Chapter 20: The Afternoon Before Departure

Kraft returned to the inn with his book tucked under his arm.

The inn was quieter in the afternoon; the small restaurant on the first floor had no guests, and the owner was wiping wooden beer mugs behind the counter. Seeing Kraft return, he proactively greeted him: "You're back early too. Want to eat something? I recommend grilled fish with beer."

"Why say 'too'?"

"Oh, your companion just got back not long ago. You don't look like you're here for business, otherwise I could recommend a few old acquaintances to you." The owner set down the mug. Being busy was bad, but an empty afternoon was too boring; he couldn't leave the inn to wander around, so having someone to chat with was best.

Ryan actually came back that early? Kraft had thought he'd at least be out wandering all day; after all, finding something "mysterious enough" wasn't easy. Even if he went to those captain friends, they didn't always happen to have what was needed. Their main job was trading for profit, not specifically collecting all sorts of little trinkets, especially not such strange-looking ones.

Often, captains or sailors, far from home, to relieve the oppression and torment of long voyages, would have a few extra drinks in a bar, and upon going out, would have a chance of meeting locals trying to sell all sorts of things.

Some of these unidentified people would talk a bit of nonsense, claiming to bring good luck or possess special functions, and then the drunkards would impulsively buy things they'd never seen before.

Nor could one rule out that in places like the Ice Plains, where the customs were fierce, stepping outside might reveal a burly man holding an axe, offering to sell something and asking if you were interested in taking a look. It was hard for the encounter to distinguish whether the other party truly wanted you to look, or was subtly indicating, "Brother, I'm a bit short on cash lately."

The specific reasons were many; no need to elaborate. Most were similar to Kraft being sold "local specialties" or "purely handmade products" by locals while traveling. Buying with a hot head, then seeing black afterwards; pure foolish behavior.

Afterwards, more than once, traces of torn-off labels were found in corners, or simply mass-produced goods from a small commodity market with labels still attached.

If Kraft bought a souvenir, he might lose a few dozen, at most a hundred. But for captains and sailors, realizing they'd suffered a huge loss afterwards, it might not be so simple. Losing a few Black Silver coins was considered little; losing more was quite painful.

At such times, they would be very willing to sell these things to recoup some costs. Most of the trinkets found on sailors' street stalls came from such sources.

"So, Boss, you know quite a few people in Wendeng Port?" Kraft found a seat near the counter. Having rarely visited Wendeng Port, and feeling the lunch just now left him still wanting more, he said, "Just the grilled fish, no beer."

In such ports, many taverns and inns also functioned as information exchange hubs. While chatting nonsense with you, the owner sometimes also acted as an intermediary, and some even kept their own stock.

Regardless of whether they had these functions, most owners were quite talkative, and the coming and going of guests gave them plenty to chat about. It was a bit like the impression of taxi drivers in the otherworld's soul's memory; people who worked sitting in one spot for a long time, passively developing the skill of being talkative.

The owner signaled the kitchen to bring up the grilled fish, poured himself a cup of beer, leaned on the counter, and cleared his throat.

"How could there be a man who doesn't like beer?" He gulped down a mouthful of beer, foam wetting his wildly growing beard. "Everyone I know makes a living at sea. Most I see only a few times a year. Sometimes I help them sell their goods, and recommend sources to them."

"When I was in my twenties, I envied them. I thought I'd save some money, sell the inn, buy a ship, and then, like them, lead a crew of sailors, running the Dunling route and then the Ice Plains route."

Among the young people in Wendeng Port, at least nine out of ten shared the same dream as the owner. To own their own ship, challenge the surging sea, and return with money and enough stories to brag about in the tavern for days.

"Sounds good. So why didn't you go later?" Kraft chimed in just in time, facilitating the owner to continue talking. To be honest, it was a bit embarrassing; Kraft himself had had such thoughts. He held some unrealistic romantic fantasies about the ocean.

"Sigh, it's just because I got to know more people." The owner let out a sigh, as if thinking of his lost youth.

"What does that have to do with it?"

"Knowing more people made me realize things aren't as good as imagined. Don't look at those people running around everywhere seeming so carefree; actually, they live a life of careful calculation. They make money through information and connections, and most of their assets are on the ship. Taking old routes means no big profits; it also depends on market conditions on both sides."

The owner was quite familiar with the operations involved; he must have seriously considered entering the trade.

Kraft also became interested; he hadn't really understood these things before. "What about new routes? I recall some captains always like to run routes few people take, like from here to the Ice Plains or something."

What the owner said reminded him of Captain William's story, the captain who transported grain and wine there and exchanged it for furs from the hands of people on the Ice Plains.

Cousin Ryan's story had sparked a huge interest in him regarding strange lands overseas. He even wanted to collect such stories, revise and publish them, compiling something like "Kraft's Fairy Tales" to be passed down to posterity.

