The caravan continued on its trip towards Ovespuerte. Numisley did not bother to count how many times the sun rises and sets from the black line of the horizon, only that they had stopped by across five cities to replenish their resources through selling a fraction of their wares out of their vast inventory. While there, he met and mingled among the [Traders] and the local mayors of these cities, and was treated with the highest possible level of hospitality he hadn’t experienced in his life, aside from Ovespuerte and Ascolitica.
He had attained a rough and vague idea of the territories between his noble house and Ovespuerte and the rest of the Commerro-affiliated lands with the help of Malanyari’s map. The caravan straddled in the middle of the territories ruled by the Dominares, the Gaviolos, and the Kaminor; Numisley is barely familiar with noble families, aside from one.
The caravan descended on a slope towards what remains of a grand highway that seemed to be carved out of a single block of unblemished, scratch-less black stone or an impossibly perfect cast of concrete, sculpted by ancient sigils and complex patterns that none of their eyes can see or comprehend. Numisley’s eyes swept over the rubble surrounding the flawless road, idly guessing what structures were once there, most likely street posts that bore torches or lanterns. He only saw this type of structure three times when a rare opportunity to venture out of their hometown arose from their father’s busy schedule.
“A King’s Road,” Numisley remarked.
“Do you have such things wherever you come from?”
“Yeah. You can't even piss in a bush without pissing on some dead [King]’s floor back home.”
“So your homeland has ruins too… but then again, the Golden Emperor once conquered the world,” Malanyari said, in a matter-of-fact manner. “Though even learned men and women like me often make the mistake of assuming that every ruin belonged to that [Emperor], though true in a way.”
“So this isn't owned by him?”
“Many empires came and went after he left, and claimed his works as theirs. In a way, we are doing the same, stomping about on one of his roads.”
“Like my father said: if it ain't nailed down, use it.”
“Your father sounds more like a [Thief] than a [Lord].”
“[Lords] steal more than [Thieves], so we governed ourselves there. Though…I am one now.” The fact once again dawned on Numisley.
The bumps that come with travelling disappeared on this road, and Numisley felt an uncomfortable stillness. When Numisley closed his eyes and woke up, he saw what seemed to be people clad in chitin, bone, and cloth, riding giant ants. Before them is a barricade of men and women with pikes, crossbows, and wands, donning brigandine, gambeson, or plate, bearing the coin-banner of the Commerro House.
“By the name of the Commerros, surrender your caravan for inspection!” A magically amplified voice made itself known.
Some of the men and women on the dog-sized ants descended upon the wagons, and the guards of the caravan did not risk retaliating against the forces of a noble house. The “inspection” was rough and brisk, with the [Riders] whisking away the water and whatever foodstuffs were available. This flagrant indiscipline was not stopped by the authority behind this, which made Numisley wonder.
The [Merchant] of the caravan ran and knelt towards Numisley.
“Lord, lord, please forgive me…please talk to whoever’s in charge! If I order my guards–if they will fight…” Vhtechinethor pleaded.
Numisley knew what he had to do.
“I am Numarr Naveirei! I lead this caravan, I demand to speak to who’s in charge!” Numisley demanded.
No one emerged from the formation of pikes, but someone behind it spoke.
“To where this caravan headed?”
“To Ovespuerte, for trade in your ports!” This errant caution irked Numisley.
“It is decreed that none shall come to Ovespuerte!”
“By whose authority?”
“By the rightful Lord Paramount, Scsarse Commerro.”
News of this is a great shock to Numisley, and he wondered how true this is.
“You said that you can cast [Mes–”
“I can't. Not right now.” Malanyari interrupted Numisley before anyone could hear him, casting a subtle cantrip that mitigated Numisley’s voice. “And I’m sure that whoever organized this can monitor such spells.”
