Surrendering was not the end. How to surrender with a bit of dignity was a difficult task.
And what was even more unsettling was that surrendering did not guarantee acceptance—that Slime Demon King held the weapon. He could cut as deep as he wanted, pour as much salt on the wound as he pleased.
The real challenge was still ahead.
They needed an envoy who could fight for their interests as much as possible.
Nolan sat in his seat, his gaze sweeping over the councilors gathered together whispering, then he turned his head slightly to look at Samuel.
"Master Samuel, who do you think they will send to negotiate?"
Samuel: "Definitely not me. I'm an outsider."
Nolan looked at him and shook his head.
"No, it is you."
"Lord Nolan, do you think... the Slime Kingdom will accept the Merchant Alliance?" someone asked.
He said, "I don't know, but I know who can help you negotiate the best possible outcome."
"Master Samuel, come here."
The councilors' gazes followed his pointing finger and landed on Samuel.
Samuel was still sitting there. He sighed.
Clearly, Nolan was intentionally or unintentionally elevating his ally's status within the Merchant Alliance, treating him as one of their own.
But this was precisely what he sought.
He adjusted the collar of his robe, stood up, walked from the end of the seating area, passed through the gazes of the councilors, and arrived at the open space in the center of the tiered seats.
He stood there, looking around.
At this moment, the eyes of all the councilors were focused on him. These gazes held surprise, indifference, contemplation... but regardless, they all needed an envoy who could communicate with the Demon King.
No one noticed Simon.
He stood up, but everyone in the council hall was looking at Samuel. No one paid him any mind, not even when he prepared to leave.
As he walked out the main door, the cold wind from the corridor rushed in, blowing against his face, making his cloak flap and snap loudly.
He stood on the steps, taking a deep breath.
The sea wind carried a salty, fishy dampness, blowing from the direction of the harbor, brushing past his cheeks.
He closed his eyes, letting the wind linger on his face for a moment, then opened them and descended the steps.
"Mr. Simon."
A voice came from behind him. He didn't turn around, just slowed his pace.
A middle-aged councilor chased out from the council hall. His face was red from the cold, his breathing was rapid, and he held a piece of parchment in his hand. He ran up to Simon and walked alongside him.
"Mr. Simon, what will you do now?"
Simon didn't speak. He walked to the carriage, reached out, and pulled open the door.
"Get in," he said.
The middle-aged councilor hesitated for a moment, then ducked into the carriage compartment. Simon followed him in and closed the door.
The compartment was dark. Only a sliver of light seeped through the gap in the curtains, illuminating the wooden armrest between the seats, casting a small patch of shiny brown.
The carriage began to move. The horses' hooves clopped crisply on the stone floor, echoing through the streets.
Only after the carriage had passed two streets and turned into a narrower alley did he speak. "Go back and tell that merchant from Golden Radiance Valley that we want those few Casaric coins."
The middle-aged councilor's body stiffened.
"Mr. Simon," his voice tightened slightly. "Those are demon-forged soul coins."
Simon looked up at him.
The light inside the compartment was dim, making his expression hard to see, but one could see the indifferent light in his eyes.
"I know."
The middle-aged councilor's Adam's apple bobbed.
He wanted to say something, but the words were stuck in his throat, unable to come out.
He certainly knew the purpose of Casaric coins.
They were currency forged by demons using souls, circulating in Golden Radiance Valley, rarely seen here.
Besides their inherent magical value, they had an even more dangerous use—using them as a medium, one could open a fissure leading to the Abyss and summon demons.
Their leader was insane, actually thinking of luring demons to the Merchant Alliance.
Simon looked at him as if seeing through his thoughts.
"Do you still consider yourself part of the Merchant Alliance now?"
The middle-aged councilor was stunned.
Simon said calmly, "We voted in favor. Even if Nolan and those Demon King lackeys don't settle accounts with us, that Slime Demon King won't let us off either."
"All we have left is to leave the Merchant Alliance and head to the Coral City-States. But before that, we need to acquire enough gold, silver, and treasures."
"These things must follow us onto the ship, away from here, allowing us to squander them for a lifetime in the Coral City-States, or to establish a maritime kingdom."
His gaze fell on the middle-aged councilor's face and paused for a moment.
"Minister Marlow, what do you think?"
The middle-aged councilor didn't speak. His expression was unclear in the darkness, but his breathing changed, becoming heavier, more urgent.
After a moment, he slightly bowed, placed his arm across his chest, and saluted respectfully.
"Your Majesty, when shall we begin the operation?"
A pleased curve appeared at the corner of Simon's mouth. He patted the man's shoulder.
"Very good, Minister Marlow."
"Tonight. While those magical creatures haven't arrived yet, we still have a chance."
Marlow nodded.
"Yes."
...
Back in the council hall, Samuel stood in the center, surrounded by councilors.
These nobles and merchants, usually aloof and superior, now resembled a group of starving beggars, scrambling to crowd in front of him, uttering all sorts of things.
