The blazing sun hung high in the sky, its light falling vertically.
The Estonia Great River surged like molten silver, every crest of its waves splashing with flecks of light like crushed gold. The pine forests on both banks swayed gently in the wind, their shadows swallowed by the shimmering ripples as soon as they touched the riverbank.
Within the river channel, a merchant ship was advancing, trailing a long wake of white foam.
The hull was not made of ordinary wood but of Black Ironwood treated with Alchemy. It was as sturdy as steel yet capable of floating on the water's surface. Faint runes were carved into its exterior, and the sides, bow, and stern were equipped with weapons such as heavy cannons and heavy ballistae.
On the deck.
Nick leaned against the gunwale, his arm resting half-pressed against the railing carved with protective runes, his gaze following the dancing spots of light on the river.
the treasure—this ship belonged to him.
Upon receiving news of the migration from the Molten Iron Clan, Nick was first stunned, then took decisive action.
He spent nearly his entire fortune and, using his eloquence to attract a portion of investment, purchased a decommissioned warship. He then repaired and refitted it into a merchant vessel, recruited sailors and crew, and through some greasing of palms, obtained the documents to trade along the Estonia Great River.
From the land trade routes of the Thousand Snake Scars to the Estonia Great River.
This was undoubtedly an adventure, but also a new beginning. the treasure's cargo capacity far exceeded that of his previous caravan. As long as trade went smoothly, the harvest from each round trip could be several times what it was before.
It wouldn't take long for him to earn back his entire investment, and this merchant ship also had the potential to develop into a fleet.
"What are you thinking about?"
Maggie's voice came from behind him, carrying the characteristic coldness of a Tiefling.
She handed over a glass of chilled mint wine.
Nick took it, taking a light sip to taste the refreshing flavor, and said, "The future. Our future."
By now, he was very clear about who his master behind the scenes truly was.
A Dragon!
And more than one.
The Young Dragons had killed the nobles of the Duchy of Raymond and forcibly broken into the mineral vein station to seize gems. These events had caused quite a stir and naturally reached Nick's ears.
But he didn't panic; instead, he became excited.
To build his own chamber of commerce, comparable in scale to the Jade Chamber of Commerce within his lifetime, was Nick's dream when he was young.
However, even at his Peak, that dream had been far out of reach. But now, Nick felt there was a slight chance. His heart, which had gradually quieted as his body aged, was now pumping with the excitement of his youth.
Although he hadn't met the master of the Molten Iron Clan.
Through the operations behind the scenes, Nick concluded that the other party was a rare, wise, and cautious Dragonkin. Once it grew up, its future would be infinitely broad. Moreover, being able to cause waves in the Duchy of Raymond meant the other party had already begun to show its brilliance.
Following such a Dragonkin.
He also had the chance to reach heights he previously hadn't dared to imagine.
Of course, opportunity and danger coexisted; this path would not be smooth sailing. But Nick had shrewdly calculated that the returns of following a Dragon far outweighed the risks.
the treasure continued its journey under the blazing sun.
During the trip, they encountered an attack from an underwater magical creature, which was resolved by the ship's guards and the treasure's own armaments. They passed through without further incident.
As time passed, the treasure turned and sailed into a northern tributary.
About another hour later, as dusk settled, the treasure, bathed in the light of the sunset, dropped its anchor and moored by the riverbank.
Cole directed the troll slaves to move cargo out of the hold, while simultaneously checking and verifying it box by box according to the manifest.
Time gradually shifted into night.
Clip-clop, clip-clop—the sound of hooves treading on the hard soil of the Borderlands rang out densely.
A group of Centaurs, over three meters tall, stepped out of the night, approaching with vigorous and steady strides.
Because they had communicated in advance via a Communication Stone, Nick was not surprised by the appearance of the Centaurs, and deep down, he felt delighted by the Young Dragon's caution.
The Molten Iron Clan and the Young Dragons were currently wanted.
The monsters under their command, especially the Ogres and Werewolves, were being closely monitored. Although the area north of the Estonia Great River was no longer under the jurisdiction of the Wilderness Garrison, it was always better to be cautious.
Centaurs were not monsters of the evil alignment.
They had humanoid upper bodies, their intelligence was not inferior to humans, and their personalities were not violent or bloodthirsty. They were more easily accepted by the civilized nations of the Lothern Federation.
Furthermore.
Just a few months after migrating to a new territory, they had pulled themselves together and even recruited Centaurs as vassals.
