Chapter 57: Opening New Trade Routes (I) – Strange Occurrences

Veylin was utterly unconcerned with this requirement. His purpose on this journey was simply to escort Raimondo along the predetermined trade route and visit six nobles along the way; he had no intention of wasting any time dealing with minor lords. This method of transaction saved him a great deal of time.

“Let’s go see if this little town holds any treasures—perhaps we’ll stumble upon a bargain,” Veylin said, handing the contract documents to Raimondo before heading toward the commercial district.

Seeing that his lord had no suggestions to offer, Raimondo said nothing more. He carefully put away the contract and quickly followed.

The next morning, outside the caravan encampment, Duke stood waiting in silence. He wore a set of linen clothes and was accompanied by two knightly attendants, leading a warhorse and three packhorses.

None of the other members of the caravan drove Duke and his men away. They had already heard what had transpired the previous day and knew that their lord had accepted Duke as a new knight—he might well become their superior.

After a dozen minutes, Veylin finished his morning ablutions, left his room, and stepped out the front door.

Upon seeing the man to whom he had sworn fealty, Duke immediately approached, bowed with a hand to his chest, and said, “My lord, Duke reports for duty.”

“You’ve recovered well,” Veylin remarked approvingly, noting Duke’s spirited demeanor.

“Raimondo, I’ll leave Duke to you. Train him well.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Raimondo accepted the task without a change in expression. He then led Duke and his two attendants to an open area nearby to begin their basic training.

Veylin looked up at the somber sky, feeling unusually content. Quiet, cool, gentle—he relished such weather.

Over the next few days, Veylin, taking into account the situation on his lands and the intelligence he’d gathered, signed another business deal with Baron Whisk of Grovener.

His investigations revealed the hardships faced by the lesser nobles and pioneers of the borderlands. The sudden monster incursion from the Ashen Wasteland had caught them completely off guard. The loss of property, combined with threats to their very lives, made them desperate to sell their serfs and leave the Province of Cardrow as quickly as possible.

There were quite a few of these people; in the borderlands surrounding Grovener alone, there were more than thirty.

They had come to the Province of Cardrow with hopes of a peaceful life. But now, faced with such peril, these weak pioneers could only cut their losses, selling off their serfs and any remaining goods to turn them into gold and escape as soon as possible. Who could say when those monsters might return?

Even when the kingdom dispatched a Silver Knight Order, it could not stem the exodus of pioneers from this dangerous land. As a result, a flood of serfs hit the market, and the price of slaves was slashed in half. Where once a healthy male slave cost fifteen gold coins and a female twelve, now they could be had for half that price—and children were included.

Even so, sellers were many and buyers few; supply far outstripped demand.

Caught traveling with little money, Veylin had no choice but to ask Whisk to purchase eight hundred male and five hundred female serfs on his behalf for nine thousand gold coins, plus two hundred for food and transport, and have them delivered to Lake Starfall.

Whisk was more than happy to oblige. As for the risk that Veylin might not pay, Whisk cared not at all. In fact, he welcomed the chance to have Veylin owe him a favor for nothing.

On January 20th, after five days in the small town of Grovener, the caravan set out for its next destination.

“Tom, this is your extra reward.”

At the city gates, Raimondo took two silver coins from his pocket and tossed them to Tom, who nodded and bowed at his side.

“Thank you, my lord, thank you!” Tom replied, accepting the coins with exaggerated deference, slipping them carefully into his inner pocket, and thanking Raimondo repeatedly.

Raimondo paid him no further heed, and called out commandingly to the caravan, “Move out!”

Veylin lay atop a carriage, chewing on a sweet, cane-like plant. Its flavor and texture gave him an idea, one he intended to put into practice upon his return to his fief.

Over the next month, they passed through three more destinations, signing business agreements with the local nobility; all else went smoothly.

But at the fifth stop, something unexpected occurred.

On the muddy roadside, emaciated serfs were everywhere, with a fair number of deserters mingled among them.

“My lord, I’ve found out what’s happening,” Raimondo reported gravely, coming to Veylin’s side.

“Tell me—what’s caused such chaos here?” Veylin crossed his arms, eyeing the refugees along the road.

“My lord, this is the situation: the local lord is named Kent Brom. He is in conflict with his son, Bury Brom, and the cause is Kent’s daughter, Evelyn Brom.”

“What?” Veylin stared at Raimondo in stunned confusion.

Raimondo himself found the news hard to believe; it was enough to shatter anyone’s worldview.

“Two months ago, for reasons unknown, Kent Brom became infatuated with his own daughter, Evelyn. To possess her, he first brought his mistress to the army camp, forcing her to confess that Evelyn was born of an affair—that she was not his child by blood.

“At first, the baron’s mistress refused. Kent immediately had her thrown into the camp brothel, where she was tormented for three weeks. After she was driven completely mad, he forced her to admit Evelyn was unrelated to him by blood.”

“What does this have to do with Kent’s son?” Veylin asked, rubbing his chin, still puzzled.

“That’s the crux of it,” Raimondo continued. “While Kent spent those three weeks in the camp, Bury Brom seized control of the castle and the surrounding villages, declared his father possessed by a demon, and the two sides went to war.”

“But why would Kent remain in the camp for three weeks? Bury already stood to inherit the title—why turn against his father? And where is Evelyn, the central figure in all this?” Veylin quickly spotted the deeper questions.

“Er… I don’t know, my lord. That’s just what I was able to find out,” Raimondo replied uncertainly, scratching the back of his head.

“It seems there’s a dark and secret plot behind all this.”

“My lord, should we get involved?”

“Involved? No. Someone will deal with this soon enough. We’ll take a detour and head straight for our final destination, Greysley. By the time we return, the truth may well be revealed.”

“As you command.”

Raimondo bowed, then set about redirecting the caravan toward Greysley.