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The Slave's Son Saga [Grimdark Progression Fantasy]
Chapter One Hundred and Forty-nine: A Lone Wolf's Cry (Part Six)

Chapter One Hundred and Forty-nine: A Lone Wolf's Cry (Part Six)

Still, Alistar was right. Dark-maned bobcats were very rare in this region, and nearly every part of their body had some sort of commercial use. While the female carcass was too charred to salvage, that of the male could likely fetch around four or five golden lucets.

Clicking his tongue, he said, “If you want to take it with us, you’ll have to drag it back.”

Looking at the male bobcat, which was the size of a small horse, Alistar gave his master a disapproving frown. “I’m afraid I’m too exhausted. Please, Master? We can split the rewards. I’m sure you can buy plenty of drunken evenings with the funds.”

He smacked the boy again. “Do you enjoy being hit?”

Alistar laughed and then fell unconscious. The fight from before had depleted too much of his stamina, not to mention that the shock, adrenaline and fear that he’d surely felt would have left him even more exhausted once the instinctual feelings began to fade.

This kid, I swear…

The first thing that Tramon did was retrieve all of the boy’s limiters, which wasn’t too difficult since they bore heavy signs of his aura. Once he’d gathered all four of them, he slipped them back onto Alistar’s fingers, though only after inspecting the one that had just been reattached.

There’re no problems?

Even the boy’s mother, one of the most talented healers in the kingdom’s history, couldn’t have done the same with such ease. At least, not at his age.

Now that he was free from the slight strain of Alistar’s unfettered aura, he returned his disciple’s sword to its scabbard and carried him to the county walls where he’d just collected the limiters from. A sizeable patch of ground was aflame in some places, likely from the fallout of whatever spell had been used to burn the initial bobcat. Drawing from experience, Tramon determined that Alistar had used an advanced fire field spell, something that only a talented mage could pull off.

Was that Jin fellow the sort of person to teach him such things?

He suspected that the spell was a result of self-study, though he didn’t have time to think on it. For now, he left Alistar near the patch of fading flames in order to keep him warm before he set off through the forest and returned to the Winding Road. Once he’d retrieved his crate of fire whiskey, he made his way back to the site of the bobcats’ demise and grasped the male one by its tail while picking up the severed head by its shaggy mane, bringing them both over to the sleeping boy and depositing them at his side.

It would be a pain to try to return to Mayhaven while his disciple was still unconscious, so he simply found some dry wood and used the dying flames to create a strong campfire, covering Alistar with his cloak while he sipped at his flask. At Tramon’s level, if he really wanted to use his swordsman’s aura to stave off the cold then he could do so for tens of hours, so he patiently waited for Alistar to wake up while he pondered the bizarre situation that he’d come across.

In all honesty, Tramon was proud of Alistar. He couldn’t berate him, for he’d done the exact same thing when he was a youth, likely for the same reason. Training was good and all, but when life and death were concerned, even the most talented disciples could fall to a weaker adversary if they weren’t prepared to see such a fight through to the end. He’d seen it many times and thus approved of Alistar’s sensible albeit reckless attempt at remedying this weakness.

The boy awoke around midnight, blinking dried blood from his eyes as he turned a silent gaze upon his teacher amid the flickering light of the campfire.

You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

“We’re still here?”

“You expect me to carry all this stuff for you? I’m your master, boy, not your servant.”

“I…yes, sir.”

“That’s more like it.”

Tramon flooded his body with swordsman’s aura, picked up the bobcat’s carcass and then threw it over the wall, quickly followed by the severed head. Next, he grabbed Alistar, slung him over his shoulder, and then picked up the crate by its straps before he leapt after the carcass with a rush of wind. He could tell that Alistar enjoyed the jump, which saw them soar over thirty paces into the air before they landed harmlessly on the other side.

As soon as they touched down, Tramon dropped his disciple without ceremony and then returned the crate to his back. Afterwards, he grabbed the carcass by the tail and then dragged it behind him without turning to look at the boy. “Now pick up that head and follow me.”

“Ah, one moment.”

Tramon scratched at his beard with a mixture of curiosity and impatience as Alistar ran back to the wall and touched a hand to the cold stone, stepping away a moment later and then returning to his side with an awkward smile.

“I left a magic imprint on the wall so I wouldn’t get lost. As long as I didn’t go farther than a couple thousand paces, I’d know where the county limits were.”

A couple thousand paces?

Adjusting his cloak so that the straps of the crate were more comfortably positioned, Tramon kept quiet as he continued onward through the darkness. Truth be told, he was at a loss.

“Master, aren’t you wondering why I was out here?”

“It’s pretty obvious.”

“I suppose so. You’re not angry, are you?”

“I’ll save that for your uncle.”

Looking up at the moon with a start, Alistar let out a defeated sigh and scratched at his short, blood-soaked hair, most of which had frozen into a gruesome, slightly comical appearance. “I hope Uncle didn’t notice I was gone.”

“I’ll leave a note with that Rayson fellow saying that you’re staying the night at my place. Him, or whoever guards those gates at night.”

“But I don’t want to sleep on the floor…”

“You did it for years, and tonight you’ll do it again.”

Alistar couldn’t exactly return home almost entirely covered in blood, with tattered, charred robes that spoke of evident conflict. It was also too cold to clean himself with his water magics, lest he run the risk of coming down with a fever. Besides, Tramon had travelled countless leagues in order to acquire something for the boy, and he intended on giving it to him tonight.

Walking through the countryside with his blood-covered disciple, he suppressed a rare smile. I wonder what sort of expression he’ll make when he sees it.

***

After dropping Alistar off at the collegia, Tramon had shouldered the bobcat’s carcass and then made his way to the frontiersmen guild where he exchanged it with an acquaintance in return for six golden lucets. Apparently this was the first dark-maned bobcat to be hunted in over a decade, which made him a bit frustrated that Alistar had reduced the other one to a smouldering pile of charcoal and bone.

He then ventured over to the eastern gates of Caedmon’s estate, where he jostled the man named Harold awake and informed him that Alistar was going to stay at his place for the night, the man assuring him that he would pass the message on to his lord while casting tired glances at the campfire that he’d been resting at.

He returned home to find that Alistar had tidied everything up in perfect order, the boy now reading the book that he’d left there after his last lesson. As far as Tramon was concerned, if swordsmanship and magic didn’t work out for the lad, he could surely land a job as a servant in some lucky lord’s household.

“Welcome back, Master.”

“What’s this blanket doing on the floor?”

“I found it in one of your trunks. We used to use rags as bedding in Crystellum, so I’d be fine with using it as a sleeping space. Is that okay?”

Tramon’s wife had knit him that blanket mere months before Alistar’s bastard of a grandfather had forced her to become his concubine. What was worse, she had quickly warmed up to the idea, excited as she had been to become one of the king’s many women that he so skillfully hid from the public eye. Thinking of that vile hypocrite—hypocrite, as he had a reputation as a zealous follower of the faith that was only devoted to one woman, his deceased wife—Tramon felt more satisfaction at the gift that he’d brought back for Alistar.

“Do what you want. But first, come take a seat. I’ve got something for you.”

Alistar sat down at the dinner table and looked at him with excitement. “Am I finally getting the stripes I deserve?”

“What makes you think you deserve more stripes?”

Alistar didn’t hide the judgement from his eyes, which ticked Tramon off as he was well aware that the boy was fully capable of masking his emotions.