's carriage to drive over his fresh blood?"

"I didn't think of that, but it sounds great. Ahaha, you said it too well, Jorgen. Such people were born to be trampled upon. Let's see..."

Travis said no more. Jorgen's left hand was gripping the dagger hilt, pressing it against his throat.

"Oh, Jorgen, I've always heard you have too much conscience, but I didn't expect it to be this serious. Are you willing to move against me for this nameless man? This is rebellious behavior."

"Conscience? No, you overestimate me. If you dare act, I will kill you without consequences. I can do that."

"Interesting, tell me about it."

"Everyone is behind us. No one witnessed this. I will act when you cut off his tongue, because by then he will truly be dumb. It will be an accident, you were too foolish and attacked by the man in front of you. See the serrations at the end of my dagger? I will make your wounds look like tooth bites."

"No one will believe your ghost story."

"No one will believe it? Maybe. But what does that have to do with you? You're dead anyway. And you should know, one person doesn't care if I'm telling ghost stories or not, he only cares who lives and dies, and who is more useful to him. And he happens to have the final say. Besides, whether killed by a vagrant or killed by a colleague, you die without value. Perhaps a few people will mention you in pity, they will say, 'Ah, Travis Sylvan, that weakling and coward.' If you don't want such an outcome, put your sword down."

"Jorgen, are you there?" Dalia's voice.

"I'm here, nothing special happened. Just some stones spilled in the middle of the road. Travis has cleared them away, we can continue on in a moment."

"Wasting time." Travis sheathed his long sword and mounted his horse.

"Go," Jorgen said to the vagrant, then watched him hold the dead rabbit, drag his injured leg, and disappear into the woods on the right side of the road.

On the hunting day, Jorgen had imagined becoming some kind of cautious ally with Travis. It seems I have ruined the possibility of winning over an ally with my own hands. He sheathed his dagger, mounted his horse and avoided the black blood dripping to the ground from the vagrant.

They had planned to picnic at noon and then return to Stormwind, but Mardias fell asleep on Dalia's lap. They were under the shade of the trees. Dalia waved to Jorgen and called him over to sit beside her.

"Is this alright? I don't want to wake him." Jorgen said.

"It's fine. He's sleeping soundly." Dalia placed one hand flat on the grass. "Does he usually take naps?"

"I'm not sure, maybe.

But his physical training schedule this week has been intense, so he's probably tired."

"Poor child."

Jorgen looked at Travis in the distance. He was directing his men to pack up, not looking this way.

"Thank you for allowing me to spend this day with Mardias today." Dalia said. "I don't know how you did it, but..."

"It's nothing."

"Did you get into any trouble helping me?"

"Of course not."

They were silent for a while.

"I haven't told Mardias."

"What?"

"I haven't told him this is a special day."

"Don't worry. There will be opportunities. He's not old enough to accept those things yet."

"I don't know how to deal with him anymore. He's still young, but in four or five years..."

"Just like a normal mother."

"How should a normal mother be? For example, how was your mother with you? You never told me about these things."

"Uh, well...I don't remember. Really."

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked."

"Just don't remember. I've forgotten...too much..."

"What happened between you and Travis just now?"

"Just a little quarrel. Don't ask him about it either."

"He may be mean, but he still protects me and Mardias."

"Don't forget he's the bodyguard Shawl arranged for you."

"But that doesn't mean..."

Remembering Travis's gaze at the vagrant just now, Jorgen interrupted Dalia's words: "Dalia, have you forgotten what world we live in? The comforts of aristocratic life have made you forget all that has happened to you? You must not trust anyone lightly. "

"I don't trust him lightly, I just don't want to suspect people casually."

"You have no other choice, Dalia. Only by suspecting others can you and Mardias survive. Around us are deception and murder, weakness and credulity can only lead to self-destruction. I can't remember how many people I've killed, and you, for your own purposes, have also..."

Jorgen realized he had misspoke and fell silent. Dalia looked straight into his eyes. He turned away.

"You're right, then why do you help me regardless of the cost?" She said. "How do you know I won't deceive or kill again in the future? I would for Mardias."

"...Don't say that, he'll wake up." Jorgen stood up and adjusted the loosened sheath of his dagger. "I can't always be around you, Dalia. Learn to protect yourself."

"You too."