"Heim City… I never thought it would have changed so much after all these years."
The burly man, named Clint, was a native of the Mandrake Territory and a loyal retainer of the Mandrake family. Both his grandfather and father had served the Grand Duke of Mandrake, and naturally, he had followed the same path.
Clint knew that his current mission might very well be a suicide assignment — yet he had come anyway. It wasn't about some noble knightly ideals. It was for his family, so they could live comfortably for the rest of their lives. It was for his son, so he could continue serving the Grand Duke. It was for the chance that his descendants might one day attain noble status.
That was why he came.
His mission was simple: target one person in the city. He didn't even have to kill them — just injure them, and that would suffice.
According to the informant, the target went to the city's morning market every day to purchase food for the castle. This meant Clint didn't need to sneak into the castle itself; he only had to wait for the target to appear at the market.
What he didn't know was that someone had been watching him from the attic of a nearby building.
Once Clint moved out of the attic's line of sight, the shadow inside spoke:"A-010, this is A-013. I've spotted a suspicious man at the northwest gate of the commercial street. He's been staring at the castle entrance — likely an undercover agent from another faction."
A voice suddenly echoed in Clint's mind: "A-010 acknowledged. Continue monitoring his range of activities." "He's heading toward the market entrance and has entered my blind spot. Deploy other watchers immediately." "Understood."
Meanwhile, Derrick entered the Merchants' Guild with his small storage box. After greeting the receptionist, he made his way to the reception room with practiced ease.
Soon, a maid brought him tea and snacks. But this time, seeing the unique delicacies of Heim City, Derrick couldn't muster an appetite.
"Captain Derrick! Long time no see! Hm, are the pastries of our Mandrake Territory not to your liking?"
The reception room door burst open. A confident woman with a high ponytail strode in, flanked by two fully armored knights.
This was Melanie, wife of Blake, and Hel had appointed her as president of the Heim City Merchants' Guild, responsible for all external procurement.
Originally, Melanie's experience was solely in military command — not suited for this position. But Hel's administration was short-staffed, so she had been "thrust into the role."
Thanks to Hel's financial knowledge from her previous life, Niv's computational assistance, and Melanie's own hard work, she had quickly mastered the responsibilities of the position. Her decisive, ruthless style — honed as a soldier — ensured she never lost ground in negotiations with merchants. Merchants even nicknamed her the "Wolf of Heim City."
Derrick shivered instinctively, recalling her reputation — but he was a seasoned veteran and quickly masked his nervousness with a look of relief.
"Ah, President Melanie, you finally made it!"
He loosened his grip slightly on the storage box he was clutching and carefully invited Melanie to sit across from him. Then, cautiously, he placed the box on the table.
"President Melanie, you don't know how nervous I was transporting this alchemical material. It's just a small box, but if anything happened, even if I sold myself, I couldn't compensate for it. What if something went wrong on the road?"
"Captain Derrick, you flatter yourself," Melanie said with a smile, not taking his complaints to heart.
Or perhaps she was simply used to merchants whining — a common tactic to try to raise prices. The prices were already fixed; a few words from Derrick wouldn't change them.
"It's a deal worth 100,000 gold coins — trivial for the mighty Caramel Trading Company, I assume."
"Sure, for the Caramel Company. But I'm just a small squad leader in a caravan, one of the least important supervisors. I've never handled an order this big in my life, so I must be cautious. I don't want to spend the rest of my life in jail, after all."
"You have a point. Let's count the materials carefully, then."
Melanie gestured for Derrick to open the box. She then used the Soul Network to transmit the material information to Niv, who verified everything. Once confirmed, Melanie looked back at Derrick.
"The materials are correct. Here's the payment — you can count it to be sure."
She handed over a chest filled with gold vouchers jointly issued by the three great empires — credit currency used for large transactions.
Derrick carefully counted the contents multiple times before exhaling in relief. "No problems. Half my mission is basically complete."
He carefully placed the chest inside the storage box and then clapped his hands, instructing his assistant: "Bring my treasured elven fruit wine."
A short while later, an assistant entered carrying a beautifully designed bottle. Derrick poured a cup each for himself and Melanie.
"President Melanie, thanks to your help, we've completed such a significant transaction. If you ever need materials again, you know where to find me. With the Caramel Company's resources, there's little on this continent we can't acquire."
He downed his wine in one gulp.
Melanie frowned slightly — something felt off. But a caravan capable of procuring so many high-grade alchemy materials was rare, and she didn't want to offend them.
Besides, the wine came from the caravan itself, and the cups were theirs too. Even if they had poisoned it, trying to kill someone like her would also risk themselves. It would be pointless.
So Melanie lifted her cup and drank in return.