On the highest point of Misty Bay Harbor, atop the mage tower, Archmage Samuel Emerson slowly set down his staff, and the faint golden Hawk Eye magic glow in his eyes dimmed along with it.
The Merchant Alliance was far from ignorant about the skirmish that had occurred in Coral Lane. On the contrary, in a city that lived and breathed commerce and intelligence, countless eyes were watching that area through every possible channel.
He did not bother to question why these visitors from the Slime Kingdom had arrived without prior notice, because it would be pointless.
These adventurers from a distant land were backed by a vast and mysterious monster kingdom, and they had already displayed hidden powers.
Offending these slimes would not necessarily win the Council’s support, but it would certainly bring trouble on his own head.
Because of historical reasons tied to the Dawn Alliance, the relationship between the Misty Bay Harbor Merchant Alliance and the mage community had always been delicate. He had only been able to erect this tall mage tower in a trading port city that resented mages and to secure a relatively independent status by virtue of his outstanding magical talent and by striking certain agreements and exchanges with the three major merchant houses back then.
But even as an archmage, compared to those entrenched merchants and hereditary nobles, he remained an outsider who could never truly integrate into the inner circle.
Perhaps, one day in the future, he would return to the Holy Silver Kingdom—the most prosperous southern magic realm—with accumulated wealth and research achievements. But not now.
Mages in the south did enjoy high status, that much was true, but that applied to the old-school Dawn mages. New-generation mages like him could hardly wrest a piece of influence from those old hands.
Although he felt no sense of belonging to this money-stinking city, he had reasons he could not leave, and he had reasons to remain silent about the Slime adventurers’ actions.
Samuel waved his hand and instructed the young mage who was copying a magical report at the side: “Child, deliver this report to the Council Secretariat, then keep silent in today’s Council galleries. Remember, this is Visaji land; they will not give any unnecessary tolerance or trust to us outsiders.”
“Yes, Master.”
The mage went to the watch platform’s desk, carefully rolled up the report the magical quill had automatically written, tied it with a ribbon, slipped it into the lining of his roomy mage robe, and then left the room.
Samuel paid no attention to his departure. His gaze remained fixed on the view before him.
The harbor’s weather was unusually fine today. Winter sunlight broke free from the usual gloom, becoming bright and generous, scattering glittering shards of gold and white across the distant blue sea.
Merchant ships with colorful sails were slowly entering the port like busy worker ants moving in and out of the dock district. Gulls circled above the red-tiled, gray-walled harbor streets, crying out in clear voices.
He watched the light rising from Coral Lane dissipate completely; only a few wisps of black smoke still curled upward, soon blown away by the sea wind.
The skirmish was over.
“Dragon Slime… perhaps that distant Slime realm is worth visiting. I hope their majesty is as amiable as the rumors say, at least keeping a friendly face to outsiders.”
As for the New Xirik Society… to be honest, Samuel had only recently heard that name occasionally from Council nobles or merchant guests.
They appeared initially as generous investors, even once discreetly conveying the society’s “goodwill” through intermediaries, boasting their willingness to donate a substantial sum for my mage tower’s restoration.
I agreed.
Others might be dazzled by the glittering coins and seemingly benevolent doctrines, but I kept my distance. Those merchant fanatics worshipping the “White Sun” had no simple relationship with the northern White Horse Kingdom, and they might even be connected to those creatures emerging from the Shadow Mountains.
Thinking of the demonic armies laying waste in the White Horse Kingdom, it was hard for me to equate those fanatics with demons.
Shadow walkers, by the nature of their power, tend toward chaos and evil, collaborating with demons to seize power and overturn order… that sort of thing is practically the “standard operating procedure” for them.
We have not yet toppled an ancient kingdom; perhaps Misty Bay Harbor is not next.
Even if the sudden rise of the New Xirik Society will come slowly, those merchants and nobles are far too greedy—so greedy they would harm Xirik’s interests for profit.
Today, one Visaji foothold was uprooted; tomorrow, more footholds would sprout like fungal growth outside laboratories—touch a drop of magical solvent and they burst forth.
Samuel shook his head.
