Day 125.
The warehouse was full.
10,000 bars of "Aurora" Soap.
500 bottles of "White Wolf" Rum.
Bolts of Cotton cloth.
But Rian was frowning.
"Lara," he tapped the table. "If I send a caravan south, the local barons will tax it to death. If I sell it myself, the Imperial Tax Office will audit me. I have the goods, but I lack the Pipeline."
"We need a partner," Lara suggested. "Someone untouchable."
Ding!
[Ding! Daily Intelligence Report - Day 125]
[1. Event Alert: Assassination Attempt]
Target: Lady Isabella Vermillion (Heir to the Vermillion Trade Consortium).
Location: "Dead Man's Gorge" (12 miles South).
Attacker: The "Black Viper" Mercenaries (Hired by a rival trade house).
Status: Her guards are 90% casualties. She will die in 15 minutes.
[2. Hidden Cargo: The Reward]
Item: Lady Isabella is transporting a "Holy Relic" to the Capital.
Analysis: It is not a relic. It is a chunk of Tungsten-Titanium Meteorite.
Use: Extremely high melting point. Essential for High-Pressure Steam Valves and Rifle Barrels.
Rian stood up so fast his chair fell over.
"Tungsten," he whispered. "The metal that doesn't melt."
He didn't care about the Lady. He didn't care about the politics.
He needed that rock.
"Varg! Saddle the Wolves! Lyra! Get the Hawks in the air!"
Rian grabbed his coat.
"We are going hunting."
Dead Man's Gorge
Lady Isabella Vermillion was bleeding.
A cut on her forehead blinded her left eye with blood. She clutched a heavy, velvet-wrapped box to her chest as she ran through the snow.
Behind her, her last knight fell, his throat slit by a man in black leather.
The leader of the Black Vipers, a man with a scarred lip, laughed.
"Run, little Princess! The Vermillion House ends today!"
Isabella tripped. She fell into the snow, the heavy box skidding away.
She scrambled back, but the assassins surrounded her. There were twenty of them.
"Please," Isabella gasped, trying to sound brave. "My father will pay you double..."
"Your father is the one we want to break," the Assassin raised his dagger. "Goodbye, Princess."
Isabella closed her eyes. She waited for the cold steel.
THWACK.
A sound like a whip crack.
The Assassin didn't strike. He choked.
Isabella opened her eyes. A black arrow—fletched with hawk feathers—was protruding from his throat.
"Above!" another assassin screamed.
High in the clouds, shadows circled. The Phantom Wing.
Zip. Zip. Zip.
Arrows rained down with terrifying precision. Three more assassins fell.
Then came the howl.
AWOOOOOOO!
From the ridge, a white blur launched itself.
Varg on his Dire Wolf slammed into the group, his sword flashing.
Kagan, riding a massive black wolf, followed him. The Barbarian swung his World-Breaker Axe, cleaving an assassin and his horse in half.
And then, He landed.
Storm-Wing, the Titan-Hawk, touched down silently behind the assassins.
Rian slid off the bird's back. He wore his black brigandine armor and a fur-lined cloak. He held a simple sword, but his eyes were colder than the ice.
Isabella stared.
He didn't look like a knight. He looked like the King of Winter.
Tall, dark hair blowing in the wind, commanding monsters that should not exist.
"Clear the trash," Rian ordered calmly.
It was a massacre. The "Black Vipers" were elite killers, but they couldn't fight Wolf Cavalry and Air Snipers.
In two minutes, the snow was red. Silence returned to the gorge.
The Negotiation
Rian sheathed his sword. He didn't offer Isabella a hand. He walked past her and picked up the heavy velvet box she had dropped.
"My Lord!" Isabella scrambled up, fixing her torn dress. "Thank you! You saved me! That box... it is a gift for the Emperor!"
Rian weighed the box. It was incredibly heavy for its size.
[Intel Confirmed: High-Grade Tungsten Alloy.]
"Your guards are dead, Lady Isabella," Rian turned to her. His face was impassive. "You cannot transport this alone. And the Black Vipers will send more men."
Isabella looked at Rian. Her heart was pounding.
She had met many nobles—prancing peacocks in silk.
But this man... he radiated absolute power. He had just slaughtered twenty men and looked bored.
He is beautiful, she thought, flushing slightly despite the cold. Dangerous. And strong.
"I... I am in your debt," Isabella curtsied low. "I am Isabella Vermillion. How can I repay the Savior of the North?"
"Business," Rian said.
He tapped the box.
"I keep this rock."
Isabella blinked. "The... the Meteorite? But My Lord, it is just a lump of ugly metal. It is symbolic!"
"I like ugly metal," Rian lied. "It matches my soul."
He handed the box to Varg.
"In exchange for this rock, and for saving your life, I offer you a partnership."
Rian pulled a bar of "Aurora" Soap from his pocket. The scent of vanilla and mint cut through the smell of blood.
He tossed it to her.
"Smell that."
Isabella caught it. She sniffed. Her eyes went wide.
"This... this is the 'Phantom Soap' the Duchess is raving about? The one that replaced Roderick's poison?"
"I make it," Rian said. "And I have 10,000 bars ready to ship."
He stepped closer. Isabella held her breath.
"I am a soldier, Lady Isabella. I do not like politics. I do not like tea parties."
"Your family controls the Trade Routes. You have the ships. You have the shops."
"Here is the deal," Rian outlined it cold.
You become the exclusive distributor of 'Aurora'.
You take 20% of the profit. I take 80%.
You tell the world that you discovered the formula. My name stays out of it.
I provide the protection for the caravans in the North.
"You get the fame, the money, and the credit. I get the quiet."
Isabella looked at the soap, then at Rian.
She realized what he was offering. A monopoly on the most desired luxury item in the Empire. It would make her House the richest in the world.
And he... he trusted her with it?
He wants to be my partner, she interpreted romantically. He wants to protect me from the shadows.
"I accept," Isabella whispered, clutching the soap. "But... 20% is too low for a distributor. My father will demand 30%."
Rian smiled. It was the first time he smiled, and it made Isabella's knees weak.
"25%. And you send me shipments of Copper and Saltpeter every month without questions."
"Deal," she breathed.
The Departure
Rian escorted her to the main road where her family's backup convoy was waiting.
As she boarded her carriage, she looked back.
Rian was already mounting his giant hawk.
"Will I see you again, Lord Rian?" she asked, her voice hopeful.
"Only if the profits are down," Rian replied dryly. "Don't disappoint me, Partner."
He launched into the sky.
Isabella watched him disappear into the clouds. She held the purple soap to her chest.
"He is so mysterious," she sighed to her maid. "He doesn't care about glory. He only cares about... protecting the North."
The Real Prize
High in the air, Rian wasn't thinking about Isabella.
He was holding the Tungsten Meteorite.
"System," Rian grinned. "With this, I can build a Cylinder Head that can withstand 500 PSI."
"Tungsten Carbide tools. Armor-piercing bullets. Steam Engines."
"That girl thinks she got a good deal on soap. I just stole the Industrial Revolution."
He patted Storm-Wing's neck.
"Let's go home. It's time to build the Steam Tank."
End of Chapter 44