Karl directed Thor to move off into the grass, away from the road where the monsters had set up rocks and a fallen tree to block the way.
There were no ditches to the dirt road, and it was in open grassland. There was nothing stopping them from going around, but it didn’t bode well for the monsters’ intelligence.
Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately for them, the hobgoblins and their Ogre overseers were not stupid enough to miss the fact that Karl was driving a wagon past them only a hundred metres away in an open field.
They lacked any sort of organization as they charged across the field, shouting and waving their weapons.
In the distance, Hawk noted that the guards from town came out when the monsters had started shouting, then went back in when they realized that the monsters were headed away from town.
So, either they didn’t have the manpower to deal with a small group of bandits, or they simply didn’t care, and assumed that travellers would handle it.
“Real meat!” The Ogre shouted, brandishing his crude stone blade at Thor.
The craftsmanship was childish at best, but the edge was jagged and looked sharp enough, while the stone gave off an aura of magic from its monstrous wielder.
“Well, it looks like they’re not just toll collectors. I suppose that we should do something about them.” Karl joked as he instructed Thor to stop the wagon.
[I’ll send the bodyguards.] Remi agreed, as the two Naga Warriors headed forward to meet the incoming attackers.
[Didn’t you make three of them the first time?] Rae asked as she watched the warriors rapidly moving through the grass.
[The last one is mine. My bodyguard.] Remi pouted.
Karl chuckled at her attitude. If she wanted to keep one in reserve so it was close to her, that was her call. Now that she wasn’t just a small snake, she would be coming out to fight when there was real danger.
They hadn’t even sent Dana’s golems, which were guarding the wagon, much less Rae’s. So nobody was too worried about the situation or the lack of one bodyguard.
The Ogres were only Commanders, while Remi’s bodyguards were Royal Rank, and the Hobgoblins were just Awakened Rank monsters.
They started the fight from ten metres away with a [Tsunami] attack, which created a wall of water that raced forward toward the attackers, and sent the Hobgoblins tumbling along the ground as their bones were crushed by the tumbling water.
The Ogres fared a little better, by meeting the wall of water with a counterattack that negated most of the power. But they were still hopelessly outmatched, and immediately turned to run off into the wilderness.
“Let them run, they’re not going to bother us anymore.” Karl loudly announced, as if the Naga needed verbal commands.
The guards at the town wall were watching and listening. Karl didn’t want to come across as a ruthless mercenary to them.
[Hawk, once they’re out of sight of the town, kill them.]
Thor turned back to the road, on the other side of the barricade, and began to happily trot towards the town’s fish market.
At the gate to their rather pathetic attempt at a town wall, which didn’t even reach all the way across town, the guards stopped the wagon to do their checks.
“What’s your business here?” The guard demanded, his scarred face twisted in what might have been disgust, or possibly just nerve damage.
“We have come to buy some dried fish for a buyer in Halsearing.” Karl replied in a bored tone.
“Not a big wagon you’ve got, with those passengers.” The guard replied.
“Big enough. I only need a hundred kilos of dried fish.”
The guard nodded and waved them through while glaring suspiciously at the Naga on the side running boards.
It looked like the swamp monsters weren’t particularly welcome, even when they were accompanying humans into town, but nobody tried to stop them.
Karl stopped the wagon and climbed down in front of a stall that had a large amount of dried fish hung up and bundled. There were others, but most of the shops sold fresh or frozen fish, not dried. Drying changed the flavour, and it was better for long-distance travel than general consumption.
“How much for a hundred kilos?” Karl asked, getting straight to the point.
If it was close to buying bulk dried meat at home, converted to the worth of gold coins, it should be about three of the dungeon coins.
“Who are you? You want bulk prices, you should have a referral.” The merchant replied, not even looking over his shoulder.
Karl put two gold coins and five silver ones down on the counter with a solid thump of jangling metal.
“I’m just a man with money. A hundred kilos of dried salmon worth.” Karl replied, taking note of the predominant fish in the drying racks.
The merchant turned around, looking ready to tell Karl off. Then he saw the armour, and the money on the counter.
“Well now, if you knew the King, you could have just said so.” The old man replied, looking at the money.
“But you don’t know him well enough.”
Karl put down five more silver coins, and the old man smiled. “I do believe I have a bundle weighed already.”
The merchant was surprisingly strong for an aging human with no magical abilities. He managed to get the hundred kilo bundle up on the scale on the second try, and the gross weight came out perfect. That meant the actual fish weight was a bit low, and the last kilo or two was the canvas wrap and rope, but it was close enough for Karl.
The old man untied the bundle and Karl sniffed to make sure there was nothing else bundled in the middle of the salmon, then nodded in satisfaction.
“That will do just fine.” He agreed, allowing the old man to tie the bundle back into a brick.
“Let me go get some helpers.” The old man grumbled.
Karl shook his head and gestured for the old man to stay where he was.
“I’ve got them.”
A gesture brought one of the Naga Warriors forward, and he easily hefted the bundle into the back of the wagon.
There was plenty of room with only four people in the wagon, and few other trade goods. Well, almost trade goods. What the beast clerics had procured for them was two kegs of cheap rum that had failed quality control at a local brewery. They were still strong alcohol, but not good alcohol.
“Are you selling goods here?” The merchant asked, with a nod toward the wagon.
He couldn’t see in, but it was normal to both buy and sell at every stop.
“Nah, the last deal fell through, so all I have is two barrels of discount rum. Hardly fit for fishermen. They’ll sell inland, though.” Karl shrugged.
The old man chuckled. “Well, you’re not a stupid one, stranger. I’ll give you that. No sailor deserves cheap rum. But if you get some good stuff, stop in the next time you’re through. Lutonade takes up most of the shipments, and it’s becoming a right pain to get more than a pony keg here at a time.”