The owner forced a burp from his belly, snorted disdainfully. "When I was young, I thought just like that. Like many, I always thought I alone was smart. There are plenty of smart people in this world. New routes were surely thought of long ago, but either the journey was too difficult to open, or the destination had problems, so they weren't developed until now."

"Take that Ice Plains for instance. Getting there wasn't hard before, but there were only a few tribes to communicate with, and those were worn down by old captains. Now, trading with just a few familiar captains is enough. Others wanting to go must continue along the coastline to find other new tribes further out."

"As for those new tribes we haven't contacted much, it's hard to say if communication is even possible."

The owner took another gulp, revealing the expression of someone who had been there. "So, it's better to do stable business. Every year, among the people I know, some don't come back, even those taking old routes. The good stories are the ones you can hear while drinking in a tavern. No one truly wishes to always be the protagonist of an adventure story."

"Indeed, only the living can come back to tell stories. How many people would care about those fed to the fish?" Kraft agreed with the owner's statement. Even the Titanic would face unforeseen disasters at sea, let alone the current wooden sailing ships. Sea travel wasn't as stable as in the otherworld's soul's realm. If the ship capsized, there would be no rescue; it basically meant waiting to die.

"Boss, do you know if there's a shop in Wendeng Port selling strange trinkets?" Kraft asked casually, not holding out much hope.

"No, probably not. You can only see such things at street stalls. Shops here without a steady customer base starve to death early." The owner put down his beer mug and shook his head. "Pity you won't see any stalls these next two days. Wait until the snow melts completely. Don't give those people high prices; I've never found anything worth more than two silver coins."

These were truly heartfelt words. Buying things at high prices at street stalls was pure foolishness; Kraft had a very clear understanding of this.

After finishing the grilled fish and the owner having vented his desire to talk, Kraft went upstairs and knocked on Ryan's door.

"In there, Ryan?"

"Come in, I've already bought the thing." Ryan opened the door, inviting Kraft to admire his results. His luck was good; the stonemason happened to have a severed hand taken from a broken stone sculpture, which allowed him to unleash his creativity.

Upon entering, Kraft saw a very imposing ornament placed on the table: a stone-carved palm, severed at the wrist, perfectly positioned to stand upright on the table with the cut surface facing down.

A crooked rune was carved into the palm, looking a bit like an octopus's tentacles. No polishing or fancy finishing; it looked like something dug out of some old ruin. Kraft naturally had no ability to appraise artifacts, but his intuition told him he had seen this style somewhere.

As he thought a bit more seriously, large swathes of memory flashed rapidly. A non-human consciousness told him this was very similar to a certain rune on the rune-embedded eyeball Ryan had bought. It seemed slightly upgraded; smoother than the original on the eyeball, with no stuttering or chipped corners at the stroke junctions.

"Where did you buy it? The same place as last time?" Kraft pressed his temples.

He had no symptoms of dizziness or headache, but he just wasn't used to this feeling. It was as if he was split into two parts: one part was his ordinary self, while the other expanded infinitely, casually fishing out the piece he wanted from the vast ocean of information.

This gave him a subtle illusion, feeling a living creature surging within his skull, his brain developing its own independent capabilities, becoming dissatisfied with this narrow living space.

"How did you know it was from the same place as last time... bought from the captain." Ryan almost thought his act of buying from the same stonemason was exposed. Fortunately, he reacted in time, realizing Kraft didn't mean that, and quickly changed his wording, turning the stonemason into a captain.

Ryan wiped a sweat, adding to his explanation: "He said he bought it from the same place as last time. Indeed, it looks a bit connected to that pair of stone eyeballs from last time, right? He knew I'd buy these things, so he kept it for me. I think Grandfather will like this." The language here was similar to English and didn't distinguish between maternal grandfather and paternal grandfather, so Ryan's address for Old Wood was the same as Kraft's.

An outsider would easily mistake them for biological brothers, though in reality, they were indeed almost the same.

"By the way, here's your money back. I have a good relationship with him, so he sold it cheaply; I didn't use your money." Ryan took out the money bag Kraft had given him that morning and returned it to Kraft exactly as it was.

"Is that so? How much was it? Shouldn't we split it?" Kraft took the money bag, having no suspicion of Ryan's intentions at all.

"No problem. It was just one silver coin. I'm someone who will soon have his own fiefdom; no need to fuss over this." Speaking of this, Ryan's face was full of pride.

Considering he was nearly twenty, Old Wood also felt it wasn't right for him to keep running around. He had long planned to formally grant this fellow the title of Knight, give him a piece of land to branch out the family. By then, he would also be allocated two good horses, a full suit of armor, and weapons, and could recruit his own retainers.

"In that case, I'd be willing to testify to your generous virtue." Kraft smiled. "I'll go back and sleep for a while. Hope I can recover my spirits by the time we set off tomorrow morning."