Chapter 802: Ironwhip Discipline
“To build a new city… here?”
Simbady could not make himself believe what he had heard. The Silver Stream grew thinner as it ran south, swallowed at last by sand before it ever reached the Blackwater Valley. That was how the place had earned its name: the Land of Exile. Without water, without an oasis — how could anyone survive in this vast desert?
The shock on the deck was unanimous. Sand Nation civilians pressed in around Thuram from every side, their voices overlapping.
“We can create water.” Thuram raised his voice against the noise. “But before that, the vanguard has already found a usable source. You’ll see it when you disembark.”
This did nothing to quiet them.
“Create water? How?”
“The Silver Stream is a gift of Mother Earth. No person can simply make a river.”
“By the name of the Three Gods — only the emissaries of deities could turn desert into oasis.”
“If we fail, can we return to the Southern Territory?”
“You won’t just leave us here and go back without us, will you?”
Thuram hesitated — for the first time since Simbady had known him. He glanced briefly at the Graycastle civilians standing behind him before his voice recovered its thunder. “The chief is capable of anything. If he says we can create water, then we can create it. All you need to do is follow instructions. And Lady Silvermoon has promised — if we cannot succeed, you will all be transported back to the Port of Clearwater and paid three months’ wages.” He rested his hand on the whip at his waist. “Of course, I will not return without you. And if anyone slacks off on the job, prepare to taste my Ironwhip.”
That explains it, Simbady thought. The one truly in command was not Thuram at all, but those stone-faced men from Graycastle standing at his back.
During the holy duel he had heard of their strength more than once. They were nothing like the Queen of Clearwater’s guards — they did not seem to run short of power even against the warriors of the great clans. But here, at the Endless Cape, surrounded by this vast sea of sand, even soldiers like that would mean nothing. Perhaps both the northerners and the chief had badly underestimated the desert.
Unfortunately, Simbady reflected, none of that changed the fact that none of them had many choices left.
About an hour later, the concrete boat ground slowly against the shore. Simbady dragged his aching body down the gangway and felt the soft beach yield under his boots for the first time in five days. A long-absent relief moved through him.
The world had stopped shaking.
“Look at that.” Molly pointed toward the inland. “A watchtower?”
Simbady followed her gesture. A black iron tower rose from the sand not far from the beach, two flags snapping at its crown — one scarlet, one bearing a complex embroidered pattern.
Under any other circumstances, he might have wondered why the girl he’d barely spoken to before this voyage had stayed so close to him throughout the journey. Today, he was too hollowed out to consider it. “Has someone arrived ahead of us?”
“Let’s go look.”
“Later.” He shook his head. “We should wait for Thuram’s instructions.”
The image of the Sand Nation civilians pulled from the water at the Port of Clearwater had not left him. He did not want the girl he cared about to be whipped in front of everyone.
“Molly! There you are.” Her clanspeople drifted over to her. “Simbady — I didn’t expect you to make it.”
“I thought you’d passed out from seasickness,” someone else offered.
Quiet laughter went around the group.
Simbady lowered his head. It was true — he was the weakest of his clanspeople, in body and in nerve. He usually did not mind the teasing, but today, with Molly standing there, the embarrassment cut deeper. His performance on this voyage had been worse than hers by a considerable margin.
“Look — there’s an iron tower!”
“How did anyone carry something that heavy to this place?”
“By sea, probably. I heard there’s a direct shipping lane from Graycastle to the Endless Cape.”
“Will we camp near it tonight?”
“It has to be guarded at night. The Endless Cape is far more dangerous than any oasis.”
There were just over twenty people from the Fishbone Clan — a small group, but all young and strong. Among them was Carlone, tall and capable and accustomed to being listened to. He drew everyone’s attention the moment he opened his mouth. “I once escorted exiles for Iron Sand City. The sandworms and scorpions in this area are much bigger than anything you’d find near an oasis. There are even rumors of an armored Giant Scorpion that dominates this terrain. We should stay alert at all times and pitch our tents as close to the Graycastle soldiers as possible.”
“Do you think Thuram was telling the truth?” someone asked. “Can the chief really create an oasis from a desert?”
