The sale of the leviathan could not be done haphazardly. Improper sale would result in lower than expected profits at a minimum and, in the worst case, the ire of nobles all over the continent at being unable to attain a luxury product dangled in their faces.
Noah had made deals with numerous traveling merchants who would travel all over the continent to sell his leviathan-derived products, stating his name as they did. However, all this did was advertise that he had gotten his hands on a leviathan corpse to the public, but didn't do all that much for his profits. After all, traveling merchants needed to travel, and they couldn't do this if they were carrying too much stock. Though to Noah, having traveling merchants act as walking advertisement was more than enough.
Once the eyes of the continent were on him, what he did was create an industry plant that would do the dirty work of selling the leviathan products Noah provided.
Enter Tyril.
A young and fresh merchant of Ebonreach, Tyril was an immensely talented yet unfortunate man Noah had found in his travels across the continent in his first year. If not for his circumstances, he would long since have been on the fast track to wealth.
“I’ve been good, sir! Good to see you!”
Tyril spoke in his shrill voice, as excited as always to see Noah.
“Good to see you too, man. How's your sister? Is she better yet?”
“Yes sir! Your help really turned her health around, and she's almost back to full health now. Sucks that she wants me to go back to the academy for the years I missed out on to support her health as a merchant, though…”
Noah beckoned Tyril to follow him, and they walked in the direction of the estate doors as they talked.
“Haha, you're eighteen and more than talented enough not to need to do that. I’m sure she's just expressing the concern of a typical big sister. Anyway, Tyril, I know you haven't had dinner yet, but can we put it off until we reach Ebonreach?”
“S-sir! That would take at least a full day of flight; even in your form of a wyvern, I’m not sure that I’ll be able to hold off on food for that long, b-but I will if you need me to!”
“Hehe, well, I've made some progress, you see. It won't take a day.”
A few minutes later, one would be able to observe a screaming, petite man on the back of a somewhat ghostly wyvern.
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‘Mimicry - Wyvern x 2, Lich x 1’
With a magical and streamlined conic barrier of wind around the wyvern, Noah could travel at a sufficiently high speed that could allow for passengers as well. In this form, Noah was optimized for long distance flight with a comfortably minimal level of mana consumption. Contrary to the slightly mischievous attitude Noah had taken toward Tyril, adopting this form instead of traveling in the more high-altitude-inclined gryphon form was because he was in a bit of a rush.
In Noah’s current situation, he had a mere six months to not just train but also organize medieval troops to defend against an invasion they currently knew very little about. On Earth, six months was the equivalent of mere weeks in modern warfare. With the decreased speed of information travel, or just travel in general, the mobilization of troops was a painfully slow process. However, the non-human enhanced physique of demons allowed increased travel speed, and the non-sentience of monsters meant that the demonic forces had an easier time in organisation as compared to humans. Usually, these constituted one of the biggest disadvantages to humanity against demonic forces. Usually.
With Noah's help, troops could train and communicate at unprecedented efficiency, such that they could grant themselves much more leeway, closing the gap in mobilisation speed against the demons. The only problem here was that this meant Noah had to play an active role in the process, which was why Noah planned to move up the meeting with King Oberon without asking him to get this done quicker. Every single day was important to him right now.
Was it considered rude to do this, especially to a major monarch? Yes.
Was part of the reason Noah was doing this because the other person was a major monarch? Yes.
‘Still haven't forgotten what Mia told me about how these bastards treated us once they thought we were useless. I’m just going to barge into his throne room—wait, no, that might be a bit too far. No, fuck it, I'll do it. I’ll show up outside his palace and just pound on the doors until he lets us in so we can get this shit done with. Fuck meeting at wherever he wanted to at his suggested time.’
Noah and Tyril arrived in Ebonreach hours before sunrise.
After carefully avoiding the eyes of the general populace of Ebonreach that may be unfamiliar with Noah and might see the ghostly wyvern as a deadly threat, Noah had come to stop at a warehouse on an island off the northern coast of Ebonreach, that was jointly owned by Noah and Tyril. This warehouse was one of many where Leviathan products were stored, and also the place where Tyril was currently still retching. He had long since emptied his stomach and was just puking air at this point.
‘I’m starting to feel bad.’
“Uh, hey, man, let's uhh, let's eat something good at a nearby spot instead of rations; I'll pay for it, how about that?”
“Uaghhhh! Uagh!”
Tyril responded with more retching.
“Kuhum. Right. Let's just, uh, whenever you're ready.”
It took a full hour for Tyril to be done. To be fair, he couldn't be blamed. Riding on the back of a wyvern wasn't exactly comfortable for long periods of time, especially for first-timers.
A meal and an hour later, Tyril found himself regretting his life decisions for the second time in the past day. A group of over a dozen men in dark-green scale armor had encircled and were pointing weapons at himself and Noah, after Noah had decided to shatter the towering palace doors with a single punch.
‘...I’ve lived a good life. Sister, I hope you remember me. It's over for me. This lunatics's going to get me killed.’