The morning had come to Dotterm. Numisley, Cultrost, Palden, Palvt, and Graten were sitting on one of the tables in the mezzanine, while the rest of the Severed Swords were eating breakfast on the bottom floor.
"Give me a list of your Severed Swords. Their names and Roles." Numisley asked Graten. The [Sword Captain] handed him a list of his men.
"I will tell you about my plan for the company," Numisley announced. "I heard from below with my [Find Rumor] Feat earlier that there's an upcoming war between Tucken and Joltstown. The Thunderous March [Mercenaries] that owns Joltstown will fight against Tucken's army and their allied Gahkee Tribe in the Yokelaines, so this might be our company's first opportunity. What do you think we will sell?"
"Armor and weapons?" Graten answered.
"It's a given," Numisley stated. "We'll buy a wagonful of those later when we visit a few workshops."
"Rations, potions, and kegs too." Cultrost helpfully suggested.
"Good idea. We'll buy it in bulk from Merchant's Guild." Numisley accepted. "In the long run, I plan for our caravan to head for the port cities of the Diamond Shore Conglomerate, so that we can both make a profit and head to Yhril."
"I thought you refused to run away to Yhril?" Cultrost asked Numisley, perplexed.
"I never said that." Numisley corrected. "I refuse to do nothing with the information we have. Rather, my goal for the long run is to set up our business in Yhril, in the Golden Triangle, which is arguably safer than this continent. We can profit more there. I guess we can visit our relatives in the future too..."
"What do we have to offer that the [Merchant Lords] of the Golden Triangle's ports doesn't have?" Palden was concerned. As far as he knows, the Golden Triangle sits at the center of the Six Lands: the known world, where all trade from the rest of the world comes and goes.
"This,"
Numisley raised the black notebook on the table for a second before stashing it inside."We have information worth more than the Twin Roads of Prosperity. Information, as much as gold, passes through the center of the world. The goods that we sell will be our front."
"But, it will be difficult. The [Merchants] of the islands can as cutthroat as even Liberan's Five Corporations. We might get thrown off the plank if they caught a whiff against their skiffs." Palden objected.
"That's why we earn our way through the Exiled Coasts and earn Feats. We will sell our wares to both Joltstown's [Mercenaries] and Tucken's. But, we will sojourn in the city of Tucken itself. I plan to hire Jodas and his gang.
"Isn't he a Hand?" Graten asked. "At least around Gold rank?"
"Yes. I need a sword along with my shield." Numisley answered.
"What do you mean?" The [Sword Captain] asked.
"I'm rebuilding my father's company. Your Severed Swords are my shield, and when I hire these criminals, they will be my sword for my plans. They can do what [Mercenaries] can in that continent."
"Which is?"
"Steal, and kill if they need to. Criminals have Feats that can evade capture, obscure their identity, and other tricks. His gang is a faction among the city of Tucken, so the [Mayor] will be grateful to me when I pull them out."
"Ah," Cultrost uttered. Although he was sharp in his way, he can't think five steps away like his brother. "So, you are going to put him in your debt."
"Of course." Numisley smiled.
They headed towards the Bank of Dotterm, the headquarters of the Cemoorstead Merchants Guild. At this time of day, they were many [Merchants] sitting on their lounges, making deals and shaking hands. One such deal was between Numisley and another man of dark skin, a mark of the people of the Southern Bottoms of the continent. The [Merchant] of the Cemoorstead Guild wore the simple keffiyeh of his town with pride as he smiled and shook Numisley's hand.
"Ali Iwrif. [Merchant] of Cemoorstead, pleased to do business with you." They both sat after introducing themselves.
"Numisley Gildin. This is my brother, Cultrost Gildin." He nodded to his brother and turned his attention back to the other [Merchant]. We are of Gildin Trading."
"Isn't Gildin Trading of Renimburg? I heard the town was invaded by Belias. My condolences."
"It happens." Numisley dismissed, refusing to show weakness.
"Isn't your company part of Maldent Trading?"
"Not anymore. I will rebuild my father's legacy from the ground up."
"I see…" Ali took note since typically if a subsidiary company seceded from the larger company, it shall not be taken well by the larger company. He smiled deviously, already laying down a trap.