Carlone smacked his lips. “Most unlikely. If he were truly capable of that, he could have ruled the desert without going through the holy duel at all. Why go to all this trouble?”
“Then what do we do?”
“Relax.” Carlone’s voice carried its usual calm authority. “The chief has gone through far too much effort to simply abandon us here. Most likely this whole enterprise was a rash decision. When the Graycastle men realize their goals can’t be achieved, our work ends. As for three months’ wages — Osha can’t get away without paying. No one will trust them again if they do.”
Heads nodded around the group.
Simbady did not nod. He did not entirely agree.
It was probably true that Graycastle had underestimated the desert, and that turning the Endless Cape into a town was a plan destined to fail. But when he looked at those uniformed soldiers — their expressions flat, their posture purposeful — he had the quiet, persistent sense that the chief had not arrived at this decision on a whim.
The crowd began to scatter. A few people moved toward the iron tower. Thuram was still deep in conversation with the Graycastle men and seemed not to notice.
“Shall we go too?” one of the clanspeople suggested.
“Might as well,” Carlone said. “If we’re camping near the tower, we should claim a good spot before it fills up.” He glanced at Molly. “Do you want help with your pack?”
Molly hesitated. Then she shook her head. “Simbady said we should wait for Thuram’s instructions. He’s always emphasized following the rules.”
“We’re not refusing to disembark. What does it matter?”
“Simbady — you’re not afraid of the Endless Cape, are you?”
“Still seasick, maybe.” The same clansman who had needled him on the boat grinned.
Simbady raised his head, ready to answer, and then a shrill whistle cut through everything.
“Everyone, gather!” Thuram had materialized in front of them without a sound. He held up three fingers, his face carved into something neither smiling nor frowning. “I will give you three breaths. After that, every breath costs you one stroke of the whip. This is your second lesson. Remember it.”
Chapter 802: Ironwhip Discipline
Translator: TransN Editor: TransN
“To build a new city… in this place?”
Simbady found it hard to believe his own ears. The Silver Stream got slimmer as it went south, finally it was entirely devoured by sand until it reached the Blackwater Valley. Hence came the name “the Land of Exile”.
Without water and an oasis, how could they survive in the vast desert?
All the Sand Nation civilians on board were shocked by Thuram’s speech, several of them stated their doubts like the one that Simbady had.
“We can create water by ourselves.” Thuram spoke loudly. “But before that, the vanguard troop has found a usable water source. You’ll see it when you get off the boat.”
This aroused even more severe discussion.
“Create?” some people shouted. “How do we do that?”
“Silver Stream is a gift from Mother Earth. How could we create it?”
“By the name of Three Gods, only deities’ emissaries could turn the desert into an oasis…”
“If we can’t succeed, can we return the Southern Territory?”
“Right, you won’t leave us here and go back alone, will you?”
Confronted by these questions, Thuram hesitated for the first time. Simbady noticed that Thuram peeked at the Graycastle civilians before he thundered, “The chief is capable of anything. As as he said we can, we can definitely create water. What you need to do however, is to follow instructions. Besides, Lady Silvermoon has promised, if we can’t succeed, you’ll be sent back to the Port of Clearwater in advance and paid with three months salary!” At this, he patted at the whip upon his waist. “Of course, I won’t return without you. If anyone loafs on the job, be prepared to taste my Ironwhip!”
“That explains it…” Simbady realized that the leader of the team was not Thuram, but those poker-faced people from Graycastle who were standing behind Thuram.
During the holy duel, he had heard of the mightiness of these people more than once. Different from the Queen of Clearwater, they did not appear short of strength even when confronted by the warriors of big clans. But at this Endless Cape, even though they could defeat the watchdogs overnight, they still meant nothing in front of this endless sea of sand.
Both the northerners and the chief might have far underestimated the power of the desert.
Unfortunately, for them, there were not many options left.
About an hour later, the Concrete Boat slowly pulled in to shore. Dragging his sore and exhausted body, Simbady slowly walked off the boat. The moment when his feet touched the soft beach, he felt a long-lost relaxation.
Finally, his world stopped shaking.
“Look, what’s that?” Molly pointed somewhere remote on the inland. “A Watch Tower?”
