Author: 冬瓜茶仙人 / Winter Melon Tea Immortal

Translator: Kinky || https://kinkytranslations.com/

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Chapter 78

If she could, Erica would have preferred the Duke to stay in a well-defended city, letting her and the knights handle all the arrangements and scheduling, as the noble status of their master wasn’t suited for such strenuous and exhausting journeys.

But decisions made by the head of the Dwight family weren’t to be questioned by them.

She stowed away her spyglass as the wind brought tiny grains of sand against her face, though most were blocked by the fully wrapped headscarf.

After leaving Syriacochi, Count Lestrop headed towards White Bridge. Due to the long journey and the slow pace typical of noble carriages, catching up to them would require little effort.

The Mokwen Kingdom, near the edge of the continent, had a dry climate and suffered from water scarcity all year round, but it was still better off compared to its neighbors.

After leaving Mokwen, the carriage entered the Kingdom of Lababata, a small country where sixty percent of the territory was sandy dunes. The kingdom had virtually no natural resources and served purely as a trade transit country.

Thanks to its geographical location as a southwestern hub on the Doran continent, the kingdom had relatively relaxed entry and exit regulations. Erica and her group had reached the capital city yesterday, while the Lestrop caravan that had departed before them hadn’t yet arrived.

Erica walked down the steps with slight trepidation. Several mercenaries were resting in the shade beneath the building, quickly standing up when they saw their employer descend—Erica nodded coldly, not minding their relaxed posture.

Firstly, mercenaries couldn’t be held to the same standards as the knights, and secondly, the weather in this region was excessively dry and hot. It was still spring, yet the morning sun was already fiercely dazzling, difficult for non-locals to quickly adapt to.

The heat and dryness caused lethargy. As long as they didn’t leave their posts without permission, Erica decided not to spend effort disciplining their everyday conduct. She had more important things to do.

The rented house was close to the city wall, and just twenty steps to the east was the famous Spice Street, formed over a hundred years ago by various spice vendors and gradually evolved into a major trade street after the port and docks were built. It was the first stop for many merchants coming to Lababata. Naturally, as a merchant traveling the continent under the guise of a caravan, Erica couldn’t avoid doing some routine shopping while waiting.

This season wasn’t the peak of spice trading. Many shops’ inventories were leftovers from last year, offering limited choices. Thus, this famous street appeared somewhat vacant at this time.

This situation would continue until the summer rains increased, when the canals filled with water and merchant ships tirelessly moved in and out of the docks like ants drawn to sugar water. By early fall, the street would be crowded, and walking a large animal like a camel down it would be impossible.

Erica glanced casually at a young girl across the street, who, in an environment dominated by long robes and headscarves, was noticeable with her petite nose dotted with freckles, a high ponytail, and the rare sight of a short shirt—her honey-colored skin revealed with her movements was a vibrant splash of color on this street still sleepy from winter.

Such a girl might not attract undue attention in an inland capital, but in this conservative small kingdom, she could easily invite trouble. Erica noticed that at least two groups of people were eyeing the girl, who seemed utterly unconcerned as she leisurely purchased dates, nuts, and some common spices, loading them onto the beautiful little camel beside her.

Erica didn’t linger, turning into a rundown carpet shop.

The shop looked like it had been out of business for years. The display window was empty, and the wooden door’s color was old and patchy, making the originally vibrant patterns look like moth-eaten leaves, exuding an irredeemable air of decay.

Naturally, there were no customers inside, and the shelves behind the wooden counter seemed never to have been cleaned, with a few carpets carelessly thrown on them, as gray as the rest of the shop’s furnishings, making it unclear whether the original colors were indeed that gray or just covered in a layer of dust.

A skinny clerk sat behind the counter. His thick glasses nearly covered his entire face. His pointed chin and magnified eyes made him resemble a bizarre humanoid praying mantis.

Erica approached. “A cup of fire ant liquor.”

“This is a carpet shop, not a bar,” the clerk replied wearily.

“No matter. I brought my own cup,” Erica said nonchalantly, placing a shiny silver coin on the counter, face-up showing a fairy pattern embossed as if newly minted, making the wooden surface look even dirtier.

This wasn’t Lababata’s currency, but this pattern was a hard currency in any Doran country: only a powerful nation could mint fairy coins, and they had a good exchange rate in every country on the continent.

The clerk lifted his eyelids to look at her.

Erica produced another silver coin, this time with the numeric side up, half-stacking it on the first.

“Oh, alright then,” the gaunt clerk muttered, carelessly sweeping the two coins into a drawer under the counter, then moved out from behind it and locked the shop door, though Erica doubted it was necessary as the door was so dilapidated it let in drafts anyway, with most of the shop’s heavy dust likely blown in from the street.

“This way,” the clerk said, holding a silver candlestick and leading Erica through another door behind the counter, down a long, narrow corridor that only allowed single file passage, ending at another door.

But this door looked much sturdier than the shop’s.

The clerk knocked and muttered a few words. The door opened from inside.

