I’m a Rebel in Another World

Chapter 37: Seventeen Silver Coins

The journey continued with frequent stops and starts, taking a full three months for the shadow guard to bring Henwil across the entire duchy and into Billie Kingdom's territory.

By the time Henwil set foot on Billie Kingdom's soil, the weather had gradually warmed.

Looking at this unfamiliar nation, Henwil felt a complex mix of emotions—he never imagined he would travel so far.

In a small city within Billie Kingdom, the shadow guard handed him a package: "There's a token inside!

Go find the people at the Mosang Tavern, and they'll come to take you away.

When the time comes, you must present that token, and then they can lead you to the arranged place.

You must stay there for at least one year without leaving that city!

If I receive word that you've escaped, I will definitely come capture you again.

When that happens, you'll understand that having a quick mind won't save your life every time!

Besides, there are plenty of clever people in this world—you're nothing special."Henwil examined the contents of the package. Aside from some dried rations and food, there was a small amount of money—just enough to barely sustain one person for a few months.

There was also that hand-carved wooden puppy, which was the token the shadow guard mentioned.

After putting everything away, Henwil asked the shadow guard who was preparing to leave: "When will the poison in my body be neutralized? And my weapons—they were gifts from my teacher! I have the right to take them with me!"

The shadow guard glanced back at him, went out for a moment, then returned and threw the Dawnbreaker greatsword and large bow to Henwil: "Brat!

The look in your eyes disgusts me! I told you—you're not the only clever one in this world, and you're not as smart as you think you are!"

Henwil shrugged: "These two items truly hold sentimental value for me, and I have no money now.

How about when you come check on me in a year, I'll compensate you with some gold coins?"

The shadow guard sneered coldly: "In a few days, the drug's effects will fade from your body, and then you'll have your strength back!"

With that, the shadow guard left the room directly.

Henwil began maintaining and polishing the longsword while adjusting the bowstring, humming an unknown little tune under his breath.

He didn't plan to escape immediately—after all, he wasn't certain whether that nasty-tempered shadow guard had truly left.

That guy had been looking for opportunities to beat him up all along, so he definitely couldn't give him sufficient reason.

An hour later, the door was pushed open.

A man with a gloomy expression walked in, sizing up Henwil with a glance: "What's your name?"

Henwil acted like a child, pretending to be somewhat timid and frightened.

After giving his name, Henwil took out the token to show him.

The man frowned at it briefly before throwing it back.

"Is this sword yours?"

"Yes! It's a family heirloom—very important to me. I can't lose it!"

The man examined him for another moment, then impatiently waved for Henwil to follow him out.

They passed through narrow, cramped streets scattered with sewage puddles before arriving at a dilapidated tavern.

This was the Mosang Tavern the shadow guard had mentioned!

Henwil was taken to a room in the tavern's basement. After the man left, Henwil frowned.

This shadow guard truly had a nasty temperament and held grudges.

He'd actually dumped him in a human traffickers' den.

Through observation, Henwil had confirmed this was a transit station for buying and selling children.

It seemed the shadow guard wanted him to suffer some hardship—probably watching his humiliation from the shadows right now!

Henwil sighed helplessly, ate some dried rations, then lay down in the straw pile and fell asleep to the sound of sobbing from the child next door.

Two days later, Henwil's body no longer felt so weak and sore.

He estimated he would return to normal within a week at most.

On this day, they had gathered enough children here.

Under the traffickers' shouts, the children were herded into a crowded large carriage.

When boarding, Henwil's pack was snatched away by the traffickers, and of course they didn't leave him his weapons either.

The traffickers had taken a liking to these two finely crafted weapons, thinking they could fetch a good price.

Seeing the traffickers armed with crossbows standing guard around them, Henwil—who hadn't yet recovered his strength—chose not to take risks.

But he asked the gloomy man who had brought him: "Can I know how much I was sold for?"

"Seventeen silver coins! That's not a low price! You'd better pray you're worth that much! If this master loses money on this deal, you'll be in trouble!"

Henwil nodded slightly without saying anything and climbed onto the large cart packed with children.

Seventeen silver coins!

Fine! Henwil would remember this!

He warned himself to see himself clearly from now on—in this world, his starting price was only seventeen silver coins!

Through the traffickers' conversations, Henwil learned his destination was a baron's territory.

They were acquiring serfs there, and half-grown children like these could fetch a decent price.

The journey would take about ten days.

Of course, if they passed through towns along the way, the children would be displayed for sale—it would be even better if someone bought them along the route.

Henwil didn't act rebellious and appeared quite compliant.

He didn't care about the traffickers' beatings and curses—after all, in seven days when he recovered his strength, these people would be dead.

Why bother struggling with dead men!

By the fifth day, the caravan had passed through two towns and sold five children, one of them a girl.

Henwil was larger and looked like he could eat a lot, so no one wanted to buy him.

In the afternoon, the weather turned nasty—it looked like rain was coming.

The traffickers found a sheltered spot to take cover—traveling in the rain would easily get the carts stuck in mud.

After distributing meager rations, the traffickers set up tents and prepared to drink.

In the late night, Henwil suddenly opened his eyes, silently observing his surroundings.

Then he pulled an iron wire from his boot and easily picked the lock on his leg chains.

But instead of immediately going for the carriage door lock, he first took some dried meat from his clothes and slowly chewed it.

After a while, Henwil's expression grew increasingly serious.

Suddenly, screams erupted outside, followed by curses and the sound of clashing weapons.

The child next to Henwil woke with a start, watching as Henwil seemingly performed magic—pulling two foot-long, pinky-thick steel spikes from hidden compartments in his clothing.

Henwil made a silencing gesture to the child, then nimbly climbed to the top of the carriage.

At this moment, Henwil clung to the upper left corner of the carriage like a bat.

His left hand braced against the roof, one steel spike clenched between his teeth, the other in his right hand aimed toward the carriage door below.

After another moment, a sharp sound suddenly pierced the air, followed by arrows shooting through the carriage walls.

The arrows pierced through bewildered children one after another, merging their screams and cries into a chorus of anguish within the carriage.

Henwil tilted his head to avoid a long arrow that shot through the carriage wall.

Moments later, the door was thrown open, and curses erupted at the sight within.

"Damn it! These are slave traders, not valuable cargo! They're just human livestock inside!"