"Clink." A golden crown landed on the large round table covered with a tablecloth. The front of the coin featured the national flower of Bretonnia, the fleur-de-lis, while the back displayed a portrait of the first Knight King, Arthur, along with his birth and death dates.
"I must admit, Lord Ryan, you really have no knack for this game," remarked Oliver, an oily-faced, sharp-eyed merchant, sitting across from Ryan. The table was adorned with red wine and a stack of golden crowns. "Just as you said."
"...Yes, you're right, Oliver. I have no talent for this game," Ryan conceded with a hint of envy, glancing at Oliver's "tower" of nine golden crowns. He then chuckled and surrendered. "Alright, I give up."
With that, the tower of crowns collapsed.
Although Ryan maintained a smile, Oliver could sense a slight annoyance in him for losing. The renowned merchant wisely shifted the conversation. "King Belegar's trading post is under construction, my count. Our guild has secured the best spots in the post, and Duke Hagen has granted us free trade and unified tariffs. It appears that the Duchy of Gisoleaux has also joined our alliance."
"Excellent." Ryan nodded, his gaze downcast in thought. Oliver smartly paused, recognizing the immense influence the man before him held, not just in this country but across the Old World.
When his caravan reached Middenland for trade, both the Elector Count Boris Todbringer and the White Wolf High Priest Emil Wagel personally met with him. Oliver was not foolish enough to believe that his status as a prominent merchant alone warranted an audience with these two powerful figures in the Empire.
Unless one was a distinguished High Elf guest or a dwarven ambassador from the High King, a merchant could only expect to meet the captain of the White Wolf Knights at most.
Indeed, they even shared a meal. Though not to Oliver's taste, after that dinner, he encountered no further obstacles from the rigid nobles of Middenland.
After a long moment of contemplation, Ryan looked up, his eyes intensely focused on Oliver, who patiently awaited his response. "Dear Oliver, doesn't it bother you that we had to cede significant shares of our trading post to Duke Hagen's underlings who know nothing about trade, and share the profits?"
"Eating alone is never a good strategy, my count," Oliver replied understandingly. "I believe you know better than I do that it's best to share the wealth and the risks. When trouble arises, those who've shared in the profits will naturally lend a hand. That's how an invisible alliance is formed."
"Moreover, both Duke Hagen and Duke Furcald will owe us favors." Ryan stood up, gesturing for Oliver to join him outside. "Fancy a walk, Oliver?"
"Of course, whenever you wish," Oliver responded with a compliant smile.
Ryan was a man who valued old ties. Since their early collaboration, Oliver had invested wholeheartedly in maintaining their relationship. His rise to become one of the most successful merchants in the Old World was no accident.
"Ah, Mr. Oliver, you're here? Welcome." As the two men exited the room, they were greeted by a striking figure. She was drying her wet golden curls with a towel. Her deep blue tight leggings highlighted her long, slender legs. The high-collared knight attire, gold tassels, and black leather boots exuded a bold charisma. Her swan-like neck boasted flawless, delicate skin.
"Oh! Lady Sulia," Oliver greeted her with noticeable reverence, quickly bowing. "You look lovely today."
In this county, it was well-known that Lady Sulia was even more formidable than her husband, Ryan. Tales abounded of her dealing with adversaries efficiently and gracefully. With Ryan often away on campaigns, Sulia managed most internal affairs, excelling in her role. All she lacked now was an heir.
"Thank you, Oliver. Thank you... Ryan, are you heading out?" Sulia, having just finished her daily riding and sword practice, had bathed and changed into fresh clothes. She was curious about Ryan and Oliver's plans. "Where to on such a cold day?"
"Oliver and I have some business to discuss. Sulia, why don't you join us?" Ryan smiled, taking his wife's hand. "We could go on a picnic with Oliver's family."
"A picnic sounds lovely, but where would we go?" Sulia asked softly. "We wouldn't want Oliver and his family waiting in the cold while we hunt, would we?"
"Of course not," Ryan replied, a mischievous smile spreading across his face. "I have an idea. Let's visit my brother's place and see what's good to eat."
"Whatever you say, my husband."
Thirty minutes later, at Redfish Village, Angron's home.
"Wow, my brother has too many fish. We should take some to eat," Ryan suggested, scooping several fish with a net.
"And he has too many vegetables. They'd go bad if we don't pick them. Let's gather some to eat," Ryan said, filling a large bag with greens.
"His piglets are growing well. How about we take one for a roast suckling pig?"
"Look at these beautiful radishes!"
"Since we're here, let's take a few more."
"Woof, woof, woof!" Angron's two border collies recognized Ryan and Sulia, barking happily and rubbing against Ryan's legs.
Using ingredients from Angron's place, they prepared a sumptuous lunch.
Oliver's wife, a pretty woman in her thirties, was his second spouse. Despite her well-maintained appearance, she was no match for Sulia. She felt honored to be part of such a private gathering. Merchants' wives usually ranked low compared to noblewomen, and facing Sulia, she seemed more like a housemaid, nodding and smiling humbly.
But this would give her years of bragging rights in her social circles. Ryan thought, sometimes it was just like that. The allure of the elite circles represented by women like Sulia drew many women, even if only a few could ever change their fate.
"Sulia, how are things on your end?" Ryan casually asked, holding a glass of orange juice during their picnic.
Medieval marriages differed significantly from many ancient Chinese marriages Ryan had learned about in his previous life.
