Chapter 25
Chapter 25
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 25
Chapter Title: The Tarin Tribe's Greeting
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“So, keeping the wind at our backs is the most important thing, right?”
“There’s no single most important thing. Everything matters. Miss one detail, and the prey slips away. Now quit yapping and do your job.”
At Guchi’s gesture, Ethan climbed onto the carriage. He perched on the roof and scanned the straight road ahead. A lightning-struck tree and a ditch caught his eye.
“There’s a ditch up ahead!”
Ethan shouted loudly.
“A ditch? There shouldn’t be any waterways around here.”
“Looks like it formed from the rain. But considering the wheel width, we might be able to pass right over it.”
“Got it. Let me know if you spot anything else.”
“Yes, sir! Leave it to me.”
The man who had been conversing with him beside the carriage ran off toward the one in the middle of the caravan line.
It was the caravan leader’s carriage. Ethan put his thumb and forefinger to his lips and whistled sharply. Soon, the sound of flapping wings approached as Dao descended.
Ethan stroked Dao’s red beak before sending him back into the sky. Being a young hawk, he needed frequent handling.
The elite Roppa’s hawk he’d seen once had wings vast enough to blot out the sky. Dao would grow into one like that someday.
“Uncle Guchi! Do you use hawks too?”
Ethan called out to Guchi, who was walking behind the carriage.
“I’m no Roppa. I don’t have the confidence to handle them like you do.”
“I’ve heard some hunters use hawks. You should try taming one, Uncle.”
“If it were that easy, I’d have done it ages ago.”
Guchi shot him a look that said to keep watch ahead. Ethan replied brightly with a “Yes, sir!” and turned his gaze forward.
Among those in the caravan line, no one was as knowledgeable as Uncle Guchi. Since he knew more than Ethan, who was receiving Roppa training, pestering him with questions was endlessly entertaining.
He’d act annoyed and reluctant, but he always ended up explaining everything—a good guy at heart.
Ethan hooked his foot on the rope stretched across the carriage roof and lay back. He could see Dao circling lazily in the sky. Having been grounded during the downpour, the hawk seemed utterly delighted now.
“Don’t fall off.”
Guchi warned. Ethan winked and gave a thumbs-up. A Roppa falling from a carriage was unthinkable.
Roppa played on horses and carriages before they could even walk.
A yawn stretched his mouth. Today’s procession was peaceful as ever. With the troublesome rain gone, it was even more boring.
His master had drilled into him countless times that nothing beat a dull journey, but staring at an unchanging landscape of shifting trees all day was grueling.
Like an acrobat, he dangled by one foot from the rope and leaned back. The world flipped upside down in an instant. He flashed a cheeky grin at Guchi, who eyed him as if to say “enough of that,” then looked to the side.
“Uncle Lander.”
“Hm?”
Lander, patrolling the right side, turned his head.
“Rematch with me. I think I can win this time.”
“Feels like you said that yesterday too.”
“Today’s different. Rain’s stopped, and I’ve fully adapted to this carriage now.”
“Think I’ve heard that ‘adapted’ line before too. Must be my imagination?”
“Of course. Come on up. I’m dying of boredom here.”
Ethan sprang upright. As he freed his foot from the rope, he glanced aside. Lander had already climbed aboard.
“Uncle.”
“Yeah?”
“How do you get up here so quietly?”
“Dunno. Anyway, what’re we betting today?”
Ethan spread his fingers wide.
“The soon-to-be elite Roppa, Ethan Goop Chris, will guide you for free—ten times.”
“Might stretch to a hundred at this rate.”
“I’ll win once before then. You’re human; you’ll slip up eventually, right?”
The carriage jolted. Ethan flailed his arms to steady himself. The unexpected shake nearly sent him tumbling off.
Regaining his balance, he looked at Lander. Even as the carriage rocked wildly, the man hadn’t budged.
“Slip up?”
Lander tilted his head with a smirk. Infuriatingly smug uncle.
“Let’s start.”
He lifted his left foot, balancing on his right. Lander did the same.
“The road’s rough today. Won’t be easy.”
He spread his arms for balance. “See farthest from the highest point”—he’d practiced that great Roppa saying religiously since childhood.
Climbing trees barehanded, mounting horses without saddles, even eating and sleeping atop swaying carriages.
His master praised nothing else but his sense of balance. He was confident no one could match him in unstable terrain—until meeting Lander.
“Ditch ahead! Watch the axles—don’t let them twist!”
Someone shouted from the front. Ethan raised his voice too, ensuring the rear could hear. Repeating orders was caravan basics.
The carriage eased forward. The ones ahead crossed without issue, so the ditch seemed shallow. The horses whinnied and plunged in first, splashing water.
“Let’s get down.”
