Galan's tent was far north of the encampment. To tend the sheep, he had to live outside with his two sisters.

The tribes divided up grazing lands based on status, and the pasture allotted to the youth was the most remote and desolate area. The elders said his family had the fewest sheep, so didn't need a large pasture. Of course, this was an indisputable fact.

After moving out of the encampment, Sagyi would still often come find him to go out and play together. For Sagyi, life hadn't changed - after all, Cousin was the only one in the tribe who was good to him.

The youth headed off leading the slave without looking back, the ugly fellow grunting nonstop behind the horse.

"Young master, young master! Slow down a bit, I really can't run any more!"

Galan looked back at him. He didn't know when the slave had soiled himself, but now he stank terribly. Crinkling his nose, Galan glared coldly at the slave, who continued to ingratiate himself.

"Young master, won't you rest a bit? I bet even your horse is tired."

Of course the horse couldn't run forever. After about four hours, it would need to rest. People of the plains didn't calculate time precisely, just dividing the day in two. Looking at the sun, after midday they would rest.

"The chieftain ordered that your life needn't be spared. Now there's no one here, so pick where you want to die."

"No...!" The slave kneeled and pleaded piteously, "Please no, merciful young master, I beg you... You don't lack a slave to do hard and tiring work in your household, do you? I can do anything, and am especially obedient...!"

"My household doesn't keep slaves. What's more, you're so ugly I've no use for you."

The youth scolded him severely, leading the slave to a pile of rubble.

"Dig yourself a grave here." He indicated casually a spot where the digging wouldn't affect the grazing.

"Young master, you've still got me bound, how can I dig like this?"

"Dig like that. If I free you I'm afraid you'll run. Since the chieftain ordered your death, if you escaped somewhere else, he'd blame me for handling this poorly."

"You..." Hearing this, the slave was utterly despairing. "But master, won't you even give me a shovel?"

"I don't have a shovel. Dig with your hands. After all, you won't need them anymore."

"Alright..." The slave despondently lowered his head and started digging in a spot with loose soil. He found a small rock to use as a makeshift shovel, but was still extremely slow, clearly just wasting time.

As he dug, he kept whining and begging. Seeing Galan unmoved, the slave rolled his eyes and suddenly seemed to come up with a clever idea. He asked casually, as if nothing was amiss: "Young master, your father was a northerner, right?"

"Hmph! Hahahaha!" Hearing this, Galan laughed coldly, turning from disdainful to tossing his head back with laughter. His laughter contained chagrin and self-mockery. "It seems my affairs are so obvious that even an idiot can see through them."

The slave fawned on him obsequiously.

"That's right, my father was a northerner, the same race as the soldiers I killed. Even unsaid, this is written all over my face."

The youth's appearance set him apart from the tribe - he was well aware of this himself.

Galan said in a suppressed rage: "Just now they called me a mongrel dog, you heard it too."

Perhaps this was the real reason he was ostracized by the tribe. Everyone knew full well, just hadn't voiced it.

"Young master..." The slave grinned at him ingratiatingly. "How could that be called 'mongrel'? It's too derogatory! The offspring of a man and woman of different races is called a 'half-blood'."

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"Half-blood? I'm hearing this term for the first time, is it the northern tongue?"

"Yes, yes!" Finding a topic of Galan's interest, the slave immediately nodded and fawned obsequiously.

"In the north, that's still an insult!" Galan asked, pointing his dagger at the slave's throat.

"How could that be? Such a nice term, how could it insult anyone? This term is specially used for smart, beautiful babies."

Hearing "baby", the youth snorted with laughter. "Do all you northerners speak like this? I've never heard anyone call me baby in my life. Not even my mother is so saccharine."

He suddenly recalled his own curiosity about the northern castles, originally planning to interrogate this prisoner well. The youth walked a circle around the slave, sizing him up carefully again. This guy was so ugly as to be worthless, skinny as a bag of bones, too little meat even for wolves.

"Come on, what else do you know about northern stuff? Tell me some, let me hear."

