The Sound Of Despair

The meditation went well, even though there were some interruptions. Haktruk had already started to complain after the first lap, and it only got worse after that. Each time the veteran combat slave arrived at the merchant's camp, Sturm had to get up and threaten him to keep running.

It was incredible how One Ear kept running and, at the same time, still had the energy to protest. The combat slave was drenched in sweat, the chains binding his feet and hands were leaving behind bloody marks, and the tears running down his cheeks had long been dried. A little complaining was nothing in comparison.

Haktruk demonstrated to Sturm that he was serious despite his talkative nature. It was something Sturm could respect, even though he felt like his meditation could have been a lot more effective without the constant nagging.

When Sturm got up, the sun was already going down, and Haktruk laid next to him. He had passed out just before his last lap and collapsed next to the meditating boy.

<<He really did give his best. I was sure he would quit after a few laps, but the madman went through with it. If only he could fix his mouth.>>

While Sturm was looking at the unconscious Haktruk and thinking about what to do with him, a cart approached the camp. It could only be Edgar, and Sturm was looking forward to the news the merchant would be bringing.

<<He had some kind of important deal, right? Wonder what that was all about.>>

The wooden wheels of the cart threw up dust and sand and slowly got to a stop. Edgar was holding the horses' reins while Reinhardt was sitting next to him, grumbling about something. Edgar was surprised by Sturm's presence. It was the first day in the pit for the young slave, and he thought he'd certainly be busy over there.

When Sturm had been going to the quarry, he seldom visited the merchant's camp outside the scheduled days. Only when he needed extra rations would he stop by before night when Edgar packed up to leave the slave camp.

"Sturm! What are you doing here? Did you already get tired of being a combat slave?" Edgar joked."

Reinhardt jumped off the cart and nudged One Ear with his foot. "And who is this?"

Sturm could not possibly lose against the local combat slaves. Edgar knew that for a fact. A few years ago, he had witnessed a fight between gladiators in the capìtal of the local Pirate Lord, Barbascura. Even among the other Lords, Barbascura was known to invest the most in gladiators. They received the best treatment and training, just to slaughter each other for his entertainment. Those gladiators were slaves. No matter how skilled they were, they had not taken a single celestial step. Reinhardt would absolutely destroy them. On one leg. With a beer in hand.

If the former mercenary said Sturm was good, then that meant a lot more than the boy realized. The merchant was no expert in martial arts, but it was not hard to see that Sturm's sparring with Reinhardt was on another level.

"No, Master, but apparently, you get the day off if you win five fights. It just so happens that no slave ever wins five fights. That is why that rule is not very known. And that is a combat slave called Haktruk-something, so I just call him Haktruk. He wants to train with us, so I made him run a little."

Having your servant taking another step towards being a future right-hand required celebration. Never had Sturm disappointed his master. Not only was he dedicated to his studies and training without ever complaining, but now he had already established himself in the fighting pit after the first day and even managed to build connections.

"I see, I see! Hear that, Reinhardt? Your student already made a name for himself and even got an underling! Let us celebrate! I have brought a few things for you, Sturm. Reinhardt, please take Haktruk back to the pit, lest he is punished for attempting to flee. Be quick; I have something for you as well."

With a swing of his arm, a linen bag appeared in Edgar's hands. It gave off a medicinal smell, similar to chinese herbs. Reinhardt's mood improved when he heard the word celebration, so he quickly picked up the unconscious One Ear and started running.

"This is Gintseng. Some nobles chew on it to help them concentrate. I acquired quite a lot, so you will use this before your studies and training." Edgar explained while Reinhardt was away.

Soon after the guard captain came back, Edgar threw a bottle towards the Reinhardt. A third stage warrior could easily catch arrows flying towards them, so the bottle got safely picked out of the air.

"As expected, the boss is the best! Hurray for the Thunder Merchant Group! I should not have doubted your negotiating skills, boss. So it was true that Tibron had some. I heard he protects his stash as it was his life!"

His excitement was understandable, as the bottle once belonged to the famous Rum Lord. As the name implied, he was one of the twelve Pirate Lords and controlled most of the alcohol business throughout the seas.

This specific bottle was called Blood Rum. It was made of blood cane, and only a limited amount could be produced each year. No one apart from the Pirate Lords and their most trusted Captains could taste it. There was a rumor Tibron somehow managed to acquire some, but it had never been proven true.

"I'll drink today, and I'll drink tomorrow, hey hey ho! Then I'll drink some more and declare war… on my li-ver!"

A bird fell out of the sky and barely managed to not crash into the palisade. Sturm felt his ears bleeding and looked at the singing guard captain with shock. Luckily Haktruk had already been carried away, or that singing would have finished the job.