“Lord Numarr Naveirei! And his companions! You are urged to cooperate and surrender to our forces. All who are hired to guard this caravan may leave, or join our siege of Ovespuerte for four gold
The guards of the caravans, many picked up from the cities that they went to, with only a few working for Vhtechinethor full-time, stepped forward and joined the formation in an act of betrayal. The [Merchant] of Chidurr Trading had expected this because they are adventurers from many of their guilds or [Soldiers] who were out of work. He turned to his few loyal [Caravan Guards], whom he provided for five years, and spoke:
“Cooperate with them for now. Tell all of our folks that, please. Until this is sorted.”
They followed the order with various hues of hesitation, but all of them complied with their bosses’ orders regardless. The other [Merchants] and [Traders] who had tagged along the caravan did the same thing, because it is the only sensible option right now. All of them knew that their other options would lead to certain death
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Numisley, Malanyari, Vhtechinethor, and the other people who aren’t hired mercenaries were bound with rope, and all of their effects and anything that can be used as weapons or means of escape were confiscated, including their magical walking staff. Their captors forced them to form a mockery of their caravan, with all of their restraints bound to a single rope trailing behind one of their wagons. The caravan’s [Wagon Drivers] were forced to drive for them without any resistance or complaint because they knew the risks.
Vhtechinethor and his caravan marched, and later dragged themselves when fatigue set in. Numisley’s face met the wet ground five times from his inability to walk without his staff before one of the [Ant Riders] cared to let him ride on his mount instead; if only that they could avoid being dragged down. He eyed the blade nesting on his abductor’s scabbard, and the thought of stabbing his captor crossed his mind. That notion was quickly dispelled when he was faced with the reality of his body and his circumstances; that even if he stabbed one of the captors, he wouldn’t know how to run away, and would get the others killed.
So he became a spectator of his fate, watching the trees and the grass that swayed with the wind fade out of view.
In the afternoon, they arrived in the frontier town of Ehvetu, a settlement now infested with [Soldiers] from within its walls of thick logs and outside it, with tents, animals, and unlit campfires dotting the outskirts. The settlement now suffers from the presence of an allied armed force, with its citizens bothered and all resources allocated to their allied occupiers, happy, lest they suffer their wrath. The water, potions, metals, and other goods were pilfered by [Soldiers] from their wagons. Numisley saw someone listing down the abilities of the adventurers who chose to join as irregulars before they were dragged into a steel cage, along with other unfortunates who had also had their arms bound with rope. The cage became cramped with the [Traders] in their company, shuffling their legs and bodies for space.
“Any one of you knows what’s happening?” Numisley immediately demanded answers from the five odd prisoners who were in the cage longer than they.
“War, sire.” One of them answered. “The Saodons and the Vicamars showed up one day, with Lord Commerro.” A prisoner with modest clothing spoke.
“War with whom?” Numisley asked.
“We do not know.” The prisoner admitted.
“Another one of them. The Lord of Ovespuerte right now.” A man wearing finer cotton clothes spoke up.
“You seem knowledgeable.” Numisley turned towards the other prisoner. “How did you get arrested?”
“I’m a [Trader] who took a risk and miscalculated. I knew troubles were brewing when I saw the lighthouse lit up but…”
“A kindred spirit,” Numisley remarked.
Vhtechinethor inched towards Numisley.
“My lord, I did not know of this.”
“Of course you don't.” Numisley spat and returned his attention to the imprisoned [Trader]. “I need to know. What have you heard?”
Numisley knew that [Merchants] like himself have more information than most people because of the many places they have been to and the connections they have made.
“[Pirates] in the port. Riots and a new ruler. I knew what the fuss was all about, but I believed that if I took advantage of the chaos, I would come back richer.”
“Then come with us when we get out of here. Let's just say I’m someone important there.”
“I’ll think about it.”
There was nothing of note happening for a while except for a brawl between one of the people riding the dog-sized ants and a larger man wearing only a vest and kilt, with tattoos all over his body. They barked in a language neither Numisley nor his companions could understand, and later drew blood from the towering man’s punch. Before a brawl between two groups started, [Knights] in chainmail subdued them, and parted when a noble of green finery walked towards the cage.
“I heard that a Naveirei’s here.” The noble spoke.
“And are you the person in charge?” Numisley asked.
