Half a month after the war ends, the various trade caravans are already on the move again.

  Those daring enough to take risks always snag the best opportunities.

  During the year-long war, Peace Haven accumuted a mountain of goods, which now flood surrounding countries through merchant caravans.

  Thanks to Roderick’s introduction, Henwell gets in touch with a major noble from the Lumir Duchy.

  But this Viscount Matilda seems a bit wary of Henwell.

  Even when Henwell offers to meet him in person, he refuses, only communicating through Roderick.

  Frustrated, Henwell sends Cordev, his head merchant, to Lumir for detailed talks.

  The price Henwell offers is accepted without hesitation by Matilda.

  However, there’s one firm condition: Henwell’s caravans are forbidden from entering Lumir’s borders.

  After some digging, Henwell figures out why.

  This noble is a bit of a coward, suspicious of Henwell’s intentions.

  Both parties who previously worked with Henwell got harshly dealt with by him.

  He doesn’t want to follow in their footsteps and refuses to have too much contact with Henwell.

  The Roderick family has some retives among Lumir’s nobles and a good retionship with Viscount Matilda.

  In simple terms, Matilda sees Roderick as loyal to Lumir and okay to do business.

  Henwell? Not so much!

  Henwell really wants to say, “Hey, I can love Lumir too!”

  But he knows he does have ambitions toward Lumir—just not right now.

  Since he’s cautious, Henwell doesn’t push it.

  Having a bit of a bad reputation isn’t all bad—it keeps too many bad guys off his back.

  At least this trade route has been opened.

  In the future, Henwell can support a local Lumir merchant caravan.

  Altough he won’t let his caravans in, he can’t stop Lumir’s own merchants from crossing borders, right?

  Money is practically magic.

  As long as the price is right, even gods will do your bidding.

  Henwell and Roderick hold a private meeting to nail down their next steps in cooperation.

  Roderick’s demands aren’t small—he wants Henwell to send instructors to help train an elite 5,000-strong battalion.

  On top of that, he pns to buy a massive stash of top-tier weapons and gear from Peace Haven.

  No big deal—Henwell agrees to everything.

  Like he always says: as long as the money’s right, the Lord of Blood Hill will clean up your mess!

  After hashing out the details, Henwell asks, “Roderick, when do you expect to become a Count? Our cooperation is expanding, and I’ll need you to hold a higher rank with more authority. If you need funds, I can help—how’s half a million gold coins sound?”

  Roderick shakes his head gently. “No need! I earned some serious battle merits this time, especially after Peace Haven showed off it’s ace legion. My previous defensive moves now look even wiser.”

  ”Holding off your offensive before the kingdom’s two top legions arrived, preventing the southeast front from spiraling—that’s my biggest achievement.”

  ”I’m currently acting commander of the Southeast Military Headquarters, and won’t be long before I get official appointment.”

  ”As for my title, if I hadn’t pushed hard against the deys during the st assault on Peace Haven, it probably would’ve been awarded already. After this, all those criticisms about coward will vanish. I’ve already spent the money; the rest is just a matter of time. No rush.”

  He gnces at Henwell and says lightly, “I appreciate your offer, but I won’t take your money. Your stuff isn’t free—everything comes with a price, and I’m not sure I can afford the cost of your help.”

  Henwell widens his eyes, making an exaggerated face. “Man, that really hurts! We’re allies! After all this time working together, you should know me by now. For friends, I’m all in—no hidden agendas, no bullshit!”

  Roderick rolls his eyes. “You’ve said it yourself—no eternal enemies, no eternal friends. The day I’m no longer your friend, I’m pretty sure you’ll have no hesitation in ripping my heart out!”

  Henwell smiles calmly. “Exactly! That’s why our friendship has to st forever!”

  Roderick’s done messing around with Henwell and cuts to the chase: “Henwell, that Scar Tiger—was he your move? Dead man walking or alive?”

  Henwell swirls his wine gss and replies, “I meant for him to stay alive, but damn it, he didn’t trust me and ended up a dead man anyway.”

  Roderick shoots Henwell a sharp look. “So is he dead or alive now? The guy knows too much, and I worry he might screw up my promotion.”

  ”I’ve checked—no trace of Scar Tiger. He didn’t come back with Rifidi, and he’s not dead either. Someone in the prisoner camp spotted him; he’s still alive.”

  Roderick pauses, then locks eyes with Henwell. “Don’t tell me you’re holding him like a trump card to keep me in check?”

  Henwell sighs. “Come on, am I really that low? Using some bandit to control you? If I wanted to mess with you, I have way better ways. As for Scar Tiger’s fate, don’t worry—I told you he’s dead. Scar Tiger has to die.”

  Since Henwell’s so sure, Roderick drops the subject.

  Meanwhile, a stablehand under a southeastern noble disappears.

  This stablehand, an expert with warhorses and efficient as hell, was specially bought back from the prisoner camp by the baron.

  Now he’s gone. The baron’s just a bit pissed but quickly forgets about it.

  Scar Tiger tightens his clothes and slips into the shadows.

  He gres fiercely back at Peace Haven but his eyes soon fill with fear.

  He thinks he hears Henwell’s ughter.

  In the prisoner camp, every day is a nightmare for him.

  Every night, he wakes up in cold sweats, haunted by dreams of the Blood Hill manor’s dungeon.

  The lord of Blood Hill, like a demon, smiles down at him.

  Scar Tiger slipped away from Rifidi’s side during the chaos and met a kingdom soldier.

  After learning enough, he didn’t hesitate to kill that soldier, stole his identity, and lurked.

  After many twists and turns, he became a baron’s ckey.

  Finally, the baron got him out of the prisoner camp.

  After fleeing the baron’s estate, Scar Tiger tells himself: from now on, Scar Tiger is dead.

  He might not dare cause trouble for Henwell again, but no one will ever find him.

  He pns to return to his true hometown—one he never told a soul about.

  The secret wealth he’s hoarded over the past decade is enough for a comfortable life…

  Two days ter, Chick approaches Henwell: “The Scar Tiger’s moved on his own. Now he’s just a person that are unuseful for the time being.”

  Henwell reviews the info in his hands and passes it back to Chick: “File it away. Top secret.”