“Go on in,” he said, turning to Erica with a malicious grin.

Erica didn’t mind, instead pulling her scarf up over her face—along with the headscarf already covering her hair, only her eyes were visible.

The clerk’s smile disappeared, and he glared at her fiercely before sticking close to the wall and walking back.

Erica leaned in and entered through the door, which was only as tall as her waist. She was greeted by a dwarf inside, who hurried her along before locking the door heavily.

It was hard to imagine from the outside, but the space behind the door was enormous, seeming to hollow out the area around the carpet shop into a vast room. Men sat or stood around the room, with only the central area brightly lit by a large lamp, dazzlingly bright.

However, beyond the reach of the light, it was unusually dark.

Erica didn’t look around like a newcomer but casually found a corner against the wall to stand, not initiating conversation with anyone around.

Unlike the decrepit carpet shop above, the people here were dressed in no way that suggested poverty. Two men even wore finely tailored coats, looking like professors from some royal academy.

Most, like Erica, wore local long robes suited to resist the heat and sand, with their deep-set features and eyebrows nearly crushed together, typical of Lababata locals.

Despite Erica’s similar dress, it didn’t take long for some to notice her presence.

“New here?” a man with a large nose asked her in a thick accent, his face unobstructed and seemingly friendly.

Erica nodded and replied in the common language. “An old friend told me there are exciting games to be seen here.”

“Are you a merchant?” The man with the big nose realized. “It’s not even the rainy season yet. You’re a bit early.”

“It’s my first time. I miscalculated the journey… Never mind that. What’s the entertainment tonight? If it’s just boring dancers, then I’m leaving.” Erica spoke with a dismissive and arrogant tone.

The man with the big nose laughed. “Who brought you here without telling you what this place is?”

“He told me to come and see for myself.”

“A surprise.” The man nodded. “It’s about time I told you. This place isn’t for flirting with dancers. Strictly speaking, there are no women here at all. They can’t stand to see these things.”

Erica stood a little straighter, her tone slightly rising. “Animal fighting?”

When it came to underground male entertainment, animal fights were undoubtedly the most popular and sensationally stimulating activity, though many kingdoms had banned it.

But what good were bans? Whether it was the wealthy debauchees or the disgruntled lower classes, they all relished the blood-boiling spectacle. Once addicted, even the strictest laws couldn’t fully eradicate these practices.

The man chuckled again, reaffirming his assumption that Erica was just another idle young nobleman.

Erica smiled too, but her smile didn’t reach her eyes.

She actually knew what this place was for—like the animal fights, cruel, but even more challenging to the psychological limits of the audience: human death fights.

Erica not only knew what was going to happen here, but she was also familiar with the rules of such places because a current knight from the Brandenburg Knights had come from such a place as a child.

And for that reason, whenever the Brandenburg Knights and Erica had a chance, they would come to see. Their power wasn’t enough to destroy the existing rules, and it was difficult to pull fully involved adults out, but if there were still unformed children involved, they could be taken away through trades.

Those who could stand on the fighting platform to “perform” for the audience, at least in strength and skill, were above average. Many wealthy individuals sought not only excitement here but also to scout potentially gifted children to take back and raise—limited only to those still children, and the price was high.

“It’s about time. Just wait and see… Dancers… Heh, there won’t be women here! There never have been—huh?!” The big-nosed man’s tone amusingly twisted and came to a screeching halt, as if someone had stuffed a date into his throat.

He bulged his eyes out, staring frozenly in the direction of the entrance.

Erica looked up to see a girl standing at the entrance.

The noisy room had somehow fallen completely silent. Everyone was looking at her.

It was the girl with the camel from the street.

“Lost, honey?” The men, more brazen here than on the street, immediately surrounded her with leering looks. “This is no place for a little girl…”

“Oh, but the shopkeeper let me in,” the girl said. “He didn’t say that.”

“That’s because he doesn’t care about you.” A man with a headscarf, his eyes nearly glued to her chest, reached out and touched her shoulder. “You’re in the wrong place. I’ll take you out.”

The girl wrinkled her nose cutely, looking somewhat innocent, but the moment that hand touched her, she suddenly turned, stepped back half a step, and threw a hard punch to the man’s face!

The man didn’t even get a chance to scream before he fell backward, crashing heavily to the ground. The others around him instantly cleared a circle for him.

Erica’s eyebrows twitched.

The men present might enjoy a bloody spectacle, but that didn’t mean they were capable of fighting themselves. In fact, the weaker someone was, the more they tended to project their fantasies onto this sort of thing. It wasn’t unusual for one to be knocked down with a punch.

What really caught her attention was the girl’s punch—it was precise, instantly knocking the man out, likely breaking his nose.

If one didn’t want to kill someone but wanted to make an example, this was the most efficient way to do it. But this straightforward, brutal way of fighting clearly came from the underground—

That is, from hundreds of cities’ corners, where deadly battles like the ones in this room were staged year-round.

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