Kraft Lawrence was a traveling merchant.
A traveling merchant is not unlike a Bard: their friends are everywhere, and they only go to destinations that can give them profit; for the former, the profit is money, for the latter, it is news.
After a month of hesitation, Lawrence finally decided to take a friend's merchant ship and travel with a Bard friend to see that legendary holy land for merchants: Red Leaf Fortress.
Although the commercial tax there was as high as fifty percent, as long as you paid your taxes, the Merchant Association would back you up. If you were deceived or extorted, the Merchant Association would not hesitate to take the person to court, and the People's Court would issue a summons, arrest the person, and make a fair judgment.
Of course, it was said that there were very few criminals in Red Leaf Ridge. Ever since the first Gaul began to accumulate enough contribution points and was bailed out to become a commoner, the cohesion of the entire Red Leaf Ridge began to rise in a straight line. Everyone, including slaves, was working hard to raise their own ranks. The explosive power of that moment was like a mountain collapse and a tsunami, like Chairman Mao's Great Leap Forward era.
To be honest, Lawrence didn't believe these words, because he knew too well how much exaggeration was in a Bard's songs. Fifty percent? Eighty percent wouldn't even be surprising!
"You who trouble that pitiful young girl, yet lack the courage to face demons~"
"You who have the courage to face death, yet lack the courage to resist ugly fear~"
"You who live a joyful and prosperous life, have you ever thought of the girl on the cold, desolate plains~"
"They are desolate and lonely, with beautiful silver eyes, yet are regarded as enemies of humanity~"
The mournful sound of a short harp reached Lawrence's ears. He recognized it from the very first note. This was the "Demon's Poem," which began to be sung across the continent six months after the "Little Sage" Kayal issued his demon-extermination declaration. It was said that the author was that talented Little Sage himself.
He gave a self-deprecating smile. This song was very much related to the demon-extermination declaration, almost a translation of it, satirizing humanity's humble and petty self-esteem by referencing the past identities of the silver-eyed Claymores. Listening to the last section almost brought tears to his eyes, deeply reflecting on his own harsh past.
Although he didn't quite believe that this poem was written by a child not yet eighteen, Lawrence still loved the poem very much.
Every time he heard it, he felt purified. A refined Lawrence leaned back in the carriage, swaying his head, enjoying the pleasure brought by the harp and singing.
At the first stanza, his friend stopped, immediately drawing cheers from nearby merchants. Although bandits were extinct in the Camelot Kingdom, as traveling merchants, they were still accustomed to traveling in groups. They were not like large merchant companies with strong adult male guards; they could only rely on themselves and their fellow merchants. Therefore, almost no traveling merchant had a potbelly; most of them were quite skilled.
"Brother, your singing is very beautiful, very pleasant," someone praised, their gentle voice as warm as if bathing in warm water.
Surprised that this person spoke with such charm, he opened his eyes and looked in that direction.
It was a young man riding a white horse, dressed in a flowing milky-white robe with a long cloak. If he weren't on a white horse, this expensive outfit would probably be covered in dust. Lawrence maliciously speculated.
Behind this young man on the white horse was a female knight on a black horse. Her exquisite golden hair was braided into a circle, giving her a heroic look. Her form-fitting knight's armor made her developing, well-proportioned body appear even more curvaceous.
After collecting the coins thrown from all directions and putting them into his pouch, the Bard, hearing the young man's praise, quickly doffed his hat in salute: "It is my honor to hear your praise, my Lord."
"Hehe, are you going to Red Leaf Fortress?" Kayal smiled gently and nodded, sizing up the quite capable Bard, and asked with a smile.
"Yes, my Lord, our group are all traveling merchants heading to Red Leaf Fortress to attend the Harvest Festival, except for me," he replied with a slight bow.
"Are you from Ireland?" Kayal looked at the Bard's crimson hair with some surprise.
"Indeed."
"That's truly surprising. The Irish are quite exclusive of Camelot, and you actually have the courage to step into Camelot, which is called the land of devils. That's truly admirable." Kayal praised with a smile. The animosity between the Irish, Camelot, and Scottish peoples was very severe. Camelot, which had always been at the forefront of technology and had a king, always liked to call the Irish bumpkins. As for the Scottish, who were considered a garden across the sea, they were even more despised. Many Camelot people often confused the Scottish with the Gauls... This was also due to their low cultural level.
"Thank you for your praise." Hearing Kayal's gentle compliment, which felt like honey in his heart, the Bard's face showed a proud expression.
"Are you traveling merchants?" Kayal's gaze turned to Lawrence and his group.
"Yes, my Lord." Lawrence was closer to his Bard friend, so he could only step forward and answer. This young man was clearly a young noble from Red Leaf Ridge, and such nobles were the last people traveling merchants could afford to offend. Being young meant being petty, and being high-ranking and powerful meant that a single word could waste months, or even several months, of their hard work, or even make them travel for nothing.
"I heard you are going to attend the Harvest Festival. May I be so bold as to ask what goods you have prepared?" Lawrence was surprised by the young noble's politeness but could only reply with even greater politeness and caution: "My Lord, it is spices, spices from the Macedonian Empire."
"Oh!" The young noble let out a soft exclamation: "You are not very old, yet you dare to cross the Roman Empire to trade with the Macedonian Empire?"
"My Lord, actually, the risk of crossing Rome is not that great. One simply sells local specialties upon arriving in another region to reduce risk, and that's sufficient. Additionally, a new monarch has ascended in Macedonia, and the people are at peace. It is said that they are preparing for war, so I didn't dare to buy grain. I could only deal in low-cost, profitable goods like spices, but I still feel the risk is very high," Lawrence said honestly.
His words made Kayal's eyes light up. "May I be so bold as to ask your name, sir?"
"Kraft Lawrence, sir. You may call me Lawrence," Lawrence said.
"Then, Mr. Lawrence, may I ask if the spices you brought are seeds or powder?" Spices were divided into two types: seeds, including star anise, pepper, cumin, etc., and the other was like ground pepper. In terms of value, seeds were more suitable for preservation. Kayal was eighty percent sure he brought seeds. Thinking about Camelot's climate, although growing spices couldn't achieve India's three or four harvests a year, one harvest a year was still possible. Dismissing the idea of easily finding spices in historical novels, Kayal began to feel enthusiastic about grilling.
"Seeds are easy to carry and preserve, so when dealing with spices as goods, most are in the form of seeds," Lawrence chuckled.
"Lawrence, you haven't found a place to stay yet, have you? Would you be willing to stay at my manor? Because I am very interested in the goods you possess. Could we discuss them in detail?" Kayal's directness, surprisingly, put Lawrence at ease.
By stating it directly in front of so many people, even if there was any attempt at usurpation, someone could be found immediately.
"Then I shall not decline, my Lord," Lawrence said with a slight bow.