"That's enough!" Garlande kicked the slave in the butt.

"Ooh, good kick, feels especially nice!"

"I've never seen anyone as shameless as you!"

"Hehehe, it's all for survival! We all have a hard time just staying alive." The slave crawled up, still grinning. "Young master, for someone like me, just being able to live is something to be thankful for, filled with gratitude. My whole life has been spent giving thanks for this grace."

"You really have no shame. Let's go."

Garlande mounted his horse and continued towards home with the slave. Along the way, the slave kept chattering.

"Young master, I saw the little prince calling you brother earlier. Are you really brothers?"

"Yes, I'm his cousin."

"Oh, so you're cousins! For a second I thought you were half-brothers with the same father!"

"Did you already forget that you just asked if my father was a Northerner?"

"Oh right, right, look at my memory!" The ugly slave's eyes darted around as he continued asking, "So that means your mother is the tribal chief's sister or daughter?"

"Sister."

"I see—" The slave nodded slowly, looking as if he suddenly understood everything.

"If your mother is a tribal princess, how could your father be a Northerner?"

Garlande sighed, "I guess it doesn't matter telling a slave. My origins are just a mysterious story."

"I've also pieced together fragments overheard from elders. I roughly know."

"My father was originally a Northern warrior, and a chieftain. Many years ago, my father's tribe battled my mother's tribe and he was defeated and captured. But my mother fell in love with him for some reason, and kept him as her husband...and then they had me. So I'm what you call a half-blood."

"Oh..." The slave looked thoughtful after hearing this. "Hahaha! Young master, you really have quite the imagination!"

"What do you mean imagined? We nomads never lie!" Garlande was immediately angry.

"You said your father was a Northern chieftain. There's no such thing as tribes up North. There's only the castle. Could your father be one of the castle lords?"

"I don't know."

"Nonsense. A captured lord? Something that major I would have heard of! Looking at you, you're what, just over ten years old?"

"Fourteen."

"This matter, at most happened fifteen or sixteen years ago. I've never heard anything about it. As far as I know, the lord in that castle has ruled for over a decade without changing."

"Believe it or not, I'm not forcing you. "

Garlande had never known the full truth of this matter, and it was not proper to directly ask the chieftain, so he had kept it a secret. The slave's line of questioning brought up old memories. What's more, the stubborn slave wanted to dig deeper.

"I've heard that the women of the nomadic tribes...can choose their own husbands. She picks whoever she wants, and has children with him. The children belong to the mother. If she wants to change husbands, she can kick out the old one. That's called a matriarchal tribe."

"Nonsense! Never heard of such a thing!" Garlande glared at the slave. "All these years I've lived, I've never seen or heard of any woman picking her own husband, changing husbands whenever she wants. And no such thing as a matriarchal tribe. For our tribe, parents arrange marriages for their sons and daughters with appropriate families from our tribe or nearby ones."

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

"Oh, that's strange then. You said your mother was a princess, the chieftain's sister. How could her marriage not be arranged by her parents, and instead she had to go capture a foreign prisoner herself?"

"How would I know!" Garlande didn't want to answer, because he truly didn't know.

"You've never asked her before?"

This slave really knew which sore spots to poke! Garlande did not want to keep talking about his mother, but the slave persisted with the questions. The boy said with difficulty: "My mother passed away long ago."

"Oh, I see. Poor young master... Your father must be gone too, that's why they treat you so badly?"

Garlande did not speak, only glared at him. The slave took his silence as affirmation.

"But young master, I guess your mother must have had another husband originally. They probably didn't get along well, so she found a new foreign husband."

Hearing this, Garlande's anger flared up again. "How dare you joke about my parents! Do you think just because I haven't killed you, I have no way to punish you?" He lashed his horsewhip and the horse took off galloping. He dragged the ugly slave running wildly for several miles.

After galloping until nightfall, when he looked back at the ugly slave, he had collapsed on the ground, panting as if about to faint, limp as mud.

"Remember this? Still dare to spout nonsense in the future?"

The slave nodded violently, but was too breathless to speak, even an "mm-hmm" was difficult.

Seeing the slave looking so miserable, the boy's anger dissipated. Also, they were getting closer to home, and the earlier troubles at the camp were fading away. Thinking of his two sisters waiting at home, he felt he should have a cheerful attitude.

Though the sky gradually darkened, he was in no mood to rest, only wanting to arrive swiftly. He didn't expect that detestable ugly slave, the moment he caught his breath, to start spouting nonsense again.

"Young master, I truly admire you from the bottom of my heart." The vile slave sidled up.

"What other flattery do you want to spew?"

"Earlier I jokingly insulted your parents and you got angry. But you didn't slash me to death, or beat me violently. This is the first time I've served a master as generous as you."

"Oh, that was only because I still want to find out about the castle, and Northern matters from you."

Garlande suppressed his anger. "Beat him violently? That reminds me, why didn't I think of it?"

He was used to being kind to others, even to slaves, and had no heart for cruelty. This was what was called virtue.

"Just this point, you must be someone destined for great things. So as you can see, my judgement is also excellent." The slave was smug.

"However, young master, there is one thing I must say, no matter if you think I'm overstepping. There is a saying, good medicine tastes bitter, good advice grates the ear. Those life-and-death words are never pleasant to hear."

Garlande was startled. "Life-and-death?" He couldn't help but find it laughable. What would an ugly slave know about life-and-death matters!

"Young master, though you are the princess's son, your parents have passed, and you've lost your standing in the tribe. This can be seen from where you live." The slave smiled slightly as he continued. "Not only have you lost the camp tent, but been assigned such a remote pasture. Your status is lower than even ordinary tribesmen now."

The boy's expression darkened. "Must you directly speak such words?"

"And though the chieftain is your uncle, he does not like you, right? He has taken your property, and may give you some verbal promises to placate you, but those are just on the surface. Actual actions differ from words."

"Why are you telling me such things?" Garlande grew wary.

"Young master, you are my master. If you do well, then I do well. Naturally I think of your safety."

The slave continued, "Young master, you are too young, and do not understand many matters yet. The General only treats you politely on the surface, for others to see. How his sons treat you shows their true attitude. For such a perilous situation, their true nature revealing itself is only a matter of time."

"You dare try to sow discord between me and my tribal kinsmen?!"

"Heheh, does it need my sowing? It's all clear as day!"

"If they want to kill you some day, they will certainly find a good excuse. Best if you've made some mistake, or suffered an unfortunate accident—all logical!"

Hearing this, Garlande felt chilled all over, hands shaking uncontrollably. Every detail was indisputable fact, yet hearing it spoken aloud made it an insurmountable hurdle in his heart. This slave before him, not only ugly in appearance, but harbored evil thoughts. What's more, he wanted to instill dangerous ideas in Garlande. This man was poisonous!

"Do not speak such words again in the future. I only want to glean intelligence on the castle from you. If you say nothing, just go die!" Garlande scolded.

"Yes, understood. I won't say these things again. Young master can ponder them yourself when free." The slave smiled ingratiatingly and kept his mouth shut, cunning eyes flashing.

As they spoke, the two had arrived at a white, peaked tent. This was Garlande's cozy little home.

"Big brother, you're back!" A cute little girl ran out, bouncing into the youth's arms. From inside the tent, an older girl also peeked out, smiling to welcome them.