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Chapter 40: The Truth of Lost Treasures

Chapter 40: The Truth of Lost Treasures

Eliot and Petyr approached the women with cautious expressions on their faces. They mounted their horses, their weapons ready to move.

They rushed to Ice’s side, with Phantom leading the way, quickly catching up with his leader.

The frightened women were not yet at ease. Each looked at the situation with pessimism. The wolf had saved them from the three men earlier, but did that guarantee a good fate for them? The fear of ending up like others of their companions had sapped their strength, and even the fallen woman next to Ice no longer knew how to avoid slavery.

The wounded woman finally let her tears flow, lamenting the end of her people.

“Take what they say,” she said weakly.

All their efforts to get there seemed pointless if they were to die now!

The women remained silent as they watched the two men’s horses stop near the wounded white wolf.

Petyr and Eliot focused on the four women outside the carriage and the vehicle with its broken wheel.

Eliot narrowed his eyes at the sight of eyes peering from inside the carriage and said in a low voice, “Children.”

“Hmm, indeed,” Petyr saw that too, pausing to consider the case.

Petyr surveyed the area and noticed that Ice did not cause the wounds on the woman dressed as a warrior, which showed that the men and women had been on opposite sides.

‘A group of women and children traveling… Their men are probably dead, and they’re fleeing.’ He glanced at the men Ice had killed. ‘They pursued these women because they had escaped or saw an opportunity to capture young women…’

This was a cruel world.

Petyr comprehended the unfortunate destiny that awaited these women had it not been for Ice stepping in to save them.

He dismounted from his horse while Eliot watched in silence. The red-haired man took two steps forward and spoke, “Fellow travelers, we wish you no harm. I don’t know why you were in trouble with these men, but we’re not here for the same reasons as they were. Our wolf smelled blood near our group and brought us here… nothing more.”

The women, lying or kneeling, opened their eyes, staring at the striking gaze of the man with a scar on his face, a little doubtful if his words were trustworthy.

Petyr saw no problem with their skepticism. “I only have two questions for you, and then we’ll leave with our animals. Where did you come from? And where were you going?” His eyes narrowed steadily.

The wounded woman saw that her companions wouldn’t say anything, but answering these strangers was necessary. She coughed a little and instructed the companion closest to her, “Speak.”

“Sister Sar…”

“Speak,” she insisted, trying not to moan in pain.

The black-haired woman, probably around 30, hesitated for a moment but eventually looked into Petyr’s eyes and answered, “We came from Lost Treasures. We had problems trying to take advantage of the opportunities in that area, so we began our withdrawal to our ancestral home.”

“And where would this ancestral home of yours be?” Petyr pressed for the truth.

The woman clenched her fists but answered after a long sigh, “Lands of Etheria. An unnamed village.”

‘Good. The village wasn’t their goal.’

Petyr didn’t hesitate to turn his back on this group of women and children as he mounted his horse and prepared to leave.

“I wish you luck on your journey. I would hurry to get out of this place. These men may have other allies coming after them very soon.”

Sarre, the wounded woman on the ground, saw that this man truly meant it and sighed in relief. ‘At least I can die relieved about the safety of my…’

One woman next to Sarre interrupted her thoughts by standing up and shouting to Petyr, “Wait!”

Everyone looked at the decent-looking woman in white as she pleaded, “Take us with you, sir! Please, I beg you! Accept us into your group!”

“Bella, what are you saying?” Sarre almost forgot her injuries as her eyes widened, seeing how naively her companion made that request.

But Bella didn’t think so. “Sister Sarre, we have no choice,” she said with a sad look. “I’d like to think we could return to the village and live as we are, but the three men from earlier have already shown us that this is impossible. We need men to look after our safety.”

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

The other women in the vicinity hadn’t given this much thought until now. However, Bella’s contemplations caused them to ponder how they would ultimately achieve success on their journey once they arrived at their former village.

Neither of them was impressive in appearance. But young women on their own were hard to find in today’s world. All it took was for a man with malicious thoughts to find them, and they would be in trouble.

What’s worse, it wasn’t just them. With three children in their group, two girls and a boy, their future prospects were grim.

Petyr frowned more firmly, not having expected this request from a group of women who had almost been taken over by men. This put him in a tricky position.

The best decision for the village, Petyr thought, was to ignore the seven potential problems and let them leave. He had accepted Arnald’s group before, but was reluctant to add more people to the village.

However, the women’s request forced him to weigh his beliefs against the village’s best interests, the Councilors’ agreements, and the leader’s vision for the village.

“Petyr, Jonn would bring them to the village if he were here,” Eliot reminded him.

“I know.” Petyr sighed, looking at the women with uncertainty.

“If you want to join us, that’s possible. But I need to know more about where you came from and how those three started chasing you.” He pointed to the men killed by Ice.

