Chapter 27: The Grand Duke of the Enclave

Lia stood by with a gentle smile, watching silently as Mirtha disappeared through the doorway.

Rising from the corner, she fixed Ian with a meaningful gaze and said:

"The Sea of Miracles is also a sea of death, teeming with desire, murder, bloodshed, and betrayal. Beneath any seemingly friendly face might lurk deceit, cunning, and hidden schemes."

Ian paused for a moment, quickly realizing she was cautioning him. She seemed to think Ian had recruited Mirtha out of pity, fearing his kindness might leave him blind to the darker truths of human nature.

Ian's grin widened. "You think I'm too soft, don't you?"

Lia pressed her lips together, staying silent. Her expression made it clear she did.

Ian didn't explain himself. He simply replied softly, "Only the strong can afford mercy. The weak merely fake strength."

Having lived through another life, Ian no longer wanted to be defined by words like "kind," "brave," or "cunning." There was only one identity he sought: "the strong."

Lia blinked, then broke into a bright smile. This man understood.

"I'll pick you up for the auction," she said, waving as she turned to leave.

The next morning, Ian let Mirtha, who clearly hadn't rested well, stay home to oversee the craftsmen working on the tower. He made sure to emphasize that no one was allowed onto the top floor.

The chaos in Havenport was growing.

Every dock was crowded with ships, their masts densely packed like a forest. Supplies came and went in vast quantities daily, while the docks teemed with people and disorder reigned. Various factions scoured the area, hiring sailors in droves.

This put a damper on Ian's own plans to recruit a crew. Without even a ship to his name, he couldn't hope to compete.

Meanwhile, prices in Havenport were skyrocketing.

The cost of food rose most dramatically, with magical potions and magitech equipment not far behind. Fortunately, raw materials remained relatively affordable.

It wasn't all bad news, though. The silver-blue robe and metal staff left behind by Heistorm sold for an excellent price.

Ian used several hundred Divine Grace coins to purchase an array of supplies: spiritual materials, canvas, wood, barrels, rubber, nails, ropes, food, dried fish, salt, clothing—anything he thought they might need.

Even after stocking up, a good sum of money remained.

Indeed, the best business is getting someone else's money into your own pocket. Ian silently thanked Heistorm for his "generous donation."

These materials quickly filled the first two floors of the tower.

As wave after wave of goods arrived, Mirtha seemed to wrestle with a question.

It wasn't until dinner that he finally summoned the courage to ask:

"Mr. Trist, why not store these supplies on the ship? Where is our ship?"

Ian smiled mysteriously. "Our ship is still being built. You'll see it soon enough."

It wasn't entirely a lie. Wawa's rapid growth made Ian confident it wouldn't be long.

Ian stood before a mirror, carefully grooming his beard. He had to admit, a handsome man looks good in anything. The thin, O-shaped beard lent him a more mature, magnetic appeal.

With short hair, a wide-brimmed hat, a silver-gray coat, black boots, and a leather belt, Ian's new look was almost unrecognizable, even to himself.

For the past two days, he hadn't left the tower, using spiritual energy to hasten his beard's growth and crafting this new persona.

Tonight's auction would be teeming with nobles and superhumans from the Eastern Continent. Ian had no intention of being recognized.

Suppressing his spiritual energy to avoid detection, he tilted the brim of his hat low. Even his family would struggle to recognize him now.

When Lia stepped out of the Whaler Crew's large carriage and saw Ian's transformation, she hesitated, momentarily thrown off.

"How do I look?" Ian tipped his hat, spun lightly, and gave a playful bow.

Lia stifled a laugh at his bearded visage. "Not bad. Much more mature."

"Get in. The captain's inside. We can chat on the way."

The carriage carried Abigail, Ian, and Lia straight to the auction house.

Lia handed Ian a catalog of auction items, which the Whaler Crew had acquired days earlier.

The list included awakening potions, extraordinary sequence elixirs, special tonics, magitech equipment, rare items, sequence knowledge, forbidden lore, slaves, rare materials, timber, grain, and even a fourth-class frigate.

At a time when everyone was scrambling to assemble fleets and seize opportunities in the chaos, someone was selling a warship?!

Noticing Ian's confusion, Abigail offered an explanation. "That frigate belongs to the Emerald Grand Duke."

Emerald Grand Duke? Ian blinked, then made the connection—the "Grand Duke of the Enclave."

The latter title was far more renowned, catching Ian off guard.

The Emerald Grand Duke was the sole duke of the Bodria Kingdom. However, his domain wasn't even within the kingdom's borders, an almost absurd reality.

His territory lay at the intersection of the Bema Duchy, Winterhold Kingdom, and Taquilin, three regions with strained relations with Bodria.

The Bema Duchy, north of Bodria, was vast but plagued by desolate landscapes due to ancient magical disasters. Conflicts between the two regions were constant.

Taquilin, northwest of Bema, bordered the Stormy Sea. The Emerald Bay slightly separated Taquilin from the duke's lands.

Rumored to have once been elven territory, Taquilin was now populated by orcs and halflings—groups nearly eradicated in the East Continent. Peaceful relations were out of the question.

Winterhold Kingdom lay farther northwest, not bordering Bodria directly. Relations had been decent until the mist receded, allowing Winterhold's icy fleet to expand southward and claim more hospitable islands. Tensions were rising.

Despite this precarious position, the duke's enclave remained eerily peaceful. There were no wars, no saber-rattling. Trade and travel flourished between the enclave and its neighbors.

It defied all logic.

Ian's father had always spoken of the duke with admiration, though distance kept them from ever meeting.

As their conversation continued, the carriage arrived at the Bodria Royal Auction House.

Situated at the heart of Central Street, the auction house resembled a grand noble estate. A fountain and square greeted visitors at the entrance, beyond which stood a majestic and ornate building.