Boundless Family Upgrades For The Deadbeat Lord

Rumors traveled faster than wagons, especially when every traveler leaving Althoff carried a story that sounded increasingly impossible.

At roadside inns south of Zulor, teamsters who had delivered tools to the frontier found themselves surrounded by merchants asking whether the stories were true.

The dead barony had survived winter. Not merely survived, some insisted, but swallowed thousands of refugees and somehow fed them. Roads were being cut through land that had barely possessed wagon tracks months earlier. Workers received actual wages instead of promises.

New houses stood beyond the old walls. A permanent market had opened. Food could be purchased without ration tokens.

Hunters were bringing Magic Beast materials into inspected trading yards, while government warehouses supposedly contained the remains of an entire winter Beast Tide.

Every retelling enlarged some details and mangled others, but the central message remained stubbornly consistent: Althoff was no longer dying.

A cloth trader laughed when a returning teamster claimed Althoff’s population had risen beyond five thousand.

By the time the cloth trader resumed his journey, he had changed his route. Instead, he turned north with three bolts of cloth, household wares, and the sudden conviction that five thousand people building a city probably needed things.

He was not alone. Small traders arrived first because small traders could afford curiosity. A pottery merchant came with two wagons and sold nearly everything within four days.

A salt trader discovered that Althoff’s population, livestock, food preservation, kitchens, and growing workshops consumed far more salt than he had expected.

Two brothers brought lamp oil, needles, cheap cloth, rope, and iron cookware, then returned south with treated Beast hides and orders from three shopkeepers.

The road was becoming part of the story. Althoff had not magically paved the entire route to civilization, but Public Works crews had begun repairing the worst approaches within the territory.

Dangerous ruts were filled, drainage improved around muddy stretches, small bridges reinforced, and sections carrying quarry, timber, agricultural, and merchant traffic widened where necessary.

Travelers still cursed the journey, especially after rain, but they no longer described the final approach as a track leading nowhere. Wagon traffic itself was changing it.

Every week brought more carts carrying salt, cloth, iron, tools, pottery, medicines, spices, paper, glass, and countless ordinary goods Althoff could not yet produce efficiently. Many left carrying hides, bone, horns, preserved Beast components, timber products, local crafts, or orders promising future business.

Raymond noticed the increase because unfamiliar wagons kept appearing beneath the Central Market’s caravan signs. One morning he counted nine merchant wagons unloading within sight of the square and asked Ysabel whether some festival had been declared without informing him.

Ysabel, who was checking caravan permits with a Trade clerk, answered without looking up. ”No, my Lord. This is what happens when merchants hear other merchants made money.”

Raymond watched laborers unload barrels while another wagon was weighed nearby. ”Remarkably efficient communication.”

Ysabel finally glanced at him. ”A profitable route can become common knowledge faster than a royal scandal.”

Raymond considered that, then nodded toward a merchant arguing over storage charges. ”Judging by him, apparently profit also causes temporary deafness.”

The newcomers were useful beyond their purchases. Every arriving trader carried information about prices elsewhere, road conditions, shortages, regional harvest expectations, and what buyers in other towns wanted. Iron remained expensive. Salt prices were stable.

Good leather commanded better prices farther south than Althoff’s local craftsmen had assumed. Certain Silver Rank Beast components could fetch significantly more in larger cities if properly preserved and documented.

The more interesting information traveled in the opposite direction. Merchants leaving Althoff carried descriptions of the sawmill, quarry traffic, expanding farms, Central Market, Beast-material inspections, and government construction contracts.

They talked about a lord who somehow continued paying workers despite the territory’s recent poverty. They talked about refugees becoming craftsmen and merchants.

They talked about enormous stretches of fertile soil appearing where Zulor’s miserable farmland should have been, though explanations ranged from divine blessing to secret magic to outright lies. Most importantly for commercial houses, they talked about demand.

Althoff wanted iron, salt, medicines, glass, cloth, paper, specialized tools, luxury goods for its slowly recovering upper market, and practically anything useful to a population growing faster than local production.

