Chapter 13: The Road North(2)

“Th… all of these need to be transported?”

Aldo stood at the entrance to the guild headquarters warehouse, looking at the hundreds of wagons before him, feeling like he probably hadn’t woken up yet.

The steward flipped through the cargo manifest in his hand without looking up.

“Three hundred and twenty wagons in total. Steel ingots, magical materials, medicine, and grain. The President said this shipment is to take the northern route, and you’re in charge.”

“Me?”

Aldo’s voice went a bit shrill.

“But… but the most I’ve ever handled is a dozen or so wagons…”

“The President entrusting such an important order to you shows she has great faith in you.”

The steward patted his shoulder, his tone carrying a ‘good luck’ sort of meaning.

“Do your best.”

Aldo opened his mouth to say something, but remembering the amount of the commission, he closed it again.

The commission figure for this trade order was indeed tempting.

Tempting enough that he tossed and turned all night in the guild’s guest room, his mind filled with the sound of gold coins clinking into a pouch. But three hundred and twenty wagons, crossing the border, traveling through the northern territories…

He sighed, touching his increasingly sparse hair.

“Damn it, I’ll give it my all!”

He started spreading out a map in the temporary office, his finger tracing a path north from Frostwind City along the border.

He had thought of three routes.

But each of these three routes carried certain risks for the guild’s current situation.

Aldo was worrying over the map when he heard the door open behind him.

“Route decided yet?”

He turned and saw President Li Ya standing at the door.

She had changed into a set of dark travel clothes, her long hair braided into a single plait hanging down her back.

A small leather pouch and a short dagger hung from her belt.

She didn’t look like a merchant guild president going to discuss business, more like a traveler setting out on a long journey.

“P… President?”

Aldo stammered.

“How are you…”

“I said I was going along.”

Li Ya walked in, her gaze falling on the map.

“Have you chosen a route?”

Aldo hurriedly pointed out the three routes to her, explaining the pros and cons of each.

Li Ya listened very seriously, her finger slowly tracing along the lines on the map.

“Qingshi Pass is out.”

She said first.

“The Federation has been cracking down on military supplies crossing the border recently. While our shipment doesn’t contain silverfrost ore, they’ll always find some fault to extort bribes. Getting detained would be troublesome.”

“Then take the Grey Rock Ridge Path? It’s closer, but the prerequisite is passing through the Withered Bone Wasteland…”

Aldo hesitated.

“I’m afraid something might happen.”

Li Ya’s finger stopped at the northeast corner of the map, pointing to a spot.

“Go this way.”

Aldo leaned over to look and was stunned.

It was a route he was completely unaware of, passing through a mountainous area called “Deer Antler Ridge,” then following a dried-up river valley into the Empire’s border.

That path was too remote, so remote that his map only had a dotted line for it.

“This… can this path be used?”

“That time I went to the Empire with my father to discuss business, we took this very route. The riverbed floor is wide enough; three hundred wagons can definitely pass. The slope of Deer Antler Ridge isn’t too steep either; as long as there’s no heavy snow, it’s fine.”

She added another sentence.

“And that path, not many people know about it.”

Aldo understood.

Not many people knowing meant not many people watching it either.

“We’ll take this one.”

Li Ya made the decision.

“Depart after loading is complete. You lead the way at the front; I’ll follow behind.”

“You… you’re going too?”

“I said so.”

Li Ya glanced at him, her tone flat but leaving no room for doubt.

“I want to meet this Mr. Rex.”

Aldo didn’t ask further.

He buried his head in preparations for departure, and Li Ya also turned and left the temporary office.

She stood by the corridor window, looking out at the streets of the main city, the corner of her mouth lifting slightly.

Soon, she would find out just what kind of character this person the Empire called a “waste” really was.

And at that moment, Rex stood on the ridge of the field, staring at the ground beneath his feet for a long time.

It had been almost ten days since the rye and winterroot seeds were buried.

He came to check the field every morning, looking for any signs of sprouting.

But even today, the soil was still just soil, bare with nothing.

“Still haven’t sprouted?”

He squatted down and poked the ground with his finger.

He had turned the soil, raked it, watered it, done everything the book said.

But the seeds just wouldn’t sprout.

He sighed, stood up, and brushed the mud off his hands.

Maybe the season was wrong.

Maybe this land really was spent.

Maybe his planting method was problematic.

He didn’t know.

He was completely clueless about farming, just muddling through on a whim of ‘let’s try it.’

Hilda stood at the edge of the field, watching him without speaking.

Rex squatted down again, crushed a small clump of soil, and held it under his nose to smell.

The soil had a faint, fishy smell, and it didn’t seem like dead earth.

He wasn’t sure if there were still nutrients in the soil, but he felt it should still be able to grow something.

“Wait a few more days.”

He stood up.

“If there’s still no movement, I’ll go to Frostwind City and ask someone who knows.”

Hilda nodded.

“Will you go to the lumberjack’s place today?”

“Yes. Agreed yesterday to go check the timber today.”

Rex walked along the riverbank for about twenty minutes, arriving at the cabin at the edge of the woods.

Before he got close, he could hear the sound of an axe chopping wood.

The lumberjack was named Sael, and he was currently splitting firewood in the yard.

He saw Rex approaching and paused the axe in his hand.

“Sir.”

He put down the axe and wiped his hands on his trousers.

“You’ve come.”

“To look at your wood.”

Rex walked over to the side of the cabin where a batch of processed timber was stacked.

“All this you’ve stored?”

“This wood I’ve saved up over several years.”

Sael patted the topmost plank.