The Visaji homeland was a joke. These merchants had no loyalty to the Merchant Alliance; they only cared about profit, not honor.
Soon, when a real crisis arrives, they will revert to being itinerant traders as their ancestors were in the history books, homeless and wandering.
Maybe I should sooner find an escape route for myself and for the apprentices and assistants who follow me in this tower.
He turned and summoned another apprentice, younger and tidier, who was arranging star charts not far away.
“Ryan.” Samuel patted the thin shoulder of the young apprentice, his tone a touch softer than usual. “Tomorrow the mage tower will organize a small caravan under the pretext of procuring specific magical materials and depart the Alliance. Captain Novv will be responsible for escort and guidance.”
Ryan looked up, puzzled. Procuring materials usually didn’t require special notice to him.
Samuel continued, “I need you to go with the caravan.”
“To record the real situation there as thoroughly as possible—the roads, security, settlements… I want to know exactly what has changed. Also, I need you to gauge the Slime Kingdom’s wealth, how they treat outsiders, and whether cooperation is possible.”
Ryan was stunned for a moment, then quickly understood his mentor’s intention. He nodded: “Yes, Master. I promise I will not disclose our movements and purpose to those Visaji merchants.”
Samuel expressed relief: “Good. Prepare well, bring necessary recording tools and protective gear. Remember: observe first, safety foremost.”
“We won’t be returning to the Dawn lands so soon—at least not until we achieve real results. We will not go back there to endure their arrogance and exclusion.”
“Before that, we must find a stable place to settle.”
“Of course,” he added with a slight smile, “provided the people there respect knowledge.”
Ryan curiously asked, “Master, should we focus on investigating the local academy or magical education situation?”
In his naive thinking, places that respected knowledge must surely have developed academy systems.
Samuel let out an amused cough: “Child, there are many ways to respect knowledge. Building grand libraries or offering uninterrupted environments and abundant experimental resources to mages counts, but what we need most is sufficient and stable funding.”
Ryan realized with a blush.
Before joining the mage tower, he had thought magic was sacred and noble, a realm for the most sanctified souls to touch.
Later he learned that arcana required money too. It needed merchants who understood and valued magic to provide support.
Although he had never attended the nobles’ and merchants’ balls—his master forbade it—he knew that reality did not always indulge one’s fantasies.
Even the most imaginative constructs needed material foundations. To build a powerful magical construct, every etched rune, every embedded mana crystal, every rare metal smelted cost massive amounts of gold coins.
Even the most common joint part on the small practice automaton he often disassembled and reassembled could cost a sum that would sustain an ordinary family for months.
“Yes, Master. I will personally go to investigate the local… slimes.”
Reports about the Coral Lane incident gathered like snowflakes, slowly but steadily converging in every corner of the city and then being compiled into documents and delivered to the Council.
Soon, a new round of heated, quiet debate erupted outside the Council chamber. Members of the same factions spoke in increasingly hushed tones, each trying to drown out the other.
Some councilors waved their reports, attempting to analyze the Dragon Slime from a taxonomic or magical perspective, arguing that these New Xirik creatures were not a new species.
What they faced was not slimes but dragons disguised as slimes. Perhaps the so-called Slime Kingdom was a dragon’s nesting realm in the mountains.
From this they concluded that relations with the Slime Kingdom needed to be reevaluated and that offending them would be unwise.
His words drew low murmurings of agreement from some councilors, worry appearing on their faces.
However, councilor Thoth rose and violently snapped: “Preposterous! This is a distraction. What we should be discussing is the illegal actions of those Slime adventurers!”
“Entering without notification and launching military force in Misty Bay Harbor’s urban area, without authorization—this far exceeds the scope of an adventurer commission. This is an uncontrolled foreign military action within our Alliance!”
His finger nearly jabbed at an opposing councilor’s nose: “For this alone, every councilor who foolishly agreed to let the Slime adventurers land should be impeached!”
“Opening the border was easy. Trying to close it again and expel those monsters from the Alliance will be impossible!”
