Chapter 90: 90 Impatient Slane

Chapter 90: Impatient Srein

Afternoon sun tilted slightly as the young Loren, drenched in sweat and staggering with exhaustion, trudged thirty miles without pause, clutching Jennie’s handwritten letter, finally reaching the edge of the Ash Soil Tribe.

His entire body was soaked, his steps unsteady, as if he might collapse at any moment.

Dust and weariness coated his face; his eyes, once bright, now held only the dull ache of a journey not yet ended.

He need not have pushed himself so hard—had he not sprinted the final miles, feigning near-death exhaustion, as Jennie had demanded.

Only when he gasped for breath, trembling and broken, could the urgency be believed, could Srein be made to accept the truth of her and Elin’s plight.

“At last!”

Unlike the Bamboo and Purple Fruit Tribes, Ash Soil was populous, situated on the “frontline,” with pairs of patrols circling its perimeter. Loren spotted one just in time and lurched toward them, stumbling.

“S-s-save me… help… help!”

The two patrolling men heard him, saw his figure, and snapped, “Who goes there?”

Loren fumbled desperately from his chest and thrust forward the letter.

“Purple Fruit Tribe… Magician Jennie… begs… begs for the aid of Lord Srein!”

He took two more steps—and collapsed face-first onto the earth.

The patrolmen rushed over. They knew Purple Fruit Tribe—ally.

They had heard of the beautiful female magician—Jennie—the very woman their chieftain dreamed of possessing.

“Quick! Carry him to the chieftain!”

They did not hesitate. One on each side, they hauled Loren toward the fortress.

The Ash Soil fortress resembled the most primitive noble keep—much of it timber, so if Roning had seen it, he’d have summoned fireballs immediately.

But the central tower and stronghold were stone—thick, solid, formidable.

Rocks hurled from above, arrows loosed from above—these posed real danger to Roning’s men. A direct assault would cost dearly.

Inside the stronghold hall, Chieftain Srein sat upon his throne. His frame was massive, his face rugged—but his eyes were small, oddly misplaced.

He stared intently at the middle-aged man beside him. “Well, Mam? What does it say?”

No wonder Srein was frantic—he could not read. Could not even write his own name.

Mam had once been of Purple Fruit Tribe, later allied with Srein, and joined Ash Soil.

Mam could read.

“Lord, this is unquestionably Jennie’s hand. The message matches Loren’s words: she and Miss Elin are imprisoned by Horn, abused. She wrote this plea for your rescue. As thanks, she promises to fulfill your old request.”

“Hahahaha! Good!”

Srein roared with laughter. The image of Jennie, of little Elin—his grin widened, radiant, almost feverish.

As self-proclaimed leader of the Three Tribes Alliance, he had never claimed the finest woman among them. That wound festered.

This chance—too rare to miss.

“Mam, summon Babulin and a few swift riders. We mount at once. We ride for Purple Fruit Tribe—to rescue Jennie and Elin!”

“Lord, I find this… suspicious.”

Mam frowned. “From what I know, Horn does not seem the type to abuse Jennie. He appears honest, even reverent toward her.”

“Ha! What do you know? That man looks honest—but rot festers beneath. He’s long resented her. Now he’s risen to High Knight, thinks himself untouchable. His filth has finally surfaced—he seeks to humiliate Jennie and her daughter to reclaim his pride!”

“But Lord, still—it feels wrong—”

Srein drew a deep breath. Had Mam not been a Mid-Knight, second only to him in strength, he’d have cursed him already. Still, he granted him deference.

“You do not know Jennie. She would never beg me—unless driven to the brink.”

He knew she loathed him. So what? Today, she would be his. Mother and daughter—both. The thought thrilled him.

“Do not fear—I am not blinded by beauty.”

Srein turned to Mam. “Today, rescuing Jennie and Elin is secondary. Taking Purple Fruit Tribe is the goal. Once we absorb them, Willi of Bamboo Tribe will be nothing. When we match the Black Collar Tribe in size, we shall build castles, towers—live tenfold better than now!”

“Mam, gather the rest. We ride for Purple Fruit Tribe at once!”

Srein would not let this slip. “Even if Horn is now a High Knight—so am I. And I have you, Babulin—two Mid-Knights, three Low Knights. We need fear no man!”

Seeing his chieftain resolved, Mam bowed his head.

Though unease lingered, Srein was right: even if this was a trap, they could break it.

Even if Purple Fruit and Bamboo joined forces against them, they could still prevail.

And Black Collar? Just finished harvest—they’d be busy dividing and submitting grain. No time for raids.

“Very well, Lord. I shall prepare. But we must return within three days. If Black Collar learns we’ve left, trouble follows.”

“Agreed.”

Srein nodded. Mam’s mind was sharp—that was why he’d won him over.

“Loren—you’ve done well.”

Srein looked down from his chair, now viewing Loren as his own subject.

“Rest now. You’ll live here, with your new lord. I’ve ordered your meal. Eat. Sleep. Recover.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

Loren rose, bowed. “My mistress Jennie and Miss Elin wait in the damp, filthy cell of Purple Fruit Tribe. Do not make them wait too long.”

“Fear not. By tomorrow afternoon, you and your mistress shall be reunited.”

Srein’s heart soared. He longed to sprout wings, fly to Purple Fruit, slay Horn, then burst through the crumbling door like a hero—reveal his might to Jennie and Elin.

“Pah. A beaten dog. Now a High Knight, and he forgets who broke him?”

Srein sneered. He’d never considered Horn a true rival.

“This time—you shall witness what a true High Knight truly is.”

Soon, Mam assembled all.

Besides himself, Srein, and Babulin, there were three Low Knights and five cavalrymen.

Eleven horses—Ash Soil’s entire stock. Acquired through prisoner exchanges with Black Collar, and purchases from beyond.

Srein’s proudest possession. The only one among the Three Tribes with horses. It was how he’d won Mam’s loyalty.

Eleven men could crush Purple Fruit. But controlling its people? Harder.

Yet this time, they came as saviors. Rescue Jennie—and the tribe would submit.

Srein scanned his force, his spirit ablaze.

“Let’s ride!”

(End of Chapter)