They sailed through the Obscure Ocean, among torrential waves, dodging wandering icebergs and watching out for monsters.

  Captain Tolani had sailed through the infamous ocean dozens of times. Using the two compasses embedded on the ship: one pointing toward high concentrations of magic, and one pointing toward the nearest landmass, he can ascertain the general direction. The magic-detecting compass he mostly used to avoid sudden wild magic storms, and the land-detecting compass can mistake icebergs as solid ground.

  So he did not rely on those. Instead, he supplemented it with the map he held. It was an enchanted map that could cast [Scrying] so that he could scry their destination and current location, determining the distance between the ship and their destination. There were no stars nor flying islands to reference since they were covered with fog.

  Despite the peril, this is the fastest path from Libertalia to Yhril. The popular alternative was a year traversing the Northern Hook Path and the Southern Bend, both paths around the Obscure Ocean.

  After two months of straight sailing, they emerged from the fog. Before them were the shores and islands of Trislan, a subcontinent of Yhril. The ship hopped from the ports of Gurredour and Zitholon, and now, they arrived at the port of Ovespuerot. The Famed privateer already left in one of the earlier stopovers. The Gildin Brothers stared at a new continent where they would establish new ventures. For two months of travel, they studied the regional language of Corisduma from the dictionary they bought at Baunt, and he gave it to Graten to teach the rest of the company. Numisley drafted a plan for the company’s future in Yhril and told the Cultrost and the rest.

Most importantly, they had enough time to grieve.

  They took in the salty breeze, standing on the prow. Many ships bore the flags of the Libertalian companies and cities. Not only that, but vessels proudly displaying the standards of the kingdoms and republics of El-Mira, the island trader-nations of the Golden Triangle, and extravagant Lemurian ships with enchanted lateen sails. It is the westernmost port of Torregorn, so they receive a lot of guests from the west.

  They are now docked within the harbor. Captain Tolani bid farewell to Numisley and the rest of the passengers. Numisley saw various species aside from Humans in the ports. Lizardfolk hailing from El-Mira sold mangos, plantains, and different fruits endemic to their continent, competing with the northern Dragonkin that sold cocoa beans and metal. Their rivalry even extends to foreign shores. A strange person with leathery skin and one central eye stared at Numisley from one of the stalls.

  Rhino-people, Antelope-people, Dog-people, and various Beastkin species from Lemuria took up a lot of space in the port markets because of their spacious stalls selling diverse silks, wands, animal skins, spices, and many more. The Libertalian Humans and Satyrs of their companies already had permanent trade stations within the port from their old trading relations with the region. They saw a group of [Mercenaries] with El-Miran wielding hand cannons with a group of local [Soldiers]. Adventurers dragged the carcass of some marine monster from a boat. The fresh corpse was delivered to a bunch of Human and a scarred Minotaur hunched over tall stone mortars and a chopping block. The carcass was chopped up, and the adventurers took the bones and magical eyes of the creature after the [Butchers] slit it in half and mashed the rest of the flesh into chum.

  Plenty of opportunity for Numisley and his entourage. Ports held opportunities for making connections, yet the competition is fiercer even for some ports back home but with fewer posturing companies and actual battles in the streets. However, they can see the port’s [Guards] keeping watch in different sections of the roads, with nine white halos on their epaulets and the emblem of the ruling noble house.

  Numisley was now a [Trader] and [Information Broker]. However, he is still a minnow among an ocean of sharks and sea monsters. He can shrug off the scattered attempts of [Shopkeepers] endeavoring to get his attention, simply because he knew how trading-Feats work and he was used to it. To establish their foundations in their new venture, they asked directions to the Merchant’s Guild. Numisley overheard some rumors, using his [Find Rumor] Feat.

  “What do you mean I need the permission of a ‘Contiearl’?”

  Numisley asked the drowsy [Receptionist] within the port city of Ovespuerot in Common. He conversed in the local language, but he was shocked when he learned that the Merchant Guild isn’t as laissez-faire as back home. Instead of a guild as an authority like in many Libertalian city-states, they are merely an association of people given privileges by the ruling nobility, a concept foreign to him and the other people of the Free Continent.

