The son of the God-Emperor in Warhammer Fantasy

The dwarven goods were selling out fast, and soon after collecting their gold and silver coins, the dwarves left the market and headed out of Helmgarde.

"Isn't that the rangers from the Anglund clan? It looks like Bellegar is with them," Ryan remarked to Sulia with interest. "I didn't expect Bellegar to bring his kin here."

"King Bellegar may care a bit about appearances, but he's not foolish. He's here to survey market prices and the local powers. In fact, since he came to your domain and reunited with his kin, he's been a great help. Dugan couldn't have made the Iron Drakes without Bellegar allowing Haralaf Silversmith, the chief engineer of the Anglund clan, to teach him," the knight whispered back.

"I'm aware. The dwarves even planned to gift you a suit of meteoric iron armor, but after seeing that your father had already sent one, I asked them to make one for your brother instead," Ryan murmured.

"My brother? Anglund?" Sulia seemed puzzled.

"Yuli, isn't your brother also my brother? We're family," Ryan muttered. "Getting a meteoric iron armor for Brother Anglund is a waste, I think. It's not much use to him; his style is all hack and slash, whether it's in runic mithril plate or meteoric iron."

Sulia couldn't help but giggle, delighted by the distinction between "your brother" and "brother," both referring to Julius but with significantly different implications.

Curious, she glanced at the dwarves leaving the city and continued, "Why would these dwarves come here to sell? We in Britannia could really use dwarven gear too."

"Because those are either inferior goods or flawed products," Ryan explained. "I have a good relationship with Bellegar, and he sells us top-quality items. But even dwarves produce some flawed products during manufacturing, which they would never use themselves. They sell these to humans at high prices, considering in the dwarven tongue, 'human' essentially means 'maker of flawed goods.' Though, even the dwarven rejects are usually better than what many human craftsmen can manage."

Ryan and his party didn't go over to greet Bellegar and his group; they briefly toured the town and soon checked into the Oliver Inn.

This was a large three-story inn located in a bustling district, down a quiet alley near the market. Given the season—just after the Winter Festival—the inn was rather quiet. Ryan and the others greeted the innkeeper, who promptly opened up the most luxurious suite on the third floor for them.

After settling in, Rudolf and Wagner went to seek the border count's clearance documents, while Ryan and the others unpacked. Observing the inn's wooden floors and animal skins, the count nodded, "Oliver's business has grown over the years."

The Oliver Inn was part of the Oliver Merchant Guild, which had expanded to open several inns across Britannia and the Empire with Ryan's backing.

The primary purpose of these inns wasn't profit but rather intelligence gathering and internal dealings. Helmgarde, being a crucial border stronghold at Axe Bite Pass, was always among the first to know of any diplomatic changes or shifts in trade tariffs between the Empire and the Kingdom of Britannia.

"For merchants, knowing information is crucial," Ryan reflected. "That's why Oliver set up inns at both Montfort Castle and Helmgarde by the Axe Bite Pass, the main land trade route between the Empire and Britannia. The tariffs there are a headache due to their height, but I must admit, the security provided under joint Imperial and Britannian effort guarantees the safety of the pass."

Business is inherently risky; high risk often means high returns, and low risk usually means lower returns. Everyone wants investments that are low risk with high returns.

Are there truly any transactions that are both low risk and high yielding?

Only two kinds: scams and high-barrier trades controlled by those in power.

Like the trade contract Ryan signed with Tigris, which genuinely offered low risk and high returns. Yet, such deals are beyond the reach of ordinary merchants. A human merchant trying to broker a deal with high elves might at best receive a cold shoulder, or at worst, a face full of fireball.

"Oliver has indeed grown his business over the years," Ryan said, looking out at the cloud-enshrouded buildings of Helmgarde. "Remember when we first met him in Nordland? He was just a small-time merchant."

Sulia and Veronica, intrigued, pressed for details.

"Of course, I remember. I still recall his odd attire back then," Ryan said, stroking his chin. "He was all decked out in gold and silver, yet awkwardly in armor, and when he told us 'time is money,' we were

 still marching up Skavell Mountain."

"I hardly see Oliver wearing much gold or silver these days," Sulia added.

"That's because he's wealthy now, Lady Sulia. For merchants, unlike nobles, it's the reverse," Veronica explained, wearing a classical layered velvet pencil skirt, her sweet face smiling. "In the Winfort court, don't merchants always appear modest and overly deferential?"

"True, a few merchants dealing with my father always dressed simply and cleanly when at court," Sulia nodded thoughtfully, having grown up in such environments.

"The smaller their capital and business, the more ostentatiously merchants tend to dress to show off their wealth and capability. Conversely, those with extensive trade networks and substantial business size tend to keep a low profile," Veronica continued, chuckling. "Otherwise, if they upset the nobility, even if not killed, they could easily be replaced. How can merchants compete with nobles?"

"That makes sense. No wonder they were always so cautious and timid around my father," Sulia agreed. "I remember when I first met Mr. Oliver, he was quite lavishly dressed. Now, apart from a gold ring and silk clothes, he wears no jewelry, almost like a common courtier."

"Knights are different, aren't they, Veronica? I heard that when Ryan first met you, he was just a junior warrior," Theresa asked, reversing the interest.

