Grimm: Ch. 7

---Third POV---

"We can only escort you this far. From here on, you'll have to proceed on foot."

After several days of travel, dodging Midor's border outposts and war fortresses, they had finally reached the border. The path behind them was marked by the bodies of bandits foolish enough to think them easy prey.

At the foot of the hills, a scattered group of refugees huddled. Midor's defeat four months ago had plunged the land into deeper misery.

The surrounding landscape was desolate, with even tree bark stripped bare by desperate hands, and refugees fleeing famine and the ravages of war were everywhere.

By now, it was already April.

Cities that were spared from military turmoil had begun planting a new round of crops. If all went well, they could harvest before the winter set in, with corn being the most common crop.

"Alright, thank you for your efforts." The leader of the group in black robes, Kadi, offered polite words. He was the captain of this spy squad.

"This is our duty."

With a curt response, the lead rider signaled to his subordinates to dismount and prepare their horses for the return journey. With a flick of their whips, they rode off, leaving a cloud of dust behind.

The group, now disguised as refugees, blended into the crowd. Near them, a fight broke out over a moldy piece of bread.

"That's my bread, you thief!" A gaunt man lunged at another refugee.

"Break it up before I break your heads!" A guard's shout cut through the chaos, followed by the dull thud of a club against flesh.

After days of arduous travel, they reached a place that could barely be considered suitable for rest—the Saint Albion Monastery, also known as the Tower of Conviction.

The Tower of Conviction seemed calm for the moment, though occasional squabbles over food broke out among the refugees.

Disguising themselves as refugees was merely a tactic to avoid drawing attention. The real danger wasn't in the fights but in the quiet desperation that turned neighbors into informants for a handful of coins.

From their plan, it was clear they weren't the first to infiltrate Weimar. Gaining entry to the royal city required bribing the guards. The outdated system didn't require formal documents like London's strict harbor checkpoints, but with enough money to smooth the way, no one would ask questions.

The group navigated through the dense refugee camp and arrived at an inconspicuous little chapel.

There, they changed into Midor-style civilian clothes. This would serve as a base for learning Midor's unique communication styles and gathering intelligence.

--- Grimm's POV ---

There wasn't much of a language barrier between Tali and Midor.

I'd noticed how decades of warfare had often seen territories change hands, making it common to find people from different regions. War made everyone speak the same language of survival. Such times had also given rise to countless mercenary groups and bandits.

However, when undertaking an espionage mission in the capital, speaking the local Midor dialect fluently was essential for safety.

We soon set off again.

Blending into a merchant caravan was a wise choice. The merchants' constant haggling provided perfect cover for our own conversations.

The warmth of the campfire dispelled the approaching autumn chill. It had been over two weeks since we left the monastery, and we were only a few days away from Windham.

However, food supplies were running low. Although provisions could be obtained in towns along the way, they came at a cost. The sound of empty stomachs had become as common as breathing.

I had enough food for myself and carried ten silver coins given to me by Gambino for emergencies. But the two other children weren't so lucky.

The rations provided by the army at the start of their journey were gone now, even though they'd tried to make them last as long as possible.

The older boy, who had been chubby, had lost a lot of weight after nearly a month of travel. Meanwhile, the naive girl was being fed by the black-robed men, who often discussed plans to sell her once they reached the capital, as she was of no use to them.

At dusk, Kadi and his men went hunting, hoping to save money by procuring free food.

This mission didn't come with much of an advance payment, and all travel expenses had to be covered by themselves. They were nothing more than soldiers of fortune, working for pay.

The merchants had already eaten, leaving only us three kids still hungry. Knowing Kadi's hunting party might return empty-handed, I pulled out some dried meat from my bag, skewered it on a stick, and roasted it over the fire for dinner.

The smell of cooking meat seemed to fill the entire camp.

Grrrrumble...

The rumbling of a hungry stomach was loud enough to reach my ears. Despite having lost a lot of weight, the chubby boy still appeared quite stout.

He hadn't eaten much in three days, as the army's rations were sparse to begin with. Subsisting on the meager watery soup left by Kadi's group had left him starving.

I noticed the boy's ravenous gaze fixed on the dried meat in my hands, as if he might pounce at any moment. His hands trembled at his sides, but he held himself back.

I pretended not to see, chewing my food bite by bite while keeping a sharp eye on him. With my current strength, I doubted anyone could wrestle my meal away.

In these times, not a single bite of food came without effort. To yield without a fight would only invite contempt and exploitation.

People were shallow like that.

