Chapter 73: The Beastmen Empire - Vhaltrar

Xavier pulled a rolled parchment from his leather vest, handing it over with a casual grin. “Just a humble merchant bringing a load of forged steel tools down to the docks, Captain.”

The guard captain unrolled the parchment, reading it slowly. Then he walked around to the back of the wagon, using his spear tip to lift the canvas cover off the heavy wooden crates.

He leaned in, sniffing the air, and knocked his fist against the hard iron broadsword cases inside.

“These are military grade weapon crates,” the captain said, his eyes narrowing instantly as he stepped back toward the wagon seat. “The land borders are under a military blockade. Why are you shipping broadswords out of the kingdom?”

Xavier did not blink. “I have a legal merchant waiver signed by the regional trade council, Captain. Foreign buyers pay three times the price for capital steel.”

“A waiver can be faked,” the guard captain said coldly, gripping his spear tighter. He looked over at two nearby guards. “Search the wagon thoroughly. Unload every crate and inspect the iron frames.”

Xavier’s jaw tightened slightly. Unloading those heavy crates would take hours, and if the guards checked the serial marks on the steel blades, they might figure out where the weapons came from.

I decided it was time to step in.

I reached into my brown coat, pulled out my official Novarian Independent Merchant License alongside my Artisan Travel Waiver, and leaned over the wooden frame, handing them directly to the captain.

“Captain,” I said in a clear, calm voice. “I am the master artisan overseeing this shipment.”

The guard captain stared at me, then looked down at the official golden seal stamped on my papers. His eyebrows shot up in complete disbelief.

“A ten year old kid?” the captain asked, holding my license up to the light. “Is this a joke?”

“It is no joke,” I replied smoothly. “I am Silvester, head designer of the Earthen Vaults from the capital guild. Those broadsword casings in the back are made using my private stone-reinforcement process. If you force my driver to open those sealed crates in this damp salt air, the moisture will ruin the polished edge coating before we reach the ship.”

The guard captain paused, looking at my name on the parchment, then looking back at me.

“You are the kid who built those stone safes for the lower district merchants?” the captain asked, his tough voice softening slightly.

“I am,” I said, offering a small, polite nod. “And if you check the lock on your own official guard ledger box sitting on that table over there, you will notice the brass cylinder bears my guild mark.”

The captain turned his head, glancing at the heavy iron ledger box resting on the wooden table behind him. He walked over, turned the box around, and saw our guild’s tiny keyhole mark stamped into the corner.

He stared at it for a moment, then let out a low whistle and walked back to our wagon.

“My lieutenant spent two hours trying to pick that box last week when we lost the key,” the captain chuckled, shaking his head. “We had to hire a master locksmith from the upper city just to get our duty logs out.”

“It has anti-tamper needle springs,” I noted with a light smile. “You cannot pick it with standard wires.”

The guard captain let out a hearty laugh, rolling my parchment back up and handing it to me along with Xavier’s papers. He waved his hand at his guards, signaling them to step back.

“Pass through,” the captain declared, stamping our travel pass with blue ink. “Keep your driver on a tight leash, kid. The sea docks are wild today.”

“Thank you, Captain,” I said.

As we drove the wagon past the gate and down toward the wooden docks, Xavier looked over at me with a look of pure astonishment on his face.

“That’s pretty amazing, Silvester,” Xavier whispered, shaking his head in awe. “You just talked us past a full military inspection using a ledger box.”

“I told you,” I grinned, leaning back against the seat. “A good locksmith knows how to open doors.”

We reached the main pier twenty minutes later. Resting against the tall wooden pilings was a massive, three masted merchant vessel called The Sea Dragon.

Its dark oak hull was thick and sturdy, built to handle rough ocean waves, and workers were busy hauling heavy crates up long wooden gangplanks onto the main deck.

Xavier paid the ship’s quartermaster twenty gold coins to secure a private cargo spot for our wagon in the lower hold.

We guided the horses up the steep wooden ramp, watching as the crew tied our wagon down with thick hemp ropes beside dozens of other merchant crates.

Once the cargo was safe, we walked back up to the upper deck to watch the departure.

An hour later, the heavy iron anchor was hauled up from the sea floor with a loud, metallic clanking sound.