His marriage to Sulia was solely between them. Even after marrying, Ryan remained a count, and Sulia a marchioness. Their titles were independent, with separate finances. Sulia held estates of two villages in the Duchy of Winford, with complete control over their finances and governance. Ryan had no say in those matters, despite being her marquess husband. Sulia also had a dowry of over 20,000 golden crowns, entirely hers to manage.
Similarly, Sulia had no authority over Ryan's affairs unless he wished otherwise.
Their titles could not be merged in their lifetime but could be united by their future child who would inherit both.
Oliver mused that this was why the marriages of ducal daughters often ended unhappily. Marrying a ducal daughter meant she wielded significant financial and autonomous power, backed by her family. Small marital conflicts could quickly escalate into major disputes, potentially leading to family wars. Ducal daughters rarely feared their husbands, often putting their spouses in a submissive position.
However, this dynamic did not seem to apply to Ryan and Sulia. They were the epitome of a model couple. Ryan maintained his dominant role while delegating the management of his lands to Sulia, bolstering her authority. Sulia, in turn, respected Ryan's directives and only offered mild counterpoints in minor matters. Their playful interactions kept their bond strong and intimate.
Ryan's approach of holding power but choosing to delegate it to his wife was something Oliver admired. He knew that if he tried to mimic this, his wife would bankrupt their guild within two years.
After lunch, feeling they were in private, Oliver spoke quietly, "But my lord, you know, establishing the trading post has certainly upset others."
"Yes, it has," Ryan replied softly, holding a wine glass. "Duke Furcald of Montfort is likely very unhappy about this..."
"But he can't make a fuss because you saved his life," Sulia said, her deep blue eyes filled with wisdom. "That puts him in a difficult position, but it's good news for us."
"Therefore, we should include Duke Furcald in the trading post venture," Ryan suggested, swirling his glass of red wine, the crimson liquid reflecting his face. "As you said, we must learn to share—share the profits and the risks."
"But Duke Hagen..." Oliver remained concerned.
"Leave that to you, Oliver. If necessary, involve the dwarves. Their stubbornness is sure to be a headache for everyone," Ryan whispered. "After all, the dwarves are the main suppliers and staunchest trading partners of the post. Their demands should be met. Don't worry too much about Duke Hagen; he's not interested in these matters. Just bring everyone to the negotiation table and make them understand that without a reasonable agreement, the trading post won't operate. Sulia and I will support you."
"Understood." Oliver felt reassured by Ryan's guidance. He then joked, "It's a pity Hadrian couldn't join this big deal."
Oliver and Hadrian were both Ryan's trusted merchants, allies and rivals, always competing for more shares while cooperating externally.
"Hadrian has other important tasks to complete," Ryan replied, shaking his head. "Did you see the gold and jewels landing at Bordeleaux?"
"Astronomical, my count," Oliver nodded.
"Find a way to slowly sell them off and exchange them for what we need," Ryan said, pulling out a piece of parchment emitting a golden holy light. "If all goes well, this will be yours."
"What is this?" Oliver asked, glancing at the parchment's title.
"A Roving Trader Trade Permit."
The signature at the bottom was gilded, with a brilliant light that seemed to swallow everything in its path flowing through the words.
"The Emperor of Mankind."
...
Meanwhile, in Fugen's tent, the Emperor watched with great interest the ancient prophetic slabs Fugen had collected. Using psychic powers, the Master of Mankind appeared to decipher something from them.
Fugen tried to read something from his revered father's face, but the Emperor's expression remained cold. Only the contents of the slabs reflected in his black eyes seemed to capture his interest.
The Emperor acknowledged Fugen's achievements, particularly the alliance with the lizardmen. To the Emperor, this cooperation with the ancient enemies of Chaos was a practical necessity.
Indeed, similar to how Guilliman allied with the Eldar Reaper Avatar and Sanguinius with the Silent King.
In Fugen's memory, only the one who broke open a Webway gate under the palace while shouting "The Magic Pony Did Nothing Wrong" and "Friendship Is Magic" truly angered the Emperor.
"Business is business," Fugen repeated the Emperor's words uncertainly. "Is it still necessary to continue our cooperation with the servants of the Old Ones?"
"Absolutely. From certain perspectives, countless Slann Mage-Priests have used their lives and wills to seal themselves in obelisks, sustaining the Great Vortex and preventing a Daemonic invasion," the Emperor replied with a frown, examining the slabs Fugen had gathered. "Much of the content on these slabs has already come to pass, while other prophecies remain unclear. But we can glean that the Old Ones had grander designs for this planet, of which we are still ignorant."
"The power of the Old Ones' servants is immense..." Fugen recalled the sheer force of Mazdamundi, who could shake the world with a mere gesture. He hesitated. "I don't know where they come from, but their technology far surpasses ours."
"Indeed, far surpassing ours. Even now, your offspring's incubation still relies on my technology, which is itself derived from the Old Ones' remnants," the Emperor said coolly. "There are incubation pools left by the Old Ones here. I can purify them and use your gene..."
"Father! You mean?!" Fugen's jaw dropped in surprise.
The Emperor shook his head. "But first, let us meet the faithful servants of the Old Ones."
With that, the Emperor used his psychic powers to teleport himself and Fugen.
New World, Lustria, City of the Sun.
Amid the protection of several lizardmen legions, the Slann Mage-Priest Lord Mazdamundi noticed the two figures appearing before the Pyramid of the Sun God.
The Slann's voice trembled.
"Commence... the Great Plan."
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