Some wanted him to protect their mines during negotiations. Some wanted him to put in a good word for them before the Slime Demon King. Some simply shoved a paper filled with numbers into his hand, saying that if he could make the Slime Kingdom leave their merchant caravans alone, the amount on this paper was his.
Samuel folded the paper neatly, tucked it into his robe pocket, his expression unchanged.
"Gentlemen, negotiation is not a dinner party. What I can do is try my best. As for the outcome, that is not something I can decide."
Samuel selected several councilors to join the envoy delegation, to accompany him to the Slime Kingdom's front lines for negotiations.
Right now. Depart immediately.
They could no longer bear the cost of further delay.
If they waited until the Demon King's Army reached Misty Bay Harbor to start negotiating, by then, they would have no bargaining chips left.
Under the farewells of Nolan and the councilors, Samuel walked to the door of the council hall. He took two steps, then stopped, turned back, his lips moving.
"Be careful of Simon."
Nolan looked thoughtful and nodded.
He stood in place, watching Samuel's back disappear through the doorway, then turned around to look at the councilors still whispering in the hall.
"Someone," he said.
A young messenger ran in from the corridor and stood at attention.
"Notify the harbor patrol to increase vigilance tonight. Send people to watch the Caldwell family estate and the Storm Fleet's docks. Report any abnormalities immediately."
The messenger nodded and ran out.
Only then did Nolan walk out of the council hall, stand on the steps, lift his head, and look towards the distant harbor.
Forests of sails rose and fell in the shimmering waves, swaying amidst broken gold. Hundreds of masts were like a birch grove in winter stripped of leaves, densely packed together.
Among them were the ships of the Storm Fleet.
They were docked right at the harbor.
"It seems tonight is destined to be a sleepless night," Nolan murmured, then descended the steps and disappeared into the darkness.
Winter nights come early and leave late.
The sun sank below the sea horizon at four in the afternoon, leaving its last sliver of afterglow for the western sky.
That band of light was narrow, as if someone had painted a stroke along the horizon with a brush dipped in orange paint, then blurred it with water.
In less than half an hour, that orange was swallowed by black. The entire sky was left with only a few of the brightest stars, flickering weakly through gaps in the clouds.
The night temperature dropped quickly.
Some snow had melted during the day, but by night, that snow water had frozen into ice again. Stepping on it produced a fine, crisp cracking sound, like stepping on a layer of glass.
Nolan stood on the terrace at the top of the mage tower, both hands resting on the railing, looking at the distant harbor.
This tower belonged to Samuel, but Samuel wasn't here, having left the key with him.
The tower wasn't very tall, only eleven stories, but in the Misty Bay Harbor area, it was already the highest point.
Looking out from here, with the aid of magic, the warehouse roofs, street layouts, street lamps in the square, and the two large pine trees trimmed into spheres in front of the Caldwell family estate's gate... half of the harbor district was visible.
The Caldwell family estate was situated on a small hill north of the harbor district. It was a manor of considerable size, with over a dozen stone buildings of varying heights.
At this moment, lights were still on in those windows.
The lights were yellow, warm, looking like pieces of amber embedded in the walls amidst the winter night's chill.
He could see people moving behind the windows, shadows swaying on the curtains like puppets behind a stage curtain.
But the Caldwell family estate was quite calm tonight. Only occasionally did a councilor arrive by carriage for a visit, conversing with them inside the house.
"Lord Nolan, there's news."
A voice came from behind. Nolan didn't turn around.
"Speak."
"The people sent to contact the Caldwell family have returned. Their conversation went smoothly. The Caldwell family expressed willingness to hand over control of the Storm Fleet and support all decisions of the Merchant Alliance."
"The family head also said they understand the council's current predicament and are willing to cooperate with any decisions beneficial to the Merchant Alliance."
Nolan looked thoughtful.
"And?"
"The Caldwell family's attitude was very good. They even invited our people for a cup of coffee. They said they are not people who fail to recognize the current situation."
Nolan gave a slight nod.
"Understood. Continue watching."
"Yes."
The footsteps faded away.
Nolan stood on the terrace, watching for a long time.
Perhaps because the night was deep, the lights in the Caldwell family estate began to go out one by one.
By midnight, the entire estate had only the porch light above the gate still lit, its dim yellow glow illuminating the steps in front of the door and the two pine trees trimmed into spheres.
Everything seemed normal.
Nolan's vigilance relaxed slightly. He exhaled a puff of white breath. The white breath dispersed in the wind, turning into a few thin wisps drifting towards the distant harbor.
His gaze followed the drifting white breath, then suddenly stopped.
In the direction of the harbor, something was moving.
They seemed to emerge from the shadows of the warehouses, moving silently in the darkness.
Nolan narrowed his eyes, staring in that direction.
He saw figures, one after another, walking out from the shadows of the warehouses, lifting crates, hoisting them onto their shoulders, and carrying them to the barges by the docks.
