Chapter 1198: A Foreigner
At the Sedimentation Bay, in the Kingdom of Wolfheart.
One of the kingdom’s two port cities, it was never quiet here. Merchants from the interior loaded and unloaded between voyages; coastal traders swapped commodities with inland buyers. The dock was effectively a marketplace for everything — furs, spices, and slaves among them.
White settled into his coach and watched the ocean, doing his best to ignore the noise of the coachmen around him.
Since the war between Graycastle and Hermes had broken out, the local churches had stopped sending orphans to the Holy City, cutting off the main revenue stream that had kept inland merchants afloat. Worse, the overthrow of the church had not restored peace — friction between lords had simply replaced one kind of chaos with another. Coachmen like White, suddenly without steady work, had drifted to the Sedimentation Bay looking for something to carry.
The bay had its own variety of trouble. But the nobility here still spent freely, and because the passage through the Cage Mountain now sat under the Token Family’s control, the other lords had no choice but to rely on sea shipping for their luxury goods. That kept the port alive — along with the fact that the local baron, a cautious man, had staked out a neutral position and managed to hold it.
That neutrality was part of why White had chosen to stay. He was old. He was tired of moving. A few more cargo runs and he’d have enough to buy a small property, hang up the reins, start something modest. That was the plan.
“Hey, man — any work for you today?” A young dockworker clambered onto his coach, uninvited.
“Get off,” White said, waving him away the way you’d wave off a fly. “Don’t put your weight on that wagon. You can’t afford to fix these wheels.”
“Come on, look at me — I’m nothing. Am I going to crush this thing?” The young man patted his own flat stomach and slumped against the compartment, at ease. He plucked a piece of straw from the floor, clamped it between his teeth, and looked around. “What did you carry last time? Smells weird in here.”
“Get off, or I’ll kick you off,” White said. He didn’t know the young man’s name; the other workers called him Smarty. White saw no evidence of smartness, only the particular ease of someone who had decided that other people’s personal space didn’t apply to him.
“With your artificial leg?” Smarty said casually. “That must hurt when it rains. And it looks like it’s going to rain soon.”
White stared at him, saying nothing, turning over the question of when the boy had figured that out.
“Don’t stare at me like that. I’m here to help.” Smarty spread his hands. “There are too many people chasing too little work. You’re an old man — you can’t outrun younger men to a client. I can make sure you get a good spot.”
“What’s in it for you?”
“Ten percent commission.” A grin. “Good deal, yes?”
White went quiet. The sky above had gone the color of a bruise. A sea breeze moved through and tugged at his clothes. Smarty wasn’t wrong — his artificial leg put him at a disadvantage when it came to scrambling for business, and any employer who noticed the limp first would probably look elsewhere.
Smarty snapped his fingers. “I’ll take the silence as a yes.”
“You’re not only helping me, are you?” White said, studying him.
“Well — if everyone comes to me for help, that saves me a great deal of time running around,” Smarty answered without quite answering. “Also, can you swap out this straw for cushions? The most popular cargo in the Sedimentation Bay right now is Chaos Drinks from the Fjords and perfumes. Nobles usually bring their own carriages, but they always need a spare. Your wagon smells terrible. Even if I bring you a client, they won’t get in.”
White looked at the young man for a long moment and decided he understood why people called him Smarty after all. Then, with the patience of someone who had seen more of the world than this dock: “You asked what I carried last time.”
“Yes?”
“Sun-dried cow dung. For fuel.” He let that settle. “Sun-dried. But it can get damp.”
Smarty went rigid. He spat the straw. He retched.
White grunted in satisfaction. A kid was still a kid, no matter how clever. He turned his eyes back to the sea — and froze.
Three-masted ships moved slowly into the harbor mouth. Fjords Chambers of Commerce vessels by their look, their masts close to a hundred feet, their black-rimmed golden flags catching the wind. He didn’t recognize the Chamber of Commerce.
Whatever they were, he cared about the cargo. Ships that size meant work — with or without Smarty’s help.
White climbed down and untied his horse. He was about to ride toward the dock when Smarty grabbed his arm from behind.
