novelraw Chapter 20
Chapter 20
Chapter 20. The Greenfield Trade Route
Vivian’s peculiar train of thought left the others speechless. Even the usually silent berserker, Simo, glared at her as if she were an idiot.
“What? Is there something wrong with what I said?”
“There’s a huge problem!” Grek couldn’t help knocking her lightly on the head. “Do you think powerhouses fight like street thugs? Throw punches and then sling arms over each other’s shoulders to grab a drink afterward?”
Hailey rolled her eyes and added, “For two Intent level experts to maintain some sort of tacit understanding after a battle, it can only be due to exchange of interests or deeper maneuvering. That battle itself might have been part of the transaction.”
***
As O’Brien’s sailing ship slowly departed the harbor, Caitlin stood alone on the viewing terrace of a port tavern.
“Brat! Not a shred of telepathy at all!”
Her expression darkened in displeasure, silver teeth lightly biting her lip as her gaze followed the gradually receding vessel—until it shrank into a tiny black dot on the horizon and finally vanished.
From beginning to end, the figure she had been waiting for on the deck never once glanced toward the terrace.
Leaving deep finger marks pressed into the railing, Caitlin stormed off from the harbor and began wandering aimlessly through Coral Thorn City.
***
“You’re certain that ship has left port?” Kuli asked urgently.
“Absolutely certain, Boss!” The skinny subordinate grinned fawningly. “As instructed, several of us took turns watching from afar. No one would’ve noticed. We only left after the ship sailed out to sea.”
“Send word to the Blood Hand Brotherhood and the Noose Gang. We move tonight!”
“And don’t forget those bastards from the Sea Ghost Gang! All that money fed to them like dogs—it’s time they coughed something back up!”
After grinding through negotiations all night, it was time to collect principal and interest alike.
***
Caitlin wandered without direction through the central commercial district.
The tall and magnificent architecture of Coral Thorn City reminded her of her homeland, the Moonlight City. Yet the noisy crowds and glaring sunlight here always made her feel slightly uncomfortable.
Along the main streets, she occasionally saw shuttered shops and restaurants, as well as striking demonstrators confronting patrol squads, holding banners and shouting slogans.
“Latest news! Massive mysterious disappearances of merchant caravans along the Greenfield Trade Route—heavy losses! Memorial service for Master Adrian to be held tomorrow!”
A newsboy weaved skillfully through the crowd, holding freshly printed newspapers aloft.
Caitlin bought a copy and entered an adventurers’ tavern that was still open for business.
Perhaps because of the strike, there were more adventurers inside than usual. The place buzzed with noise as mercenaries and adventurers gathered in small groups around wooden tables, drinking and chatting.
Dressed in common adventurer attire with her hood pulled low, Caitlin blended seamlessly into the crowd.
She chose a relatively quiet corner by the window, ordered a glass of dark red wine and a small plate of snacks, and began reading the newspaper silently, occasionally eavesdropping on nearby conversations. She radiated an air of leisure and languid ease.
“The Artisans’ Association sure has guts! They actually dared to protest in front of the Duke’s Mansion?”
“These people really don’t know their own weight. A few words of incitement and they rush into the streets causing trouble.”
“Exactly!”
“If you ask me, the Artisans’ Association is about to fall apart. This is just them trying to disgust people one last time before dying.”
“Who knows… It’s strange enough that the association was established at all. Not a single big-name figure inside, yet it still managed to form.”
“I did hear something about that… Supposedly, the Silver Moon Chamber of Commerce backed the Artisans’ Association just to spite the local nobles.”
“No way? The association’s practically collapsing, and the Silver Moon Chamber hasn’t reacted at all.”
“Who knows? Better think about what we’re going to do!”
The sudden shift in topic dampened everyone’s mood. They sighed heavily.
“What can we do? Wait for the big shots to step in. I’m not taking any caravan escort jobs these next few days.”
“Yeah. If it were magical beasts, we could at least hire more hands and settle for less pay. But now? No one even knows what they ran into. People and goods just vanish without a trace.”
······
Caitlin’s eyes scanned the section about the Greenfield Trade Route:
“‘Large numbers of merchant caravans and escort personnel have mysteriously disappeared. No clear signs of battle were found at the scene, nor have any survivors returned with useful information…’”
Her beautiful brows lifted slightly. She and Dean had traveled along that very route—it was considered one of the safest trade roads. Yet in just a few days, it had become so perilous?
If only Kyle were here. She could have asked her seemingly omniscient younger brother.
————
At this moment, Caitlin was not the only one looking for Kyle. The major forces of Coral Thorn City were searching for him as well.
Shortly after Mario left the Underground City in dejection, the entire area was placed under lockdown.
Representatives from the Duke’s Mansion, the Silver Moon Chamber of Commerce, local nobles, and the Adventurers’ and Mercenaries’ Guilds gathered with grave expressions at the Underground City branch of the Silver Moon Chamber.
All of them had suffered mysterious disappearances of caravans and members. The heaviest losses belonged to the Silver Moon Chamber and the local nobility.
“President Mills, you truly have no idea where the ‘intelligence merchant’ has gone?” Willie Blackthorn asked irritably, glancing at his pocket watch for the Nth time.
Mills took out a handkerchief and wiped the sweat from his face. Already obese, his agitation made him feel even hotter.
“Willie, I’m no less anxious than you. But I truly have no direct contact with that individual. I only know that he was still here yesterday during the day. As for when he left or where he went, I have no idea.”
“The elite adventurers I dispatched not only failed to find the cause, some of them disappeared as well. I’ve never heard of such a situation.” The vice president of the Adventurers’ Guild, Ovenson, wore a grim expression.
“Time is pressing. The Duke’s Mansion has urgently reported the matter to the Crescent Empire’s royal family, but who knows how long it will take for investigators to arrive from the capital.”
A refined middle-aged steward spoke with restrained urgency, “But every day the trade route remains paralyzed, our losses grow. Instead of waiting idly, why not dispatch a large force to clear all the trees along the route? Let’s see what can hide then!”
“No!”
Mills hadn’t expected such a seemingly respectable man to propose such a rotten idea. His round face flushed red instantly.
“The Greenfield Trade Route was opened only after the Silver Moon Chamber paid a tremendous price to obtain permission from the Treant clan. Your proposal would not only ruin the Chamber’s reputation, it would start a war with the treants!”
“So what!”
“This is the territory of the Crescent Empire! What can a few old trees possibly do?”
Willie was losing patience as well. His family had lost three escort teams, two major caravans, and a Master (Viscount) runemaster. The term “heavy losses” was an understatement.
The others didn’t voice agreement, but their expressions made their stance clear.
“You’ve all gone mad! Completely mad!”
Mills roared, his corpulent body trembling with fury.
“The Silver Moon Chamber firmly opposes this! As long as I stand here, no one will touch the Greenfield Trade Route!”
He shoved his chair back violently, his gold-inlaid cane striking the tiled floor with a sharp crack. Under the gloomy stares of the others, this collateral member of the royal family strode out with his head held high.
After his footsteps faded, Willie Blackthorn calmly adjusted the displaced chair.
“Gentlemen, please excuse our esteemed President Mills. After all, he is merely a… small… Formal-level professional.”
“That thin trace of royal blood in his veins may have made him naïve enough to forget—”
“In this world, rules… are always written by strength.”