Building An Empire Starting From The Labor Camp In Exile-Chapter 73: Messenger

It took them three days before they reached the Veilwood—a sprawling forest that covered most of the west in vast, dark greens and tall trees that blotted out the green sky.

"So this is where the teams have their bases," Atrox said. It resembled a proper town at the forest’s edge, though closer to a village. It was divided into five sections, each for different flag teams.

"Yes, the headquarters where they direct their members. This place is neutral, but once you leave it behind, it’s straight competition for the ruins and resources," Xan said. "At the center, you can find inns and such. We should rent one to stay in for now."

Atrox shrugged. He was feeling a little dirty—after all, all they’d done during their journey was wash their mouths, legs, hands, and faces. What he wanted was a long soak. But looking at the bases of the teams now, he finally got a real sense of how powerful and wealthy the teams were.

Each building was several floors high, constructed out of thick stone or metal and fenced with low walls, the colors of their flags and ranks proudly displayed outside. ’Will I have to get a building like this in the future?’

They made their way toward the center. Atrox saw many Knights along the way, and this time, there was tension in the air, lingering like smoke. It made Atrox feel better—made him feel on edge and ready for anything.

But, unfortunately... or perhaps fortunately, no one got in their way. There were a lot of glances in their direction, but nothing too probing. They reached a small tavern and quickly booked separate rooms, each with a bath.

Later, they came downstairs to eat, dressed in fresh clothes, while their leather armor was being cleaned by the tavern staff.

"Ah! It’s been so long since I drank something this good!" Xan wiped his mouth with his left hand and slammed his cup on the table. "Come on, why aren’t you guys drinking? Don’t tell me you don’t drink ale! I’ve never met anyone who doesn’t drink before! I mean, sure, I’ve seen some, but that’s not the poi—"

"I don’t want anything that clouds my mind," Tiber cut him off, knowing Xan would continue without stopping.

Slya looked wistfully at the cup in front of Xan, but she shook her head and stuffed food—small oil-fried bread and meat choppings—into her mouth. "Why should I have to be the messenger?"

This was stopping her from drinking!

"Because that’s your job," Atrox said, seemingly swallowing his food. "We don’t have many coins left after we bought that armor and clothing. Why do we even have to wear armor? Anything the armor can block is definitely weak."

Xan and the others paused at that. Come to think of it, their essence shield was twenty times stronger than the leather armor!

Slya shrugged. "It’s just fashion."

"A means of identification," Tiber said. "Something to separate us from the common people."

Atrox snorted. He was already feeling better after the meal, and he felt like burning something. His eyes gleamed. "Well, we spent too much on the thing that separates us from the common people. Slya, get ready to move!"

******

Slya stood in front of the building and stared. This one was made of stone, like a small castle. She noticed the flowers planted out front and the flag at the center—a skeleton on a black background—the Scuffed Bones. Written on it was "Rank 34."

She took a deep breath, feeling her stomach squirm. This would be the first important task she undertook since agreeing to serve Atrox. It had all seemed like fun and games when he explained it, but now, standing in front of the building, everything felt so real.

She wasn’t stupid. Delivering this letter to the Rank 34 meant they were requesting a duel. Two things could happen—either Rank 34 would report to their highest rank for permission to fight, or they’d treat it as fun and invite Atrox over.

Slya leaned toward the latter happening. "Alright, Slya! This is everything you’ve wanted, right? To be at the center of things! Even if you’re just a glorified messenger."

She mumbled to herself as she opened the small gate and slipped through. Immediately, she felt eyes on her, tracking her as she approached the building’s open door.

Inside, the first room was large, with couches scattered about. Knights sat on them, playing cards or chatting loudly. Everything stopped as Slya entered, and all eyes focused on her. Tension and subtle essence pressure made the air tingle.

Slya smiled as their eyes crawled over her. First, they checked her chest for her flag, then her rank. Finding neither, most of the Knights lost interest. However, a man with a thin mouth stood up. "I’m Squad Leader Mundo. Why are you here? Are you here to join our team?"

Some of the Knights refocused on her at his words, but Slya was already shaking her head. She unfurled the letter and began to read quickly, hiding her nerves by making her voice loud and firm.

"He, Atrox, the leader of a new team that’s about to be created,"—Slya nearly winced at this part but had read it enough times to power through—"officially calls the Rank 34 team leader into a duel... that is, if he has the balls. Send a letter to the address, and he’ll come for your heads!"

The Knights froze in surprise, but Slya didn’t wait. She threw the dagger up, and her hand flashed forward. A small knife pinned the letter to the far wall.

By the time the Knights recovered, Slya was already out the door and down the street. Her skin felt a little too hot, and she trembled slightly, but she was smiling, her eyes alight like a cat that had just stolen a fish.

The last part had been her idea, and her lips curled. "Now that’s how to make an impression."