The slave saw he was interested in hearing about the north, immediately blooming with joy. "Oh, northern speech, I know it all! I used to be a northern slave. Young master, whatever you want to know, I'll tell you everything."

"Speak then."

"Hehehehe..." The slave chuckled vulgarly, also stopping his digging. Now certain Galan wouldn't harm him, he had the nerve to play tricks.

"Young master, I'm parched, can't speak..."

The youth took out his own waterskin and gave it to him. The slave guzzled it messily, drinking nearly all of it. Only then did he return the empty skin, still chuckling.

"Can you talk now?"

"Hehehehe..." The slave chuckled again obsequiously. "Young master...it's been days since I ate, I'm starving to death..."

"Trying to play me?" Galan raised his dagger again, pointing it at the slave's throat.

"No no, I wouldn't dare!" The slave immediately yielded and pleaded for mercy. Having found Galan's interests, he dared to play tricks.

"Young master, you're my master! Of course I'll tell you everything I know! I can work too, serve you, let you live in comfort forever!"

Galan was still angry from before, and the slave kept acting vulgar: "But don't starve me either! Only when I'm fed can you be comfortable, right? What's more, there's so much about the northern castles, how could I tell it all at once? Give me something to eat, when I'm full I'll think carefully and tell you whatever I remember bit by bit. Eventually you'll know everything, don't you think that's good?"

Galan looked into the distance. They were still a day's travel from home. Since he was free anyway, he might as well listen to the slave first! When he got annoying, he could still kill him later.

"I've only brought these rations, I'll split them with you halfway." He took out his food, hard dried meat that hurt the teeth to chew. The two of them sat on a sunny hillside overlooking the great camp.

As the slave ate, he kept asking for water and making a fuss for a long time, but didn't start talking. Galan waited patiently, too lazy to lose his temper. His wounds from the three brats didn't hurt so badly now, so his mood was much improved. Looking out at the boundless plains, he also ate something himself.

With the water drunk up by the ugly thing, there was a stream not far away that the slave very cleverly ran to refill the waterskins with plenty of water.

"In the castles, there are public pools that everyone can drink from. The water there is much cleaner than this. Look how in your water there are little fish and shrimp swimming around, along with all kinds of bugs - but you just drink it straight down, how unsanitary!"

"You're lucky I didn't kill you and even giving you food and water, yet still you complain?"

"Ehehehe..." Seeing the master angry, the slave immediately grinned ingratiatingly again. "The water in the castle pools is all pure, no impurities. Drinking it is exceptionally sweet. Living conditions in the city are excellent, you must go see for yourself if you have the chance."

"Pool..." Galan murmured, learning a northern word.

"Young master, what were you all celebrating so happily last night? Don't tell me it was celebrating capturing me?"

"You? Hrmph." Galan shook his head. "Celebrating Prince Sagyi killing the northern soldiers." Saying this, the youth himself felt it especially ironic. Celebrating, what was there to celebrate?

"Those two soldiers, you killed them, didn't you? I saw it with my own eyes."

"Asking what you already know!" Galan glared at him.

"Aiya, young master, don't be angry. You're the bravest I've seen, best archer, strongest fighter!" The slave flattered him.

"That's true." Galan said. He was the best archer in the tribe, this was facts, no need for modesty. How good? In the tribal combat tournaments, the archers would all circle around to avoid him.

He had grasped the most adept techniques, accomplished in mounted or on-foot shooting, any angle, any range effortless.

He also used specially crafted arrows, made from the wingtips of snow mountain eagles - no one else would make such exquisite arrows, sure-shooting weapons, also no one dared to kill eagles.

"That prince, your brother, is still a child. It's obvious with your ass that he couldn't have killed the enemies. They're all just kissing up to the chieftain."

"You're quite good at kissing ass yourself."

"Of course." The slave said, "Since you're my young master."

The slave whispered in Galan's ear, his words gentle yet laced with malice.

"I don't need to kiss up to your chieftain, just make you happy and that's enough. Moreover, I could tell at a glance following you is sure to be right! Not only are your skills great, I can also see you have an especially kind and compassionate nature. Brave, yet compassionate - you're the best master in the world."