Simbady looked in the direction that Molly was pointing at and saw a black iron tower standing in the sand not far from the beach. At the top of the tower were two flags, one of which was scarlet, the other was with a complex embroidery pattern.
Ordinarily, Simbady would wonder why the girl who he only had an occasional conversation with would stay with him all the time, but now he was too weak to consider things in this aspect. “Has someone… arrived ahead of us?”
“Let’s go and take a look.”
“Later.” He shook his head. “We’d better wait for Sir Thuram’s instructions.”
Those Sand Nation civilians who had fallen into the water previously left a vivid memory in Simbady’s mind. He did not wish for the girl that he had a crush on to be whipped in front of everybody.
“Molly, finally I’ve found you!” Molly’s clansmen gradually came to her. “Simbady, what a surprise to see you here.”
“I thought you had passed out on the boat from seasickness.”
“Haha…” The crowd smirked.
Simbady lowered his head in embarrassment. Indeed, he was the weakest among his clansmen, be it in strength or guts. Usually, he would not mind being ridiculed, but today, in Molly’s presence, he felt especially shameful. In fact, his performance in this voyage was even poorer than Molly’s.
“Look, there is an iron tower!”
“How did people transport something so heavy to this place?”
“Probably by boat? I heard there is a direct shipping lane from Graycastle to the Endless Cape.”
“Will we camp there tonight?”
“I guess so. Endless Cape is way more dangerous than an oasis. It must be guarded at night.”
There were only just over 20 men were from the Fishbone Clan, which made them a fairly small group, but they were all of the young and strong members
of the clan. One of them was called Carlone. Carlone was a strong performer among his peers, he was tall, handsome and skillful, which won him the favor of his clan chief. The moment he opened his mouth, he drew everybody’s attention, “I once escorted the exiled for Iron Sand City. According to my observation, the sizes of sandworms and scorpions in this area are much larger than those in an oasis. There’s even a rumor that a Giant Scorpion with Armor that dominates Earth also moves around here. We must stay alert at all times and set our tents as close to those from Graycastle as possible.”
“Do you think Sir Thuram is telling the truth? Can the chief really create an oasis out of this desert?” somebody asked.
“Most unlikely,” Carlone smacked his lips and said. “If he were really capable of that, he could have been the ruler of the desert without going through the holy duel. Why bother developing this area then?”
“What should we do next?” The crowd began to stir.
“Relax. The chief doesn’t have to go through all of this trouble, only to exile us here.” Carlone’s voice was full of calmness and confidence. “The chief might have decided on this action on the spur of the moment. When the people from Graycastle find that their goals can’t be realized, our work will end. As to three months of salary, Osha can’t get away with it!”
“That’s right, or no one will ever trust them again!”
“That’s reassuring. I’m Ok as long as we can go back.”
The clansmen nodded, indicating their agreement, except for Simbady. He did not entirely agree with what Carlone had said. It was true that Graycastle had undervalued the desert and their plan of turning Endless Cape into a town was destined to fail. But looking at those soldiers in uniforms whose facial expression was nothing but solemn, he faintly felt the chief did not decide on this action on the spur of the moment.
By then, the crowd began scattering and some people began to move toward the iron tower. Thuram was still talking with the people from Graycastle,
totally indifferent to what was happening around him.
“Shall we go there too?” some clansmen proposed.
“I think so,” Carlone said, nodding. “If we’re really going to camp around the iron tower, we can get a better place if we go earlier. Everybody, follow me.” He took a look at Molly especially and asked, “Do you want my help with your luggage?”
Molly hesitated, shook her head and then said, “Simbady said we’d better wait for Sir Thuram’s instruction… Didn’t he always emphasize the importance of following the discipline?”
“It’s not like we refused to get off the boat. Why does he care about this?”
“Simbady, you’re not intimidated by the Endless Cape, are you?”
“Perhaps he’s still sick.” The clansman who ridiculed him previously, did so again.
“I’m just worried.” Simbady raised his head. Just when he was about to justify himself, a burst of a hasty whistle interrupted him.
“Everybody, gather now!” Thuram, who previously ignored those who left, quietly walked in front of the clansmen, stuck out three fingers and grimly said, “I give you three breaths of time, after that, every breath means one whip. This is the second lesson I’m teaching you. Do remember that!”