Warhammer Divine Throne

The battle at Turis Castle was in full swing, meanwhile, in the Duchy of Connaught, Musillon.

A caravan was attempting to enter the town.

This caravan flew a black skull flag, with several carriages transporting many exquisite noble goods and magic gemstones from the Empire. Two plainly dressed drivers, yet armed to the teeth, drove the carriages. A tall guard, with a ruffian-like demeanor, accompanied them, along with two half-elves in gray robes, carrying compound bows on their backs, escorting a lavishly decorated carriage.

From a distance, the towering walls of Musillon resembled the edge of the world. The colossal walls, tens of meters high, seemed endless, leaving only an overwhelming sense of awe and oppression.

The floods from the previous year had wreaked havoc on the Duchy of Connaught. Even though the floods of the Lake Fairy could not breach Musillon’s towering walls, the area outside Musillon’s walls had become a chaotic mess, with piles of rubble, decay, and makeshift cemeteries indicating that Musillon had lost its former glory.

As expected, the caravan was stopped: ”Who are you? Please present your documents or report.”

”We come from Marinburg, trade partners of Baron Har Harris. Take this and inform him that the goods he wanted have arrived!” A plump hand stretched out from inside the carriage, laden with various gold and silver jewelry. The voice was heavy and distorted, as a document was thrown in the guard’s face: ”Take a look! Fool!”

Judging from the hand alone, its owner must weigh over 250 pounds.

The guard took the document, which indeed bore the emblem of the von Castain clan: ”Please wait here. I will report to Baron Harris immediately!”

”Hmph!” An impatient snort came from within the carriage, and the guard could vaguely hear the strange sounds of a woman.

One guard went inside while a Low-Tier Vampire Guard remained wary of the peculiar caravan, scrutinizing the two plainly dressed, heavily-armed drivers, the blond guard using sword and shield clad in full armor, the two half-elf shooters in gray robes, and the prudent and cautious steward with a beret and goat beard.

The drivers wore expressions of rogue and vigilance, the blond guard resembled a hoodlum but seemed a bit nervous, and the steward merely frowned silently.

The curtain of the carriage was opened, revealing a giant, corpulent figure piled in the center like a small mountain. His plump face was adorned with a thick beard, and his small eyes were pinched into slits by layers of fat. A pair of small round-frame glasses flashed with a menacing glint, his grin oozed a magic that seemed to steal the wealth of any mortal.

His left arm draped around a beautiful woman with very sweet looks, her black-brown shoulder-length hair cascading down, her makeup bold and exuding a magical allure. She leaned half against the obese merchant, feeding grapes into his mouth, dressed in a low-cut, off-shoulder short-sleeved dress. The fat man’s hand plunged directly into her bosom, kneading repeatedly. The woman wore an expression of abandon, even deliberately making quite a noise.

She was undoubtedly a prostitute! And one that was kept! The guard thought resentfully.

Inside the carriage was another woman, her shiny black long hair and the narrow, almond-shaped eyes adorned with a tear mole by the side, but her face was marred by an awful eagle hook nose, thus her expression bore a world-weariness as if everyone owed her 500 Gold Crowns.

This must be a maid, the guard thought: a nice figure, but terribly ugly.

After a while, a Vampire Lord appeared, his pale face hairless. Upon seeing the obese merchant, he said incredulously: ”Hoffler? Unbelievable, after several years, you’ve become like this, I couldn’t recognize you.”

”I have become stronger and fatter, my friend. And I’m not Hoffler anymore; I’m Gabriel Newell, a harmless, self-made Marinburg merchant.” The fat merchant assumed a playboy’s demeanor, clutching the woman beside him so hard she teared up from the pain, only then withdrawing his hand from her neckline: ”I’m here to deliver goods.”

”Deliver goods? Our last transaction was years ago? Five years? Six years?” The Vampire Lord was quite cautious, casting a suspicious glance at the obese merchant before him: ”Are you really Hoffman? I doubt it.”

”Seven years and eight months. By the way, I’m Gabriel, Gabriel Newell! Also, do you know how difficult it is to secure the goods your von Castain family desires? Where am I to find such a quantity at once? Ever since Carl Franz ascended the throne, the Empire has been scrutinizing the movement of luxury goods and magic ore, if I manage a bit more, I’d be on this month’s gallows list!” Gabriel Newell extended his plump hand, pointing his thick finger impatiently at the Vampire Lord Har.

”Then how did you end up with so much now?” The Vampire Lord remained somewhat skeptical.

”That’s what I’ve accrued over several years; each year some shipments pass through my hands, and I discreetly set aside a little here and there, claiming transport loss. It took years to gather the quantity you want! That miser Schultz inspects half a day each time, and you’re still suspicious?” The fat merchant rambled on.