Chapter 117: Chapter 117: Wado Eighteen
Kro asked, "Baron Wado has no nobles pledged to him, right?"
"We caught a Knight before," a farmer answered meekly. "Baron Wado wanted him to pledge fealty, but the Knight said no and spat at him. So the Baron had him flayed."
’We nobles don’t usually just call each other ’Baron’,’ Kro thought. ’Otherwise, every time we talked about the King, we’d be reciting titles for ages.’
Take Leech, the man he’d pledged his loyalty to. He currently held the titles of Baron Porcupine and Divine Favored.
The more memorable one’s legends and status, the more titles one collected.
But he understood this was about Wado Eighteen’s obsession with his status. He made people acknowledge him as a Baron every time they spoke to him.
Tell a lie often enough, and it becomes the truth.
Kro said, "The Baron needs nobles pledged to him, and I happen to be a noble. Think about it—what would happen if you were to take me to see Baron Wado?"
"What would happen?" the first farmer asked curiously.
Their stupidity made Kro want to curse them out.
"A reward, of course! You’d be bringing him a noble willing to pledge fealty. Hasn’t Baron Wado always wanted a noble to serve him?" Kro took a deep breath, patiently leading them on. "Besides, you’ll also have my thanks."
Another farmer asked, confused, "Thank us for what?"
"For the mercy you’ve shown in not killing me."
It had to be said, with Kro’s silver tongue, convincing a few farmers was all too easy.
The farmers glanced at one another, then all turned to him. "You said it yourself!"
"I swear it on my oath and my honor as a noble!"
His oath, of course, was the one he had sworn to give his life and loyalty to Baron Porcupine. Even if he deceived Wado Eighteen, it would be in service of that knightly vow.
Slightly deviating from what Leech might have expected, Kro chose not to flee. He was genuinely going to stake it all on this gamble.
"Nobles seem to care a lot about that stuff."
"So we can trust him?"
"We’ll walk in front. You walk in the back. If this guy tries anything, you run him through with your spear!"
The farmers discussed this without bothering to lower their voices. Kro gave a wry smile; they were clearly saying it for his benefit.
’Besides, have they already forgotten? How could they be so stupid as to walk behind the horse’s rear!’
"Dismount. Come with us," one of them ordered, gesturing with a crude spear to hurry Kro along.
He had survived for now. Next, he just had to handle this Wado Eighteen and save his own skin.
Kro followed the farmer-soldiers into a valley. They took a small path for a good while, which led to a creek. After stumbling along that for some time, they finally saw a village.
At a glance, the village only had a dozen or so houses, but it was now swarming with people, all sitting on the ground, packed tightly together.
"Time to eat!"
Someone shouted, and the crowd swarmed forward with a roar, like a cloud of flies.
"Don’t grab, damn it, don’t grab!"
"There’s enough for everyone! We’ve won two more battles, so there’s an endless supply of food! Let us praise Baron Wado!"
"Baron Wado! Baron Wado! Baron Wado!"
The crowd was a noisy, chaotic mess, but Kro was simply dumbfounded.
’What about the farmers escorting me? Why did they just drop their weapons and rush over to fight for food?’
’Aren’t I a prisoner? Are they just going to leave me here?’
And just like that, he had effortlessly infiltrated Wado Eighteen’s territory.
The farmers who managed to get food were eating happily, holding bread in one hand and a plate of some sort of gruel in the other.
No one paid any attention to Kro Camel as he wandered around. ’I could probably walk right up to Wado Eighteen and kill him with a single sword strike,’ he thought, ’and this lot wouldn’t even notice.’
By contrast, whether it was the desert bandits of Mama City or the iron-clad Soldiers of Porcupine Territory, they were all strictly disciplined. They would never be in such a chaotic state.
Without their advantage in numbers, this mob couldn’t win a fight against anyone.
No, Kro suspected that if you just killed one or two hundred of them, the rest would be scared into turning tail and fleeing.
Reality was just that bizarre. Farmers who had once had food on their tables had abandoned their lives to follow Wado Eighteen, only to face constant starvation and the risk of death.
Kro couldn’t see the bigger picture; he knew nothing about politics, economics, or warfare.
But even he could see how dire Wado Eighteen’s situation was, which said everything about how terrible this whole operation was.
Someone in front of him was backing away quickly and accidentally bumped into him.
"Sorry," the person apologized politely before sidestepping Kro and hurrying away.
"Huh."
Kro continued to wander through the village. He peeked into every room, learning where they drank, where they urinated... ’Right, definitely not drinking the water here!’
’This was the first time he’d ever seen people urinating upstream from where they drew their drinking water.’
From start to finish, no one paid him any mind, even though his fine leather boots, brightly dyed robe, and carefully styled long hair made him stick out like a sore thumb.
Just as his own stomach began to rumble, a large man blocked Kro’s path.
Without a word, the man kicked him squarely in the chest.
The world swam before Kro’s eyes as his body was dragged away like a ragdoll.
THUD! He was thrown to the ground.
It took him a long moment to come to his senses.
He was in a small hut in the village.
All sorts of pottery, gold, and silver trinkets were piled on a shabby wooden table that looked like it belonged in a peasant’s kitchen.
A big-bearded man in a nobleman’s robe was staring down at him.
Surrounding him were several Soldiers who looked more like bandits. They wore plate armor on their torsos and leather pants below. The vambraces on their left and right arms were clearly mismatched, differing in both color and style.
Some of them were armed with four or five swords. Another had a noble lady’s gold necklace dangling from his neck. As for the lady herself, she had likely met a terrible fate.
"Who are you?" the seated, big-bearded man asked.
’This must be Wado Eighteen,’ Kro thought.
Kro forced himself to his feet. With a nobleman’s bow, hand to his chest, he said, "Good day, Sir Wado. I am Kro Camel, a noble come to pledge my service to you."
"Sir?" Wado Eighteen was confused. It was the first time he had been addressed that way.
Kro nodded. "Yes. When nobles meet, one who possesses his own domain and holds the inheritance rights to Longship Castle, as you do, is addressed as ’Sir’."
"And what good is that?" retorted the man who had kicked Kro. He had a natural disdain for nobles.
But Wado Eighteen held up a hand, a wide grin spreading across his face. "A form of address between nobles? Then, should I call you Sir Kro Camel?"
He seemed to very much enjoy this bit of noble etiquette.
"Yes, my lord! I wish to pledge my fealty to you and serve under you," Kro said. "And when you become the lord of Longship Castle, I trust I will be rewarded."
Being a smooth talker was one of Kro’s strengths. The moment he saw Wado Eighteen and his men, he had them pegged. To put it simply, they were a band of thugs. The subtle, roundabout elegance of high society would be lost on them.
"I like an ambitious man!" Wado Eighteen roared with laughter.
Only by meeting a real noble could one learn how nobles truly lived.
"You must tell me, in detail, all about how nobles live," Wado Eighteen said. "After we take Longship Castle, I’ll have use for all that etiquette."
Kro Camel was overjoyed. "Yes, my lord! Etiquette is what I know best."
This, at least, was the truth.
He had successfully infiltrated Wado Eighteen’s ranks and even earned the man’s favor. For Kro, this was a massive step forward.
’So, what now?’ he wondered. ’Baron Porcupine never gave me instructions for this part.’
’Wait, no. Baron Porcupine did say something about playing to my strengths, and then... gathering intelligence. Yes, that must be it!’
