novelraw Chapter 162: The Treasure Vessel
Chapter 162: The Treasure Vessel
The scorching sun hung directly overhead, its rays falling vertically. The Estonian Great River surged like molten silver, each wave's crest bursting with golden light fragments. Pine forests along both banks swayed gently in the wind, their shadows barely touching the riverbank before being swallowed by shimmering reflections.
Within the river channel, a merchant vessel advanced, leaving a long white wake behind it. The ship's hull wasn't made of ordinary wood but alchemically treated black ironwood—as sturdy as steel yet buoyant on water, its surface carved with faintly visible runes, armed with heavy cannons and ballistae at its sides and ends.
On deck, Nick leaned against the railing engraved with protective runes, his gaze following the dancing light spots on the water's surface.
The Treasure Vessel—this ship belonged to him.
Upon receiving the migration news from the Clan of Molten Iron, Nick was first astonished, then swiftly took action. He spent nearly his entire fortune, leveraged his silver tongue to secure additional investments, purchased a decommissioned warship, and converted it into a merchant vessel. After recruiting sailors and crew, and through some strategic networking, he obtained trade permits for the Estonian Great River.
Shifting from the Thousand Serpent Traces land route to the Estonian Great River was undoubtedly a gamble, but also a fresh start. The Treasure Vessel's cargo capacity far exceeded his previous caravan's—each successful voyage could yield several times his former profits. It wouldn't take long to recoup his investments, and this single vessel held potential to expand into an entire fleet.
"Lost in thought?" Margie's voice came from behind, carrying the tiefling's characteristic coolness. She handed him a chilled mint julep.
Nick accepted it, savoring the refreshing taste before replying, "The future. Our future."
By now, he understood exactly who his true benefactor was.
Dragons.And not just one.
The Young Dragons had slain nobles of the Raymond Duchy, stormed gemstone mines—these events had caused enough stir to reach Nick's ears. Yet instead of panic, he felt exhilaration.
Building a merchant empire rivaling the Emerald Trade Consortium had been Nick's youthful dream. Even at his peak, that goal seemed impossibly distant. But now, his aging heart pulsed with youthful excitement at the possibility.
Though he'd never met the master of the Clan of Molten Iron, Nick deduced from their maneuvers that this was an exceptionally intelligent and cautious dragon—one with limitless potential, already making waves in Raymond Duchy. Aligning with such a being could elevate him to previously unimaginable heights.
Of course, opportunity walked hand-in-hand with danger—this path wouldn't be smooth. But Nick's shrewd calculations showed the potential rewards far outweighed the risks.
The Treasure Vessel continued its journey under the blazing sun. A brief attack by aquatic magical beasts was swiftly handled by the ship's guards and armaments, passing without incident.
As time passed, the vessel turned into a northern tributary. About an hour later, as dusk settled, the Treasure Vessel dropped anchor by the riverbank, bathed in twilight's glow.
Cole directed the troll slaves unloading cargo from the holds while cross-checking items against the manifest.
Night fell completely when the rhythmic clatter of hooves on hard earth announced the arrival of towering figures emerging from the darkness—a group of centaurs over three meters tall approaching with steady, powerful strides.
Having communicated via message stones beforehand, Nick wasn't surprised by their appearance. In fact, he inwardly applauded the Young Dragon's prudence.
The Clan of Molten Iron and Young Dragons were currently wanted. Their monstrous followers—especially ogres and werewolves—were under particular scrutiny. Though north of the Estonian Great River lay beyond wilderness garrison jurisdiction, caution never hurt.
Centaurs weren't evil-aligned monsters. Their humanoid upper halves housed intelligence matching humans', and their temperament lacked the bloodlust of other species, making them more acceptable to Lothrian Federation's civilized nations.
Moreover, that the dragons had not only regrouped after months in new territory but recruited centaurs as vassals spoke volumes. Creatures like centaurs would rather die than submit to brute force—their allegiance proved the Young Dragons' power and wisdom.
Signaling his guards to stand down, Nick stepped forward with a warm smile, performing a standard merchant's bow toward the lead silver-maned centaur. The moonlight sculpted the centaur's muscular form, his silver mane rippling like liquid metal in the night breeze.
"A humble gift, hardly worthy of your stature," Nick said, presenting a bottle of gin whose amber contents caught the light like liquid honey. "Thirty-year aged, crafted by Blackrock Duchy dwarves—a favorite among nobility."
He paused meaningfully before adding with sincere admiration, "Might I know how to address such a magnificent centaur lord?"
The silver-maned centaur chuckled deeply as he accepted the bottle. "Call me Zachary," he said, deftly securing it to his ivory-decorated belt before producing a bone dagger from his robes.
"Reciprocity," his rich baritone resonated. "Carved from mammoth tusk with cloud patterns embodying our blessings for travelers—it brings good fortune."
Nick's eyes flickered with surprise before his smile broadened. Accepting the dagger, he traced its intricate patterns with his fingertips before tucking it away.
Unlike the cold werewolf sorcerer from before, this centaur possessed far more social grace. In truth, Zachary—as the White Mane Clan's hunting chief—was no stranger to Estonian Great River merchants, skilled in fostering mutually beneficial exchanges.
That he'd both angered the iron dragon yet earned forgiveness spoke volumes about his 'wisdom.'
After initial pleasantries, business commenced. The ship's crew efficiently unloaded cargo—barrels of viscous black oil carefully stacked, crates of fine desserts and spirits releasing mingled scents of caramel and alcohol into the night breeze, precious alchemical tools gleaming under moonlight.
The centaurs presented borderland specialties: heavy gray magnetite ore in woven baskets displaying natural spiral patterns, tanned beast pelts soft and thick, claws and fangs bundled by type still bearing traces of bloodshed.
Most striking was a chest revealing sky-blue gems refracting torchlight into breathtaking azure fragments.
"These magic gems must be from the Raymond Duchy mine raids," Nick noted silently. Though ill-gotten, he had channels to move them.
While subordinates tallied goods, Nick and Zachary conversed. The centaur expressed curiosity about southern cultures, which Nick patiently described. Both being articulate and tactful, their rapport grew.
By the time the moon dipped westward, all transactions were complete. Lowering his voice with mingled anticipation and nervousness, Nick asked, "Zachary... beyond official business, does your lord have other instructions?"
The silver-maned centaur grinned slightly and nodded. "Have your men remain here. You come with me."
Nick's smile deepened as he instructed his crew to wait before awkwardly climbing onto a centaur warrior's back at Zachary's direction, heading north into the borderlands.
The centaurs moved with astonishing speed despite their heavy loads, their powerful hooves leaving uneven impressions in the earth as they raced through the night—all strength and velocity, with zero comfort.
Unaccustomed to 'horseback' riding, Nick turned pale as his organs seemed to churn within him, the landscape blurring into color smears. With no reins to grip, he shamelessly clung to the male centaur's muscular torso to avoid tumbling off.