Upon hearing the good news, the mayor urgently summoned Eric.
Reede stood by the window, watching as one of the cargo trucks made a wide turn in the square while someone was clearly enjoying driving it.
—Idiot… you're going to drain the battery.
Someone shouted back from below.
The mayor nodded slowly, barely containing his excitement.
—I never thought I'd see something like this in my lifetime —he said without turning around—
Eric remained standing, calm.
—It's not elegant —he replied—.
—But it works.
Reede turned toward him.
—That's exactly why I called you.
He sat down, interlaced his fingers, and spoke plainly.
—Winter is coming. And this year… it won't be kind.
Eric nodded, already understanding where this was going.
Trade routes would harden, monsters would grow more aggressive due to lack of food, and isolated villages would pay the price first.
—We need supplies —Reede continued—. And we need to move them before snow closes the passes.
Eric tilted his head slightly.
—The Zora tribe? —he asked, already knowing the answer—
Reede nodded, surprised.
—They're the closest.
—And now, with those vehicles, we could—
Eric didn't hesitate.
—Alright.
Reede blinked.
—Just like that?
Eric smiled.
—I was already planning to visit Zora's Domain to negotiate. Their weapons are sturdy, well-balanced. Perfect for training more soldiers.
The mayor watched him in silence for a few seconds.
Then he nodded firmly.
—So —Reede said without lifting his gaze— how soon do you think we can bring supplies back from Zora's Domain?
Eric leaned against the wall.
—Before you get too excited… —he began— I need to be honest.
Reede looked up.
—Go on.
—We're not going to find much —Eric said casually—
—Fish, yes. Plenty of it.
—But supplies… very few.
The mayor frowned.
—What do you mean, very few?
Eric shrugged.
—The constant rain in that region doesn't just isolate the Zora. It destroys trade routes.
—And the roads are crawling with very ill-tempered electric Lizalfos. In a situation like that, the Zora will naturally hoard their best supplies.
Eric had up-to-date information thanks to the merchants who passed through his shop every day.
He paid close attention to the outside world.
He paused briefly.
—Very few brave merchants dare to go through there.
Reede sighed and leaned back in his chair, realizing Eric's words made sense.
The mayor rubbed his face.
—That complicates things.
—A bit —Eric admitted—.
—But it's not pointless.
Eric continued.
—And something more important.
He leaned forward slightly.
—Contact. If we get the Zora to use our vehicles… trade restarts. In exchange, I'll ask them to trade weapons exclusively with us.
The mayor remained silent for a few seconds.
Then he smiled tiredly.
—You always bring bad news… wrapped in clever ideas.
Eric smirked.
—It's just an exchange of favors.
Reede nodded slowly.
—Then go ahead.
Eric added one more detail before leaving.
—Oh, and one more thing —he said, as if remembering a minor expense—
—The road isn't just rain.
Reede lifted his gaze, already bracing himself.
—We'll have to cross the Lanayru Wetlands —Eric continued—. Soft ground, water up to the ankles… sometimes more.
—And then climb Mount Ruto.
Silence.
Reede closed his eyes.
Opened them.
Then rolled them with the kind of elegance only a public official could manage.
—Of course… —he sighed—. Swamps, mountains.
—Relentless rain.
Eric smiled, guilty but calm.
—I'll need something that gives me proper standing to negotiate. Otherwise the trip is pointless if they reject us.
The mayor shook his head and stood. He walked to a drawer, pulled out a clean parchment, and began writing with firm strokes.
—This is what you wanted from the beginning, isn't it? —he said while writing—
Eric simply smiled.
Reede rolled the document and sealed it with wax.
—Here. You'll represent me —he added—
He handed over the letter.
—This is for King Dorephan. You'll negotiate in my name.
Eric accepted the scroll carefully.
—You trust me that much? —he asked, half joking—
Reede looked at him with weary seriousness.
—I trust that you won't do anything that harms Hateno.
Eric inclined his head, amused.
—I won't disappoint you.
—I know —the mayor replied—
….
Eric leaned against one of the trucks, watching the villagers gathered in front of him.
—You, and you —he pointed—.
—You as well.
—And finally, you.
He chose only those who had truly learned.
Those who knew how to brake without flipping, turn without snapping an axle, and not panic when the steering stick disconnected.
—This isn't a trade caravan —he said calmly—. It's a diplomatic mission.
The chosen ones nodded solemnly.
Eric slotted several small batteries into the side compartments of the vehicles.
—This will get us there —he murmured—.
—And back… if everything goes well.
Before climbing aboard, he turned toward the shop.
His mother stood in the doorway.
—Don't take too long —she said—
—I won't promise anything —Eric replied—.
—But I'll come back.
She watched him for a few seconds longer, then nodded.
—Be careful in the wetlands.
Then he heard a sound.
Bags scraping along the ground, and excited laughter.
Eric turned slowly.
The three brats stood in a neat line, backpacks clumsily overstuffed, eyes shining as if this were a legendary field trip.
—We're going to Zora's Domain! —Nair whispered, unable to contain himself—
Eric shook his head.
He walked over.… and flicked foreheads in rapid succession.
—Ow!
—Hey!
—This isn't a pleasure trip —Eric said—
—But we want to see the Zora… —they protested—
—You will —Eric replied—. When the heavy rains pass. And when the road doesn't try to swallow you whole.
The children puffed their cheeks, utterly defeated.
—Go back inside —Eric added, lowering his voice—. I'll take you when it's safe.
The backpacks dropped to the ground in dramatic resignation.
Eric returned to the truck and climbed into the front seat.
—Alright —he said—.
—We move.
The wheels began to turn.
The distance was short in theory: cross the Lanayru Wetlands, then climb gradually up Mount Ruto until reaching the Zora stronghold.
That said nothing about the journey being peaceful.
The first ambush came only a few hours after departure.
A sharp screech.
Then another.
Then the unmistakable sound of clumsy feet splashing through water.
—Contact ahead —one of the drivers warned—
Eric was already moving.
A dark cloak covered his face, snapping in the damp wind as he climbed onto the roof of the lead wagon.
The vehicle kept moving, wheels spraying filthy water to both sides.
Eric drew the bow.
A group of Bokoblins burst from the bushes, armed with poorly made spears and far too much confidence.
—Bad day for you —he murmured—
The light arrow shot forward, striking the leader in the chest and slamming him into a tree in a blinding flash.
Eric was already aiming again.
Second arrow. Third.
Two more Bokoblins dropped before they even understood what had killed them.
—Keep moving! —Eric shouted without turning—
The convoy didn't slow.
—Incredible!
Several villagers stared in awe at the precision, especially from such a distance.
Then—
From the right, a Moblin burst out roaring, lifting an enormous rock and hurling it toward one of the wagons.
—This trip is going to be fun —Eric muttered, resigned.