Border Town finally saw rain after a long wait. Dark clouds hung low, and the downpour pelted down, splashing against windows and glass with a rhythmic patter.
Spring should be a rainy season—warm and humid. Yet in Border Town, since the Evil Demon's Moon ended, rainfall has been rare. Thankfully, the farmland lies by the river, making irrigation effortless. Now, a heavy rain lifts the air's gloom, and the nightingale opens the window, letting the earthy fragrance fill the room.
From a distance, the farmland across the Chishui River is already sprouting new buds, with emerald wheat seedlings stretching endlessly into the horizon. After being refreshed by the rain, these crops appear vividly vibrant, forming a striking contrast with the grayish river water.
Roland stretched lazily and tossed the quill pen he was holding into the pen holder.
"Is it finished?" asked the Nightingale.
"Well, this new weapon can multiply a musket's firing rate several times over," Roland stacked a dozen design blueprints flat. "I've named it the Revolving Rifle. Want to see it?" "Not really," she pouted. "I can't figure it out anyway." "This is just the base model. Shortening the barrel turns it into a revolvers that can be carried around. But to make it functional, we need to solve another key technical challenge. Once that's done, each of you'll get one, and you'll never have to fear the Church's Inquisition Army again." "So it can make an average woman take down an armed man?" "Not just one, but multiple," Roland grinned. "With a bit of luck, five men wouldn't be a problem either." Nightingale's face showed disbelief, just as she was about to speak, when a knock suddenly rang out at the office door.
"Your Highness, Barov's apprentice has returned from the capital with gunpowder merchants, now awaiting your audience outside the castle." The Minister's Assistant's apprentice? Roland pondered before recalling this detail. During the assault on the Long Song Fortress, the town's gunpowder reserves dwindled to near depletion. He had dispatched his personal guards to both Zhui Long Ridge and Chishui City in succession, seeking new sources of gunpowder. Barov's apprentice, however, was the last to be sent, bound for the capital. After all, the capital offered all kinds of goods, and with summer approaching, gunpowder production was bound to surge.
To everyone's surprise, the last person dispatched was the first to return with good news.
"Take them to the living room, I'll be right there," Roland said, glancing at the sky. "And have the kitchen prepare dessert." When he turned back, the Nightingale had vanished without a trace.
But he knew she was right beside him.
...
As Roland entered the reception hall, the saltpeter merchant was being escorted inside by Guard. She removed her damp cloak and straw hat, then bowed to Prince, "I am Margery Fawman from the royal capital. I pay my respects to Your Highness, Your Honor." Roland was momentarily taken aback to find a woman among them. In those days, traveling merchants faced far greater dangers than later generations. While roaming the streets, they might encounter bandits and vagrants, and towns were rife with local bullies and underground forces—making female merchants a rare sight.
She possessed lustrous golden hair as brilliant as lightning, though her hair was denser and longer. She appeared to be in her thirties, and perhaps due to the common age group, wrinkles had formed at the corners of her eyes and on her forehead. Her skin was darker in tone and initially appeared somewhat rough. However, her facial features did not suggest the Mojin ethnicity but rather resembled those of the fjord inhabitants.
"Sit down," Prince gestured for a seat before settling into the main one. "You're not from Graycastle, are you?" "Why do you say that?" Margaret asked with a smile.
"Your hair color is quite rare even in the Continent Kingdom. As far as I know, most people across the strait have beautiful blonde hair. I even know an explorer from the other side..." "You're truly well-informed. While my hometown is indeed in the fjord, I've been living in the capital for over a decade now and could be considered half a Graycastle resident." She paused. "You've only left the capital recently—maybe we met somewhere before. It's an honor to share the same city with Your Highness." Indeed, a successful merchant knows how to speak. Even though he knew she was flattering him, Roland still felt deeply appreciated. Just then, he felt a sharp pinch on his right... Well, at times like this, there's no need to judge authenticity. The conscientious Nightingale comrade.
"But the title of explorer is truly extraordinary in the fjords," Margareta continued. "You might not know that arable land for the fjord people is extremely scarce. The tides here ebb and flow relentlessly—some islands get swallowed by the sea during high tide, while others constantly spew flames and smoke. Even rocks melt under the scorching heat, forming dark red rivers. Only those who chart new waterways or discover habitable islands earn this honor. Ordinary folks never call themselves explorers." "Ha ha," Roland shook his head with a laugh. "She not only calls herself an explorer but also her father the greatest explorer." "Kids love imagining themselves as big shots," he added. "In the fjords, even children don't casually use such titles," Margareta frowned. "Did she mention her father's name?" Sensing the other's God-like reverence, Roland realized something was amiss. Could the title be a sacred designation among the sea-dwelling people? "Her father's name is Thunder." The moment he uttered this, the other's eyes widened. "Do you know Lord Thunder?" "No, I know his daughter. What, you've heard of that name?" "Who in the fjords hasn't heard of Lord Thunder? He discovered Twin Peaks Island and Sea Dragon Bay, expanding human settlements by nearly half. He also drew detailed maps of the eastern coast and Endless Cape. Eighty percent of the routes to the mainland today were pioneered by him." "Every child knows the legendary exploits of Thunder Lord—he's one of the greatest explorers in the Fjords!" "But I've heard he perished in a storm..." "No, Your Highness, a true explorer never meets his end in tempests. He's survived countless dangers before. Lord Thunder must be assembling a new expedition somewhere, just as he did before." Margery leaned forward slightly. "Your Highness, do you know where his daughter is?" Roland was taken aback. Who would have thought Lightning's father was so renowned? Could those fantastical tales of exploration be true? "She's in my castle. After the shipwreck, she drifted westward to Border Town, where I happened to shelter her." "In your castle?" Her eyes sparkled with anticipation. "May I... see his daughter?" "Not yet," Lightning replied. He was likely patrolling the Hidden Forest, searching for the ruins marked on the treasure map. "She's training jungle exploration skills. If you stay overnight here, you'll likely catch her returning." "Then I'm honored," Margery nodded without hesitation.
"Can we now turn to the main topic?" "Certainly, Your Highness," she replied with a smile, "Please proceed."