Restart:Untalented Man

The bald man handed multiple large gunny sacks to the Ferrons. "We're going to move you like those grains."

"Huh? You're joking, right?" Albert couldn't believe what he just heard.

"No, I'm not. How do you think you're gonna escape? In a lavish carriage?" The bald man chuckled. "Now, stop wasting time and get in the gunny sack."

"Wait! Wait! Wait! Then, there's no difference between us and those kids you're trafficking. What would happen to us once we got to Turtevekesia?"

"Don't worry," the bald man assured Albert. "I already contacted my business partner over there. He won't mistake you as one of the commodities."

"Are you sure? I don't want to end up being a slave," Albert expressed his concern.

He was afraid of the event where there's miscommunication happened on the other side which would end up very bad for his family.

"Yes, yes, I'm sure. Now, hurry up! We don't have time," the bald man urged.

Albert and his family hesitated for a moment but the bald man's insistence left them with little choice.

With a mix of anxiety and reluctance, they gingerly climbed into the gunny sacks, each member of the Ferron family wrapped up tightly.

The henchmen swiftly moved to secure the sacks, expertly tying knots to keep them in place.

Inside the sacks, Albert and his family found a peculiar blend of discomfort and relief. The fabric pressed against their skin, and they could feel the rough texture beneath their fingers.

They don't have to worry about being suffocated as the tiny gap in the sack allows them to breathe and offers them a glimpse of the outside world, albeit the view of their surroundings is very limited.

The henchmen lifted the sacks, containing the bundle-up Ferrons and placed them onto a wagon, along with the rest of the commodities which mainly served as a pretence.

"Boss, we're done here!"

The bald man surveyed the scene, "You don't lump them together in one conspicuous spot, don't you?"

"Of course not! We arranged in the same way as we did with those kids."

"Good! Now, get going!" the bald man commanded.

....

Rattle—

In the eastern part of Tegrot, a door resembling a roller shutter slowly ascended.

As the door lifted, a line of wagons emerged, ready to move.

Silently, the wagons began to roll out.

Nestled in the most obscured part of the city, there were no prying eyes, particularly at this late hour. Perhaps the soldiers are keeping an eye but there's really nothing noteworthy to keep them lingering here for too long.

The bustling activity at the duty-free zone acted as a distraction, drawing people toward it like moths to a flame.

As usual, the wagons didn't move as a single cohesive unit of a caravan. Instead, they split up, navigating the labyrinthine streets independently.

Each wagon moved randomly, with the intention of arriving at the border crossing at different times.

Although this manoeuvre was routine, the individuals responsible for ferrying the goods across the border were noticeably tense on this occasion.

Most likely, the looming presence of the soldiers, diligently searching for Albert Ferrons, added an extra layer of anxiety to the operation.

Nonetheless, the wagons move closer and closer to the border crossing.

A line formed at the border, and as expected, the inspection tonight was more rigorous than before. Soldiers meticulously checked each cargo, their eyes scanning for anything suspicious.

"F*ck!" cursed one of the wagon drivers under his breath.

Among his cargo, there was a Ferron.

Should the soldier catch him red-handed, he's dead. The driver scanned his surroundings, identifying the position of each soldier so he can escape easily if things went south.

"Alright, stay calm and act normal," he muttered to himself. He had noticed his fellow driver who lined up in front of him passing through just fine.

Yes, he should be fine as well.

Soon, his turn arrived.

The soldier slowly circled the wagon, scrutinizing the driver and the cargo.

"Where's your destination?"

"Mindsza, sir," the driver replied.

"The capital of Turtevekesia, huh? Not many outsiders have access to their capital. You must have a connection with their elders. What did you sell to them?" The soldier's hand tapped the gunny sacks in the wagon, which felt like some sort of grain.

The driver, seeing the soldier's action almost had a heart attack. But, he tried to remain calm, "G-grain, sir. And other products like fabrics, stationeries, and such."

"..."

After a moment of silence, the soldier finally spoke. "Okay, you can go."

Relief washed over the driver as he prepared to move forward. However, just as he was about to accelerate, the soldier's sharp eyes caught something, and he immediately called out, "Wait!"

The driver, who was brimming with happiness just a moment ago, lost his joy entirely.

"I-is there something wrong, sir?" he stammered nervously, fearing a sudden turn of events.

The soldier didn't respond immediately.

Instead, he climbed up the wagon and specifically picked up one of the sacks.

Taking out the knife tied to his waist, the soldier cut open the sealed sack.

What was inside was a young woman with lustrous black hair. Her breath was ragged and she was sweating profusely, possibly due to the heat she had endured. Her grey eyes looked at the soldier with surprise.

The soldier, however, turned his gaze toward the driver and gently asked, "Care to explain this?"

The tension in the air grew thicker. The driver knows that the cat is out of the bag.

"Sh*t!" he pulled the horse's reins, urging the steed to dash toward the border.

The sudden move caused the soldier to stagger and fall to the ground. At the same time, his action naturally attracted the attention of all the merchants who were lining up to cross the border.

Everyone tilted their heads to get a clearer picture of what the commotion was all about.

Then, their ears heard the soldier shout, "Stop that wagon! The Ferron was on it!"

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