“Northern timber is no good; grows too slow, and the grain is brittle. Fine for burning, but for making things, it’s far inferior. This I cut from forests farther away, stored for several years, completely air-dried by now.”

Rex squatted down to look.

The wood surface had a faint, oily sheen, the grain fine and tight.

He tapped it with his hand; the sound was crisp.

“What kind of wood is this?”

“Iron pine. Grows in the mountains further north; takes decades for one tree to grow. Hard texture, water-resistant, perfect for a waterwheel. But… it’s just hard to find. This is all I’ve saved up over the years; barely enough for a small waterwheel.”

Rex stood up.

“Then you go look at the waterwheel site, pick whatever wood you need yourself. If it’s not enough, I’ll figure something out.”

“Alright.”

Sael nodded, not saying much else.

He turned and fetched a crumpled piece of paper from inside the house, with some crooked lines drawn on it.

“This is a drawing I made. Saw a waterwheel elsewhere before, roughly remember what it looked like. Sir, see if it’s right.”

Rex took it and glanced.

The drawing was crude, but the basic structure was correct.

The waterwheel’s axle, blades, supports—the approximate positions and proportions weren’t wrong.

Sael clearly wasn’t doing this for the first time.

“Acceptable.”

Rex handed the drawing back to him.

“If materials are sufficient, how long to finish?”

Sael thought for a moment.

“If the weather’s good, I alone can finish it in half a month. But if it snows, hard to say.”

“Then as soon as possible. What tools do you need?”

“I have the tools. It’s just…”

Sael hesitated.

“Sir, those two gold coins deposit could buy a lot of wood. Actually, you didn’t need to give that much.”

Rex waved his hand.

“Keep it. You need to eat while you work. And your child needs nourishment, right? This money isn’t given for free; it’s for you to work well.”

Sael was silent for a while, not refusing further.

“Sir.”

He suddenly spoke.

“I was… not very polite to you before. I apologize…”

“No matter.”

“You’re not angry?”

“Why should I be angry? You didn’t know me; I didn’t know you. You being suspicious is normal.”

Sael opened his mouth as if to say something, but in the end just nodded.

“I’ll fix the waterwheel properly.”

He said, his tone much more serious than before.

“I’ll definitely make you satisfied.”

Rex extended his hand.

“Then it’s settled.”

Sael looked at that hand, stunned for a moment, then wiped his hand on his trousers again before shaking it.

His hand was rough like sandpaper, while Rex’s hand was clean.

But when they shook, Sael felt this young man’s grip was not weak at all.

“Once I get more timber, I’ll give you the remaining money.”

Rex released his hand.

“So we’re agreed for now.”

He turned to leave.

Sael called out to him from behind.

“Sir.”

“Hmm?”

“…Thank you.”

Rex didn’t turn back, just waved his hand and walked along the riverbank.

Sael stood in the yard, watching the young man’s back disappear around the river bend.

His son was leaning against the window sill looking out, his complexion noticeably better than a few days ago.

Rex returned to the ancient castle and sat before the fireplace, staring blankly at the flames.

Hilda walked over with a cup of hot coffee and sat down opposite him.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Obviously about wood and seeds.”

Rex took the coffee.

“And where the hell that Aldo guy has run off to?”

“He will return.”

“How do you know?”

“Because he needs you very much, not because you need him.”

Rex was amused by her words.

“You see things clearly.”

Hilda didn’t respond, just watched the flames in the fireplace quietly like he did.

Rex drained the coffee in one gulp and placed the cup on the table.

“Tomorrow I’ll go check the seeds in the field. If there’s still no movement, I’ll go straight to Frostwind City.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“Of course. I promised to take you along.”

Rex leaned back in his chair.

“And buy you some new clothes and accessories while we’re at it.”

Hilda shook her head.

“I don’t need those.”

“You can’t wear just this maid outfit every day, can you?”

Rex glanced at her.

“Besides, winter in the North is long. That coat of yours is thick enough, but you can’t wear the same one all the time.”

“I can revert to dragon form.”

“Dragon form? Is it appropriate for your massive body to be wandering around here?”

Rex laughed.

Hilda was silent for a moment.

“…You are right, my lord.”

“If the seeds don’t sprout, what will you do?”

Hilda suddenly asked this.

Rex thought about it.

“Then change to other seeds. If this plot of land is no good, I’ll change to another plot. There will always be a way to solve it.”

“You’re not worried?”

“Does worrying help?”

Rex turned, leaning against the window frame.

“All I can do now is try. If it works, continue; if it’s wrong, change to another path. Nothing succeeds on the first try.”

Rex walked back to the fireplace, picked up the map, and looked at it again.

The outline of the North was just a small, insignificant corner on the map, but at that moment, he felt this insignificant place was far more interesting than the entire Empire Capital.

But deep inside, there was always a question he had never voiced to anyone, including Hilda.

The ancestors’ original fief was right here.

They never described this place as poor in any records.

They must have had some secret hidden here…

“Rest early.”

He quietly put away the map.

“Tomorrow I’ll go check the field first, then take you to Frostwind City.”

“Alright.”

Hilda stood up, pausing at the door.

“My lord.”

“Hmm?”

“When you shook hands with Sael today, he thought you would disdain his dirty hands.”

Rex was taken aback.

“We are all honorable laborers. Why care about dirty or not?”

“I know. That’s why he thanked you.”

Rex sat before the fireplace, looking down at his own clean hands.

They were indeed different from Sael’s rough ones.

But he felt whether hands were clean or not wasn’t important; what mattered was whether they could work.