Chương 113: Chapter 2.50: Quantity against Quality

"By the Allfather's shriveled balls," murmured Brutus, shaking his head. Favius's heart was still pounding, but before he could say anything, Brutus gestured with his free hand and walked down the road.

"Come along, kids."

"What's going on?" called out Hefnus, still tense, his hand near the grip of his gladius.

"Nothing to worry about," growled Brutus, swinging his axe onto his shoulder. Favius narrowed his eyes and touched his chest before taking a deep, pneuma-filled breath. Well, if Brutus isn't worried... Wait, didn't he mention... Favius grumbled and walked out of the gatehouse. He followed the cultivator onto the well-kept stone road that led through the olive-shaded vineyards covering the approach to the estate wall. A moment later, his sisters and the guards followed him into the dark night.

Favius absentmindedly noted that only a sliver of Daughter and Messenger were visible apart from the stars. The scattered clouds made this a much darker night than usual. He hurried after Brutus, but the Magnicultor only picked up his pace until they reached the foot of the hill, where ditches framed well-kept vegetable gardens. Then Favius heard it. Tok. Tok. Tok. The sound of metal striking stone grew louder as it approached.

"What's that?" murmured Caliga behind him, her voice unreasonably excited. Favius squinted into the dark alongside Urania.

"There's a man approaching," exclaimed his sister, confirming what he too had seen. His walking staff, upon which he seemed to put a great deal of weight between steps, kept making louder and louder noises. The party stopped ten steps behind Brutus, who was leaning on the head of his axe, simply staring towards the approaching figure. But there's something wrong with him. His gait is... No, that can't be right.

The guards said there was an attacker, but that guy looks as if he couldn't stay upright without his staff. As the man came within thirty steps, hoofbeats could be heard in the distance, and this time Favius spoke up.

"There's another man. And are those horses?"

"No, mules," said Marius, his voice utterly confused as he still sat on the back of one of Hefnus's elite guards.

"They're carrying something," murmured Urania. Favius's frown deepened at Brutus's reaction. He knows those guys. So what the hell? The tapping of the metal-tipped staff stopped as the figure simply stood there, still a good distance before Brutus. Even in the dim light, Favius could make out a bearded, weathered face and a long brown leather coat. The braying of mules could be heard in the distance, and the second man finally caught up. Favius's eyebrows climbed towards his hairline. What the...

The man was tall and built like a bodybuilder. His bare, hairless chest gleamed in the dim moonlight.

"He's all oiled up," Favius murmured under his breath as Urania giggled beside him.

"What are you talking about? He's just a shadow," Caliga whispered.

"He isn't. You just have bad eyes." Favius tried to make out more details. What's that glittering? Is he wearing a sash? And is that gold? Finally, the two men joined up and approached Brutus. They stopped side by side, less than ten steps from the cultivator who stood at the center of the encounter. Favius's eyes widened. What sort of ridiculous getup is that? The second man wore a wreath of olive branches, and his sash was woven with gold and decorated with peacock feathers.

He wore something that looked like a long kilt or dress with a similarly decorated belt. Even in the darkness of night, his muscles clearly glinted and were supernaturally well defined.

"Brutus!" His protector's head slowly turned from one man to the other, and Favius saw him shifting. But a voice rang out from behind them in the darkness.

"Told you fuckers to wait. Can't a man even take a proper piss here? By the Gods." Rapid, thunderous hoofbeats approached, and the first thing Favius made out in the foggy distance of night was the man's pale face. A few seconds later, during which the rider crossed several hundred meters at the horse's breakneck pace, he understood. They're both dressed in black. And this horse... There were four spots of color. The man's strangely angular face beneath a billowing mane of black hair.

A diamond of skin strangely exposed above his heart. Finally, an atavistic shiver ran cold down Favius's back. What the fuck is up with that horse? It's huge. And its eyes. They are... He swallowed. Glowing red like a fucking demon's. The horse thundered forward and did not slow down. Favius flinched backwards alongside his siblings, and even the guards gasped as the magnificently terrible stallion reared up, its hooves beating the air. What the fuck are you?

The hooves blurred through the air less than a meter from Brutus's head, but the Magnicultor did not flinch or move his head. He remained still, as if the horse wasn't there. It somehow danced backwards as the tall, brutally sculpted rider controlled it. With a final thundering clack, its hooves fell onto the ground again. The beast snorted, and Favius could have sworn that the air roiled with heat. He shivered as he met the monster's glowing eyes, which somehow held the color of wine and blood at the same time.

Only now did Favius realize that raven feathers were woven through the man's hair. And that breastplate. It's clearly arcane steel, but darkened. And why the fucking hole over the heart? Favius looked over all three of them. The tribal rider. The hedonistic beauty. And the swaying man. All four cultivators stood opposite one another in perfect silence. Finally, the man leaning on his staff let out a burp and grumbled something under his breath.