One must know that for creatures like Centaurs, blind, brutal coercion would only make them choose death over submission. Being able to subdue Centaurs was even more proof of the Young Dragon's strength and wisdom.
Signaling the guards not to be nervous.
An enthusiastic smile spread across Nick's face.
He took half a step forward and performed a standard merchant's salute to the Centaurs.
"A small gift, a token of my respect."
He tilted his head slightly, his gaze falling on the leading silver-maned Centaur. The other's robust body looked like a sculpture under the moonlight, his silver mane swaying gently with the night breeze, shimmering with a flow-like luster.
Nick offered a bottle of Gin with both hands. The amber liquid rippled gently in the bottle, reflecting a honey-like glow.
"This is a thirty-year-old vintage brewed by the dwarves of the Blackrock Duchy, much loved by the nobility."
He paused for just the right amount of time and looked at the other with sincere eyes: "This valiant and extraordinary Centaur Your Excellency, how should I address you?"
Silvermane let out a low chuckle.
He took the bottle and said, "Just call me Zakley."
He skillfully tied the bottle to a leather belt inlaid with ivory ornaments, then pulled a bone dagger from his bosom.
"Courtesy demands reciprocity."
Silvermane's voice carried the characteristic depth of a Centaur as he said, "This is carved from the ivory of a Great Mammoth. The cloud patterns on it contain our blessings for travelers; it can bring good luck."
A flash of surprise crossed Nick's eyes, followed by an even brighter smile.
He took the bone dagger with both hands, his fingertips feeling the fine texture on the ivory, and then tucked it into his bosom.
Unlike the cold Werewolf Warlock from before, this Centaur was clearly more sophisticated.
In fact, as the hunting commander of the White Mane Clan, it wasn't Silvermane's first time dealing with merchant ships traveling the Estonia Great River. He understood better how to make both parties in a transaction feel at ease and was himself skilled at socializing.
To have angered the Iron Dragon and ultimately gained its forgiveness.
This was enough to prove Silvermane's 'wisdom'.
After the initial pleasantries, both parties officially entered the trading phase.
The merchant ship's personnel nimbly unloaded the cargo.
Barrels of viscous black oil energy were carefully transported and piled into small mountains.
Exquisite desserts and crates of spirits were placed together, the cloying scent of caramel and the pungent aroma of alcohol intertwining in the night breeze. Precious Alchemy tools were neatly arranged, shimmering with various lusters under the moonlight.
The Centaurs, in turn, brought specialties from the Borderlands.
Heavy Grey Magnetite Ore was packed in wicker baskets, its surface covered in natural spiral patterns. Tanned hides of Vicious Beasts were soft and thick, while claws and teeth were sorted and bundled, their sharp edges still retaining a hint of blood.
The most eye-catching item was a chest.
When opened, the sky-anchor gems reflected azure glints under the torchlight, a sight of peerless beauty.
"These magic gems must have been seized from the mineral veins of the Duchy of Raymond."
Nick remained composed, thinking to himself.
Although the source was questionable, he had plenty of ways to sell them; it wasn't a big problem.
While the subordinates of both sides were tallying the goods.
Nick and Silvermane engaged in casual conversation.
Silvermane was somewhat curious about life and culture outside the Borderlands and in the Southern Kingdoms, while Nick tirelessly introduced him to the culture of the Lothern Federation.
Both were good talkers and knew how to maintain boundaries; their relationship drew much closer through the exchange.
As the moonlight slanted westward, all goods had been handed over.
Nick lowered his voice and asked with some anticipation and nervousness: "Zakley, besides the public trade... does that one have any other instructions?"
Silvermane grinned and nodded slightly.
"Have your people stay here."
"You come with me."
Hearing this, the smile on Nick's face grew even broader.
He instructed the crew of the treasure to wait at the moorings, then walked toward the Centaurs again. Under Silvermane's direction, he clumsily climbed onto the back of a Centaur Warrior and headed further north into the Borderlands.
The Centaurs galloped very fast.
They carried a large amount of cargo, their hooves leaving marks of varying depths on the ground. Even under the cover of night, they moved like the wind, their tall and strong bodies possessing both power and speed. However, there was no comfort to speak of.
Nick was not in the habit of 'riding horses'.
He was jolted until his face turned pale, feeling as if his internal organs were churning inside him, and the scenery before his eyes became a blur of colors.
There were no reins on the Centaur's body, so he had no choice but to thicken his skin and tightly hug the muscular waist and abdomen of the male Centaur Warrior to prevent himself from accidentally falling off.