  “A Contiearl is an [Count] of the Corisduman kingdoms. A [Lord]. Like, um…your [Merchants] and [Generals] of your roving companies and their city-states. That same level of authority.”

  The female [Receptionist] was used to dealing with Libertalian [Merchants] who were new to this continent, so she explains it in the same way she did with the others.

  “So, to trade within the kingdom, I need that guy’s permission?”

  “Lord Cormerro. Count Toreeso Rahmeiros Commerro. I recommend that you use his titles when you are talking to him or the other nobility. When he grants you an audience, you must kneel. Since you are a Merrcanten. The [Merchant]-caste, is higher than the Liruomini and Serrmini. Otherwise, he can simply not give you the authority to use the license.”

  The [Receptionist] handed Numisley and Cultrost a metal slip that they can wear around their necks, etched with their status within the continental caste system. They wore the slip around their necks.

  “Caste?” Cultrost interjected. He knew what Liruomini and Serrmini mean from the dictionary: freemen and serfs.

  “A Caste is the hierarchy of Human society–Yhrilan I mean. Royalty and Nobility are the law since they are the descendants of the Thousand Bloodlines. Merchants, Freemen, and Serfs are below them. Demihumans and non-human species are somewhere between Freemen and Serfs. That’s all you need to know. As Merchants, you are between nobility and the common people, so be mindful of this.”

  Palden and Raudaeiz looked offended, being Demihumans. The non-humans of their group were even more offended, especially Cultrost. The [Receptionist] noticed this, but she avoided commenting on it.

  “Fa’cke. Do you have a list of laws somewhere?” Numisley steered away from that topic.

  “I recommend visiting the Ascolitica Library. But that’s in the city of Ascolitica up north, in the Naveirei House’s lands. Otherwise, just don’t do the usual crimes like murder and theft, you can’t bribe authorities, and do not offend the clergy, nobility, and royalty. In some kingdoms, it is considered heresy by the Divine Decree.”

  Numisley and company went outside of the Merchant’s Guild, loaning a new cart for their goods. Grain, furs, and weapons, as well with their other supplies.

  “Damn,” Cultrost muttered. “And I thought Libertalian cities are speciesist.”

  “This land is stupid.” Numisley scoffed at the concept of a caste society. In their home continent, anyone can be anyone as long as they have the will and money. However, the brothers knew this place is important since Atasaney said something about Torregorn and a certain noble named Dusitoz Gaviolos. “So what if they are descendants from some long-gone, inbred family?”

  “So what if I have horns and red skin? Does it make me a Daemon? Or belong to some kind of tribe in the dunes?” Cultrost vented.

  The passing locals stared at them like they overheard them plotting murder, but they ignored them.

  “Ah, well. So we just need to be polite to that [Count], kiss his ass, get permission to trade, say goodbye. Done.”

  “Who do we need to find again?”

  “Thewardn Glors. Dwarf. [Information Broker]. Last seen in Aquives, Zitholon based on the entry. Supposedly very famous in the regional underworld. But there’s a chance that he’s here, I think. Raudaeiz.”

  The [Gang Leader] loomed behind him.

  “Find about an info-broker named Thewardn Glors. I need his location. I’m sure you have some way to find information. My [Find Rumor] detected that there’s a Dwarf that sells info somewhere in this place.”

  Raudaeiz nodded, splitting from the group. He and his men disappeared into an alley. They stopped by an inn on the city outskirts and left the cart and Graten’s men there. Numisley, Cultrost, and Palden traveled to the coastal hillside castle outside of the port city with one horse. Numisley and Cultrost shared a saddle, while Palden was content to walk with them despite Cultrost’s concerns.

  The castle walls stood for countless eras, yet the aged rugged beige stone was kept pristine by its current caretakers. Its keep overlooked the coasts, maintaining a private port for the Count's personal vessel and a beach for them.

  They were allowed entry within the walls, climbing up the low hill along a stone path toward the keep. They left the horse in the stables.

  They were walking up to the keep’s doors when its guards crossed their spears in front of them.

  “No Demihumans and non-Humans.” One of them said behind their visor.

