I, the slave boy, awaken with the most potent seed!!

The landscape transformed as Blackthorn's cart ventured further from the bustling town of Astoria towards the village close to the mountains.

The crowded streets and lively chatter of townsfolk gradually gave way to a sparse, rural setting.

As they progressed, even the scattered farmhouses became few and far between.

The road wound past tranquil water bodies, where solitary fishermen cast their lines into the placid waters.

Blackthorn sat motionless in the cart, his face an impassive mask that betrayed none of the tumultuous thoughts swirling within his mind.

His eyes, sharp and observant, scanned the changing scenery, but his focus was on Matilda's possible hideout.

Where could she have gone?

As the sun dipped lower on the mountains, casting long shadows across the increasingly rugged terrain, Blackthorn's determination only grew stronger. Word couldn't get out that Matilda left him. What would that do to his reputation?

What's worse? When the public got to know whom he lost lost his wife to. A lowly commoner. A slaveboy? Impossible!!

As the cart approached the depths of the village, the difference between this rural settlement and the more developed parts of Astoria became increasingly evident. While Astoria in comparison to Drakoria was like day and night, the neighboring villages surrounding these two cities were equally left in the dark, literally.

Small, modest houses dotted the landscape, their simple construction a far cry from the ornate mansions of the wealthy urban elite.

The villagers, engaged in their evening routines, paused as Blackthorn's cart rolled into view.

Children stopped their games, adults halted their conversations, and even the livestock seemed to sense the arrival of something unusual.

The decorated cart, with its polished wood and gleaming metal fittings, was anomaly in this humble setting.

They all knew someone important was in their midst and if the cart didn't give it a way, the sudden shift in the environment did.

Curious eyes followed the cart's movement through the village's narrow, unpaved streets.

The residents exchanged puzzled glances and hushed whispers, speculation running rife about the identity and purpose of these strangers.

Some villagers openly stared, watching with caution. No one really from the big city came over to this ends unless it was for one reason. A son or a daughter of theirs was about to pack their bags and leave with these strangers in the cart to become... Slaves.

Others pretended to go about their business while stealing furtive glances at the newcomers.

A few of the bolder children even began to trail behind the cart at a cautious distance, their excited whispers carrying on the evening breeze.

Blackthorn, ever observant, noted the villagers' reactions from behind the cart's curtains.

His keen eyes scanned the faces of the onlookers, searching for any sign of recognition or undue alarm that might betray a connection to Matilda's disappearance.

"Someone here is going to give me the answers that I need," he said, more to himself than anyone else. Gustavo who sat next to him glanced at him once or twice every now and then.

'It's a pity really. Lord Blackthorn himself reduced to...this. Because of a woman,' he thought but didn't have the voice to say it. Not that he could even if he wanted to. All through the travel, he had been trying to suppress a cough so that Blackthorn doesn't begin to ask questions. The poison in his system was slowly eating at him and all they did was waste time on some stupid search.

Blackthorn on the otherhand ignored Gustavo's frequent glances and kept looking around for signs of the slaveboy or his wife. He then noticed a group of boys standing on a rock by the side of the road.

Sensing an opportunity to get directions, he instructed the driver to stop the cart. Turning to Gustavo, he said, "Ask those boys for the direction to Zafron's house."

Gustavo jumped down and approached the group of young men, their curious gazes were fixed upon him as he drew near.

The acrid smell of tobacco hung in the air around them, wisps of smoke curling from the sticks clenched between their teeth.

"Good evening, gentlemen," Gustavo began, his tone carefully measured to convey both politeness and authority. "I'm looking for someone who might be in this village. A young man named Zafron. Do any of you happen to know--"

Before he could finish his question, Gustavo noticed a flicker of recognition pass between the youths.

Their body language shifted subtly. It was clear they knew exactly who Zafron was.

A young man with spiky dark hair stepped forward, his eyes narrowing as he regarded Gustavo with suspicion. "Zafron is not here in the village. He went to the city. What do you want with him?" he demanded, his voice carrying a hint of defensiveness. He stood before Gustavo, shoulders squared as if to say "What's up? you gonna fight or what?".

Gustavo maintained his composure. He chose his next words carefully, aware that these young men might be protective of their friend.

"We're not here to cause any trouble," Gustavo assured them. "We're simply trying to locate him on behalf of someone who knows him. It's a matter of some importance."

The spiky-haired youth exchanged glances with his companions, their silent communication speaking volumes. Gustavo could sense their hesitation, the unspoken debate about how much to reveal to this stranger.

"And who might you be?" another of the young men piped up, his tone challenging. "We don't get many outsiders here."

Gustavo cleared his throat, adopting a casual tone. "We're actually his uncles from the city. It's been quite a while since we've visited the village, so I'm afraid I've lost track of where exactly the house is located."

The spiky-haired youth's eyes lit up with a mix of skepticism and opportunism. He removed the smoking stick from his mouth, a sly smile playing on his lips.

"Oh, is that so? Well, you know, it's funny... I might have forgotten where that house is too. Perhaps you have something that could help me remember?"

Gustavo immediately understood the implication. The youth was asking for money, plain and simple.

'What's these people's obsession with money these days? First it was the useless doctor and now you?'

He felt a surge of annoyance, his first instinct to refuse and beat the hell out of the youth for asking him for money.

But as he glanced around, noticing the curious stares of nearby villagers, he reconsidered.

'This isn't the place for a confrontation,' Gustavo thought. 'Lord Blackthorn wouldn't appreciate another scene, especially not here.'

Suppressing a sigh, he reached into his pocket. He pulled out a handful of Thalens, carefully counting out 200. "Here's 200 Thalens, for your trouble." he said, extending the money.

As he held out the money, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of resentment. 'This had better be worth it,' he thought, his fingers reluctantly loosening their grip on the cash.

The youth's eyes widened at the sight of the cash. He snatched it eagerly, his grin widening. "Well, well, aren't you generous?" He pocketed the money and pointed down the street. "It's just behind that house on the corner. Can't miss it."

Gustavo nodded and without a word, he walked away. He never wanted to hand over the bribe, but he didn't want to waste Blackthorn's precious time.

He hurried back to the cart where Blackthorn waited.

As he climbed in, he relayed the directions he'd received. "It's just behind the house on the corner," he said, pointing. Blackthorn nodded, urging the horses forward.

As the cart rolled away, the group of boys remained rooted to their spot, their eyes fixed on the departing strangers.

A second guy sidled up to the guy with the spiky hair, his voice low and urgent. "Taki, did you see how much money that man was carrying? It was a fortune!"

Taki's lips curled into a knowing smile. He'd seen it all right, and his mind was already racing with possibilities. "I did, Jakob," he replied, his eyes never leaving the receding cart. "And from the looks of things, those city folk aren't planning to stick around long. They might actually be leaving today. That cart's practically empty, and there are only two of them."

He turned to face the group, his expression suddenly intense. "Who wants to get rich?" he asked, his voice carrying a dangerous edge. The other boys leaned in, their eyes gleaming with interest and a hint of fear.

Taki's gaze swept over them, assessing their resolve. "Our ticket out of poverty just rolled into town, boys. All we need is the courage to seize it." He paused, letting his words sink in.

Then, with a nod towards Blackthorn's disappearing cart, he added, "If we're brave enough, that is."

THIS CHAPTER UPLOAD FIRST AT NOVELBIN.COM