Lander dropped to the ground. A match was fun, but now they needed to lighten the load. The unloaded carriage inched ahead. The wheels sank halfway into the ditch.
The carriage tilted. Whether the axle was bent or the wheel mount snapped, it lurched left. People rushed to brace it.
Ethan dashed over, dunked his head into the muddy water, and peered. The axle was fine. The ground beneath the wheel had crumbled, tilting the body.
“We need something to shore it up!”
He explained, and they fetched thick planks. Five burly men tried wedging wood under the wheel and lifting, but it wouldn’t budge.
“Need something under the planks too—like a lever?”
They all nodded and scattered for materials.
“I’ll lift it. Pull forward when I do.”
Lander gripped a plank. Ethan beside him protested—it was nonsense. This was the heaviest wagon in the caravan.
Made of famed sturdy eastern yellowwood, reinforced with iron plates. Lifting it alone was impossible.
But Lander ignored him. He knelt before the wagon, placed the plank on his thigh. Using his leg as a fulcrum—not even a rock.
“Uncle, you’ll snap your leg…”
He couldn’t finish. His jaw dropped. Lander jammed the plank under the wheel with force, then pressed without a grunt. The wagon shuddered and rose.
The others gawked at the upright vehicle. Their eyes said, “Is this for real?”
“What’re you lot standing around for? Push!”
Only Guchi acted casual, pressing against the left side.
The rest snapped to and shoved. The horses neighed ahead, and the wheels slowly cleared the ditch.
Repairs done, the caravan resumed. Ethan sat on the roof, peering down at Lander following behind.
“Uncle. What are you, really?”
“Caravan guard.”
“No way. How do you lift that monster alone? You’re not orc kin pretending to be human?”
Lander just smiled without answering. Ethan had overheard he was ex-military. Curiosity burned, but with the man clamming up, no answers.
“No more bets from me. After today, physical stuff’s a lost cause.”
“So that’s nine free guides?”
“You’d actually take them? Stingier than you look.”
Ethan turned forward. The sun dipped gently behind the mountains.
Not urgent enough for night travel, so rest soon as usual.
Dao, who’d been sky-watching alone, screeched down—hungry. Kids like him pecked if underfed.
“Eat up and grow big. Gotta brag to the others.”
He offered dried gutted rat as faint smoke rose distantly.
Ethan sniffed. Not a large campfire—small group camping?
He reported first.
“Smoke ahead—someone’s lit a fire!”
He soothed Dao and sent him toward it. Dao crossed the purpling sky and returned swiftly.
He circled Ethan’s head once, then screeched “Pee-ik!” landing—five or fewer.
“How many?”
The scout rode up.
“Five or less.”
The man nodded and spurred his horse ahead.
“Handy having that hawk.”
Guchi remarked. Ethan scratched under Dao’s beak.
“Wanna pet him, Uncle?”
“He’d bite. Pass.”
“You’re surprisingly timid. Uncle Lander…”
He slyly extended Dao toward Lander. The hawk startled skyward. Dao scorned most humans, yet feared this one.
First time seeing that. Dao circled overhead before landing, fixing green eyes pleading—don’t send me back.
“Alright, alright. My bad.”
Ethan calmed him, then glanced at Lander. Lander shrugged with an apologetic smile.
“Tarin tribe!”
The scout returned shouting. Tarin tribe—vaguely familiar. Ethan patted his cheek, recalling his master’s lessons.
“Tarin, huh. On pilgrimage maybe.”
Guchi said. Pilgrimage clicked it—right, that tribe.
Brief commotion, but no halt. Tarin weren’t threats—just tiring.
Soon the caravan reached the smoke. A blue flag fluttered atop a massive pole, Tarin beneath.
Wow. Ethan gawked. Heard plenty, but first sighting.
Lizard-like faces, massive arms and legs. Skin like chainmail.
Vertical slit pupils shifted side to side, then centered. The Tarin’s chest swelled hugely.
Ethan perked his ears. Time for the famous “greeting.”
“May your noble caravan flourish endlessly!”
The roar echoed. Even at distance, ears rang. Up close, they’d plug them.
The caravan leader dismounted. Ethan stood and followed. Others closed in too, eager for a look.
Up close, the Tarin towered—easily over two meters. Glossy scaled skin fascinating.
“Pleased to meet you. I’m Arone, leading this caravan.”
Arone extended a hand. The Tarin wrapped his tail around it.
“Tachada of the ‘Black Heart’ tribe. Delighted to encounter your caravan.”
“Glad to hear it. That flag suggests you’re on pilgrimage.”
Tachada flicked his tongue to clean his eyeball, then spoke.
“Humans who speak our tongue are always welcome. We’ll pray for your caravan if you provide great warrior’s meal.”
(To be continued)