“Wait — something’s wrong.”
White turned, irritated — and stopped.
More masts appeared behind the three lead ships. Then more. The sails assembled themselves into a wall of white across the horizon.
“God almighty.”
Grayish-black ships filled the sea from edge to edge. White attempted a count and gave up past fifty. More kept coming. A hundred ships. Two hundred. Possibly more. Giant three-masted sailing vessels and, among them, the squat churning shapes of paddle steamers — he had seen the new boats before, but never so many, never like this. He doubted the sailors who lived at this harbor had seen anything like it either.
Every peddler, every laborer, every sailor on the dock stopped moving.
Silence rolled in off the water.
As the fleet drew close enough, the flags resolved into detail: a coat of arms bearing a tall tower and crossed spears. The same device on every ship. Hundreds of banners streaming in the wind all at once, forming a horizon of their own.
Smarty exhaled slowly.
“Is that… the Graycastle flag?”
“Are you saying,” White said, his voice barely his own, “that the King of Graycastle came here?”
The Sedimentation Bay could not hold so many large vessels. Most of the ships anchored and lowered their sails outside the harbor. Ten steam-powered boats cut straight in to the dock.
The moment their gangplanks touched the trestle, uniformed men filed onto the dock in orderly silence — expressionless, unhurried, carrying themselves like men accustomed to being the last thing standing after everything else had been decided. Nobody spoke. Nobody on the dock challenged them. Within minutes the trestle was theirs, and it was as though it had always been.
White swallowed.
He couldn’t say why he was afraid of men he had never met before. But he was, and he was fairly certain every other person on this dock felt the same way.
This fleet had not come to trade.
The air above the dock thickened and pressed down.
The leaden clouds had drawn closer.
Chapter 1198 - A Foreigner
Translator: Transn Editor: Transn
At the Sedimentation Bay in the Kingdom of Wolfheart.
As one of the two port cities in the Kingdom of Wolfheart, the dock here was always busy. Merchants from the interior loaded and unloaded their ships before they set off for their next undertaking from this harbor. Alternatively, they traded their commodities with local marine tradesmen. As such, the dock area was essentially a big marketplace where all kinds of transactions took place, from furs all the way to slaves.
White settled himself in his coach, languishing at the raucous coachmen while gazing upon the ocean.
Ever since the outbreak of the war between Graycastle and Hermes, local churches had stopped sending orphans to the Holy City. Having lost the main source of income, merchants in the Kingdom of Wolfheart struggled to live. What was worse, because of the friction between local lords, peace was not restored after the regime of the church was overthrown. Coachmen like White, being financially unstable, thus had to come to the Sedimentation Bay to seek new employment for a living.
Although the war had also somewhat affected the life in the Sedimentation Bay, the nobility still led their previous extravagant lifestyle. As the passage leading to the Cage Mountain was now under the control of the Token Family, it left other lords no choice but to rely on sea shipping to transport their luxurious goods, which, in a way, sustained the economy here.
Of course, the temporary prosperity was also partially attributed to the fact that the baron in the Sedimentation Bay maintained his neutral position.
This was one of the reasons that White chose to strike root here.
He was old and did not want to wander about anymore.
White planned to carry cargo for a few more times and purchase a property with the money earned before starting his own small business.
“Hey, man, any work for you today?” Suddenly, a young worker clambered onto White’s coach and jeered at him.
“Get out of my way. It’s none of your business,” White said gruffly while waving his hand in the same manner as he dismissed an annoying fly. “Don’t you get on my carriage. You can’t afford the repair of these beautiful wheels.”
“Don’t say that. Look at me. I’m tiny. Am I going to crush your wagon?” the young man protested as he patted his stomach and slumped against the compartment. He picked up a straw on the floor, sucked it between his teeth and looked around. “What did you carry last time? Why does it smell so funky in here?”
“Get off, or I’ll kick your ass,” White grunted. He did not know the young man’s name, but all the other workers called him Smarty. White did not see any smartiness in him. To him, this young man was simply an unacquainted coworker.
