The 'Extra' Lord (Unlimited Plunder) - Chapter 73

“I’ll pretend you didn’t say that,” Owen replied.

“Why not?” Larian scanned the people of his kingdom. Many were busy with tasks of their own within the streets; skinning, butchering, or training their swordsmanship. 

Owen noticed that indeed, most of them were humans, like Owen. In other words, they were Lord Candidates. Those that had managed to stay alive to now, were no doubt powerful warriors in their own right. They fought day-by-day. 

He turned to Larian. “Although, I do have a question for you,” 

“If it’s something I can answer, then gladly.”

“You are a Lord with no doubt plenty of credits available to you. Yet, why don’t you hand out armour for your people? Instead, you rely on expensive alchemy to cure them of the venom instead of simply relying on defence. It’s cheaper, and it’s a better investment.” Owen glanced at them again. Most of them were busy wiping ointment on their wounds. No doubt it was some form of anti-venom.

He continued, “And to that point, why did you command them to go down on the battlefield? At least two died. If you relied on archery up top, like you did at the beginning—they wouldn’t have perished.”

“You think they were needless sacrifices?” Larian looked at him with a serious expression. Tall, muscular, with his hands secured behind his back; the man exuded the aura of a Lord. Unlike Owen.

But Owen didn’t back down. “I do.”

“Then that’s where you’re wrong, Owen,” Larian said. “If they refuse my order, then when the going truly gets tough, when we face an insurmountable enemy, then what’s stopping them from turning the other way?”

Owen tensed, clenching his fists. “Are you crazy? You brought your men out to die for something like that? So that they’d remember who’s in charge?”

Larian’s people tightened their grip across the handles of their blades. Those with bows pinched the string, as if ready to fire at any moment. 

Larian stopped, his eyes were shrouded with hidden fury. “You don’t know what it was like back then. You didn’t see it. You weren’t there. There were many more of us, at least eighty strong. We were annihilated. Why? Because we didn’t want to fight, no-one had the heart to push us into battle, to risk death. Now I have achieved that. When I order it, we fight to the death. That is what makes a powerful Lord.”

Owen couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He knew of powerful Lords that would do anything it took to win their battles. But this just seemed so… pointless? Letting two strong warriors die because of… a need to showcase the loyalty they had for him?

Owen didn’t get it. Perhaps he couldn’t.

As Larian walked further ahead, Justin whispered in his ear. “Don’t press him. Something’s up with the people here. Like… this guy is their god, or something. Look at their eyes. They’re ready to cut you down where you stand.”

Nodding, Owen replied in a whisper. “When you get the chance, disappear. I want to know everything about these people. Larian specifically. Something here stinks. I won’t feel comfortable until I know what the smell is.” 

Larian led them to the main castle building. It was in the form of a huge box, with ramparts above. At the front, four dark stone pillars announced their arrival. The floor was paved in a lighter stone. 

Walking inside, the Lord brought them into a large food hall. He swept out his hands. “Get something to eat. It won’t be much, but it’s better than nothing. That door at the back… don’t go there. We do our alchemy there. You asked why I don’t waste our money on armour, when it is a better, sound investment?”

Owen nodded.

“Because an alchemist is our lifeblood, for any kingdom,” Larian said, but it was strange. It was like he was reading off of a script, and not off the top of his own head. “We pour money into anti-venom, because it increases the level of our alchemist. The warriors may suffer with pain for a little longer, but as a result of that, our potions are stronger.”

Owen glanced at the door. Four men stood in front of the door, guarding it. Unlike the others, they did have solid armour. Even their weapons—Fragments—appeared to be of much higher quality.

“So you use the suffering of your people to better your alchemist?” 

Larian looked at Owen, as if looking down on him. “You have been here for what, a little over a month? If you’re squeamish at such a result, you’ll have a hard time surviving what’s to come, Owen. But us? We’ll be ready. Our alchemist can churn out potions faster, with higher quality than most.”

Owen turned quiet for a moment as he pondered the man’s words. After glancing beyond the disgust he felt, he was right. Levelling their alchemist while they could, was definitely the smartest decision possible. But to do that, to make that decision, one had to have a ruthless mind.

Although Owen himself was willing to do anything it took to protect his people, was that one of them? He wanted to stop his people from suffering, not add to it. 

After a moment, he said, “We’ll have a hard time surviving what’s to come… What do you mean by that?”

Larian shook his head. “Enjoy your meal. The fighting will renew again tomorrow. Someone will show you to your sleeping quarters after where your payment will be waiting. Thank you for coming here, truly.”

Owen nodded as he watched Larian walk over to Hassan and Jonah. Owen noticed Larian spent more time looking at Jonah for a little longer than usually someone would normally pass a greeting.

“Food, right on,” Justin said, pulling Owen’s attention. Justin rushed to his spot at the table where a large spread of food awaited. Well, it was large, sure, but Larian was correct when he said it wasn’t much. Most of it was a starchy vegetable that looked very similar to a potato. Other than that, there was plenty of meat. Meat which belonged to a humanoid race of serpent…

“Ease up,” Owen said, clapping Rehan’s shoulder. “Everyone, get some food for you. Larian wasn’t lying when he said we’d need the energy for tomorrow. It’s going to be a long day.” 

As they all sat, a lot of prying eyes were sent their way. With a mouth full of food, Justin said, “You think there’s something wrong with my face?” He turned to someone that was close to him. The woman had a large scar scored over her eye. It wasn’t a normal looking scar, but one that had burned a gruesome mark onto her face. It was from venom. 

Justin raised his brow as the woman gave him a gruff look, “Well?” he asked. “Is there something wrong with my face?” 

Owen kicked his foot underneath the table. Justin looked at him, gave him a grin, then started ripping into the meat that had been prepared.

Owen shook his head and did the same. He was hungry, and although he had plenty of food in his storage—food cooked by his own chef, that was—he didn’t dare take it out. He looked at the meat for a little longer than he should, then took a piece, and bit into it. It was tough, probably due to the high muscle content, and it tasted slightly… off.

Not poisoned, but off as in… herby? It was difficult to grasp. Even more difficult to tell if it was just seasoning, or something else. 

Whatever it was, it put him off his meal entirely. He’d just eat something later when he didn’t have dozens of people scrutinising his every move. When everyone was finished, Justin was the first to stand up. 

“Well, I’m off to find the toilet.” he said, already taking steps towards the exit. 

It’s like he had ants in his pants, Owen thought. Just as he was about to leave, Justin flashed him a knowing smile before disappearing. 

Owen sighed. He really hoped he wouldn’t get in too much trouble, or get himself caught. That would be difficult to explain. 

As Owen and the others rose from the table, a younger man approached. He looked green behind the ear, not a scar to be seen. He walked over with a kind smile, his long blonde hair barely above his blue eyes. 

“You must be Owen,” he said, placing his arm forward for a handshake. “I'm Josh. I’ll be showing you where you’ll be sleeping tonight. Would be a problem if you stumbled into someone else's bed.” he laughed. “The last time that happened, the others weren’t too pleased to say the least.” 

Owen grabbed his hand. “Josh, nice to meet you.”