While the fierce battle for Tures Castle raged, in the Duchy of Connaught, within Musillon, a merchant caravan was attempting to enter the town.
This caravan flew a black flag adorned with a skull, escorting several wagons loaded with exquisite noble wares from the Empire and magical gems. Two plainly dressed drivers, heavily armed, a burly thug who looked every bit the rogue as a guard, and two half-elves in grey robes, their composite bows slung across their backs, protecting a luxuriously decorated carriage.
The towering walls of Musillon stood in the distance like the edge of the world, so high that their ends were invisible, leaving only an endless sense of shock and oppression.
The flood years ago had devastated the Duchy of Connaught, and although even the floodwaters of the Lady of the Lake could not breach the high walls of Musillon, outside its walls lay ruin and desolation, piles of rubble, and mass graves marking the loss of its former prosperity.
As expected, the caravan was stopped: "Who are you? Present your papers or announce yourselves."
"We come from Marienburg, trade partners of Baron Hal-Harris. Take this to him; his goods have arrived!" A chubby hand, adorned with various gold and silver jewelry, extended from within the carriage, its voice deep and muffled, throwing a document at the guard's face: "Take a look, fool!"
Judging by the hand alone, its owner weighed over 250 pounds.
The guard, taking the document, found it sealed with the von Carstein family crest: "Please wait; I'll report to Baron Harris immediately!"
A disdainful grunt came from within the carriage, along with the faint sounds of a woman.
A guard entered, while another, a low-ranking vampire, remained suspicious of the odd assortment of the caravan, observing the drivers, a blond guard in full armor wielding a sword and shield, the two half-elf archers in grey robes, and a staid, beret-wearing steward with a goatee.
The curtain of the carriage was pulled aside, revealing an obese figure sitting like a small hill in the middle of the carriage. His fat face, with thick sideburns and tiny eyes squeezed into slits by his flesh, hid behind small round glasses that gleamed menacingly. His smile was demonic, seeming capable of stealing any mortal's wealth.
His left arm wrapped around a beautiful woman, her appearance striking and her makeup bold, exuding a seductive charm. She leaned into the fat merchant, feeding him grapes, dressed in a revealing low-cut, off-the-shoulder dress, the merchant's hand wandering over her chest, eliciting indulgent expressions and noises from her.
This had to be a courtesan, thought the guard, reluctantly.
Another woman sat inside the carriage, her shiny black hair and slender phoenix eyes marred by an extremely ugly hooked nose, her face bearing a world-weary look as if everyone owed her money.
A maid, the guard concluded, decent figure but too ugly.
After a while, a vampire lord appeared, his pale, bald head barely concealing his disbelief at the sight of the merchant: "Hofler? Unbelievable, years have passed, and I can hardly recognize you."
"I've grown stronger and fatter, my friend. Moreover, I'm not Hofler now; I'm Gabe-Newell, a harmless, self-made merchant from Marienburg." The fat merchant spoke with the air of a spoiled brat, causing his companion pain with a squeeze, then withdrew his hand from her neckline: "I've come to deliver goods."
"Deliver goods? Our last transaction was years ago. Five? Six?" The vampire lord was wary, doubting the merchant's identity: "Are you truly Hofman? You don't seem like it."
"Seven years and eight months, to be precise. And please, it's Gabe, Gabe-Newell! Moreover, you know how difficult it was to gather what your von Carstein family wanted. How could I find so much at once? Ever since Karl Franz ascended the throne, the Empire has strictly monitored the flow of luxury goods and magical ores. If I got more, I'd be on this month's execution list!" Gabe-Newell, the fat merchant, gestured impatiently at the vampire lord.
"And how did you manage to get so much now?" The vampire lord remained skeptical.
"It took me years, skimming a bit off each shipment I handled, claiming it as 'transport loss.' It took me years to gather what you wanted! That old miser Schultz scrutinized every detail. Is this how you treat me?" The merchant rambled on.
The vampire lord thought for a moment. Indeed, after Grand Duke Schultz took office in Marienburg, the vampires lurking in the upper echelons had suffered. Schultz could easily identify vampires, executing them in droves, and the trade network the vampires had built over centuries was severely damaged. The merchant before him was one of the few who had escaped the purges.
"Alright, should I be let in now?" The merchant appeared calm but impatient.
As the vampire lord was about to order passage, he suddenly found the steward with the goatee suspicious. "Wait, where's your talkative accountant? I remember your steward wasn't him."
"That little rat? Don't get me started. I was sneaking goods to trade with you, and that brat stole from me too. I killed him and got a more reliable one, slow at accounting but dependable." Gabe-Newell explained.
"And your previous lover, Keira?" The vampire lord Harald still doubted.
"My treasure lady? That was years ago." The merchant exclaimed, "After I got rich, I accidentally broke her spine while drunk. I even spent a few silver coins to cremate her. It was a lot of money, thinking about it hurts!"
These living beings are such fools, thought vampire lord Harald, finally dropping his suspicions.
