Vanora has the largest trade market in the eastern kingdom. And it is the one we must go through next. What's going on there now? In Vanora, there are merchants and criminals operating side by side. Even with government assistance, the parasites that have taken shelter there could not be eliminated. The town guards never seem to notice the heinous crimes that take place there. Security earns more by accepting bribes than they do by being paid by their superiors. That's how Vanora came to be known as a shelter for outlaws. Now someone is attempting to cause a commotion there, of all places? Who is that moron? I pondered.

The eastern kingdom's ruler, Gregorious Featherwood, had previously attempted to make Vanora the capital trading centre, but his efforts were thwarted by some outside powers. He lost his younger son, Gibbethon Featherwood, and is now left with his elder daughter to inherit his throne. He had to give up all of his aspirations on Vanora's future development.

People now scorn him for his incompetence in ruling the kingdom. Zibia, the king's only daughter, is a well-versed archaeologist. However, the unexpected burden of inheriting the throne forced her to abandon her aim of achieving her dreams. The kingdom is now like a fragile piece of broken glass that has been sewn together. A single major incident could pave the path for the foregoing powers to take control of the situation.

"Captain, what shall we do? Should we take a different path to the Central Kingdom?"

"Hey Stan, don't become a scaredy-cat now. We're in a field of work where we have to ignore such minor details and sometimes take chances... we can't just turn around every time there's a slight hiccup in front of us, can we?"

I responded coldly, bending from my horse to face Stan... I went on.

"...And what do you think will happen if we take the long route to get there?" I demanded an answer from him.

"May-be… Perhaps it will take a little longer?"

"That's apparent, but what else?" I pushed the issue further.

"The slaves would starve to death. This will hurt the quality of this batch." He said this to garner a compliment from me for correctly answering the question.

Stan is a dimwit, but he is blindly loyal to me, and that is more than enough to keep him around. However, it can be frightening at times. He's putting his trust in someone he doesn't know much about? Maybe I was like him once upon a time. Trying to be a dependable friend, believing in others without scrutinising their behaviour.

"Indeed, some won't make it till we arrive, but Stan... do you think we have enough rations to care about slaves...? If we don't replenish our supplies at Vanora, we should forget about that minor commotion there. We'd be better off dead, regardless. Do you understand now, Stan?"

"Yes, Captain!" Saluting me, he said.

Even if we make it to the central kingdom but destroy the goods, we'll be dead, anyway. I sighed deeply as I reflected on myself.

In this game of chess, even the strongest pawn is ultimately only a pawn. Whether it dies or wins, its fate as a pawn remains unalterable. Only the players have true authority in this game, and even then, only the winners are remembered.

In this brutal society, one's birth determines whether one is a pawn or a player. If I am a pawn, I will survive until the end of the game, and if I am a player, I must win the game; that is all there is to it.

"Instruct our scouts to keep me updated on the situation and tell our men to keep marching towards Vanora."

Stan bowed deeply and moved to the front of the group to relay my orders.

Our party moved at a steady pace, ignoring the lethargy that had built up. We established a camp under a massive tree as the day progressed through this lush forest.

I went to pee as the evening darkened.

"This is freaking exhausting; I wish I could just relax for a second. If at all feasible, I'd like to leave this shit job. " I sighed as I faced the hard reality.

Once a chess piece is placed on the board, only a player can decide whether to play with it or just toss it away as a sacrifice... if the piece has no value. It was my fault for falling into such a trap then. Now I'm just making amends for my mistakes. But... shouldn't I be repenting rather than committing more crimes? There's no turning back now. When I die, I will only be able to rot in hell.