“Even after the Blackwater Guild incident, these foreign monster adventurers can still claim noble-sounding reasons like ‘cooperating with local guilds’ or ‘promoting cultural trade’ to continue acting freely within the Alliance.”
“Imagine the catastrophic consequences if these uncontrollable creatures make trouble in the city. At the very least, the citizens of Misty Bay Harbor would never accept these freaks.”
“And the Council will need to spend a large sum to track and monitor these outsiders—who will pay for that?”
“Thoth, don’t get so worked up.”
A merchant calmly responded: “Handling the Slime adventurers is secondary. Perhaps you should explain how the legally registered New Xirik Society you praise is implicated in the Blackwater Guild’s downfall, caravan kidnappings, establishing an illicit base in Coral Lane, and summoning the undead.”
An assistant slapped a document down on the table with a crisp sound.
The merchant paused briefly and continued: “Under the New Xirik Society’s support you obtained large sums to renovate your mansion and even for auction operations in the merchant routes. May I interpret that as you being bribed by those devotees and now shifting the topic?”
“What we should do is expel those cultists, not quake like frightened quails at a bunch of slimes.”
“Seems your wet little backyard pets are scaring you senseless.”
“Slander! This is outright slander against me!” Councilor Thoth stood up in a fury.
“Victor Caldwell, your Caldwell family resorts to such vile forgeries just to seize control of southern trade routes?”
“I demand a fair authentication of this so-called ‘investigative file.’ This is naked political persecution!”
“Also, I reiterate: the New Xirik Society is a legally registered religious organization. Their doctrine promotes light and renewal; they are not a cult. The Coral Lane incident is a frame-up intended to destabilize the Merchant Alliance.”
The two sides argued endlessly, each sticking to their words; rhetoric grew sharp and full of gunpowder.
But what made the Caldwell faction’s councilors sink inward was that many in the hall supported Thoth’s remarks, defending the New Xirik Society or shifting focus; it was not a small number.
Clearly more than just Thoth had accepted New Xirik Society funding.
In the end, the three major merchant house heads stepped in to mediate, shelving the dispute so matters could be set aside.
The illegal actions of the Slime adventurers were no longer pressed, and the debate over whether the New Xirik Society was a cult was papered over.
Yet everyone with eyes could see that the contradiction had not been resolved, only buried. This had undeniably torn a deeper rift in the already loose Merchant Alliance Council.
Simon’s face went ashen; he and his supporters left the chamber in anger, their demands clearly unmet, disappointment written on their faces.
Thoth’s faction sighed in relief; some even discreetly wiped cold sweat from their brows, showing expressions of released tension.
Although on the surface neither side got everything they wanted, for them an unresolved outcome was the best outcome.
At least the New Xirik Society had not been branded a cult on the spot, so their incoming gold would not immediately become a political stain, and their reputations were temporarily preserved.
Thoth’s faction also understood the stance of the three major merchant house leaders—evidently those houses had also accepted funding from the New Xirik Society.
Getting their money back was impossible; this matter had to be glossed over.
When the meeting ended, councilors left the hall in groups, whispering and wearing varied expressions.
Thoth sat back in his luxurious carriage. The cabin was lined with thick velvet and scented with rich incense, but the comfortable surroundings did little to ease his anxiety.
Only when the carriage wheels rolled and carried him away from the Merchant Alliance building did he slump against the soft seat and, with trembling hands, take from his inner pocket a holy emblem without a jaw clasp.
He gripped the holy emblem tightly in his palm, closed his eyes, lips moving as he whispered a rapid, anxious, uneasy prayer, as if reporting the current situation to some presence and pleading for guidance.
As he prayed, the dim light inside the carriage seemed to grow murkier. A shadow, barely perceptible to the naked eye, crept out from the corner of the cabin and quietly extended. His voice was swallowed completely.
Seconds later, the shadow receded as if nothing had happened.
The holy emblem in Thoth’s hand, having fulfilled its purpose, developed fine cracks across its surface, then silently crumbled into a fine black sand that slipped through his fingers and disappeared into the thick pile of the carriage carpet.
Thoth opened his eyes and stared at his empty palm; the panic on his face eased a little, replaced by a complicated expression.