Chapter 583 - 369: Interrogation 2

"Raise your hand if you don’t get seasick."

WHOOSH!

Without a moment’s hesitation, everyone in the hall raised their hands—even those who had never set foot on a boat. Only a single, scrawny figure huddled silently in the corner.

"I shouldn’t have even bothered asking," Levi cursed with a laugh. He then shot a glare at Sam in the corner. The Elder Shaman froze, terrified he had somehow provoked the Tyrant’s anger again, and dared not make a peep.

As usual, the old man was a perfect embodiment of a coward.

"Boss, I’m your personal Guard. I’m definitely going," Zat said with a wide grin, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"My Lord, I believe you will surely need Scouts. We are your eyes, and we will use our own flesh and blood to scout the path ahead for you." Hog was carving a small Curved Saber, a gift he was preparing for his little one before he left.

"My Lord, you may leave without worry. During your absence, we will manage the affairs of High Cliff Castle, ensuring you have no concerns while you are away," Elder Tang Jin Model said in a calm, measured tone. The other Turtleman scholars nodded in agreement.

"Even the great sea cannot stop Lionel’s iron hooves! My Lord, just tell us who to kill, no matter where or who they are." Centaur Gus’s grin was savage. His bronze muscles and a frame that towered over the Lord even from a resting position on the floor spoke for themselves.

"As I recall, Centaurs don’t take well to boats," Levi said, exasperated. "Others might manage, but you’re born with four hooves. You rely on balance, and you’ll lose it with the slightest sway."

"Permit an old scholar like myself to share a bit of knowledge." Elder Model looked to the Lord for approval, then turned to the Centaur after receiving a nod. "Sir Gus, sea voyages are far more terrifying than you might imagine. A long journey brings not only storms and tsunamis, but also all manner of diseases."

"For a short voyage, I have no doubt that warriors such as yourself, Sir Gus—the bravest I have ever seen in my life—could endure it. However, even if we depart from the nearest harbor, Stitch Port, the journey to the Persian Gulf Empire will take over a month."

"That is a terrifying amount of time. Even the most valiant Warrior would suffer after-effects from such a voyage—weakness in the legs, dizziness, and so on. For a Centaur, it is far more severe."

"Perhaps some data would be more persuasive. A slave ship once traveled from the Persian Gulf Empire to Debei carrying Centaurs, a branch of the Centaur Race. By the time it arrived in Debei, nearly half of the Centaurs had died. The other half, though lucky enough to survive, suffered from severe after-effects and could never again run across the plains as before."

"The Centaurs, who once galloped like the wind, grew to fear running."

"Everyone says it’s a Curse from the Sea Goddess, because she and the patron god of the Centaur Race are at odds."

Elder Model shook his head, sighing with deep feeling.

The listeners sighed amongst themselves. They were impressed that Elder Model knew of such obscure matters, and while admiring his profound knowledge, they couldn’t help but feel a pang of pity for Gus.

Gus fell silent, a rare occurrence for him, and did not retort.

"Gus, staying behind at High Cliff Castle is a task just as important as coming to war with me—in fact, it’s more so. This is our safe harbor, and we can’t afford a single loss," Levi said, comforting the imposing Centaur. "While we’re gone, High Cliff Castle is counting on you. You need to stop any shortsighted fools who might think they can launch a sneak attack just because I’m away."

In truth, given the reputation he had built in Debei with blood and steel, almost no local would dare risk offending a Dragon Knight by attacking High Cliff Castle.

Still, it was better to be safe than sorry.

"I’ll have Leiden draft a list of participants later. Everyone on that list will report to Half Moon Harbor to get a taste of sea travel," Levi said, bringing the discussion to a close with a decisive wave of his hand.

From the chieftains to the soldiers of High Cliff Castle, everyone was eager for battle thanks to the "system." No one feared the battlefield.

Thus, asking who wanted to go to war was pointless. The outcome was a foregone conclusion, so it was better for him to just make the decision himself.

"Well, well. Look who’s here. Our respected and noble Lord Kemish," Levi said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

’He’d thought he could get a hefty ransom for the guy, but it turned out he was a complete liability. No one would be in a good mood after that.’

Kemish had been quite pleased when he was suddenly summoned, thinking that his country had sent someone to pay his ransom and rescue him from this hellish prison. But Levi’s words sent a chill down his spine; even an idiot could sense the displeasure in that tone.

’Was the ransom not enough? Or was it something else?’

For a captive lord, Kemish looked no different than a clumsy, countryside pig-gelder. He wore a filthy gray apron and was still holding a small knife.

It wasn’t hard to guess what he’d just been doing: toiling away castrating a piglet. His technique must have been clumsy, as his clothes were splattered with several hoof prints and some sort of grayish-green slime.

Several of the young women present excused themselves from Levi’s presence, unable to stomach the bloody torture that they thought might follow.

Flanked by snarling Half-Beastmen who looked ready to devour him whole, Kemish walked to the center of the hall with a pounding heart. He glanced up at the Lord on the main throne, who loomed over him like a Giant Dragon. Before the Rabbit People Guards behind him could shove him down, he proactively dropped to his knees. "My Lord, you summoned me?"

’His time as a slave had taught him a great deal. No matter how noble his former status, he was now just a prisoner whose life rested in another’s hands. To survive, he had to be pragmatic and accept his new role.’

’In the past, he might have given an impassioned speech about choosing death before dishonor. But now? He’d do anything to survive. Kneeling was nothing; he would lick boots if it meant he could live.’

"Mr. Kemish, you’re a dead man," Levi said. His very first words left Kemish stunned.

"And whether you think I’m trying to scare you or trick you, I, your Lord, am simply stating a dull fact." Before Kemish could process this, Levi produced a document from the Noble Garden. He passed it to Leiden, who in turn handed it to Kemish.

As a nobleman who had received an excellent education, Kemish was intimately familiar with documents from the Noble Garden. A single glance was all he needed to understand its contents. The official seal was unmistakably that of the Debei Noble Garden—impossible to forge.

"The Persian Gulf Empire and Debei are at war... I’ve been abandoned... This... this is impossible..."

The contents of the letter hit Kemish like a tidal wave, leaving him reeling. His voice was a raw, hoarse whisper, as if his throat had been scraped with a razor blade. His eyes were as vacant as those of a dark-skinned slave in the High Cliff Castle iron mine who had just received a hundred lashes.

"’Nothing is impossible. Your "great" King believes I’ve already murdered you in cold blood. Your own father has even sworn an oath to have me subjected to death by a thousand cuts, to make me pay the blood debt,’ the Lord sneered. The chill that came off him was colder than the sharp dagger he casually flipped in his hand, and it pierced Kemish to the bone."

"’That’s right... I’m dead,’ Kemish murmured to himself, so stunned by the news he didn’t know what to say. ’I’m clearly still alive, but in everyone’s eyes, I’m already dead.’"

"High Cliff Castle doesn’t support freeloaders," Levi said, the malice on his face so thick it was almost tangible. "You’d better still have some value that I find satisfactory. Otherwise..."

The savage grins lurking in the surrounding shadows snapped Kemish back to reality.

"’I...’ Of course, Kemish Blue Diamond didn’t want to die. No one does. He was a drowning man, and he would grasp at any straw."

’The problem was, he honestly couldn’t think of what value he had left. The most valuable assets are tangible ones, and his tangible assets had been his Mamluk soldiers. But they were all now mining for High Cliff Castle, and even he had been put to work.’