More importantly, I wanted to see what this chubby boy would choose to do.

His reaction was interesting—the moment our eyes met, I saw recognition flash across his face. Not of me specifically, but of something else.

His body tensed, and sweat began beading on his forehead despite the evening chill. He had seen eyes like mine before. He knew what they mean.

The fear in his expression was familiar—the kind that comes from memories of violence. But hunger was proving stronger than fear. His stomach growled loudly again as he watched me eat, and I could see him swallowing repeatedly.

At least he knew when to back down. Not bad—not entirely stupid, I thought.

The little girl, however, didn't concern herself with such subtleties. Drawn by the aroma of meat, she toddled over to me, tugging on my knee and babbling, "Big brother... want... want to eat!"

Typically, this little troublemaker alternated between me and the chubby boy for care.

The black-robed men never bothered with her. Thankfully, the girl was somewhat sensible—she only needed to be carried when too tired to walk, something we took turns doing.

I still couldn't fathom why they brought someone so young along. Judging by her malnourished frame, she must have come from a slum.

I wasn't one to be harsh with well-behaved kids. I handed her a piece of meat without hesitation. The little girl plopped down right where she stood and started eating, unbothered by the ground's chill.

Seeing me give the girl some meat, the chubby boy couldn't hold himself back any longer, and walked over.

"Um... can I have a piece? Just a small one... I haven't had meat in so long." His round face flushed as he awkwardly scratched his head, avoiding direct eye contact with me and instead staring at the fire.

I gave the boy a once-over.

If you want something, you don't get it for free. At least he hadn't tried to grab it, though—guess he wasn't all bad. Maybe even someone I could get along with.

"Fine, but you better listen to what I say," I told him, sticking another chunk of meat over the fire.

The boy's round eyes widened with delight at hearing he'd get a share.

"Don't worry! From now on, you're my boss! You've got a problem with anyone, I'll take care of them for you!"

"Good. Here's your share."

I nodded in satisfaction and handed over the roasted meat. The boy's eyes lit up as he stared at the generous portion.

"Now that I'm you boss, tell me your name. I can't keep calling you 'Chubby' like everyone else. I'm Grimm. What about you?"

Though the boy was practically drooling, he refrained from tearing into the meat like a barbarian, taking polite bites instead.

"I'm Bernhardt!" he replied, between careful nibbles of the still-hot meat.

"?!"

The familiar name made me rummage through the characters in the original work. It sounded so familiar. Wasn't this the name of the NPC who got one-shot by Gabriel in the opening of the "Glory Arc," where he took down 30 men?

I scrutinized Bernhardt repeatedly, but he was busy gnawing on dried meat and didn't notice my gaze.

Judging by his strong build from a young age, it wouldn't be surprising if he were the same character from the original. So, he was a Kushan after all?

Once my stomach was nearly full, I packed up the leftovers carefully. The water in the flask was running low, so it was time to boil some for the next day.

"Keep an eye on her. And make sure to save some water for tomorrow."

"Mm... Mmm... Got it!" Bernhardt mumbled through a mouthful of meat, bits of food flying from his mouth.

While preparing to fetch water from the stream near the reeds, I overheard a familiar voice and crouched down quickly, pressing my body against the damp earth.

"Honestly, once we get there, we could just ditch those two brats…"

"After all, the commander won't know the specifics. These kinds of things don't matter. Once we sneak in, we don't have to bother with them anymore. Whether they survive will depend on their luck…"

"Honestly, selling them to the arena would work too. That chubby one looks like he could feed the beasts there for a while, huh?"

"Hahaha, not a bad idea! We could make some extra cash!"

"Hey, hey, boss, what do you think?"

"Yeah, let's go with Shiva's idea. Keeping those brats around is costing us booze money. Who's got time to bother with them?"

"Do whatever you want," Kadi said indifferently. What happened to the kids was none of his concern.

"Ha." Crouching in the reeds and listening to their conversation, I smirked coldly, unsurprised. So that's how it is.

After they left, I quickly filled my water bucket, stored it in my space, and took a detour to return before them. 

"You're back, Grimm!" Bernhardt had finished eating and was licking his fingers longingly.

"Yeah."

I replied casually, pouring water from the bucket into a pot and placing it over the campfire to boil.

Rustle, rustle…

Before long, Kadi and his subordinates returned.

"Damn it, couldn't catch anything worthwhile. Oh well, these two fish won't even fill the gaps between our teeth."

"Such bad luck. Not even a bird's nest in sight," the group grumbled among themselves.

