As the boat touched the shore, the trio let out a collective sigh of relief.

Edrin, still catching his breath, muttered with lingering dread,

"Aaron… maybe we should reduce a barrel next time?"

Aaron nodded, a faint smile on his face.

"Of course. You don't want to relive that struggle again, do you?"

Torvald added thoughtfully,

"We might earn a little less, but we could always make two or three trips. It's better than exhausting ourselves."

Aaron agreed silently. Even just a thousand meters from shore had left him feeling the strain.

He glanced at Torvald's trembling hands and softened his tone.

"Mr. Torvald, will you be joining us again tomorrow?"

Torvald nodded and he added,

"Indeed. Sir Aaron, there's something I'd like your help with."

Aaron responded without hesitation,

"Tell me, Mr. Torvald. If it's within my power, I'll do my best."

Torvald looked him in the eye.

"Are you free this evening?"

Before Aaron could reply, Edrin grinned and chimed in,

"Didn't you say you were heading to the slave market today?"

Aaron nodded,

"Yes. I need to find skilled workers for the territory, craftsmen, blacksmiths, tailors. People who can help build what's coming."

Edrin's grin faded slightly, a quiet disappointment settling in his chest for reasons he couldn't explain.

Torvald, however, simply nodded in understanding.

He knew the weight of building something from the ground up, and the kind of people it required.

Torvald glanced at Aaron and said quietly,

"Sir Aaron, would it be alright if I joined you at the slave market?"

Aaron nodded without hesitation.

"Of course. The more the merrier."

Edrin had already left and soon returned with a small squad from the military.

Six soldiers lifted the heavy barrels of fish and carried them toward the warehouse.

As they waited, Torvald spoke again, his voice tinged with unease.

"Sir Aaron… I think I've been targeted."

Aaron turned to him, surprised.

"Mr. Torvald, why would anyone target you?"

Torvald hesitated, then replied,

"You know I've invented things before, right?"

Aaron nodded, listening closely.

"I documented everything, my designs, my failures, my breakthroughs. It's all in a book. That book holds everything I've created."

Aaron's expression grew serious. He understood the value of such a record.

"Do you have any idea who might be after it?"

Torvald lowered his voice.

"I believe it's Duke Alaric. His daughter, Miss Alice… she's troubled. Always thinking of killing herself by jumping from top of the castle. I think he wants my work to distract her, to give her something to focus on."

Aaron's mouth twitched slightly.

"Are you certain?"

Torvald nodded.

"I can't think of anyone else who would go to such lengths."

Aaron studied him for a moment.

"So what do you plan to do?"

Torvald took a deep breath.

"That book is like my heart. But if keeping it means risking my life… I'd rather give it to you. Please, deliver it to Lord Alaric and ask him to spare me."

Aaron's expression turned thoughtful.

Torvald could feel sweat forming on his brow as he waited for a response.

Finally, Aaron spoke.

"Giving up your most prized possession for your life… that's not cowardice. That's wisdom."

He placed a hand on Torvald's shoulder.

"I'll deliver your message. And I'll try to negotiate compensation."

Torvald nodded calmly.

"Well, please do as you see fit."

He paused, then added,

"Since we'll be heading to Green Fort together, you might need more than one boat. I have three under my name. If you'd like, I can offer them to you for a friendly price, fifteen gold coins."

Aaron's eyes lit up with gratitude.

"Thank you, Mr. Torvald. That's generous of you."

Torvald shook his head.

"It's the least I can do. One of the ships will carry my belongings. It won't take up the whole space, but it'll occupy about half."

Aaron waved off the concern.

"No problem at all. I don't plan to bring more than thirty people anyway."

He paused, then asked,

"Mr. Torvald, do you have sailors and oarsmen?"

Torvald nodded confidently.

"Don't worry. I have them. They're slaves I purchased from the market, trained and reliable."

Aaron exhaled, visibly relieved.

"Alright then. That settles it."

A few minutes later, Edrin returned with a coin pouch.

He counted out 27 silver coins, distributing them between Aaron and Torvald.

"We're lucky," he said with a grin.

"Almost 40 silver coins earned, not counting the shop rental. Still, a good haul."

Aaron accepted the coins casually, slipping them into his pouch.

"Let's head to Mr. Torvald's house first."

Torvald exhaled, visibly relieved.

"Please, follow me."

They walked slowly through the evening streets, the sunlight casting long shadows across the cobblestones.

The air was rich with the scent of roasted meat from nearby stalls, and vendors called out their final offers for the day.

Edrin sniffed the air and chuckled,

"Aaron, Mr. Torvald, want to try something from the stalls?"

Aaron shook his head.

"No thanks. If possible, I'd prefer something vegetarian."

Torvald added politely,

"Mr. Edrin, if you're hungry, feel free to treat yourself."

Edrin grinned,

"Then let's find the roasted vegetable guy. I remember someone selling them just 200 steps from here."

Aaron shrugged,

"Alright then, Mr. Edrin, lead the way."

A few minutes later, Aaron stood with a roasted potato in hand, sprinkled with salt.

He took a bite, then stared at it silently.

He had expected something flavorful… but clearly, his hopes had been too high.

With a sigh, he followed Torvald toward Carpenter Road.

True to its name, the street was lined with woodwork shops.

Beds, chairs, and tables filled the storefronts.

But here and there, rarer pieces stood out, small ships, carved carriages, and intricate designs that spoke of true craftsmanship.

Mr. Torvald soon arrived at his residence, Ravenscar.

Aaron paused at the entrance, his eyes drawn to the name carved in elegant script on a polished wooden plaque, hanging proudly above the door.

The craftsmanship was unmistakable, precise, bold, and full of character.

"Ravenscar…" Aaron murmured, impressed.

The name carried weight, and the woodwork spoke volumes about the man who lived within.

Torvald glanced back, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

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