Chapter 94

The traditional water transport routes of the North Kingdom, besides the direct path along the Tem River into the kingdom’s heartland, offered many alternatives via its numerous tributaries—like arterial branches—delivering vessels to the farthest, hard-to-maintain extremities of this fragile body.

Two to three days after entering the river mouth, a muddy yellow branch turned sharply southward, leading into the southern hills and mountains—it was an extension of the coastal range, the lingering surge of rocky waves, its unrelenting undulations spreading into the kingdom’s most intricate geography.

Moisture from the ocean was blocked by the mountains, making this one of the kingdom’s few arid regions; any slight rainfall was instantly sucked dry by the dry earth of valleys between low hills, barely enough to sustain shrubs and small trees.

These plants offered weak soil stabilization, and combined with the unique terrain, resulted in scarce stable surface water sources—most capillary-like streams dried up seasonally, and even groundwater reached by deep wells could vanish overnight without warning.

Some had argued that, objectively, rainfall in the southern highlands was merely lower than in other parts of the kingdom—not nearly this severe. But the facts remained: moisture was entirely consumed by the hill clusters covered in shrub-covered dry soil, leaving humans only the dregs after their gluttonous drink.

Yet the only river navigable by boats in this land was put to use: its turbid yellow waters carried grain-laden vessels inward and exported ships loaded with mineral products.

It was also the kingdom’s most densely concentrated mining region, where rich minerals lay shallow beneath soil that appeared worthless.

The Tobid River, that muddy tributary, became impassable after just a week’s journey; those wishing to penetrate deeper into the mountains had to take winding mountain paths and tread directly into the shrub-choked wilderness.

Captains naturally refused to endure such hardship—they stayed aboard, loaded their ships with minerals or crude metal goods from the hills, then turned back toward the Tem River, the kingdom’s main transport artery.

Theoretically sound paper surveys ended here entirely; pages filled with place names and mineral trade fluctuations were reduced to a single circled dot on the map’s edge. After all, captains only cared about loading cargo, not its origin.

Beyond this, the paths were no longer marked on navigational charts, and no corresponding maps existed; a few captains who had briefly entered reported that only locals could guide them—otherwise, one might easily miss the trampled side trails and veer completely off course.

Settlements were squeezed between low valleys; apart from exporting minerals, daily life was as isolated as the geography itself. Without the meager agricultural output failing to sustain them, grain-mineral trade would never have existed.

“No one knows what’s inside. If you wanted to hide a new mine here, it’d be effortless.” The pen tapped the spot circled in ink; the cartographer’s mood was tense—weeks of gathering had yielded only a rough range, and one person alone could not proceed further.

“And I must reiterate: this is all pure speculation. The actual location could be anywhere else in the kingdom. Failure is the most likely outcome—are you still certain you want to join?”

The cabin door was shut, the curtain half-drawn, illuminating the map on the table—tiny annotations listed from the river’s source to its confluence, dense lines crisscrossing and converging toward the circle.

“Of course. Such a lucrative opportunity? Miss it and regret it for life.” William scratched his thick beard; after days of unlimited strong liquor, he finally realized what the priest and Kraft were planning—and how he, an old friend, had been fooled by a few bottles of wine.

Under strong insistence, and considering the plan required manpower and funds, William—still deemed trustworthy—was reluctantly accepted after swearing an oath to the Heavenly Father.

Though he didn’t understand terms like distillation or alchemical potions, the church’s glass-winged emblem and the wine in their hands were real. Thus, Kraft, who shared the information, instantly became his blood-brother-in-law.

“I don’t know alchemy or lung disease, but I know there’s no guaranteed profit in business. If you’re right, we’ll spend the rest of our lives using gold coins as table leg pads. If we fail, we lose at most half a voyage’s worth—double that, I can still afford it.”

William wiped his hands on his coat hem, tracing the circle with his finger—the light spot fell precisely in the center, like a golden hole, “Besides, I think you’re right—the potential gain far outweighs the loss.”

“It’s simple. To mine, we can’t bypass the locals. We take a few trustworthy lads from the ship and systematically search every settlement that’s ever received grain. It’s just a matter of time.”

“I hope so.” Kraft shook his head; from experience, things always grew complicated and slid toward trouble. “How much do you know about this place?”

“Mostly small villages. They dislike outside contact unless trading minerals for grain.” William thought carefully, dredging up gossip he’d heard from comrades during drunken boasts, “They say they’ve lived here since long before mineral trade began.”

“We need a local guide.”

“Easy. Hegang will have one.” The plan was set: find a guide and systematically survey every settlement within the circle along the grain-supply route.

Just before departure, William noticed Kraft’s sword and suddenly remembered something. Considering Kraft’s medical role, he turned to the attendant standing nearby, Kup, “Forgive me for asking—how well does your bodyguard perform his actual duties?”

“Hmm, decent enough?” Kraft glanced uncertainly at Kup, who was caressing the polished metal surface of his mace—he’d only recently bought it. Since Kup’s technique was still lacking, Kraft chose a weapon relying on brute force for decent impact—barely adequate as combat capability.

“Good.” William grew serious, addressing Kraft and Yin Feng, “I’ve also heard that some… unconventional methods might be needed inside. I say ‘might’—and when the time comes, you might be on your own.”

“I can take care of myself.” He still had confidence in his abilities, believing himself above average.

“Let’s review the map one last time before we go. Kup, stop fiddling with your mace. And Yin Feng—come here. This is our starting point.” Over the past weeks, Kraft had taught him basic characters and simple vocabulary; since place names in this era required no advanced terms, it was a perfect chance to test his teaching.

Unprepared and caught off guard, Yin Feng froze—his mind a muddy lake. Two simple words on the map looked familiar, yet he couldn’t recall their pronunciation.

“Uh…” Kup released his precious mace and leaned in. Kraft doubted he’d ever want to use it to smash someone’s skull—and as for vocabulary, he had no expectations at all.

Just as Kraft prepared to admit defeat, the rough man stammered, then forced out a pronunciation.

“Gravel… Town?”