…
The mood of the caravan leader, Angry Wind, could not be described with words.
On the table in front of him lay a piece of star-patterned paper. It was small, about the size of a palm, half the size of the usual parchment. However, it radiated a gentle wood-like color, with intricate and complex patterns that even he, after years of traveling with caravans, had never seen before.
This was undoubtedly star-patterned paper crafted by a top-tier master artisan. Angry Wind even suspected it was the work of a master who was also highly skilled in magical sigils.
What was most important was that he, forcing down the pain in his heart, tested it with the only magic pen left in the caravan, one that still had a little ink. The ink not only soaked into the paper but even leaked through to the back, leaving faint marks.
This meant that the magical effects of the star-patterned paper were far superior to those of magic-marked parchment.
What did this mean?
Angry Wind took a deep breath, trying to calm his rapidly beating heart, but to no avail.
His body began to tremble uncontrollably.
"Is this the dream of the Continental Trading Guild finally seeing the light of dawn?"
When he was young, Angry Wind had fallen from a tree while racing with his tribe's friends, injuring his back. This left him with a permanently bent back that never straightened. It had also cost him the opportunity to join the military and become a warrior.
But Angry Wind had never complained about the unfairness of fate. On the contrary, he believed he was fortunate.
In many tribes, joining the military to become a warrior was the dream of everyone. Only the most outstanding individuals were allowed to walk the path of a warrior's training. Those who were filtered out stayed in the tribe to become hunters, craftsmen, blacksmiths, or animal trainers. No one wanted to become a merchant.
At least, no one openly wanted to do this.
Since he was young, Angry Wind, like other children in the tribe, had eagerly awaited the arrival of traveling caravans and bards. But what interested him wasn't just the stories from the bards or the candies pulled out of cloaks. It was the various goods and materials on the caravans, and how they could be turned into more gold coins.
So, at the age of fifteen, he chose to join a caravan and became a traveling merchant.
Twenty years had passed, and the once naïve boy had now weathered many trials. This year, he had finally risen from being a simple merchant to the leader of a caravan.
This was his first time independently leading a caravan.
But he still wasn't satisfied.
The primary goal of a tribe's traveling caravan was to obtain scarce materials for the tribe. Whether they made money or not was not as important. The world did not prioritize commerce, and Angry Wind wasn't sure where this dissatisfaction stemmed from. He just vaguely felt that caravans could bring more benefits to the tribe, even to the High Plains Alliance, and create more opportunities for growth and expansion.
The Angry Fire tribe was just a medium-sized tribe, not nearly as large or influential as the Hammer Forge Tribe, a super tribe. The caravan's strength and size couldn't compare either. But scale was incredibly important for a caravan. For example, the red iron ore produced in the Hunter's Spear Valley was of better quality than the ores produced on the High Plains. However, because the journey was so long and the caravan was too small, they could not transport large quantities.
But Angry Wind saw more than just this. If the caravan were larger, they could bring in more gold coins, which could be invested back into the Hunter's Spear Valley to establish an armaments workshop. There, they could directly forge quality equipment from the ores and supply them to the various legions of the High Plains Alliance. Local products like animal hides and wood could also be processed and shipped to the High Plains.
All of this required more gold.
His ultimate dream was to have a super-large caravan, even a continental trading guild, to take trade to the outer continents. But even a giant ironwood ship capable of withstanding sea storms was an astronomical cost. No tribe was willing to spend so much gold on such a venture.
Unless, of course, that gold could be earned independently by the caravan itself. But that was almost a pipe dream.
Yet today, the star-patterned paper on the table made him feel that this dream was within reach.
During this caravan trip, he had already heard about the new lord of the Hunter's Spear Territory. It was said he was the illegitimate son of a royal family from a super tribe. This identity could bring some possibilities to a newly established territory, even if it was a remote borderland.
A merchant never put all their gold into one bag.
A competent merchant would invest their gold in the right goods.
A successful merchant would invest their gold in the right people.
Ever since arriving in the valley, everything he had seen in the Hunter's Spear Territory had made him feel that this royal illegitimate son was no ordinary figure.
From the moment he first saw the towering city walls, it was clear this illegitimate son lord was not resigned to being exiled to the borderlands. Otherwise, he wouldn't have put so much effort into building defenses, obviously preparing for the day when he might have to defend against a large-scale attack from an enemy.
The only question was whether that enemy would come from the Forest Alliance or from the High Plains.
Apart from the city walls, there were strange buildings within the walls, as well as workshops enclosed by walls, which made him suspect that the illegitimate son lord had support from foreign powers, even from outer continents, quietly helping him run this territory.
He had never seen such buildings on the High Plains, and even the foreign slaves here were somewhat different.
The biggest difference was that the foreign slaves here were full of vitality.
Unlike the slaves and laborers of the High Plains Alliance, who often looked like walking corpses with blank expressions, the foreign slaves here seemed to have a strange energy in their faces, showing real respect and admiration for the illegitimate son lord, especially the cave-dwelling slaves—who would have thought these lazy, cowardly foreigners could actually be building houses in the Hunter's Spear Territory?
Speaking of building houses, he had never seen such perfectly square stones. What kind of method could be used to quarry stones into such regular shapes? The whole valley seemed full of secrets, but he and the caravan members were only allowed to enter a tavern near the city walls.
The tavern had a strange name—The Giant's Tavern.
The owner really was a giant!
He had finally witnessed the culinary skills of the giant race. On the table before Angry Wind were several dishes he had never seen before, which not only emitted an exotic fragrance but also had strange names—"Three Mouths of the Childless," "Survival in the North," "Endless Treasure," and "Pick Wild Flowers by the Roadside."
Not to mention the dish "Pick Wild Flowers by the Roadside," which, even before tasting, emitted an enchanting fragrance. The green and white color resembled wild onions, but it wasn't spicy at all. It was tender and yellow like meat, but it wasn't meat. He couldn't figure out what it was, but it was soft and lingered in the mouth with a rich and fragrant aftertaste.
Angry Wind finished it all in one go, even licking the stone plate clean.
Was he dreaming?
In the warm house, there was a strange iron device called a coal stove, which made the room as warm as spring. Even in a remote desert tribe, he had never heard of such a thing. This single item, if sold across the continent, could make a fortune.
And what about the other things?
What had happened in the Hunter's Spear Territory?