Then there were the Beast Tide stories. Those spread differently because merchants understood numbers. A traveler claiming that Althoff possessed ”many Beast materials” was interesting.

A trader describing warehouses containing processed remains from hundreds of creatures was worth asking questions about. Reports of Bronze and Silver Rank hides being released in controlled lots drew craftsmen and resellers.

Rumors that stronger materials remained locked away drew professional attention. And whenever someone mentioned that the winter attack had included a Gold Rank Blackstone Ursar, the conversation usually stopped long enough for somebody to ask whether the carcass had actually been preserved.

Weeks earlier, nobody with serious capital would have sent a major caravan toward Althoff based on such stories. The territory had been synonymous with poverty, exile, poor soil, and a disgraced young baron.

But reports continued arriving from unrelated travelers, and too many details matched. Althoff had survived. Its population had grown. Gold was circulating. Construction created enormous demand.

The Central Market provided somewhere to conduct business. Roads were improving. Magic Beast resources were available. Even if half the grander rumors were nonsense, there was enough ordinary commerce underneath them to justify investigation.

The first indication that someone important had reached that conclusion arrived with a courier shortly after noon.

Raymond was inspecting the roof work on the Large Grain Warehouse when Lily appeared along the road with a message from Ysabel requesting his presence at the Trade Department.

He considered finishing the inspection first until Lily added that Ysabel had written ”significant incoming caravan” twice. That was sufficiently unusual to get his attention.

When Raymond entered the Department later, Ysabel had a regional map open across her table and three reports beside it. Corvin was there as well, already examining available caravan yard capacity and warehouse space.

Raymond pulled out a chair. ”How significant is significant?”

Ysabel slid the first report toward him and explained that the caravan had been confirmed by two separate travelers and a courier who had passed it on the southern road. It was not a speculative collection of independent traders traveling together for protection.

This was an organized company caravan. Dozens of wagons were moving under company colors with armed guards, dedicated merchants, clerks, purchasing agents, and specialists.

Several wagons appeared to be carrying trade goods for sale, while others were deliberately traveling partially empty.

Raymond understood that immediately. ”They’re planning to buy enough here to need the empty capacity.”

Ysabel nodded. ”That would be my assumption.”

Corvin estimated that the caravan could reach Althoff within several days depending on road conditions and how heavily loaded its slower wagons were.

The Central Market could accommodate it, but he wanted a dedicated unloading area cleared before arrival and additional warehouse sections reserved for temporary commercial storage.

Ysabel was more interested in the personnel. A company did not send professional purchasing agents and specialist appraisers merely to sell cooking pots. Whoever organized this expedition expected valuable merchandise worth evaluating on location.

”Beast materials,” Raymond said.

”Almost certainly,” Ysabel replied. ”Their people have apparently been asking about the winter stockpiles at every stop along the road. They also asked about timber output, agricultural expansion, local purchasing demand, and whether Althoff intends to maintain regular commercial access after spring.”

Raymond leaned back. That was different from opportunistic traders following rumors. Someone was evaluating Althoff as a market and supplier simultaneously.

A serious merchant company could bring access to goods, buyers, pricing information, transportation networks, and markets far beyond anything local traders could offer. It could also arrive with experienced negotiators perfectly happy to exploit a frontier lord who did not understand the value of what sat in his warehouses.

Fortunately, Raymond had no intention of being helpful enough to play that role.

”Which company?” he asked.

Ysabel’s expression shifted slightly, as though she suspected the name would mean something to him. She turned the final report around so the merchant crest at its top faced Raymond.

A golden wheel crossed by a road.

Raymond recognized it immediately.

Months ago, when House Althoff had been purchasing supplies through Valmere with amounts of gold that made absolutely no sense for an impoverished frontier house, one merchant company had started asking questions.

Its branch manager had wondered where a supposedly ruined barony was finding the money to purchase grain, livestock, tools, and other necessities in such quantities.

Apparently, the same people had been paying attention ever since.

Ysabel tapped the crest once and said, ”Golden Road Merchant Company.”

Raymond looked at the report again, then slowly smiled.

The road to Althoff was finally bringing someone back.