Chapter Thirty-Nine: Turbulence on the Path (I)

Carlos estimated that he had about half a year left in Salt Well Town. In such a short time, building a competent order of knights was obviously unrealistic. Recruitment and selection alone were a heap of trouble. Carlos still needed to report to Old Dupu Yi, so the initial organizational work would have to be entrusted to his elder brother, Dericht. The cultivation of a proper knight required several years; typically, children of good families would choose to serve as pages in a knight’s household, learning all the knightly etiquette. At the age of fourteen, they would become squires, receiving all manner of training and learning the “knightly spirit.” Upon reaching adulthood, they would prepare to become true knights. Of course, this required a great noble to be willing to confer knighthood upon them.

Carlos, of course, could not follow this process. He planned instead to recruit a group of young men with combat experience or good physical qualities to form a squad of apprentice knights, hoping that with systematic training, they could reach the level of a retainer knight within a few months. The initial recruitment would not be large, as Salt Well Town did not have many local residents, and the Stevenson family currently lacked a ready knight instructor. This matter would likely require the help of his father, Baron Mori.

Dericht, following Carlos’s instructions, went to prepare the recruitment notice. Meanwhile, Carlos had another matter to attend to—giving a farewell to his good friend, Charles.

Traveling by carriage to the tavern, he saw two familiar figures waiting for him at the door.

“Hey! Sidis, Koman!”

Carlos stepped down from the carriage and waved to them.

“Hey, Carlos, you finally made it,” Sidis, still wearing his gold-rimmed spectacles, looked a bit taller now, and his body was no longer as frail as before.

Koman had undergone a dramatic change. His once plump belly had shrunk considerably, and he now exuded the aura of a muscular man. His eyes were as clear as a twilight sky, with a faint, star-like gleam within them.

Carlos glanced at the sky. “What’s the rush? It’s still early.”

Sidis explained, “You don’t know, Carlos, the tavern’s business is booming now. If you’d come any later, there wouldn’t have been a seat for you.”

Carlos chuckled helplessly. The three of them laughed and entered the tavern.

Indeed, though it was only just past noon, the tavern was already quite full. Heavy curtains blocked every shaft of sunlight that tried to pierce the room, and only a few candles on the walls lit the space.

Carlos and his companions squeezed their way to a long table at the back of the tavern. Plates of fruit and cooked meat sat atop the table, along with a full set of cups, knives, and forks.

The fragrance of wine mingled with the rich aroma of smoked meat, filling the whole tavern. Carlos pulled out a chair at the long table and sat down. Grant placed a bottle of brandy on the table, then stood silently behind Carlos.

“Has Charles not arrived yet?” Carlos asked as he plucked a grape from the plate in front of him, peeled it, and popped it into his mouth, glancing around the room.

Koman, seated at his right, pointed toward the entrance. “He’s here, just talking with Reina’s mother behind the bar.”

“Malt came too? Why not join us?” Carlos asked.

Koman gave a dismissive shrug, while Sidis pushed up his glasses and explained in a serious tone, “His aunt has made Malt take over her work at the tavern.”

Carlos frowned. Just then, he saw Charles approach with a gloomy expression. He was dressed in a black long-sleeved shirt with a light yellow jacket over it, wrinkled gray trousers, and brown leather shoes—a simple wilderness hunter’s outfit, complemented by his short red hair, making him look especially spirited.

“Hello, Carlos,” he said, suppressing his displeasure. “Glad you could make it.”

“Something troubling you?” Carlos asked.

Charles hesitated briefly, then shook his head. “Sorry, but I’m afraid I can’t accept your hospitality.”

Sidis rose, dissatisfied. “We’re here to give you a farewell, and you want to just leave us behind?”

Carlos studied Charles closely and saw the secrets he could not hide in his eyes. He waved a hand, interrupting Sidis’s reproach.

“Are you about to leave?”

Charles nodded apologetically, offering no further explanation.

Carlos regarded the red-haired Charles for a moment, then stood, grasped the bottle of brandy before him, and handed it to Charles. “We came to see you off, so let the guest decide. But take this farewell wine with you on the road—don’t waste our goodwill.”

Charles looked at Carlos in surprise at first, then nodded firmly.

“If it weren’t for the painful memories this wretched town holds, I’d much rather shamelessly stick around with you. Even as a mere night watchman for the Stevenson family, I’d be more than happy.”

With that, he grabbed the bottle of brandy, twisted off the cork, and, ignoring the brandy’s fiery burn, took a long, hard swig.

“Thank you, Master Carlos. It’s an honor to be your friend.”

Carlos smiled, saying nothing.

Charles raised the bottle again. “And thank you, Sidis and Koman. Here’s to you.”

Koman stared blankly as Charles finished his toast and turned to leave, then grumbled angrily, “What is he up to?”

Sidis was equally baffled. “It’s like he’s avoiding us. He was the same at the door—when I called out to him, he just gave a cold nod. Unless he comes up with a good excuse, I can’t consider him a friend anymore.”

Carlos broke the brief silence, watching Charles’s figure vanish at the tavern door. “I’m afraid tonight we might have to say farewell to two friends at once.”

“Why?”

Carlos did not answer. Just then, a woman’s shriek rang out from the bar, and the cramped, dim tavern erupted in commotion. Soon, the customers crowded around the scene, leaving no room to move.

Koman, unable to sit still, climbed onto his chair to get a better look.

Sidis asked, “What happened?”

Koman shook his head, unable to see clearly.

Carlos exchanged a glance with Grant, then noticed two night watchmen from his household, who had been watching at the tavern entrance, now walking in with anxious faces and scanning the room.

Grant gave a sharp whistle, and the night watchmen forced their way through the crowd at the door. Their holsters, once secured at their waists, had been pulled open; the pistols now rested in their hands, ready for trouble.

“Young master, a group of bounty hunters just snatched a young lady from the tavern. Two of the men involved appeared to be your friends,” one of the night watchmen reported respectfully to Carlos.

“Did they get away?” Carlos asked indifferently.

“No,” the night watchman replied, shaking his head. “Seven of them were blocked at the door by two strangers of unknown origin.”

Carlos frowned in surprise.

From the murderous look on Charles’s face just now, it was clear he had something urgent he wanted to do. He hadn’t expected Charles’s goal was to take Malt away.

Charles’s parents had died in a mining accident, leaving him an orphan. Malt was his only blood relative in the world. Clearly, he was deeply dissatisfied with Malt’s mother forcing her to work as a barmaid, and had quarreled fiercely with her at the bar earlier.