Ulon snorted loudly from the bench. "Hope? Sounds more like a scam."
Molly gave a low snort as the reins shifted, and Ulon leaned back with a grin. "I've seen that trick before, you know."
Inside the wagon, Maddy clicked her tongue. "Exactly. You practically insulted that bracelet to her face." She glanced upward as if Klaus could see her glare through the roof. "From where I was standing, it was expensive. And you traded it for a few barrels, bundles of salted biscuits, and dried meat. That's practically cheating."
Petra hesitated, fingers tightening around the strap of her scythe before she spoke.
"M-maybe Mr. Klaus just wanted to help," she said quietly. "He could return it when we pass through again."
Maddy scoffed. "Klaus the Slouch, helping? Is the world ending, and no one bothered to tell me?"
Ulon laughed, loud and unrestrained. "He's neither a saint nor a philanthropist, that's for sure. But I wouldn't call him a cheat either." He shrugged. "Just greedy."
Kiel turned fully toward Klaus, studying him. The man hadn't moved an inch—eyes closed, breathing even, as if the accusations were nothing more than background noise.
"Did you really cheat on them, Mr. Klaus?" Kiel asked, more curious than accusing.
Klaus didn't open his eyes.
"Maybe," he said. Then, after a beat, "maybe not."
The answer hung there, unsatisfying and deliberate.
"What matters," Klaus continued calmly, "is that both sides walked away with what they needed. They got food, medicine, and time." One eye cracked open briefly, catching the light. "I got the gold."
Maddy huffed. "You make it sound noble."
"It isn't," Klaus replied lightly. "It's practical."
Shalotte broke the stalemate, his voice soft but steady.
"Honestly… it doesn't matter whether what Mr. Klaus did was noble or not," he said, fingers nervously adjusting his grip on his staff. "What matters is that we gained allies instead of enemies."
Maddy, unimpressed, said, "That's a very generous way to describe taking advantage of others' misfortune."
Shane, seated at the driver's bench, nodded slowly. "Shalotte is right," he said. His tone was calm, deliberate—the voice of someone already calculating three steps ahead. "And knowing Mayor Gordon, he'll welcome them with open arms. He's not fond of having too many slaves littering his town. Still, he's desperate for labor at the lower end of the city. Construction, sanitation, warehouses, anything that his people don't want."
He glanced back briefly. "I also need strong hands for my business. Having them indebted to us is… efficient."
From the roof, Klaus lifted his head just enough to smirk. "See? I did nothing wrong."
Ulon let out a barking laugh. "Maybe the gods favor greedy men like you."
Maddy snorted, "Maybe gods were blind not to notice him."
Ulon looked up and smiled, "Gods never been blind, they're just indifferent."
Klaus shrugged and settled back down, hands folded behind his head. "Favored or not, we wouldn't know. Maybe they're just preparing me for something worse."
Ulon rolled his shoulders. "We'll find out when we get there."
After that, the conversation dwindled. The wagon creaked along the rocky, barren stretch of land, scattered with jagged stone outcrops and the occasional stubborn tree clinging to life. The late morning sun poured down, turning the dust into a pale haze.
Inside the wagon, the tension finally drained away. Maddy shifted first, muttering something under her breath before leaning against the wall and closing her eyes. Petra followed, carefully securing her scythe before sitting back, shoulders still tense but slowly relaxing. Shalotte tried to find a comfortable position, nearly knocking his staff over twice before finally curling up and dozing off.
On the roof, Kiel flopped down beside Klaus without ceremony, arms spread, staring up at the cloudless sky. Neither of them seemed to care about the sun beating down on them.
Ulon glanced back, yawning. "They look tired."
Shane gave a small huff of amusement. "Not tired enough to stop arguing with each other before passing out."
"They earned the rest," Ulon said. "Al'Qatl wasn't hard, but it drains you all the same."
Shane's gaze hardened slightly as he looked ahead. "Tomorrow, the real battle begins." He shifted the reins and added quietly, "Guide them, Ulon. But don't sacrifice yourself for nothing."
Ulon grinned, cracking his neck. "I'm harder to kill than you think, boss."
Shane allowed himself a faint smile. "Indeed."
Hours passed with only the sound of wheels and wind. Then Zevy's sharp shriek cut through the air.
Shane straightened. "We have company."
On the roof, Klaus opened one eye. He had never truly been asleep—his attention was already on the faint, disciplined presence trailing them at a distance. "Bad blood?" he asked lazily.
Everyone stirred. Inside the wagon, Maddy and Petra sat up at once, alert. Shalotte nearly fell over in his hurry to look out.
"Probably merchants," Shane said. "Heavily guarded."
The convoy emerged sooner than expected. At the front rode black-armored soldiers atop equally armored horses, their formation tight and disciplined—at least a dozen of them. Petra's grip tightened instinctively at the sight, unease prickling along her spine.
Behind them rolled massive, metal-plated wagons. A cold mist seeped from their seams, drifting low to the ground. The air chilled as they passed, the vapor curling like smoke though nothing burned.
At the rear came another group of black-armored escorts, flanking three more wagons—plainer, but marked with distinct insignias: a four-leaf clover, a rhino's head, and a creature with the upper body of a lion and the lower half of a fish.
Shane narrowed his eyes. "Varkesh Sea merchants."
Kollus was never rich in fish. What little the Empire had came from rivers, or—if one was reckless enough—from the Great Lake Mohambe, where Lizardmen territory made every cast a gamble with death. Most fish on Koll tables were imports, hauled in from Varkesh or Lumeris, tightly controlled by merchant guilds and priced like luxury goods. A convoy like that meant money, power and influence.
On the roof of the wagon, Kiel leaned forward, fingers gripping the wooden edge a little too tightly. His usual grin was gone.
"Varkesh?" he asked, voice edged with worry. "Does that mean the Kultians might be in danger?"
Klaus lay sprawled beside him, one knee bent, hands behind his head. He glanced sideways at the boy and smiled faintly.
"Looks like someone fell hard for a red-headed girl." His gaze flicked briefly to the distance behind them, where the subtle presence of the surveillance officers had already vanished.
'The surveillance may be over' he thought.
"I'm not in love," Kiel snapped, then faltered. "I'm just… worried."
Ulon laughed from the driver's bench, loud and unapologetic. "Worried, huh? Want some tips from the masters?"
Maddy stuck her head out from inside the wagon, arms crossed. "If your tips involve teasing him, keep them to yourself."
Shane didn't look back as he guided the reins. "There's nothing to worry about," he said evenly. "If they follow my advice, they'll be fine."
Kiel swallowed. "And if they don't?"
Shane answered without hesitation. "Then we'll bury their remains when we pass through."
The bluntness hit harder than any shout. Inside the wagon, Petra stiffened, fingers curling tighter around her scythe's handle. Shalotte winced and adjusted his seat, as if trying to make himself smaller.
Kiel stared at Shane's back. "Aren't we… going back?"
"And start a diplomatic conflict between two countries over them?" Shane replied coolly. "No. Not a chance."
Ulon hummed thoughtfully. "Cold, boss. But fair."
Kiel looked down at the road, jaw clenched. Klaus watched him for a moment, then closed his eyes again, expression unreadable—easygoing as ever, yet carrying the quiet weight of someone who had already decided how much mercy the world could afford.
"Just accept it, kid. You two were never meant."