"Yes, Ryan was just a ranger knight back then, clad in a breastplate and covered in dust. I remember not being in a good mood, and with a wave of my hand, I cast a fireball at him. He was in his early twenties, got his face all blackened by the fireball, showing off his white teeth," Veronica recounted casually. "He was somewhat handsome, but ended up looking like a charred stray dog."

The room filled with laughter, with Ryan's face turning red.

"I remember, too," Theresa added, blushing slightly as she delved into Ryan's embarrassing past. "When I first met Ryan at a court ceremony in Nordland, he pretended to drop something under the table to sneak a peek…"

"That's right! Ryan always liked to…" Sulia joined in the teasing.

Overwhelmed, Ryan quickly excused himself to check downstairs, though he could still hear the laughter from above as he left.

Three women, quite a scene.

The innkeeper was tallying accounts when Ryan approached the counter. "Count, what can I do for you? Is there a problem with the room?"

"No issue with the room, I just had something to ask you," Ryan said, standing at the bar.

"Of course, my lord. What do you need?" The innkeeper knew who stood behind Oliver and glanced around cautiously, noting the off-peak season and sparse guests.

"Just a casual inquiry, how are things in Helmgarde? Trade, security?" Ryan waved off any suggestion of probing secrets.

"Not good, my lord. Ever since Duke Caspar von Carstein's invasion, although it didn't affect the alliance between the Empire and Britannia, many merchants are still watching and waiting, or taking sea routes via Marienburg. Count Reinhardt von Mackensen is worried about the slow decline in trade volumes and has recently tried to negotiate with Duke Falkard of Montfort to slightly lower the tariffs to boost trade," the innkeeper explained. "Of course, there are still many caravans passing through Axe Bite Pass."

"And security?" Ryan asked, not surprised by the news.

"Security is decent; activities from greenskins and beastmen have been rare lately," the innkeeper sighed. "However, there are unsettling rumors about Helmgarde's sewers and mine shafts being restless, with many large rats, the size of men, seen scurrying around. These creatures often emerge from the sewers and mines to attack livestock and kidnap humans."

"Man-sized rats... Skaven?!" Ryan's face paled, his brows furrowed. "Hasn't Count Reinhardt sent troops to clear them out?"

"Shh, my lord," the innkeeper looked around nervously, then whispered, "My lord, very few in the Empire are aware of the Skaven's existence, limited mainly to high nobility."

Ryan's frown deepened.

In Britannia, the menace of the Skaven was well known; the kingdom had been intermittently at war with the ratmen since its founding a millennium ago, especially in the southern Duchy of Carcassonne.

The Skaven had never managed a large-scale invasion, largely thanks to the Wood Elves of Athel Loren, who were natural predators of the Skaven, repeatedly driving them back into hiding.

The Empire, however, was different; its last conflict with the Skaven was centuries ago. Under the Skaven's intentional discretion, the common folk had mostly forgotten their existence, with only obscure mentions in the annals of great nobles, much of it unclear.

"What measures has

 Count Reinhardt taken?" Ryan asked, knowing it wasn't his place to openly challenge the Skaven threat since he was not an Imperial noble.

"The count is taking it seriously. He's not only allocated a portion of his family's wealth to recruit a team of sewer cleaners, but he's also sent a military detachment into the depths of the mines. Unfortunately, that detachment hasn't returned yet," the innkeeper continued.

"Understood," Ryan thought. The Skaven might be infiltrating the city. He planned to discuss this with his guards once Rudolf and Wagner returned.

After a while, the two guards returned, looking disgruntled as they entered the inn and sat down in the lobby. "Innkeeper, two top-quality dark malt beers, quickly."

"Yes, sirs," the innkeeper quickly filled two glasses from a keg and handed them over, cautiously asking, "Is something wrong?"

"Did the clearance documents come through?" Ryan asked, equally curious.

"No, Count Reinhardt wasn't in his castle," Rudolf said, gulping down his beer in frustration. "His servants stopped us for a long time before finally telling us the count was out, and they didn't know where. The clearance documents need the count's seal, which won't happen until he returns tonight, meaning we can't get them until tomorrow, and you won't be able to leave until the day after."

"That's fine; we can stay another day," Ryan shrugged. A day's delay wasn't a big deal.

"That's all we can do," Wagner seemed unfazed, treating the trip like a vacation as he fiddled with his revolving chamber pioneer cavalry musket. "Speaking of which, I saw a cow in the city center that had been gnawed to the bone…"

Ryan, Rudolf, and Wagner were chatting in the lobby when suddenly, the ground shook violently, and the inn trembled as dust fell from the ceiling.

"Boom! Boom! Boom!" Explosive sounds roared from afar outside the inn.

"What's happening?" Ryan and the others fell to the ground but quickly got up, seasoned soldiers that they were. Rudolf and Wagner's squires began equipping the two guards with armor.

Ryan scrambled to his feet and ran to the inn's entrance, flinging the door open. The sight that met him caused his mouth to drop in shock.

In the distance, Helmgarde's military camp was ablaze with thick smoke.

On the streets, large groups of ratmen nearly the size of men surged from sewers, gutters, and building corners, slaughtering the citizens of Helmgarde.

"Skaven~yes yes!"

…Stay tuned for more updates! Vote! Yesyes!

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