Just as the last carriage was finally loaded, a voice he had known for half his life called out to him,
"Barna?"
The voice was so familiar, so loathsome, it cut through the recently healed scars in his memory like a sword.
Lena, the wife who had run away, taking his last few coppers when his business failed and he was at his lowest, making him give up on himself.
It was truly pathetic; he had once considered this woman the true love of his life, and now he cursed himself in his heart for his past lack of judgment.
Barna calmly turned around; a rather attractive woman stood not far away, dressed in a gorgeous long gown, with shining jewelry on her hands, but the expensive fabric could not hide her somewhat bloated figure, nor could the heavy makeup conceal the exhaustion in the corners of her eyes.
Lena's eyes lit up, her gaze greedily sweeping over the several carriages full of goods and the spirited guards behind Barna, and she quickly walked over: "It really is you! Barna! My dear husband..."
She had heard that a strange, ridiculous, and foolish merchant would be coming today to acquire discarded equipment, and she had specifically come to see for herself, never expecting it to be her ex-husband, and one with so many carriages and attendants.
"You're doing very well now...?" She tried to make her voice sound gentle, and one hand unconsciously reached out to touch Barna's face.
He looked at the woman before him, and what flashed through his mind was not past tenderness, but the despair of his business failure, returning home to an empty house, and his wife's betrayal, which made him lose the will to live.
Barna took a step back, recoiling in disgust from her touch.
This greedy woman's current attitude was nothing more than seeing that he seemed to have made a fortune again, surrounded by attendants, and wanting to return to his side once more.
"What do you want?" Barna's voice was as cold as ice, without a trace of past warmth.
The smile on Lena's face froze for a moment, then became seductive again: "Oh! Dearest! My Barna! I know I wronged you before, but you see, I'm not doing so well now either..."
She glanced at a plump knight not far away who was waiting impatiently.
"As long as you're willing, we can start over; you have so many subordinates now, so many carriages..." Her words were full of innuendo.
Just as he expected, now that she saw him rebuilding his fortune, Barna sneered inwardly, completely disillusioned with the woman.
"My life," Barna interrupted her, enunciating each word, "you are not worthy of."
After speaking, he no longer looked at her, turning to his guards and ordering: "Let's go!"
Lena's expression instantly shifted from stunned to angry, then to extreme malice.
She watched Barna's resolute retreating figure, then looked at the bulging money pouch at his waist, and a vicious thought quickly formed in her mind.
She turned, swaying her hips, and ran towards the plump knight, her lover, Sir Guy, embracing him tightly.
"Dearest." She hid in the plump knight's arms, squeezing out a few tears. "That man... he refused your business, and he insulted me!"
"He said I was like a bitch following you!"
"What!" Sir Guy's plump face turned a liver-like purple, but what angered him was not the insult to the woman, but that the merchant had refused to do business with him; he had intended to extort a sum of money from this merchant.
"He also said," Lena continued to add fuel to the fire, "he said he knew what you wanted to do! That you just wanted to extort a sum of money from him!"
"He has a large sum of gold dragons on him! But he won't give you a single copper! He also said that your status isn't worth a single copper!"
"He only does business with hereditary lords!"
It seemed that forcible seizure was the only option; greed and anger simultaneously ignited Sir Guy's eyes, and a cold sneer appeared at the corner of his mouth.
"Gather the men!" He whispered to his attendant beside him. "Follow me! I'll let him know what happens when you insult Sir Guy and his woman!"
Barna's group walked slowly along the forest path when a veteran scout on a packhorse galloped back.
The veteran's face was solemn as he looked back, speaking: "Something's wrong! Since we left the city! A dozen people have been following us from a distance! Lord Barna!"
"Quick! Speed up!" Barna also felt it; his heart sank. This was clearly an ambush to rob and kill.
They only had four veterans assigned by Arthur and a dozen villagers who had not undergone combat training acting as helpers, while the other party was clearly numerous and powerful.
Even more critically, the heavy carts of scrap metal severely slowed their speed.
One of the helpers anxiously shouted: "Lord! Let's abandon the goods! If we travel light, we might still be able to escape!"
"No!" Barna's reply was decisive.
Barna stared intently at the bumpy road ahead, with only one thought in his mind: this was the first task Lord Arthur had given him.
Even if he lost his life, these goods could not be abandoned, and besides, they couldn't escape now; the other party would never let them go to prevent news from leaking.
The small path in the forest was rugged and difficult to navigate, and the carriage wheels got stuck in mud pits several times.
Finally, in a narrow clearing in the woods, the sound of hooves rang out, and they were caught.
Seven or eight soldiers with sharp swords surrounded them, and Sir Guy, mounted on his horse, looked down at them with a 獰笑 on his face.
"Run, you fools." He pointed his horsewhip at Barna. "Now, hand over the money and goods, and I might consider leaving you with whole corpses."
Sir Guy thought about it; those scrap metal goods weren't worth much money.
"No! Just hand over the money!"
Barna and his men stood with their backs to the carriages; only the four veterans gripped their weapons, exchanging glances, calculating if they might have a chance to fight, while the faces of the other villager helpers were filled with despair, and they hadn't even drawn their swords.
Barna drew his sword; although he hadn't trained much, he was now prepared to fight to the death.
He just regretted not being able to complete Lord Arthur's task; he could only repay him with his death, hoping Lord Arthur wouldn't misunderstand that he had run away with the money.
Just then, a light, playful whistle came from the nearby woods.
A man leisurely emerged from behind a tree, wearing practical leather armor, with a long sword hanging at his waist, a lean build,
black hair and black eyes, a messy stubble, and a cynical smile at the corner of his mouth.
Behind him were several similarly dressed mercenaries, carrying their drawn swords on their shoulders.
"You! Who are you again!" Sir Guy pondered the situation, wondering if he could take down these people simultaneously; no news could be allowed to leak.
The man looked at the two confronting parties with interest, as if watching an amusing play.
Days of being hunted by the army, restless nights, and going hungry; finally, he had a chance to vent.
He lightly tapped his boot with his sword sheath and spoke with a smile: "You don't need to know my name, my lord."
The man's voice was not loud, but it clearly reached everyone's ears.
"Hmph, it seems you two sides have run into a little trouble."
"Alright, you all know the rules. Both of you, start bidding now. Whoever offers more money, my sword will serve them."
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