“Really? With your artificial leg? I bet it hurts on rainy days, doesn’t it?” the young man said casually. “It looks like it’s going to rain soon. Your joints and bones should be hurting now, right?”
Speechless, White glowered at him, wondering when he had found out his secret.
“Haha, don’t stare at me like that. I’m here to help you,” Smarty explained while spreading out his hands. “There are so many people looking for work. You’re an old man and certainly couldn’t compete with young guys.”
“What’s your point?”
“Very simple. My coworkers will help you get a good spot. Are you interested in collaborating with us?”
“And in return?” White asked.
“A comission of 10%. A good deal, eh?” Smarty said, smiling.
White fell silent. The sky above looked sullen. Sea breezes whipped his clothes, preluding a heavy rain. It was true that his fake leg might hinder him from getting any business from his competitors, and employers would probably not entrust their cargo to a limped laborer.
Hearing no response from him, Smarty snapped his fingers and said, “Well, I take it as a yes?”
“You aren’t… just helping me, right?” White asked at length as he stared at him.
“Ahem, if everyone comes to seek me for help, that’ll save me a lot of time,” Smarty answered evasively. “By the way, can’t you switch the straw to cushion? The most popular products in the Sedimentation Bay are the Chaos Drinks from Fjords and perfumes. Although nobles would normally bring their own carriages, you never know what will happen. They would always need a spare carriage. Your wagon is so smelly. Even if I bring business to you, employers probably wouldn’t like to hire you…”
White cast a glance at the eloquent young man and finally understood why people called him Smarty. Yet as an aged and experienced man, he had also seen a great deal of life. He thus said, “Did you just ask me what I carried last time?”
“Yes?”
“Cow dung that is used for fuel,” he answered slowly. “They were sun-dried, but still it can be wet here and there.”
Smarty stiffened. He spat the straw and started to retch.
White grunted triumphantly. A kid was essentially a kid. He rested his eyes back on the ocean and suddenly stood framed to the spot.
Several three-masted ships slowly came into his view, all from the Chambers of Commerce at Fjords, their masts almost 100 feet tall, their golden flags rimmed with black. He did not know what Chamber of Commerce that was.
Whatver ships they were, White only cared about the cargo on them. With such colossal ships, he was certain he would have some business even without Smarty’s help.
White got off his coach and untied his horse. He was about to ride to the dock when Smarty suddenly pulled him from the back.
“Hey… it seems something is wrong there.”
White turned around impatiently and started at what he saw.
More masts appeared behind the three main ships, their sails forming a “white wall” over the sea.
“God almighty…”
Those grayish-black ships covered every inch of the ocean. White attempted to make a count but soon abandoned this idea after he saw 50 ships come into his sight. As more and more ships followed, White found it hard to catch up with the count. There were probably 100 or 200 ships in total, and maybe even more!
There were giant three-masted ships but also numerous steaming paddle steamers. White had seen these new boats before, but it was his first time seeing so many of them. He was positive even sailors living at the harbor had not seen such a huge fleet.
All the pedlars, sailors and laborers stopped what they were doing and gazed at the approaching fleet.
The dock suddenly became incredibly quiet.
As the ships drew close, they could now see the flags more clearly. White could barely make out the coat of arms on those flags, which featured a lofty tower and spears. All the flags on those ships bore the same coat of arms. Hundreds of banners streamed against the wind and formed a new horizon that awed the spectators.
Smarty gasped.
“Is it… the Graycastle flag?”
White muttered in disbelief, “Are you saying… that the King of Graycastle came here?”
As the Sedimentation Bay could not accommodate so many large ships, most of the ships lowered their sails outside the harbor while the ten steampowered boats came straight to the dock area.
As soon as the ships disembarked, a group of uniformed men filed out onto the trestle and the dock area, all as expressionless, frosty and reticent as seasoned soldiers.
White swallowed hard. For some reason, he was afraid of these men whom he had never seen before. White had the impression that all the people on the dock felt the same way. Soon, these foreigners occupied the entire trestle but nobody dared to raise an objection.
White realized that this fleet was not here for trading goods.
The air above the dock became thick and heavy.
The leaden clouds in the sky seemed to be even lower.