The blonde woman, Bella, spoke earnestly, seizing the opportunity. “We’re from the far west of the Lands of Etheria. The black soil of the Barren Hills of Deepshadow was encroaching on our village, making it uninhabitable.

Then, about a year ago, a merchant told us about opportunities at Lost Treasures.

Our group took time to decide and prepare, but we eventually left for the Lost Treasures.

Things ended badly. We got into unfair fights and lost many of our group. Those who survived were enslaved, but we escaped.

The men your wolf killed were likely part of those who wanted to enslave us.”

Petyr recalled a group he and Jonn had observed months ago and wondered if these were from the temporary camp near the Limonite mine.

‘That’s a problem… They came too close to the village. Could the group that destroyed their people be nearby?’

Petyr asked, “How many days away is that group?”

Bella answered, “I don’t know, sir. We were attacked by a caravan and forced to flee. Their outpost may not be close… We traveled six days to get here.”

‘That’s not long. It must be near the border of the Barren Hills and Deepshadow and Lost Treasures. But for them to have come this far, those three had trouble tracking them. Maybe the problem ended here?’

“How many men did the enemy group have?” he asked.

“Over 20.”

‘That’s not much. They wouldn’t keep sending men to hunt down four women and three children with only that many. But it’s possible that the leader is a tough enemy and will insist on it.’

He weighed the pros and cons and finally decided. “Very well, I’ll take you to my group, but that’s not a guarantee we’ll accept you in the long run. I still want to hear in detail about everything you’ve experienced over the last year and, in particular, what you plan to do about what happened in Lost Treasures. But for now, I’ll accept you.”

“Thank you, sir! You won’t regret it,” the blonde woman said, tears in her eyes, truly believing this was her salvation.

“Don’t thank me too soon. If you want to be in our group, you’ll have to work hard.”

“My sisters and I are strong workers. They’re shy now, but we’ll do our best.”

Sarre looked at Bella and sighed. But since she would soon fall, her companions needed a new leader. Someone firm and capable of deciding, even if she was incorrect, was better than a group with no one in charge.

“Good luck with that,” she said as she closed her eyes, already lacking the strength to continue.

Petyr dismounted again, surprising Sarre when he crouched beside her and began adjusting her armor.

He spoke as he worked on her. “Since you’re coming with us, I’ll help you. I have an experimental potion and paste created by my village leader. I don’t know what might happen to you, but he told me it’s worth using these on someone mortally wounded. It might give you a chance, or it might not, and you’ll die, anyway.”

Sarre understood the reason for this stranger’s generosity. She was the guinea pig for their group.

“Okay,” she said, barely able to see her surroundings.

But that wasn’t all Petyr had in mind.

‘A warrior is valuable to the village. If we’re going to take on your group’s problems, you’d better be available to fight alongside us.’

He repositioned Sarre’s intestine, using a needle and thread to close her wound. He made her drink Jonn’s new medicinal potion and then applied the paste to her wound before bandaging it. This took Petyr only five minutes, enough time for Eliot to control the horses running around.

Phantom assisted the young archer, while Ice waited to return to the village and get some rest.

Within ten minutes of the fight’s conclusion, they departed, leaving the broken carriage behind.

Petyr planned to return the next day to retrieve the vehicle and bury the dead.

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The next day, as evening approached, Sarre opened her eyes and found herself in a different place from where she had fallen asleep the night before.

She could clearly see the surroundings of the simple dwelling she was in, noting a side staircase, a kitchen, a bathroom, and a window letting in the last rays of daylight.

She remembered falling into a deep sleep after drinking a potion the previous night and, for a moment, thought she had died and been reincarnated.

But as she tried to get up, she felt an abdominal discomfort that reminded her of her injuries.

“I wouldn’t move much if I were you,” said an elderly woman’s voice, prompting Sarre to look behind her.

She spotted an old woman sitting there, knitting something.

“You’ve slept for practically a whole day,” said Molle to the newcomer. “You were lucky, girl. You came within a few millimeters of death. Luckily for you, the Village Elder’s medications worked perfectly.”

Sarre turned her attention to her wound, feeling no fear of the old woman behind her. She was in pain, but she could move again, and better yet, she felt she could truly recover.

‘How is that possible? A wound like this should have killed me for sure!’ she thought, having never heard of someone surviving such injuries before.

It reminded her of how her group had almost perished and how her brother might have survived if he had received treatment from the people of this village.

“Unfortunately, others in my group weren’t as lucky as me,” she said in a melancholy tone. “That merchant deceived us. They all cheated us. They sold us the idea that Lost Treasures was good, but that place is hell in Valorian. Only vicious men, blood, and war exist in Lost Treasures now!”

Molle listened in silence to Sarre’s lamentation.

“I wonder if that damned man didn’t sell us out to the Lost Treasures gangs? Tsk! I’ll never trust any merchant again!”