"Huh? What's that smell? Smells amazing."

Their keen noses didn't miss a thing.

"Hey, kid, you've still got meat, right? How about sharing a couple of pieces?" Shiva walked up to me, reaching out with a hand that had probably strangled its share of victims.

"This is all I've got. If you eat it, what will I have? It's not like you've been providing my food." I deliberately spoke loudly while holding my nearly empty food pouch, which indeed had only a couple of scraps left.

The surrounding merchants perked up their ears at the commotion.

"You little—" Shiva, annoyed, moved to teach me a lesson, but the wary gazes of the caravan members around us stopped him. If I were truly part of someone's family, this kind of interaction would seem very suspicious.

"Enough. Stealing from a kid—how much lower can you get, Shiva?" Kadi cut in, shooting him a warning look.

"Hmph. You'll pay for this," Shiva grumbled, finding a spot to sit down. He shot a malicious glance at me.

Along the journey, this man named Shiva had caused me no end of trouble, constantly mocking and bossing Bernhardt and me around.

Sometimes we managed to catch a few wild chickens, rabbits, or fish, but most of the time, it was hard bread for meals. Occasionally, we'd hit up a tavern for a basic meal and a few drinks.

That night, I decided against sleeping on the ground. I climbed onto a sturdy tree branch, testing each handhold carefully before trusting my weight to it.

Once secure, I pulled my cloak around myself, and hugged my sword to rest. High ground meant better survival chances.

Bernhardt and the little girl, as usual, stayed near the group, hoping to scrape together some leftovers. Bernhardt, especially, seemed to have an endless appetite.

Time flew by. After a month and a half of long, arduous travel, we finally reached Wyndham.

"Hmph." Shiva's eyes swept maliciously over the three of us, dismissively eyeing me carrying a sword. His gaze lingered a moment too long on the weapon.

I could sense his hostility but stayed calm. Tightening my grip on the sword, I silently prepared myself.

Beside me, Bernhardt remained blissfully unaware of the adult scheming around us. Compared to the silent demeanor he had when we first set out, he now looked slightly better, though still somewhat malnourished. At least the constant walking had turned some of his fat into muscle.

"Where are you coming from?" Behind the caravan, a group of peasants seeking shelter was stopped for inspection. They were called forward one by one, their faces drawn with hunger and exhaustion.

"We're from a small village, sir," Shiva said, putting on a fawning smile and discreetly slipping the guard five silver coins.

"These are my fellow villagers and their kids. We've come to see the capital. Please do us a favor!"

The guard weighed the coins in his hand and allowed us through without further hassle.

"Move along! Next!"

With the guard's command, our group quickly passed through the gates into the capital.

For the first time, Bernhardt laid eyes on Midor's royal capital, and his small eyes widened in awe.

But no matter how prosperous this place was, it couldn't compare to a modern 21st-century city. Still, experiencing this medieval atmosphere in person felt refreshing—far more immersive than any game.

At least the smell wasn't as bad as it could be—must be the autumn weather.

Our first order of business upon entering Wyndham was finding lodging. The group arrived at a tavern.

"Keeper! Rooms!" Shiva called out, his voice carrying the authority of someone used to being obeyed.

"Heh heh, how many?" the tavern owner asked with a grin that showed several missing teeth.

"Three regular rooms. One for him alone," Shiva said, pointing to Kadi. "The rest of us will squeeze into one, and these brats can sleep in the stables!" He spat in disgust as he glanced at us.

"Heh heh, got it! That'll be thirty copper coins!" the owner replied, rubbing his hands together.

"Want to check the rooms now, gentlemen?"

"No need. Bring us some food first! We've been on the road for too long—time for a drink!" Shiva said, sitting down with the others.

The men picked a table and sat down, their swords at their waists. The surrounding patrons instinctively moved aside, leaving them a wide berth.

"Tch." I sneered and decided to check out the stables. After all, I had spent much of the journey sleeping in them. Befriending the horses, feeding them, and cleaning up manure wasn't too bad.

If I got lucky and found sturdy walls to climb, I could sleep on the roof, or perhaps on thick tree branches nearby. With so little money on me, frugality was essential.

The men were too preoccupied with eating and recovering their strength to bother with me, assuming I wouldn't dare sneak off while under their watch.

Seeing me leave, Bernhardt hesitated briefly before following. This time, he didn't linger, hoping for scraps from the men's table. He knew once they started drinking, they wouldn't even leave a bone behind.

"Hey, Grimm, wait up!" he called, running after me.