"Brr." He swallowed hard, as if gulping something back down his throat.

"Brother," he spat out, as if tasting the word, before an imbecilic smile spread across his face. The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. Brutus remained silent until the beautiful man spoke up.

"Greetings, Brother-in-law." Favius's eyes widened. Brother-in-law? He said he had sisters. But that man... Favius instinctively knew it. He has to be the Magnicultor. He somehow feels weightier than the other two. Finally, Brutus sniffed and turned his head towards the rider, who had dismounted his horse during the exchange. Favius noted that the man actually rode on some sort of hybrid between a horn saddle and a blanket woven with angular patterns in all the colors of the rainbow.

"And what do you have to say for yourself, slave?" Brutus demanded. The thunderous snapping of teeth was the first thing that gave it away. Favius did not even see the horse move, but somehow Brutus dodged. Yet the long-haired warrior thrust forward with a long sword-lance, whose strike was blocked by Brutus's axe. The melodic ringing of steel against steel followed, and his siblings gasped as the cultivators fenced. Favius heard the metallic shifting of the guards.

All of them were cultivators, including Centurii Hefnus, and all were deeply uncomfortable.

"What?" gasped Caliga in wonder while Urania's hand found Favius's. That's right. They haven't seen cultivators fight before. As quickly as it had begun, the blurring exchange ended, and Brutus embraced the man in a tight hug.

"Good to see you, Raukhan. Seems like you haven't lost your edge despite all your drinking." The barbarian laughed.

"Brother, I did not lose my edge because of my drinking, not despite it." Brutus snorted in unison with the monstrous horse, and Urania gasped.

"Raukhan. Those must be..." Her hand left Favius's as she covered her mouth. She leaned in and whispered all too loudly in the quiet of night to her siblings.

"I think the two of them are Brutus's heroic companions. Mother..." She swallowed hard but continued.

"Forbade us from ever talking to them because she said they would be a bad influence." Favius studied the assembly of cultivators before them. I've seen powerful cultivators at the party, but this... Well, even Brutus felt different there. What the hell did Brutus do before he served my father? Favius swallowed. Heck, what did he actually do in service of the dictator with those people?

Before his thoughts could continue, Brutus coughed loudly and gestured towards the mules whose reins the man in the middle was still holding.

"Mind explaining why you terrorized our guards?" Raukhan exchanged a long look with Brutus's brother-in-law, and the man who was swaying despite his staff slurred out two words.

"Wine. Merchant." Then he paused and scrubbed his disheveled beard as if considering something with a level of profundity only an utterly wasted person could reach.

"Monsters," he added before nodding sagely. The oiled-up man grinned broadly.

"We all decided to visit a bit early. On the way, well, there was this village, and they had a complete lack of good wine and an overabundance of poor vintages, as well as some nasty beasts. We took care of all that." Raukhan sniffed and shook his head with utter disgust.

"We took all the good vintages. Well..." He spat to the side.

"Acceptable vintages as payment. Yet before we were a third of the way here, we again ran out of wine." The athlete nodded solemnly.

"Indeed. Yet we had the good fortune of encountering a wine merchant on the road." He gestured towards the two mules before narrowing his eyes. He took a step back and unbound one of the last amphorae before uncorking it with his teeth and taking a deep sip. Favius grinned at the display as the muscular cultivator handed the amphora to the tribal warrior. The man gave first the amphora and then the other cultivator a disgusted glare.

Yet in the end, he still took a long sip before holding it out to Brutus, who only made a disgusted noise. That wine smells sour even from here.

"Oh, it is absolutely vile," agreed the man in the middle.

"Yet," interjected the rider after his second long sip of wine, "we decided that we needed to emulate the tactics of our enemies." Brutus sniffed.

"And what tactic would that be specifically?"

"Compensating for insufficient quality with overwhelming quantity." The man in the middle nodded sagely.

"Though I do believe that might not have been the wisest choice. I now believe the idea does not entirely transfer from military tactics to drinking."

"You think?" growled Brutus. Yet Favius could recognize that his protector was trying to hold back laughter. What the fuck? I thought cultivators were all dignified. Well, I met Brutus. But this... A pause followed in the conversation, and finally the horse sniffed and trotted past Brutus towards them. The guards shifted again, and Favius looked back, seeing several of them grabbing their gladii.

Yet the horse only gave them a disdainful look with its glowing eyes before marching up the hill and through the estate gates.

