Rebirth Of The Bastard Spirit Summoner

It was illegal to leave dead monsters to rot since it could be a cause of diseases, so Stark spent the last ten minutes pulling all the bodies onto a pile by the side of the road.

He sighed as he dragged the last goblin atop the pile.

"You know, I could have used your help."

"I know…" Jade's voice came from the side, but she did not move a muscle.

Instead, a large chunk of crystal emerged from the ground, crashing into the barricade the goblins had built, completely shattering it.

"Thanks," Stark muttered under his breath.

She did not reply, she just watched him with her chin nestled in her palms.

He sighed, then turned in the direction of the merchant, who was still a safe distance away from them, then quickly sent the dire wolf into his soul before waving him over.

The merchant seemed to hesitate at first, before he got into the driver's seat and began proceeding slowly.

When he arrived, his mouth hung open as he stared at the pile of bodies. "My goodness, dire wolves too?!"

He stared at them wide-eyed. "Thank God I took you guys along. You both are amazing!"

Tears were forming in his eyes as he caressed his goods. "What would have happened to all my wheat if I came here alone?"

'Typical merchant. He is more worried about his goods than his own life…'

"Do you have a matchbox and lamp oil?"

The man nodded and jumped down from the carriage. He walked over to the back and then brought out a small barrel of oil as well as the match.

After pouring a reasonable amount of oil on the bodies, Stark set them on fire, watching as the bodies were engulfed by the flames.

When he was sure that it would burn for some time, they got back into the wagon and continued their journey.

For the most part, the journey was uneventful, which was good.

Although Stark wanted to reach the next level as soon as possible, he knew how dangerous road ambushes could be.

Back when he was a lord, he had received far too many reports of merchants who had been attacked by monsters during their journeys.

It was so bad that he had to create a travel guard to keep them at bay, but they could not be at all places at the same time.

"Are goblin raids this common?" Stark asked the merchant.

The old man squinted his eyes slightly, thinking about it before he answered.

"Well, regular goblin raids are normal, but experienced riders know how to avoid them. Goblin riders on the other hand are a pain. That is why we often have adventurers accompany us."

Stark nodded and was about to lean back when he saw some figures in the distance.

The road had also been blocked off, but this time the materials used seemed more human like.

"What is that?"

The old man glanced at him. "It's probably just a checkpoint. They sometimes have it so that merchants can report the state of the roads."

Stark sat back and watched them. The closer they got, the clearer the figures became.

It was a group of knights in shiny steel armour, their swords unsheathed as though they were expecting a monster to walk by.

On the chest of their armour was the symbol of the knight order—an ornate sword in the shape of a crucifix.

They had blocked off the road with a long stick, placed atop two large rocks, for the purpose of their checks.

As they approached, one of the knights waved them to a stop and walked up to the merchant.

He was a middle aged man with a small scar on his cheek and tanned skin from hours of standing in the sun. And yet, under the afternoon heat, he was still in full armour.

"Good afternoon, sir," the merchant greeted, smiling at the man.

The man did not return the smile, he glanced at Stark and then at Jade before speaking.

"Who are you?"

The merchant smiled nervously, reaching into his pocket. "I'm actually a merchant from the southern—Eek!"

The old merchant screamed as the knight brought his sword to his throat, the sword a few inches away from digging into his flesh.

"What are you reaching for?" the man cut in, his voice stern.

"I was just going to pull my ID…"

"DID I ASK YOU FOR ANYTHING?!"

The merchant turned to glance at Stark, who just shrugged in response.

'It looks like someone is power drunk.'

Since they needed to get out of here without any incident that could possibly alert Darell, Stark intervened.

"Sorry, it was our mistake."

The knight glanced at him before sheathing his sword. Thankfully, Stark's long hair was covering his ears. Seeing a half-elf would only make him more on edge.

"Papers…"

The merchant sighed and pulled out the documentation from his pocket. "Here they are."

The knight began flipping through the documentation with razor sharp focus. It was as though he was looking for even the tiniest detail to complain about.

But when he found none, he frowned.

"I'm here sweating under this heat, standing for hours, and you are sitting down to answer me? Get out."

'So that is his problem?'

In this city, not complying with a knight's orders, no matter how unreasonable, could lead to troubling consequences, so they both stepped out of the carriage.

Only Jade remained, unmoved by the knight's order…

The man walked up to her and met her gaze, but after staring into her eyes for some time, he scoffed and walked past, moving toward the cargo.

He removed the tarp that had been placed atop the wheat and began hitting it with the pommel of his sword.

"How do I know you don't have contraband in here?"

Thwack!

The bag of wheat tore and a few grains poured out, yet he did not stop.

When he was finally satisfied, he practically tossed the paper at the merchant, who scrambled to catch it.

"Have a good day," he said as he walked toward the barricade to open it, but Stark felt he wished them anything but that.

"Pissant," the merchant cursed under his breath as Stark got back on the wagon. But as they were about to move, a deep, commanding voice reached their ears.

"Stay where you are!"

'That voice…'

Stark felt his breath hitch in his throat, and his heart began to accelerate.

He took in a breath, but it was as though he was inhaling fire, and he held onto his hand to stop it from shaking.

Images flashed before his eyes. Death, blood, carnage…

Although his body reacted outwardly, Stark felt nothing. No rage, no anger, no sorrow.

Only conviction.

He turned to the man, and his expression darkened the moment he laid eyes on him.

Theon Stagheart.

A member of the Nine Paragons, the nine elite members of the King's Guard…

And the man who had murdered his family.