Chapter 168: The Holder Of Many Titles, Luke
As though its owner had been beaten so thoroughly that even speaking had become a challenge.
"Osric?" Luke blinked several times. His eyes slowly widened in disbelief.
"What happened to you?!" His voice carried genuine concern.
"Who in the world was cruel enough to do this to you?" For a brief moment. Luke truly pitied him.
Osric, however, merely gave him a long. Completely speechless stare.
"My Lord." He sighed weakly.
"I ended up bearing someone else’s wrath."
"Because a certain someone never showed up to meet the merchants."
Luke’s smile immediately stiffened.
Osric continued in a lifeless tone.
"So."
"I went to look for that certain person."
"...Then I happened to run into Lady Aurielle."
He slowly raised one heavily bandaged hand. Pointing at himself. "And this happened."
After saying that. He lowered his head in grievance.
His entire posture screamed ’I was an innocent victim.’
Silence.
Luke silently looked at Osric.
Then a certain image flashed through his mind.
The purple sword. And the faint bloodstain along its edge.
’No wonder Aurielle’s sword had blood on it.’ A cold shiver ran down his spine. Goosebumps instantly covered his arms.
He looked at Osric again. From head to toe.
Wrapped in bandages. Barely recognizable.
His expression gradually filled with sympathy.
’Poor Osric.’ Then another thought suddenly crossed Luke’s mind.
’Wait...’
’If Aurielle had found me first instead of Osric.’
He unconsciously swallowed. His hand instinctively moved to protect his lower body.
A chill ran straight down his back.
’I would’ve lost far more than a little blood.’
Looking at Osric now. Luke couldn’t help but feel relieved.
At least someone else had become the sacrifice this time.
Then Luke couldn’t help but think to himself.
’It’s your karma, buddy.’
’You ran away earlier and now you’re just harvesting the fruits of your own actions.’
Naturally, he wisely kept those thoughts to himself.
The poor man had already suffered enough. There was no need to pour salt into his wounds.
With that.
Luke and the heavily bandaged Osric continued toward the gathering hall.
Their footsteps echoed softly through the mansion’s long corridors.
A few moments later.
The two arrived before an enormous hall.
It had originally been built to host large banquets and noble celebrations.
However since the rapid development of the Blackstone Highlands.
It had gradually become the territory’s official meeting hall, where important guests and large gatherings were received.
Even before reaching the entrance. Luke could already hear hundreds of voices coming from inside.
Merchants discussing. People laughing. Several conversations overlapping with one another. The constant chatter blended into a lively hum.
Luke raised an eyebrow. ’Just how many people are in there?’
Even he was surprised by the sheer amount of noise.
Taking a steady breath. He stepped forward.
The guards stationed beside the huge wooden doors immediately straightened.
"Greetings, My Lord!"
However.
Their eyes instinctively drifted toward the "mummy" standing beside Luke.
"...?"
Both guards exchanged puzzled glances. One of them almost failed to suppress his curiosity.
’When did a mummy join Lord Luke’s entourage.?’
Fortunately.
Years of discipline stopped him from asking such a suicidal question.
Without another word, both guards respectfully pushed open the huge wooden doors.
Creeeak.
The heavy doors slowly swung inward.
The old hinges produced a long, deep creaking sound that echoed throughout the vast hall.
Almost instantly. The bustling conversations came to an abrupt halt.
One after another, the voices disappeared.
Within only a few heartbeats. The lively hall fell into complete silence.
So quiet that even a pin dropping could probably be heard.
Every head turned toward the entrance.
Young and old. Men and women.
Seasoned merchants and newly arrived traders alike.
Hundreds of curious eyes simultaneously settled on the doorway.
Because almost every merchant who had entered the Blackstone Highlands was already gathered inside.
So naturally, the same thought appeared in everyone’s mind.
’Who could possibly be arriving now?’ Their curiosity only grew stronger.
However, when they finally saw the person entering through the doorway. They were all stunned.
A figure wrapped entirely in bandages appeared. From head to toe.
For a brief moment. Everyone instinctively stared at the "mummy."
Questions immediately surfaced in their minds.
’Who is that?’
’Is he injured?
’Or is he some mysterious powerhouse?’
But those thoughts lasted only a moment.
Soon their gazes naturally shifted away from the bandaged figure.
Toward the young man walking calmly at the front. The true reason they had all gathered here.
Baron Luke.
The Hero Luke.
The so-called Talentless Hero.
The husband of five princesses.
The lord of the Blackstone Highlands.
The owner of many titles.
Each merchant knew him by a different title.
Yet...
None of them were certain whether the title "Talentless Hero" still suited him anymore.
After all.
His rise to the Early Bronze Knight Realm without relying on any publicly known precious resources had completely overturned that old rumor.
If someone like that was truly talentless. Then what were ordinary people supposed to call themselves?
Still. Among all the stories surrounding Luke.
There was one fact that every merchant believed without the slightest doubt.
His combat power rivaled a Mid-Golden Knight. That single thought lingered in everyone’s mind.
It was precisely because of that terrifying strength. that they had more willingly chosen to travel through the Blackstone Highlands.
Previously, anyone wishing to reach the Ashveil Trade Route had only two choices.
The first. Pass through Blackstone.
The second. Take the old mountain route.
A path filled with steep cliffs, dense forests, magical beasts, roaming bandits, and countless hidden dangers.
A single mistake there. Could easily cost someone their life.
Compared to risking everything on that perilous journey.
They also had to deal with bandit forces. Not ordinary bandits. But groups secretly backed by powerful nobles.
Those criminals frequently set up illegal checkpoints, demanding "protection fees" from passing caravans.
More often than not. The merchants had no choice but to pay.
Otherwise, they risked losing both their cargo and their lives.
As a result, their transportation costs increased significantly.