  “Fuck off.” Cultrost raised his fist, but Palden held it tightly.

  “Sorry ‘bout that.” Palden apologized. Numisley showed his metal slip around his neck; only he was allowed entry.

  The guards raised their spears, opening the path.

  "You may enter, Merrcanten."

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  Numisley entered the keep, but a servant made him wait in an area with benches. He was served biscuits and dried sardines served on a silver platter. He savored it, despite being less than expected from an [Lord]’s dwelling.

  Then, he was escorted to the [Count]'s throne room.

  An older man sat on the padded wooden throne, balding. He regarded the young [Trader] as if expecting something.

  Numisley bowed as best as he could, leaning on his walking stick. He awkwardly bowed, lowering his good leg a bit.

  "Numisley Gildin. Greetings."

  The [Count] straightened up on his throne.

  "Apologies. I didn't know that you have a disability. I'm the head of this House and its lands, Count Toreeso Rahmeiros Commerro. I assume that you are here for your license to trade, yes?"

  "Yes. I'm of Gildin Trading. Along with my brother, Cultrost Gildin, we manage it together."

  "Why is your brother not with you?"

  "Because of your laws." Numisley sneered for a moment before quickly changing his expression to a more neutral one.

  “What do you mean?” The [Count] raised his eyebrows.

  “Your guards did not let him and my employee enter with me because they are not Human according to your land’s standards.” Numisley fiercely gazed at the [Count]. “So, are we allowed to trade in your lands now, Toreeso Commerro?”

  Numisley dropped the formalities unexpectedly. The [Count] looked offended, but this is not the worst slight that he suffered. So, he let that go. He is not the young master who rises at every provocation.

  “Yes. You are now an [Trader] of Torregorn. You are allowed to trade within the kingdom’s borders, and only within those borders. As your first venture in this kingdom, sell ten barrels of fish. Go to Reagusha and retrieve them from its fish market manned by someone named Tisruda. He will know that I ordered it. Sell them to the town of Ascogrez. I will take 2% of your profits, and the rest is yours.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You are dismissed.”

-

  “The [Lord] hired us to sell barrels of fish.”

  Numisley flatly told them. They were now within the inn they are staying at. Cultrost counted the remaining coins on a pouch, one by one.

  "Seems simple enough. Where's Ascogres?" Cultrost looked up.

  “[Estimate Travel Time] says it’s about two days northwest,” Palden answered. “Without my speed, it will be four days.”

  “Can’t help but feel a little bit suspicious,” Numisley uttered. “But whatever happens, we’ll come through.”

  Raudaeiz knocked on the door rhythmically. Numisley let him enter, and the [Thief] peeked from the door.

  “Got news. The one you’re looking for is away. But, he will come back.”

  “Where? When?”

  “Three or two days from now. In this city. Gieallen Quarter.” Raudaeiz answered. “One of mine keeps on the safehouse.”

  “Thanks.”

  The next day, they went to the district. Reagusha, or Wharf Reagusha as the locals called it, is a district where one of the oldest buildings in the city still stands, extending to the sea. Stone and wood wharves are interconnected by bridges, with stilted and floating buildings and communities within the wharves and quays. Plenty of fish farms are nestled within the district or out from the shallow waters of its vicinity.

  “Lord Commerro, bless him and his House, sent you?” The Human [Fishmonger] was directing [Fishermen] to his storage space behind his floating fish store. He smelled of salt and sweat, scratching the feathers sticking out of his weathered arm; a sign of his Garuda heritage.

  “Yeah,” Numisley showed his metal slip around his neck. “Got approved yesterday. Looking forward to doing business with you.”

  “Ah, he wants to sell the fish to that far town. Reemn, Bresio! Barrels!”

  Ten barrels were lifted up by two burly men from the boats anchored on the shop. It seems like they stored barrels of fish in them, and who knows how long they baked in the summer sun.

  “Fresh catches.” Tisruda proudly crossed his arms. “You from Liber? Accent’s shinin’ obvious.”

  “Libertalia.” Numisley corrected.

  “Libertalia, Liberan, the Free Continent, Liberalia, there’s a lot of names for your continent. Ours too, Rhiln, Yropia, Evrovia, Ymirin–it depends on people’s way of speakin’: accents. You speak Corisduman, the Common of our region.”

