Supreme Magus

Chapter 4010: Poisoned Pill (Part 1)

What Garrik had mistaken for rage was actually Ryla’s own fear. She was scared of what Meln could do to her child just to lure Lith into a trap, and terrified of being the cause of her baby boy’s ruin.

’I softened the truth about how precarious Garrik’s condition is for all this time because I wanted him to play and live carefree like a normal child instead of living in fear of taking one step too far from home.

’I kept him unaware because I thought it was best for him. Yet if Garrik ruins his future because of me, I would never forgive myself.’ She thought.

"I’m not mad at you, my baby." She actually replied, hugging Garrik tight. "I just want you to take this situation seriously. This isn’t one of your games. There is no do-over if something goes wrong. Do you understand?"

The question was the same as before, yet somehow Ryla’s now calm voice made it much scarier.

"Yes, Mom." Garrik nodded. "I promise I won’t leave the house until Auntie Salaark returns for any reason."

"That’s my boy." Ryla sniffled. "That’s my boy."

***

All across the Blood Desert, the scrolls hung outside every tent listing the Overlord’s laws turned from white paper written in black ink into black paper written in white ink.

It signalled an emergency and declared temporary martial law. If anyone, for any reason, were to draw Salaark’s attention while the scrolls were black, they would soon face her true form and fury without being given a chance to explain themselves.

The Feathers initiated the lockdown procedures for their villages while the members of the Nest took flight in orderly formations. Whenever the Overlord went to war, her loyal soldiers were left to fend for themselves, and reinforcements would be kept to a minimum.

No one would be able to enter or leave a village for the duration of the lockdown, so the groups of travelling merchants had to quickly decide whether they wanted to depart ahead of schedule or stay put until the emergency was resolved.

Both options entailed risks and costs.

Leaving before the lockdown meant facing the dangers of the Blood Desert without the invisible shield of the Overlord’s law. Emergency calls would be ignored, no matter if the caravan was attacked by outlaws or caught in a sudden sandstorm.

Even if nothing happened during the journey, the local Feather would forbid the merchant caravan entry if it reached the next village before the emergency ended. It made early departures dangerous and potentially useless.

Remaining in their current village was the safe, but also the most expensive option. Time was money for merchant guilds, and delaying their departure meant falling behind schedule and missing some of their most important deadlines.

Not everyone lived inside Salaark’s villages, and some trades were better conducted away from the eyes of the Overlord’s envoys. All black-market activities and the deals with the outlaw tribes took place on neutral grounds at specific times.

Forbidden merchandise had to be acquired and sold before reaching the next village to avoid questions that would lead a merchant’s neck to the chopping block. If either party didn’t show up in time, the other would leave, afraid of other outlaw tribes as much as of Salaark’s watchful Nest.

"If you want to stay, stay. Otherwise get out of my village!" Ilyum Balkor, Feather of the Forgotten Plume tribe, said. "You have ten minutes before I raise the barrier."

Merchants loved money almost as much as their own lives, and their professional pride tipped the scales further.

Even within the same caravan, quarrels exploded between those who wanted to leave, claiming that the emergency would be resolved long before they reached their destination, and those who refused to leave, claiming that losing time and money was better than arriving early to their own funeral.

Similar arguments erupted all over the Blood Desert in every village that currently hosted a merchant caravan. The short notice and the little time to make such an important decision only made things escalate more quickly.

Merchants went from talking calmly to splitting into factions and throwing hands in minutes. Sometimes, even in a few seconds. There was no time to go through the bargaining, yelling, and threatening stages of the argument, so the merchants skipped them altogether.

In perfect Blood Desert tradition, the last man standing had the final word.

"We are leaving, and that’s final!" Karim Fairwind said after knocking down the last of his opponents. "Now get on those gods-damned horses, or I’ll kick your asses onto your saddles."

He was a middle-aged man with a round belly and a jovial face that belied the strength of his body.

"Goodbye, Feather Balkor. We’ll see you soon and on schedule, because that’s what the Crystal Bird guild does. Is that clear, you wimps?" Karim yelled.

The defeated merchants of either side of the argument groaned in reply, having difficulty standing up on their own. No merchant worthy of their name injured the members of their own caravan before a trip, so no one had sustained more than a few bruises and a broken lip.

Yet their vision was still blurred and their legs unsteady from the fight.

"I’ll see you next month at the same hour, then." Balkor walked among the youngest and weakest members of the guild, helping them to recover with a quick Healing spell.

"Thank you, Feather Balkor." A polite youth who couldn’t be older than fifteen struck the god of death with her fist the moment he turned his back on her to treat his next patient. "Thank you for your life!"

The young girl’s arm became covered in a black hide and grew to unnatural proportions, sending Balkor flying. The other merchants looked at the girl in horror, their minds unable to process the sudden turn of events.

"Guess what, old man?" Her eyes flared with the red light of undeath, and she erupted into a maniacal laughter. "I’m done with all your ’start from the bottom’ bullshit! The Crystal Bird guild is mine now!"

"What have you done, child?" Karim needed all his experience to keep the terrified horse from throwing him off the saddle. "What have you become?"

"Power!" She replied. "I-"

A burst of darkness magic pulverized her head while a spinning hard-light drill punctured her heart.

Ilyum Balkor stood unscathed, his eyes blazing with bright violet mana as he stared at the remaining merchants.

"Make one move, and I’ll kill you where you stand." He activated the mana crystal that controlled the magical formations of the Forgotten Plume village just for it to freeze on the spot. "I knew there couldn’t be just one of them."

"Surprise, Balkor!" A young man rushed towards the god of death in a straight line, crushing the merchants and horses on his path like they were toys. "Your much-vaunted magic-"

"Works just fine." The giant hand conjured by Balkor’s tier five spell, Shadow of the Colossus, grabbed the youth and squashed him before he could complete his transformation into an Upyr. "Amateurs."

A lesser man would have fallen for the act. The youths had been punched around easily, and their injuries were real, but Balkor had looked at himself in the mirror and worked with Manohar enough times to recognize madness when he saw it.