Chapter 46: The Caravan
Baron Todd nodded, indig his uanding.
It was true; the red dragon before him had o deceive him.
Being the thirteenth son, undervalued within his family, he’d stirred up too much trouble at Northwind Fortress and incurred his father’s wrath, resulting in his assigo this remote er of Sager Town.
Rather than a noble assig, it was more like banishment.
This sparsely poputed town, adjat to Storm High Cliffs Ridge, cked the military strength to defend itself against any fn invasio from giants or a real dragon, it would spell disaster.
Better to ally with a powerful outsider nearby, maintain his own authority, grow his power, aually break free to pete with his brothers and gain his father's reition.
With this in mind, Todd said ingratiatingly,
“Thank you for your siy, Lord ‘Flying Fme.’ I’m pleased that we, the great red dragon and I, cooperate.”
Cassius nodded slightly:
“Baron, remember: aowledging Embers ’s snty over Storm High Cliffs and pensating for your rash as is the foundation of our partnership.”
Todd replied, “I’ll remember that.”
Cassius’s tone grew slightly pyful:
“Then, Baron, you and your loyal followers may return to the manor. I expect to see what I asked for by tomorrow.”
“Yes, Lord ‘Flying Fme.’”
Todd g Hart nearby, his hatred for the traitor barely tained.
Yet, knowing the dragon was watg, he dared not act, f a strained, humorless smile.
Hart, notig this, broke into a sweat.
But remembering the red dragon’s bag, his life now secure, and his role as Embers ’s spy to restrain the baron, he smirked ba defiance.
“Let’s go, Baron.”
Hart spat out those st words with barely cealed spite.
Cassius watched the two, filled with mutual hatred and hidden motives, leave side by side, feeling a wicked satisfa.
His terms had appeared “fair,” yet were actually malicious. Todd likely saw through it, but he had no choice.
Military occupation, trol over trade.
Once he trolled the region's military and eic power, Baron Todd would be little more than a puppet. In Cassius’s pns, even the baron would eventually bee dispensable ohe pyers arrived.
The dragon watched Todd’s thin frame disappear.
Despite their pact, the baron was not his thrall.
After all, Todd was a vampire spawn—a creature made in a vampire’s image, cursed with a vampiric thirst for blood and forever bound to its creator.
When a vampire undergoes a wicked “assion ritual,” transf into an asdant vampire immuo sunlight, these thralls are sacrificed, dissolving into blood.
If a vampire allowed its spawn to drink its blood, the thrall would bee a true vampire, freed from the creator’s trol—though feires would ever grant this.
In the previous timeline’s vampire quest, Duke Brad had attempted the assion ritual, but it was thwarted by pyers, hundreds of whom stormed the castle’s dungeons in an explosive assault to end the crisis.
“Pitiful.”
“An ambitious vampire spawn hoping for its master’s favor.”
“A truly sad creature.”
Cassius’s eyes flickered in the darkness before he disappeared.
The m.
A rge caravan den with goods left Sager Town.
The townspeople had growo such caravans, even though the guards wore thick armor that cealed their faces, bck cloaks, and had an unusually tall stature.
But leading them was the familiar face of Hart, who’d been absent for days.
Since Hart led the caravan, it was clearly uhe baron’s orders.
To even think of stealing from the “Bloody Baron” would be pure folly.
Parents hurried their curious children inside, iionally ign the caravan, fearing they’d be taken as forced bor.
Hart rode in the middle of the procession.
T guards fnked him, their breaths audible through their heavy masks.
Although Hart couldn’t see their faces, he guessed they were earth goblins bears, given they were from Embers ’s ranks. These creatures, in fact, were now his ticket to survival.
Upourning to the manor st night, the enraged Baron Todd had threatened and cursed him multiple times, yet ultimately dared not harm him, revealing his bluff.
Todd was clearly afraid to provoke the red dragon.
This was Hart’s clusion.
This caravan carried armor, ons, and twenty invaluable magical scrolls, a clear gesture of appeasement from Baron Todd.
Rather than a trade, it was more like tribute.
“Phew…”
Aa’s winters were harsh. Hart breathed out a cloud of mist and ed his thick fur coat tighter.
Snow tio fall, leaviracks in the snow beh the loaded carts, turning the caravan into a line of bck dots on the white ndscape.
“Awooo—”
A strange sound echoed from the snow-covered slopes.
Long and mournful, it resembled a wailing cry.
The guards assumed it was the wind and didn’t give it much thought.
But Hart, experienced as he was, listened closely and immediately tensed.
“Stay alert! That’s no wind howl!”
Hart shouted.
From the distant slope, figures with white fur moved like ghosts in the snowy expanse, charging toward the caravan with eerie, mournful howls.
“Yeti!”
Hart reized the creatures immediately.
T, hulkis, these yetis roamed the mountain peaks, stantly hunting.
Even in blizzards, yetis would brave the cold and snow, following the st of prey.
Cursing his luck, Hart knew enteriis in this weather was as bad as it could get; even the slightest slip-up could mean total annihition.
Instinctively, he sidered the caravan to retreat, only to notice the “guards” pulling off their bck cloaks.
These “guards” stood nearly two meters tall, with imposing, muscur builds, their yellowed teeth protruding from grimag faces. Their murky yellow eyes gleamed with a bloodlust for battle, their scarlet skin standing out against the snow, even adorned with sparse scales.
They were hobgoblins.
These were the elite troops under Dolo’s and.
“I almost fot…we’re mooo.”
Hart muttered, stu the realization.