  “I’m still…working on it,” Numisley admitted.

  Numisley was speaking Corisduman throughout the day when he spoke to the locals, including the Count. Although there are words that he isn’t familiar with, he can still ascertain the meaning through context clues.

  “Good, good. You need that as a Merrcanten. Lots of diasrlecto–dialects here. Corisduman dialects. Hard to understand.”

  “Appreciated.”

  The ten barrels of fish were lifted into the cart. The cart creaked under its weight, the cart that they bought is small and light, not made of ironwood or some special wood. The stacked barrels wobbled dangerously under their weight.

  “Aie, aie–!”

  Despite Tisruda’s worries, the cart didn’t shatter under the barrel’s weight. The pile of barrels didn’t topple either, as the barrels balanced themselves as they wobbled. The two helpers who stacked the barrels let out a deep sigh.

  “Don’t worry about us,” Numisley told Tisruda. "We'll be going."

  “We should buy another cart. Or a wagon.” Cultrost remarked.

  "Palden will find a way." Numisley turned to the [Caravan Master]. The Orcan raised two thumbs.

  “Safe travels.”

  In the middle of the morning, they set out from the port city of Ovespuerot, traveling further inland towards the town of Ascogres. Raudaeiz and his men were left behind to take care of the matter with the information dealer while they brought Graten with them for security. They walked beside the cart, while Numisley and Cultrost sat beside it. The bundle of barrels was tied together, yet despite how tall they were, they didn’t fall. The cart didn’t slow under their weight. Plains and small groves of trees dotted the landscape, but in the far west, they can see the line of forested hills that made up the western border of the kingdom. They sped past the other wagons even in their walking pace with Palden’s Feats.

  A day later, Cultrost sniffed something rotten within the air-tight wooden barrels.

  "Smells like shit," Cultrost complained. Palden, Numisley, and the rest didn't smell the rot within the barrels.

  "Hm? Don't smell anything." Numisley shrugged his shoulders.

  "Same. But, it can't hurt to open them, right?" Palden suggested.

  They stopped halfway through the trip. Graten and his men helped unload the barrels, and opened each one, yanking off the wooden heads of the barrels. As if a surge of rotten spirits were set free after centuries of imprisonment, the scent poisoned the air.

  The smell made Numisley puke his breakfast.

  "It's rotten! That bastard said it's a fresh catch!"

  He leaned on Cultrost, wiping the leftover bile on his mouth. The rest of Graten’s men were inching away from the barrels.

  “Half of them are rotten.” Graten squeezed his nose. “The rest are getting there.”

  “Damn,” Numisley uttered. Now he was halfway sure that this is a test of some sort from that [Count]. However, there is a possibility that it was an honest mistake on that [Fishmonger]’s part.

  “The really rotten ones we can throw away,” Cultrost suggested.

  “That’s half of them.” Numisley voiced his concerns.

  “But we can still salvage the other ones–I mean all of them. My [Edible Goods: Slow Decay] had slowed down the decomposition.” Palden explained.

  “So what can we do?” Cultrost asked.

  “Head to the town as fast as we can. Hope that we’ll find a specialist that deals with rotten food. The rotten ones we can sell as fertilizer. If we can’t find a [Fermenter], then we’ll lose half of our income.” Palden explained.

  “You heard the man. Haul the barrels!” Graten took the initiative and ordered his people to seal the barrels and lift them to the cart. They groaned as they did their jobs, covering their mouths and noses with cloth and cursing the smell.

  “You sound like you’d done this before.” Numisley regarded Palden.

  “Something like that,” Palden said. “In my tenure in the Strip, there’s a lot of people who sabotage the food that we deliver to our clients. Intrigue and stuff like that. It’s a given in the City of Gamblers that you’ll gain Feats in some way. All you need is to gamble your life.”

  “Ever gambled?” Numisley asked.

  “Nope. Too busy. The dens are too expensive.”

  “Aw. Someday, I wish to go there. Test my luck.”

  “You are already doing it right now. Betting your coin and our lives. Testing our luck.”