"Alright, you keep doubting me. Do you think many would risk being burned at the stake to trade with you?" Gabe-Newell from Marienburg extended a thumb, his smile demonic: "Now do you believe it's me?"
"One last question, how many times have we traded?" Harald nodded, starting to believe.
"More than two times, but less than four." Gabe-Newell looked puzzled, counting on his fingers before giving a strange answer.
"Alright, my friend, Gabe-Newell, welcome to Musillon. Someone, let them through." The vampire lord finally relaxed completely, remembering one deep fact about the man before him.
This wealthy merchant couldn't count to three.
On their way into the city, the vampire lord glanced at the two half-elves, saying to Gabe-Newell, "It's rare to hire half-elves. Could you have them sell some blood to me? We can negotiate a price."
"Half-elves aren't hard to hire, my friend." Gabe-Newell replied nonchalantly, his voice distorted as if squeezed by his fat: "Many are willing to fight, as long as the price is right. Half-elves need money and food too. The high elves look down on them, and humans see them as aliens."
Hearing this, both half-elves showed discomfort: "Our contract didn't include this clause, sir."
"Yes,
yes, we must have a spirit of contract, my friend, Harald-Harris." Gabe-Newell spread his hands helplessly: "Or you could discuss the price with them directly? I'll only take a 30% commission, after all, I'm not a miser."
Miser! Vampire! Both the vampire lord and the half-elves shared this sentiment.
With the vampire lord's permission, the caravan finally entered Musillon. The city's policy was strict entry but lax exit, its dense streets and filthy corners filled with taverns, apothecaries, bookshops, and places of pleasure, even brothels openly operating under the daylight. Shops sold forbidden books, cult artifacts, poisons, and assassination tools, creating a bizarre harmony in this unified atmosphere of decadence.
The caravan made its way to the inner keep of Musillon Castle, the Merovingian Castle. Undead guards and vampires emerged from the shadows, tallying the goods and paying with hefty sums of gold and silver. Vampire lord Harald, expressionless, said: "You've come at a bad time. We're currently battling Bordelaux. The Red Duke and his army have left the city, and I'll be departing shortly. Do as you please."
"Heh, I'm not planning to leave so soon. I'm hosting an event called the Steam Summer Sale." The fat merchant raised a thumb: "I'll stay a couple more days."
"Steam Summer Sale?" Harald opened a heavy wooden box, filled with precious magical ores and luxurious items from the Empire, picking up a gem-encrusted glass with satisfaction: "Our trade contract remains valid, right?"
Von Carstein vampires always coveted the luxury items of Empire nobles, no matter the quantity.
"Yes, always valid, as long as I'm alive." Gabe-Newell smiled broadly.
"As long as you keep supplying us long-term, not only will you stay alive, but you'll also live well. If you ever feel your life nearing its end, we can help you." Vampire lord Harald leaned close to Gabe-Newell's fat face, then signaled his men to secure the goods: "I hope your next delivery won't take as long."
"I'll do my best."
The goods were unloaded, and the vampire's gold and silver quickly filled the merchant's carriage from Marienburg, which then turned around, heading towards Musillon's streets.
Harald continued tallying the goods as the young knight, Mathew Bard, appeared, inquiring about the origins of the merchandise: "Where did these goods come from?"
"From Marienburg, my trade partner. The affairs of the von Carstein family are none of your concern, young man." Vampire lord Harald didn't even turn around, ignoring the young ranger knight. If not for the temporary cooperation between Mannfred and Arkhan, he wouldn't bother with this youth.
Mathew Bard longed to slay the vampire lord before him, but knew he couldn't. At best, he'd slice through smoke or watch him turn into a swarm of bats. He was about to inquire further about the caravan's origins when the Lich King Arkhan, holding a staff ablaze with green fire, emerged from Merovingian Castle: "My pupil, prepare yourself; we have another plan to execute."
"Of course, my godfather." Mathew Bard could only glare at Harald before leaving with Arkhan.
...
Thanks to the transaction, the fat merchant made a substantial profit. He rented two small rooms and a large room with a courtyard in the inn. The innkeeper and staff, paid handsomely in gold, began preparing a lavish dinner.
The inn was a large two-story wooden building with a small courtyard, its walls high. Once the caravan entered, they locked the gate, ensuring no one was following or spying on them. The fat merchant and his companions began unloading their luggage and parked the cart inside the courtyard.
Gabe-Newell took out a bottle of water, wiping his face: "Infiltrating was more difficult than expected. I think that vampire was suspicious of me. Emilia said this mask is effective for three days; we must complete our mission within that time."
The woman in the low-cut sleeveless dress, tears streaking down her face, furiously twisted Gabe-Newell's waist.
"Damn it! Ryan, you bastard, you hurt me!"
Update! Vote for us!
___________________
(Support with power stones, comments or reviews)
If you guys enjoy this story, In support me on Patreon and get access to +200 advance Chapters
Read Ahead
Patreon.com/INNIT