31

Merchant Caravan

Nine times out of ten, it was Sigurd who knocked on the door.

"What's going on?" Forseti asked.

Sigurd replied excitedly, "There's a business caravan at the camp, let's go take a look together."

Forseti was intrigued, "Business caravan?"

Sigurd explained, "Travelers from Vanaheim often pass through here, selling goods and seeking passage through the forest."

Forseti nodded thoughtfully, "Let's go see."

They descended together and upon stepping out, beheld a sizable group in the camp—a merchant caravan had arrived.

Estimating several hundred caravans, some carts were laden with goods.

Instead of oxen or horses, the carts were drawn by green-skinned beasts.

"These animals?" Forseti inquired.

"Vanaheim's specialty, the swamp behemoth," Sigurd replied. "Powerful swimmers, used for pulling carts and boats. Don't underestimate them; if they go rogue, they're dangerous."

As they approached, the leader—a middle-aged man with black hair and a slightly stout build—engaged loudly with soldiers, laughter echoing.

"... Hahaha, fought in a hundred battles, seen it all."

"Have you been to Rhea? Seen the Kronans?" a soldier asked.

"Of course, more than once," the middle-aged man confirmed.

"Are Kronans really rock-covered?"

"Yes, sometimes flakes off them, like dandruff."

"Do Kronans bleed?"

"I don't know, I don't think so," the man pondered. "But there are Kronan settlements in Vanaheim, though few."

"Fact or fiction?"

"I believe it's true, Captain Heimdall mentioned it," another soldier added.

...

While some soldiers conversed with the middle-aged man, others surrounded the caravan, negotiating as if to make purchases.

Aside from the Vanir, Vanaheim's most prominent race, the Vanir serve the Vanir gods. Physically human-like, they're numerous but comparatively frail, serving the gods for commerce.

The caravan comprised Vanir gods and Vanir. The minority, the Vanir gods, managed the swamp behemoths, while the Vanir attended to menial tasks.

Forseti and Sigurd approached a young Vanir who bowed respectfully, "Honored Aesir God, how may I assist you?"

"I'm interested in purchasing. What goods do you have?" Forseti queried.

The Vanir handed over a catalog, "Here's our inventory."

Forseti perused the list—cloth, spices, fine wines, luxury items—none caught his fancy.

Thankfully, the caravan boasted a diverse stock, including a shipment of medicinal herbs, many unfamiliar to Forseti.

As a healer, Sigurd scrutinized the herb list, "Riya White Algae? I'll take two."

"Alright."

Forseti pondered, then pointed, "Two of these, four of those, and all of these. Three of each."

"Understood!"

Forseti added, "There are other medicinal materials I'd like to see before deciding. Can you show them?"

"Of course," the Vanir replied. "It'll take a moment; we've just arrived and are unloading."

Forseti nodded, scanning the goods list again. His eyes narrowed as he asked, "What's 'Lightning Mead'?"

"It's mead brewed from Thunderbolt fruit. Unique taste, exclusive to the gods. Would you like to try?" the Vanir offered.

"Thunderbolt fruit?" Sigurd exclaimed. "From Thunderfall Valley?"

Thunderfall Valley, a unique Vanaheim locale, endured perpetual thunderstorms, harsh for most creatures yet nurturing distinctive lifeforms like Thunder Trees and their fruit, Thunderbolts.

"No," the Vanir shook his head, clarifying, "Thunderbolt fruit from Thunderfall is used for weapons, not brewing. Ours is from a safe distance, though Thunderbolt fruit remains dangerous."

Thunderbolt fruit...

Forseti recalled a component in the Talent Elixir—the Lightning Core. Described as a volatile plant harnessing thunder's power, Thunderbolt fruit seemed a viable substitute.

However, there's a difference between local and Thunderfall Valley Thunderbolt fruit, limiting brewing uses.

"Get another bottle of Thunder Mead."

Affordable, Forseti desired a taste and purchased a bottle.

Several Vanir unloaded boxes filled with medicinal herbs, and Forseti, Sigurd in tow, inspected them.

Employing the Holy Deed, Forseti identified each herb, a time-consuming process.

To maintain goodwill, Forseti intermittently bought additional herbs, continuing his selection.

Finally, he came upon "Blood Sac Fern," replacing 85% of heather—a pleasant surprise.

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