"I'll purchase forty brigandines, ten bundles of spears, two dozen bags of grain, six crates of low-grade healing and stamina potions, and at least ten kegs of beer." Numisley steered the conversation back to business.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
"[Traders] like you already know the upcoming battle between Tucken and Joltstown in the Yokelaine Plains caused by the dispute over the salt flats next to it. Those [Traders] with the fastest Feats had already left their cities to capitalize on it, so the prices had risen." Ali informed.
That's why I'll be as early as I can. How much?"
"Twenty-eight gold coins and five silver."
"[Recall Value]. Isn't a sack of grain ten silver?"
"That was before the coming of winter. The failed harvests of my city of Sobor, Eilizenth, and Tiller had driven the price up. Keres hoarded their grain for the coming winter and refused to sell it to the cities of the Varstead Alliance when they raised the price of metal and lumber."
"Inter-city disputes..."Cultrost mouthed weakly.
"So with these issues, the price of grain is raised to eighteen silver per sack." Ali continued.
"I see." Numisley held a pouch of twenty-eight gold coins, hovering on the table. "Before that, how long will my order be processed?"
"Within today or tomorrow." Ali clarified. "If there's no surplus among the Guild's stock, then we shall prevail on our [Smiths] and the others to get what you need, and it will take much longer."
The pouch was placed on the table with the sweet clink of the coins.
"Pleasure doing business with you." Numisley held out his hand, and Ali shook it. Numisley left the bank with his brother and headed towards the inn.
li strode through the inner parts of the keep and ordered a [Manager] to accomplish Numisley's request. She rushed towards where she was supposed to be and ordered the employees out of earshot. Ali faded into the stairway that leads to the upper floors, where the main offices of the Guild are. He sat on his cushioned chair in front of his desk, writing a brief message on paper.
"[Summon Subordinate]."
A young Lizardboy had entered his office, clutching a leather satchel as he was called upon in the middle of running errands.
"Sir?"
"Send this to Maldent Trading."
-
The next day, their order was processed. The bulk of goods was being hauled on the two new wagons pulled by draft horses within the bazaar. Many people were within the bazaar, buying various trinkets and food. One portly man ate his baguette filled with meat, chilies, and cheese as he watched Numisley board the wagon.
"Fortune to you." Ali bid farewell to Numisley after he brought the two wagons.
"Earn well," Numisley replied.
The caravan left the city of Dotterm, heading east. The sky was dimmer now, for winter is near. The breeze that swept through the dark grass was frigid. Numisley was grateful that he bought a specially thick grey fur coat that goes well with his maple wood cane.
"Cold." Numisley shivered. "Can we use the heat charms?"
"Numis. Save it for when it snows." Cultrost chided.
Damn…" Numisley is shivering ever since this morning because of the cold, even with his coat.
The caravan had stopped on a bare stone foundation as wide as three houses, covered in dirt and dry leaves. Not even the tiles were spared from scavengers that shaved them off. Not even rubble remains from the pillars that used to stand there. They temporarily rest the horses before setting off again. The rest of the group was guarding the perimeter of the caravan. Numisley walked with Cultrost and Palvt nearby. They had climbed on an elevated spot they could see the way ahead. Palvt enchanted their eyes with [Eagle Eyes] so they could see farther.
Within the forest is a path that leads to the city on the horizon, before the black border. They saw the city-state of Joltstown within bare plains dotted by bunches of trees and ruined stone that was cities and monuments from an age forgotten by most. The valleys and forests, as well as the prairies and deserts of the continent, remain untamed outside the city-states, even with the few still-standing palaces and megapolises built when the Eight Exiles reigned over the original colonies millennia ago. Monsters, disasters, and war between companies and Satyr tribes prevented the land from being tamed.
"There's a group of monsters over there."
Cultrost pointed towards a herd of roaming beasts near the path, stalking within the trees.
"There's a fork, so let's go left." Palvt pointed at a fork in the path, almost hidden by a bunch of dying trees.
Standing within the decaying trees was an unassuming portly man that blended within the dead bark, drawing a sturdy bow with tripled strength, aiming at them with bated breath. One can mistake that his paunchy figure is a sign of gluttony, but the fat thinly covers his muscles that can pull a bow with a draw weight equal to a bear's mass.
"It's the longer path. Better than being attacked by monsters."Numisley decided.
