Chapter 371: Drakenoir (01)

Across the sky-blue waters of Lake Azur, dozens of large ships cut through the calm surface, leaving long white trails of foam that slowly dissipated behind them.

They were imposing vessels, each equipped with a powerful mana engine, their hulls reinforced with fine wood and tempered steel.

White flags emblazoned with the symbol of red dragons fluttered from their masts, dancing in the wind.

This was one of the fleets of the Drakenoir Chamber of Commerce, owned by the Drakenoir family—the wealthiest merchant lineage in the Kingdom of Solene and the Kingdom of Burning Ice.

Their net worth was estimated at hundreds of billions of gold coins, perhaps even trillions, if one were to count all the wealth accumulated in the Central Empires, where the family’s operations center had moved centuries ago.

These ships were only a small fraction of the gigantic Drakenoir fleet, which consisted of more than one hundred flagship vessels, three thousand large cargo ships, and countless medium-sized, small, and, of course, transport and war vessels.

That particular fleet was responsible for buying and selling goods in the Eternal Forest region, exporting rare spices and unique magical resources directly to the Central Empires.

On the fleet’s flagship—a spacious and luxurious vessel equipped with cannons capable of taking down third-stage experts in a single shot—was Raynar Drakenoir, the Commander of the fleet.

He was a powerful fourth-stage warrior and cousin of the family’s current patriarch.

Naturally, he occupied the Captain’s cabin, which served as both his personal bedroom and office.

It was a spacious room, divided into four sections by walls of the highest-quality wood: a bathroom, a meeting room, an office, and his private quarters.

At that very moment, Raynar sat in his office, a pen sliding between his fingers as his eyes scanned a stack of documents.

They were, for the most part, the inventories of his ships, which had already reached seventy percent of their maximum cargo capacity.

It would be a considerably profitable voyage, though not the best of his career.

Raynar’s pen came to a sudden stop, and he let out a long sigh, allowing his back to sink into the backrest of his comfortable armchair.

He loved sailing on Lake Azur, especially the calm of its waters, so vast that the lake could easily be mistaken for a sea.

Beyond the tranquility, there was also the beauty of that immense blue expanse, despite the terrors lurking in its depths.

Sailing beyond the coastal regions of Lake Azur was practically a death wish.

Raynar turned his face, his eyes resting on a silver mirror hanging on the wall beside him.

Reflected there was a middle-aged man, already in his three hundredth year, with roughly two hundred years of life still remaining should he fail to advance to the fifth stage.

His eyes were a deep green, his hair short and bright red, his beard meticulously trimmed.

His powerful body was clad in the finest silk—a beautiful and elegant naval uniform that accentuated his imposing stature.

At his waist, he always carried a saber, its ivory and gold scabbard glistening in the soft light streaming through the porthole.

Raynar closed his eyes for a brief moment, but in the next instant, he forced himself back into an upright position as a loud knock echoed from outside the door.

"Commander, you have to see this! Come up on deck, quick!" shouted one of his first officers.

The commander’s face twisted into a scowl, as if he were about to reprimand the man for his tone.

However, he restrained himself and rose to his feet.

The mana and aura around him were behaving strangely, thickening at an alarming rate.

Raynar’s eyes widened, and he strode out of his office, heading straight for the deck.

It was a sunny day, and the ships were still gliding peacefully across the water, though their speed had slowed considerably.

Raynar turned his face, his eyes following the stares of his crew.

Mighty white walls jutted from the sea, dozens of meters high, seawater cascading noisily down their dark stone sides.

These walls expanded into majestic towers and walkways that soared more than fifty meters above the surface.

Beneath the walkways, which stretched for more than a kilometer, stood massive pillars supporting them, thick chains linking one pillar to the next.

The chains had been lowered to allow ships to pass, but as soon as the Drakenoir fleet appeared on the horizon, they began to rise slowly, the creaking of metal echoing across the waters.

"Commander, should we continue our journey?" asked the first officer, his voice heavy with uncertainty.

Raynar did not answer right away.

That city hadn’t been there before—of that he was absolutely certain...

It’s just... how could something that huge have gone unnoticed?

He wanted to press on and reach the Central Empires as soon as possible to trade all their goods, but something inside him held him back.

Although he was a warrior, he was also a member of a family of merchants, and his business instinct screamed that this was a great opportunity to make a fortune.

"No," Raynar shook his head. "Send out a small boat and tell them we’re just merchants and that we’d like to dock to buy and sell."

The first officer did not hesitate, shouting orders to the crew.

A few moments later, a small boat was lowered from the flagship’s side by thick ropes, and four men boarded it, beginning to row toward Goldenveil.

The rest of the fleet was ordered to hold position and await further instructions.

A chill ran down Raynar’s spine as he sensed a survey descending upon his fleet, heavy as two invisible mountains pressing down on the air—the mana and aura clearly belonging to two powerful fifth-stage experts.

He sighed, simply hoping that these people would be open to negotiation.

He had had many bad encounters with some very savage Lords from that region, and even though most of those above the fourth stage were quite civilized, there were always those who tried to use violence to their advantage and treated negotiation as a crime.