TALES OF A WITCHER - Season 8 Episode 44

Thuram’s favorite activity was sitting on the second floor of a tavern and watching customers coming and going downstairs.

This was his tavern and his territory, so Thuram named it “Skull Cup” for his own preference and re-decorated it. He even hung a string of incomplete skulls at the entrance as the sign of the tavern.

However, it was not called this name five years ago.

“What was it called at that time?” Thuram wondered.

“Was it called Elf Forest… or Elf Garden? Anyway, it doesn’t matter now.” Thuram drank some spirits with fire lantern fruit in them, letting the hot taste flood his tongue. “Such a delicate name didn’t fit the bloodstained place, since there’s no elf or elf-like woman here but quite a lot of bones.”

After each battle, a pile of dead bodies would be left outside the Iron Sand City. He preferred bones, especially the skulls, which had been baked in hot sands, rather than perishable flesh.

First, the skulls were intimidating, so it would let troublemakers understand what kind of place this was.

Second, it indeed could hold wine, saving him from buying more wine glasses.

After all, the former did not work for everyone. There were always some idiots born with deformed brains who thought that they could treat everywhere like their own backyards and that their adversaries were no better than women who knew nothing but weeping. In a place where troublemakers appeared frequently, brittle pottery and glass were not ideal vessels.

Gazing at every customer was a habit that Thuram had developed in recent years. People who traveled in and out of this land were generally divided into three kinds: the half-dead ones, the moribund ones, and the dead ones—he preferred to distinguish people in this way rather than by their identities. The half-dead ones’ purpose of coming here was very simple, which was drinking, gambling, and women; as long as they maintained their current state, they could basically finish the rest of their journeys. The moribund ones were mostly watchdogs or challengers who came to inquire about the situation. They had already put their lives under the blades that would swing and behead them at any time.

As to the dead ones… they were undoubtedly the troublemakers.

Thuram’s attention was fixed on neither the half-dead ones nor the dead ones, for the former were very boring, and the latter gave him joy only when they were dying. It was the moribund ones he liked most because he could see in them a mirror image of his younger self.

At that time, he was just like them, holding a sharp knife in his hand and fighting in the bloodstained place, an admiring place for many clans, yet he always had his sights set on Iron Sand City.

His courage, audacity, and strength were being drained from him until one day someone replaced him as the new owner of the small oasis… He had to beg for a chance to survive. At last, he became part of the bloodstained place, yet he turned from the moribund one into the half-dead one during this alteration.

The moribund ones, though they had already placed their lives under the blades, still had the chance to skyrocket when the time came. They could break out of the cocoons or rise from the ashes. But the half-dead ones would never have this kind of opportunity. They could only seek some form of entertainment to comfort them for the rest of their lives.

Such as, watching the travelers who pass by these oases… who might perish in the sands or take over as the new owner of this place.

At this moment, one of his men pushed open the door, walked to him, and whispered in his ear.

“Oh? Are you sure about that?” Thuram was startled.

“He said so, and from the look of the woman beside him… she is probably a Divine Lady.”

Thuram pondered for a while, then a malicious smile appeared on his face. “Take them in. Remember to take away their weapons. This guy is a hard nut to crack.”

“Yes.”

“See? There’s a big fun coming now,” Thuram could not help thinking.

…

There were a total of two visitors whose bodies were hidden under loose ropes, but Thuram could still distinguish that they were a man and a woman. When the tall man took off his hood and showed his face, Thuram could not help but squint. “I didn’t expect to see you one day, Iron Axe.”

“The things that you can’t expect are way more than stars reflected on the oasis. Nothing strange about that.” Iron Axe served the woman her seat, and then calmly walked over to sit opposite him. “But now… you should know what I’m coming for.”

“Probably.” Thuram shrugged. As an old citizen of Sand Nation, he knew every holy duel held in the Land of Fire. Some of the moribund ones could indeed rise from ashes, but most of them turned into complete dead bodies, and the Osha clan was one of them… Although he had heard that some accidents happened during the duel, it made no difference to the end result. “But you shouldn’t have returned, for Iron Whip clan is no longer the way it was.”

Thuram had thought of recruiting Iron Axe who used to be quite a renowned hybrid warrior—Thuram didn’t let his initial ambition die away even after he had to serve a watchdog, and he always imagined that his clan would one day reoccupy the small oasis and enter the holy land of the duel.

But it was years ago.

But now… he just wanted to have some fun.

“Yeah? That’s exactly what I want,” Iron Axe said with disapproval, “I thought they’d been thrown out of Iron Sand City by the other challengers and were now rotting away in some isolated corner. Now it seems that the Three Gods haven’t completely fallen asleep.”

Thuram frowned, for he did not remember that this hybrid warrior was a man of grandiloquence. “I understand your eagerness for the revenge. But a revenge carried out by someone who’s not qualified is nothing less than suicide.” As he said this, he turned to look at the silent woman. “Even though the Osha clan owns a Divine Lady, it won’t narrow the gap between your clan and the Iron Whip Clan. Moreover, since most of the exiles of that year had already died, what difference can you make with just the two of you?”

“That’s why I have come to you, Thuram,” Iron Axe said. The words he said seemed very natural to himself but made Thuram’s heart thud. Iron Axe continued, “Your clan is still located in this oasis, am I right? Eight years ago, it was a challenger, just like Osha clan, and should have had a chance to control part of Iron Sand City but ended up being a watchdog, and later… It became less than a watchdog. Seeing your clansmen reduced to being slaves of other clans, didn’t you feel remorseful? Now we offer you a chance to, once again, touch the wall of Iron Sand City if you pledge your loyalty to Lady Drow Silvermoon.”

Thuram was stunned for a moment before he burst into laughter.

“Ha ha ha ha ha…”

It was indeed a rare joke since there was nothing more interesting than seeing a mad avenger destroy himself, but Thuram did not expect that this man was trying to divert the joke to him.

“So you want to make this little girl the new chief of a clan before initiating a holy duel? Even her father is not above me, and now you want me to serve her? Perhaps you can find some good helpers who will be able to do some tricks in the duel, but what can I benefit from this? Call my slave clansmen to fight against the watchdogs till they are left with a mass of injuries, and then warmly send you to Iron Sand City?”

Thuram’s tone turned a bit hideous on the final words. “Tell me, Iron Axe, what benefits can you offer me so that I won’t tell the Iron Whip clan the whereabouts of this Miss Drow Silvermoon in exchange for a generous reward? I guess they’ll be very interested in torturing a Divine Lady of their former enemy.”