His foot hit a rock embedded in the soil, but before he fell to the ground, Palvt caught him. A terrible whistle in the air and a shape flew unseen. Dreadful splutters of blood and flesh drip on the rocks and the soil, drying into stone.
Palvt caught Numisley at the cost of his life. He had forgotten to maintain his magical bodily barrier at that fatal moment.
The hole on his stomach and shattered spine were petrified, and his body was slowly turning into stone: the nature of the Dwarves' half-stone flesh as they age. The arrow dug itself into the ground, only fletching sticking up. Sometimes, despite one's Feats and Roles, one can be felled by bad luck. Palvt simply was unlucky that he accompanied them for a favor of a dead friend who had embroiled himself in intrigue all his life, collecting secrets to safeguard his sons. His dying, petrifying body did not give him the courtesy of uttering his final words. Numisley retreated to the ground, pulling his body away. Palvt became a statue within seconds of his death, as his staff fell to the ground.
Cultrost bawled in shock and grief as he lifted Numisley on his back. In a hurry, Numisley grabbed the dead Dwarf's magic staff instead of his walking cane. He rode on his back like they always do when danger strikes. Running towards the caravan.
-
"What?" Graten stared at them.
Cultrost explained the situation to Graten as he lifted Numisley into one of the wagons. Palden already manned the lead wagon and used their Feat to accelerate through the dirt road; the others were already scrambling to hop on the wagons. Instantly, they were rushing towards the forked road.
"Left!" Numisley ordered.
Palden felt his hands steering the horses before he voiced his objections. He maneuvered towards the left path and sped up, but the horses suddenly went down. The wagon came tumbling down, hitting a tree. The horses had broken their legs after tripping over a taut rope on the ground with ends tied to thick trees. Numisley tried to crawl out. An arrow had pierced one of the horses' skulls with a resounding crack. He felt an impact resounding from the ground below the corpse. He recoiled back to the wagon. Already, they knew that they were being attacked.
"Stay back." Cultrost held a shield in his hand, along with his mace. He stayed within the wagon as the others took cover behind the remaining wagons. The arrows had pierced the canvas. They do not know how many [Archers] were hidden among the trees for now.
Graten listened to the whistling arrows. He noticed that the arrows were fewer in number than expected based on how less frequent they were. He realized that one [Archer] is behind the ambush. Most likely, he had [Piercing Arrows]. Once he saw that the arrows didn't pierce the wagon as much as they initially did, Graten hopped out of the wagon.
"[Fireball] that location!" Graten ordered as he used one of his Feats from his [Watcher] Role that helped him approximate the enemy position. "Josaif, Tarast, Gedge, Weriens, Cultrost, with me!"
Cultrost was with Graten and the better members of the Severed Swords using Wands of Fireball to bombard the location. They did not see where the enemy exactly was, but after that volley, they charged toward the position. There were no traces of the mysterious attacker among the smoldering crater from their [Fireball]. Graten sensed something amiss with the help of his passive Feats and experience.
The [Archer Assassin] stood still among the bushes a few paces past them, hidden by an useful camouflage Feat. He was sure that the blonde man leading them had an anti-Stealth Role or Class because he sensed that a Feat was searching for him, but as long as he did not do anything drastic, he was still hidden.
He was hired to assassinate the [Mage] in the caravan to reduce their strength and damage their wagons. His employer told him that they have a lack of [Mages]. None of the [Mercenaries] have magical capabilities; only wands with Spells within that eventually be depleted. The [Assassin] calmly disengaged and walked deeper into the forest.
"He ran away. He must have been alone. Let us keep the caravan going."
The people of the caravan left the upturned wagon and transported the more valuable cargo in the remaining wagons. The dead horses had their heads beheaded to prevent them from becoming zombies. Most of their injuries were treated with a healing potion but some have injuries not treatable by potions alone. Throughout the trip, they were vigilant against another attack, but strangely, nothing had happened. The [Assassin] already left them alone. With a Scroll of Messages, he contacted his employer and wrote a report.
The tense calm of traveling among potentially dangerous roads had given time for Cultrost to grieve silently. Palvt and the others people in Jascias' employ back in the manor had died to pave Numisley's path. The Satyr stared at Numisley, and he saw that he didn't even look back, only staring at the path ahead of him.