People were active in the harbor warehouses this late?
Nolan instantly realized something.
Just then, an owl messenger flew through the night, landing on the bird perch beside him, letting out a soft hoot.
He took the letter from the owl's ankle and opened it. Inside was only one line of hastily scrawled writing.
"Demonic traces detected underground in Misty Bay Harbor's West District. It seems someone opened an Abyss fissure through a ritual."
Misty Bay Harbor's West District was on the other side of the city, blocked by a small hill, making it impossible to see the situation there from his position.
But soon, flames and thick smoke rose from the other side of the hill.
Damn it!
He never imagined Simon would be so decisive and ruthless, actually summoning demons to create chaos. He wanted to destroy this city.
But trouble wasn't limited to the West District.
A loud boom came from the distance, as if something heavy had collapsed.
Then a second, a third, a fourth... the sounds came from different directions—some in the estate district, some to the north, some in the direction of the harbor.
Flames erupted from underground, burning through the stone-paved roads. The firelight dyed half the sky red, making the clouds look like a piece of red-hot iron.
Shouts and cries rose from the streets. These sounds traveled from afar, then turned into a blurry cacophony in his ears.
A thought flashed through Nolan's mind.
Not one fissure.
The Caldwell family didn't open just one Abyss fissure, but several.
They weren't just trying to escape; they were using the demons' claws to cover their own tracks.
Nolan didn't hesitate. He leaped directly from the high tower, using a flagpole to break his fall, landing easily on the street.
As he walked towards the stables, a thick smell of blood and burning poured over him with the wind. A demon happened to fly right over his head.
The thing wasn't large, about the height of a person. Its wings were bat-like membranes, its skin a dark red, glistening with an oily sheen in the firelight.
It swept over the tower, its wingbeats stirring up a foul-smelling wind, then dove down, pouncing towards the people fleeing on the street.
Nolan's right hand swept across his waist. The longbow was already in his grasp.
Raise bow, nock arrow, draw string, aim, release.
The entire process took less than a second.
When the arrow shot from the bowstring, it emitted a sharp shriek, like something tearing a hole through the air.
The demon let out a shrill scream, its wings twitching twice before it plummeted from the sky, smashing onto an overturned carriage, shattering the carriage boards to splinters.
Nolan didn't look a second time.
He turned around, untied the gray horse's reins, mounted it in one fluid motion, gave it a squeeze with his legs. The horse whinnied and charged out of the stables.
The horse's hooves beat a rapid *clip-clop* on the stone pavement. Nolan leaned forward over the horse's back, the longbow held horizontally before him, his gaze sweeping over both sides of the street.
The streets were already in chaos.
Some were running, some shouting, some crying, some crouching in corners trembling.
A tavern window was shattered. Several drunks crawled out, faces covered in blood, staggering as they ran towards an alley.
An old man knelt in the middle of the road, hands clasped together, muttering something, eyes closed, tears streaming down his wrinkled face.
A woman crouched in a doorway, holding a child whose cries were sharp and piercing.
Nolan rushed past them, casually clearing the demons from the street as he went.
But more demons appeared.
They swarmed over from the square like a flock of disturbed bats, carrying a strong smell of sulfur.
Nolan drew his bow to full draw.
When his fingers released the bowstring, the vibrating string produced a sound.
It sounded like someone had plucked hundreds of harp strings in an instant, all the notes overlapping into a sharp hum.
Hundreds of light arrows shot from the bowstring, scattering in mid-air like dandelion seeds blown by the wind, tracing countless arcs across the night sky before falling, landing on those demons.
A demon tearing at a door was simultaneously pierced through the head by three light arrows. Its body stiffened, then collapsed.
A demon crouched on a rooftop was hit in the wing by a light arrow. It shrieked as it tumbled off the roof, smashing onto the stone pavement.
The demons flooding into the street were almost all dead.
Nolan didn't stop to look.
He rode his horse past the demon corpses, hooves splashing through puddles of dark red blood.
His gaze traveled over the street, over the rooftops, over the burning flames, and landed on the Abyss fissure in the square.
That fissure hung suspended in mid-air, about two meters off the ground, like a torn wound, emitting a dark purple light.
Nolan raised his bow, nocking an arrow.
The arrowhead was forged from adamantine. The arrow shaft was engraved with circle upon circle of runes.
He drew the bow to full draw, aiming at the center of the fissure.
Fingers released.
The arrow made no shriek as it flew. It was like a shadow compressed to its limit, springing from the bowstring, passing through the burning air, through the rolling smoke, through the demons flying in the air, heading straight for the fissure.
The moment the arrow struck the center of the fissure, an explosion sounded. That purple light flared brightly.
Blindingly bright.
Nolan closed his eyes.
When he opened them again, the fissure had disappeared.
He turned his horse and charged towards the direction of the harbor.
He had a premonition. The Caldwell family people and Simon would surely be waiting for him there.