“Indeed. And you?”
“Numarr Naveirei.”
“Never heard of a Numarr…yet, may I ask you, Naveirei, to cooperate as a prisoner of war to be ransomed. Until I, Scsarse Commerro, attain my rightful place as the of the Commerros and Lord Paramount of Ovespuerte.”
“I will be more useful as your [Steward]. I’m an official of Ovespuerte.”
“You will be twice as valuable then as my prisoner.”
The cage is opened, though still guarded.
“Nobles and above must be treated well as decree dictates. [Merchants], out of practicality. Who among you are [Merchants] of a guild?”
Vhtechinethor and the other [Merchants] of the caravan voiced their affiliations and showed proof of their allegiances. Anyone who produced what the [Lord] demanded would be free to be let go, though they did not have the luxury of getting their pilfered goods and coins back or being given mounts. Only a few were left in the cramped cages: [Traders] without affiliation to a powerful guild, or people who were not [Traders] in the first place. Those who were freed have to procure these themselves if they wish to leave for the nearest settlement, and many of themhave already begun to negotiate with the owners of mules and horses, or the [Wagon Drivers] who were also spared. The Commerro gave orders to his men, and it seems like they were monitoring the [Merchants], but not interfering for now.
“Are you going to Ovespuerte?” Numisley asked Vhtechinethor in a hushed voice.
“If possible, but I do not think I could head straight there. I need to negotiate for a mount or, even better, form a caravan again; though with this failure of mine…they would not let me be the leader.” Vhtechinethor explained.
“I need you to do something for me. I will pay you, sooner or later, so that your losses will be compensated.”
Malanyari was shocked because of how easily Numisley could make promises like that; but he also understood the importance of the mobility of [Merchants]. He knew that regardless of how little Numisley would repay, Vhtechinethor would take this opportunity to ingratiate himself so that one day, his noble house would regain its rightful position.
“My lord, use me at your disposal,” Vhtechinethor said.
“Tell me, which Merchant’s Guild do you belong to?” Numisley asked.
“The Skotemieni?e Guild of Companies.”
“Are the others members of that guild? Are the [Wagon Drivers] members of a guild?”
“Most, but some are from the Merchants of the Trecaminotrarrè who guided us to the King’s Road and a few from the Gold Salt Dealers had came with us. Many of the [Wagon Drivers] are employees of their [Merchants], but they did not say if they belong to a guild or not–but, I think it is likely.”
“Can you convince them to spread the news?”
“News will spread regardless because Lord Commerro let us go. The Lords and Ladies fear the guilds as much as we fear them.”
“Then, when you find a mount or find some people to ride with, go to Ovespuerte as fast as possible. Go to the castle, and tell that Numisley sent you. Or if you manage to find a Mage Guild, or if your guild could contact Ovespuerte, then deliver the news. As long as it reaches Racieros Commerro.”
“As you wish. Best wishes, my liege.”
Vhtechinethor disappeared into the crowd, and after a short while, the guards dragged them to the town hall. Now, they were in a different kind of prison: in the company of this Commerro, surrounded by his guards. Despite the scrumptious stewed meat that their host served them, Numisley chewed and swallowed with deliberation. As a hostage, he had to converse with the self-absorbed individual, answering every question half-heartedly and omitting his dangerous truths. He endured his hosts’ ramblings of greatness and parsed every fact to glean truths behind this Commerro’s unfounded bravado. Numisley would rather have the company of Racieros’ late father, for at least he had intellect and manners.
By the end of the day, Numisley learned many weaknesses and thought of possibilities to exploit. He and Malanyari were confined to a room with two beds and a window with shutters locked from the outside, only letting a miserable amount of moonlight in.
Numisley’s [Record Information], which recorded information within his head in a clarity unmatched by raw remembering had embedded the fact within his mind that this Commerro is merely a bit player in a grander scheme, in competition with other Commerros for only a token force of [Mercenaries] from the tribes of Saodon and Vicamar, and that there were insecurities that he could use against his captor.
For now, they slept in the dark.