Is this one of those sound attacks I have seen in some animated series?

"Reinhardt! Shut up, or I will take that back. We are lucky if those guards won't come running to throw us out of the camp. Go over there and drink on your own. Silently."

The man didn't care and happily jumped towards a tree in front of the palisade, sat down, and started drinking.

Meanwhile, Edgar put up the table and signaled Sturm to sit down next to him.

He then got close and whispered to him. „What I'm going to tell you now is something that under no circumstance can be told to anyone else. I do not know if you have heard about mages, but all of them are incredibly powerful. They are able to incinerate, freeze, poison, or cut trained soldiers in seconds, and… they are all nobles."

The bag of Gintseng was placed on the table. Edgar then took out a wooden bowl and placed some of the medicine inside it.

"These herbs are one of the most basic but also rare ingredient mages use. One of those effects is improving their concentration, but they would not monopolize it if it were just that. Gintseng is also said to improve intelligence. Namely the ability to remember and learn things."

"Is it that important for mages?"

Obviously, improving the memory and learning ability was very useful, but that also meant monopolizing it should not come cheap. Any person of influence would be interested in that, be it a general, a king, or a knight.

"Not just any noble can learn magic. Apart from aptitude, social standing is the most important criterion for entering a magic university. So mages are not just personally powerful but also very influential. They would do anything to make learning easier, as a mage never stops learning in a lifetime. Anyone who does not use certain herbs, potions, and treatments to improve their learning speed gets left behind. How could the mighty magic-user of a renowned noble family possibly bear being left behind by his peers?"

Now it was clear why he could not tell anyone about it. What Edgar was casually grinding into dust in front of him was probably highly illegal. Even if there was no mage on Dagger's Rock Island, there could still be someone influential who would like to be one.

"Wait. Does this mean you will teach me magic?"

Suddenly Sturm felt excited. He may like to beat up people with his fists, but who would ever say no to freaking magic?

"Do I look like a noble mage to you? I'm a commoner and a merchant, not one of those pricks with their nose high up in the air. These herbs only have a very minuscule effect, but the younger you take them, the more effective they will be. Giving this to you is like investing gold into your education, so you better do not disappoint me!"

"Sir, yes, Sir!"

It truly was a huge opportunity, and it made Sturm wonder why the merchant would do so much for him. All of this started as a favor for the old guard, and while he did help Edgar quite a lot, he was not quite sure if it warranted this much of a treatment. They could both be killed for owning and consuming these herbs.

The Gintseng was soon completely ground into dust. After that, Edgar took out a can of water and mixed the powder into it. He then handed the can over and told Sturm to drink it. The boy complied and gulped it all down in a second.

Nothing happened.

<<Strange, usually you would expect some kind of reaction out of an intelligence-enhancing, well … drug. >>

Sturm put the can down and closed his eyes. Now he felt faint dizziness, but that was it. Disappointed, he opened his eyes.

"Woah."

<<Now, this is unexpected.>>

"Sturm, are you ok?"

Edgar had already consumed the same amount of Gintseng in the town and experienced nothing else outside of the faint dizziness. Only because he previously tested it did he give drugs to Sturm.

"Are mages some kind of junkies? This is crazy. So many squares. All these colors."

Even in his previous life, Sturm had never been high. He sure as hell did not expect to get baked in this one. The world seemed to consist of geometric patterns, and he lost all sense of time, but simultaneously, Sturm's senses were boosted to an incredible degree. He could almost taste what he saw and touch what he heard. In his delirium, he tried to taste the orange triangle-shaped horse cart.

Mhh, tastes like tacos.

Edgar saw Sturm starting to bleed out of his orifices and panicked. "What? This is not supposed to happen! Quickly lie down here and don't move. We cannot get a doctor, so you will have to sit through this."

*Splash*

If any other slave had been present, they probably would have attacked the merchant. Dumping a bucket full of water over someone was an incredible waste. It was the amount that at least ten slaves consumed during a week.

The water certainly helped, but it still took four hours until the hallucinations slowly faded away. Edgar managed to calm down soon after and felt relieved that Sturm's life did not seem to be in danger anymore. He wondered if he had been scammed. Had Tibron made up the effects? Did mages really consume those herbs?

It was true that mages consumed Gintseng on a regular basis, but what Edgar didn't know was that it was prohibited to mages under 15 years old. The mind had to be sufficiently developed before it could be exposed to such an intense outside influence. In the worst cases, young mage apprentices that ignored the warnings and consumed Gintseng anyways developed severe dementia and ended up braindead.

Even though still that of a 10-year-old, Sturm's mind was much more developed than that of his peers.. Thanks to that, he had escaped death by a hair's breadth.