"What?" murmured Centurii Hefnus. After the horse had entered the estate, Serran quickly marched down the hill. But Favius could not help giggling. That horse. It stinks as if it bathed in sour wine. But... He sniffed again. I could have sworn... Is that the ozone smell of cultivation? Favius gaped back towards the estate as he realized that the man was riding a spiritual beast. Brutus had exchanged a few more words while Favius tried to come to grips with the monstrous stallion.

But suddenly, the swaying man who had called Brutus "Brother" retched, stumbled forward, and vomited blood. Favius and everyone else gasped until the smell hit him. That ain't blood. That's wine. The man leaned against his staff, hunched over before stumbling, and with a loud splash fell headfirst into the reeds and rushes of the drainage ditch. His legs waved comically in the air for a moment. Caliga was the first to burst into laughter, and the remaining three cultivators followed. Even Favius could not help it.

"The fuck," he chortled at the display. Suddenly, even the legs disappeared into the depths of the ditch. The laughter continued for a long moment before Centurii Hefnus cleared his throat.

"Honored Lords Cultivators, shouldn't we look after your companion?"

"Oh, he'll be fine," said Raukhan and Brutus in unison. A few heartbeats later, a muddy hand reached up from among the reeds and rushes, turning what had been nice-looking vegetation into an utter mess as a wet, mud- and algae-covered figure crawled out of the ditch. He barely avoided his own puddle of vomit. Yet the moment he reached the road, he threw up again and collapsed face-first beside the remnants of the wine.

Urania made a disgusted noise, but Caliga shared a grin with Favius, and both of them laughed again. Brutus turned his head towards them, and a cruel smile spread across his face as he saw Serran.

"Ah, Majordomo. It is good that you have come." Serran studied the scene with a detached expression.

"Lord Ovinius Kestrelo, am I correct to presume that these might be the guests you told me you were expecting?" Brutus nodded, and his smile grew even wider.

"Indeed, Serran. I hope you can still arrange rooms for them at this late hour. Otherwise..." The side of the man's mouth twitched.

"I'm sure it would be acceptable for them to sleep in the stables."

"Absolutely not!" cried the man in the middle. The tribal warrior merely shrugged and tilted his head as if considering the proposal. The third member of their party remained still on the ground. He did actually pass out. Well, he made it to his destination, so... Serran stroked his chin before looking over his shoulder.

"Might I also inquire as to the necessary provisions regarding the..." He paused. But Caliga eagerly interjected with a suggestion.

"Evil horse?" The cultivators laughed while the guards tensed. Favius studied the rider, yet the man only smirked and took another deep drink of the sour wine. Brutus shrugged.

"The horse takes care of itself. It'll find the stables. Just be ready for some of your mares to get pregnant, Majordomo." Serran's face tensed as he looked between Brutus and the rider.

"Very well," he ventured. Favius smiled broadly. I can't even tell if he's joking. Is that horse really going to... He shook his head, and Brutus cleared his throat.

"I believe it is customary to formally introduce the guests," he said, his voice playfully cruel. The beautifully trained man winced and shook his head.

"Surely, Brother, that can wait until morning." But the barbarian simply lowered the amphora and sniffed.

"I'm Raukhan." Then he took another long drink, and Brutus sighed.

"Children, Majordomo," he began, his voice pompously formal.

"May I introduce Raukhan, legendary Alticultor of the Thrari Tribes and my companion since the days of my youth. He is a priest of Sydian and charges into battle atop Grapestrider." He gestured back towards the estate.

"A spiritual horse of Magnicultor rank." Favius's eyes widened. That... That was a fourth-rank spirit beast. His thoughts ground to a halt as the memory of the terrible red orbs it had for eyes returned to him. He shivered, but before he could ask any more questions, the man in the middle put on a formal smile.

"I am Phaidros Ovinius Kestrelo, also known as Peacock." He bowed deeply with a formal flourish.

"I am also a Magnicultor Corpus, as you would say in the Republic, and a three-time winner of the Heroic Games of Minuria." He finished, and Favius's eyes yet again went over the expanse of wine-stained fabric, the golden, feather-woven belt, and the sculpted, well-oiled muscles that still seemed to gleam gloriously despite the man having apparently been on a days-long drinking binge.

"Magnicultor Corpus," murmured Caliga. Favius too narrowed his eyes. Actually, that's a good point. Brutus said no noble would use that title because it's reserved for laborers. But, well, he's not from the Republic, so... Finally, Brutus vaguely gestured at the muddy and dirty body lying near two piles of its own vomit.

"And this is my oldest friend, Duran Vargos Keldor, Sacerdos Rex." Favius froze, and his eyes fell first upon the tribal warrior, then upon Brutus's unconscious blood brother. Sacerdos Rex. That means he's an ordained priest of the Mountain King, the Living God of Rhexion. His blood ran cold as he glared at Brutus. He told me that for my oath with internal cultivation, I needed to consult priests. Are those the priests he meant?