Shiyan Town, Sword Tooth Province, the closest supply point to Gray Mist Village.
Velin's somewhat bloated pioneer caravan rumbled over the stone-paved road and came to a stop in the town's only square.
Several merchants approached Velin from the rear of the caravan. They wore classic "merchant attire"—fashionable, but made of cheap cloth. It was a new trend among the wealthy "Bloodless" to flaunt their status.
"Honorable Knight Klein." The portly merchant at the head of the group bowed with a hand over his chest. His face was so fleshy that his smile almost squeezed his eyes shut.
"We'll be distributing our goods here and going no further. On behalf of the Golden Sail Commerce Association, please allow me to extend our sincerest gratitude."
The other merchants quickly followed suit, offering their own flurry of pleasantries.
Velin, who had just stepped down from his carriage, merely gave a slight nod. "It was a fair transaction, gentlemen. You paid your fees, and I provided passage."
Velin remained noncommittal. "Since our business is concluded, I wish you all great success."
He showed no interest in making small talk with the merchants. They were taken aback for a moment, but quickly got the hint and took their leave.
Barrett, leaning against a hitching post nearby, took in the entire scene.
With his one remaining right eye, he scrutinized his young employer.
Barrett held a deep-rooted distrust of the nobility.
In his eyes, those pampered noble lords were good for nothing but bossing people around and making reckless, hot-headed charges.
Yet Velin Klein had completely upended that perception over the past month.
This young Lord Knight didn't have a single "noble" bone in his body.
He put on no airs, had no vanity, and none of the arrogance that so often came with the title.
The signs had been there from the very start of their journey. He could have gone straight south, taking the sea route from White Stone Port directly to Gray Mist Village. Instead, he chose an inland trade route that was more than twice as long and passed through three different provinces.
At the time, Barrett wasn't the only one who was deeply confused. The pioneers, newly freed and anxious about their future, were just as bewildered.
But Velin offered no explanation, simply issuing a series of calm orders.
And so, the strange procession embarked on its absurd journey.
It wasn't until they headed north out of White Stone Castle that Barrett finally began to understand Velin's intentions.
'This isn't a group of pioneers! It's a merchant caravan in disguise!'
The first thing this Lord Knight leveraged wasn't his noble family name, nor the powerful bloodline he represented, but the privileges of a Pioneer Knight—exemption from most trade taxes on the route to one's fief.
'So that's why the carriages are filled with crates of potions that need to be handled with care.'
And during the journey that followed, every time they passed through a town, he would sell some of his cargo and purchase local specialties.
What Barrett found even more incredible was Velin's "cooperation" with the other merchants.
Like the ones who had just left.
A section of the merchants' planned route overlapped with Velin's, but they would have had to pay exorbitant tolls and checkpoint fees.
Velin offered them an alternative: piggyback their goods onto his caravan and enjoy his tax-exempt status.
Of course, it wasn't free.
The merchants had to pay Velin a management fee, one that was significantly lower than the standard taxes.
And so, along the way, Velin's caravan had snowballed in size. Despite the constant consumption of their own supplies, the total volume of their goods hadn't decreased—it had actually grown.
More importantly, the number of Golden Suns in Velin's purse grew ever larger.
'This young noble's mind wasn't filled with a knight's honor or a lady's hems, but with costs, profits, tax rates, and logistics.'
'But was he even a noble at all?' The question hung over the head of every member of the pioneer group.
"Captain Barrett."
Velin's voice broke Barrett out of his reverie.
He turned his head to see Velin approaching.
"Have the men rest and resupply with fresh water and food," Velin said, his gaze drifting past Barrett's shoulder to the exhausted-looking pioneers on the other side of the square.
"Tell everyone this is our last chance to resupply before we enter the marsh. We leave in two hours."
"Yes, Your Excellency," Barrett replied.
Barrett grabbed the wineskin at his waist and took a long swig of potent liquor.
The liquor burned a fiery path down his throat, but it couldn't chase away the confusion in his heart.
---
The wheels groaned under the strain as they rolled over the last stretch of relatively flat dirt road, finally coming to a halt before a muddy expanse.
The journey, more than a month long, had finally reached its end—if such a place could be called an end.
Velin pushed open the carriage window. A potent stench immediately flooded in—a mix of salty sea air, rotting water weeds, and sludge.
He jumped down from the carriage, his boots making a soft SQUELCH as they landed on the wet ground.
Before him lay his domain.
It was a scene of utter ruin.
The so-called "Gray Mist Village" was nothing more than a few dozen crooked, ramshackle huts. Half of them looked long abandoned, their roofs gaping with dark holes that stared up at the lead-gray sky.
A few sallow, emaciated villagers peeked out from behind doors and windows, their gazes a mixture of numbness, wariness, and fear as they sized up the newcomers.
Surrounding the village were vast fields crusted with white salt, where sparse patches of rye shivered in the salty sea breeze.
And farther beyond lay the endless Gray Sea Marsh.
Black sludge stretched as far as the eye could see. Countless twisted, grotesque trees jutted out from the marsh, and a thin, gray mist that never dissipated clung to everything, shrouding the world in a deathly stillness.
Velin didn't need to investigate further to know just how barren this land was.
The scene stood in stark contrast to the hopeful new home Velin had described to everyone on their journey.
The smiles froze on the faces of the pioneers, who just moments before had been filled with hopeful anticipation.
They stared blankly at the scene before them, their expressions shifting from anticipation, to confusion, to terror, and finally, to deep despair.
A woman holding a child was the first to break.
Her knees buckled, and she collapsed into the mud, letting out a choked sob.
Her cry was like a lit fuse, instantly igniting the pent-up emotions of the crowd.
"We're done for... This is a salt flat! Nothing will grow here!"
"Liar... He's nothing but a liar!"
"This is the land he promised us? It's a graveyard! We're all going to die here!"
"I told you, you can't believe a single word these nobles say! And now look! You've dragged me and our child straight to hell!"
Panic began to spread.