The massive white sails unrolled from the tall wooden masts, catching the afternoon wind, and The Sea Lion glided smoothly out of the harbor into the deep blue ocean.

I stood by the wooden railing at the back of the ship, resting my arms against the cool timber. The coastline of Novaria slowly shrank in the distance, its green hills and high stone towers fading into the horizon.

“First time on the ocean, kid?” Xavier asked, stepping up beside me and leaning against the railing.

“Yeah,” I replied, watching the white foam spray against the side of the hull. “It is pretty big.”

That’s half truth. I already travel in every countries in my old world and spend most of the time on cruise ships and private boats.

Ocean is one of my most beautiful memory of the past. But in this world, the ocean is the same but different at the same time. It’s full of magic.

“It gets bigger,” Xavier said, looking out at the endless expanse of blue water ahead. “Two days on this water, and we will be standing on the shores of Vhaltrar.”

I reached inside my coat, feeling the cold, dark spatial key resting safely against my chest.

“Two days,” I whispered into the salty sea wind, a quiet smirk on my face. I am really excited to see what kind of kingdom was over there.

The two days spent aboard The Sea Dragon were long, quiet, and surprisingly boring.

Very boring.

The sea was mostly calm, the sky stayed clear, and the steady rocking of the ship was enough to put anyone to sleep.

Xavier spent most of his time down in the hold checking on his horses or playing dice games with the ship’s sailors, winning a small pile of copper coins while complaining about his bad luck.

I spent my time sitting near the bow of the ship, practicing my mana control and watching the dark blue ocean stretch out to the edge of the sky.

On the morning of the third day, the air began to change. The cool sea breeze grew warmer and heavy with the smell of rich soil, foreign spices, and heavy iron smoke.

“Land ho!” a sailor shouted from the high crow’s nest.

I walked up to the front wooden railing, leaning forward to look through my magnifying loupe.

Rising out of the horizon was a massive, dark coastline.

Unlike the gentle green hills of Novaria, the shores of the Vhaltrar Empire were made of dark red stone cliffs and jagged black rocks. Built directly into the cliff face was a sprawling, massive port city that looked like a fortress made of iron and black granite.

Giant iron cranes powered by steam and water wheels stood along the long docks, lifting entire wooden cargo boxes out of ships with heavy metal chains.

Huge black smoke plumes rose from dozens of tall foundry chimneys in the distance, painting the morning sky in soft gray trails.

“Welcome to Port Peterson,” Xavier said, leaning against the railing beside me with his arms crossed. “The southern gateway of the Vhaltrar Empire.”

“It looks like a giant factory,” I remarked, watching the massive iron cranes swing across the harbor.

“That is because it is,” Xavier replied, his gray eyes scanning the dark stone walls. “The empire does not waste space on pretty gardens or tall noble spires like Novaria does. Everything here is built for industry, mining, and war.”

An hour later, The Sea Dragon docked safely along one of the heavy stone piers.

The ship’s crew lowered the gangplank, and Xavier drove our horse-drawn wagon off the ship, stepping onto the dark cobblestone streets of the empire.

The moment my boots hit the ground, I felt the sheer difference in atmosphere.

The streets were absolutely packed. Thousands of merchants, wagon drivers, artisans, and laborers from a dozen different regions were crowded together, creating a deafening wall of noise.

People were shouting in foreign languages, wooden wagon wheels were clattering against the stone roads, and the heavy thud of distant forging hammers echoed through the air like a steady heartbeat.

But what surprised me most was the people.

This was not a kingdom ruled purely by humans. The Vhaltrar Empire was the ancient home of the beastmen, a wild, powerful race of humanlike creatures who possessed animal traits, thick muscles, and unnatural physical strength.

Walking past our wagon were tall wolfmen carrying heavy iron crates on their shoulders without even sweating, feline artisans with sharp golden eyes bargaining over silk rolls, and massive bear-like blacksmiths walking past with heavy leather aprons covered in soot.

“Keep your head on a swivel, Silvester,” Xavier warned softly, keeping a tight grip on the reins as our wagon moved slowly through the crowded market street. “The empire is strict, but the harbor streets are full of cutthroats and pickpockets who will steal your boots off your feet if you look away for two seconds.”

We spent over an hour crawling through the packed harbor streets, heading toward the inner city gate that led into the main commercial district.

When we finally reached the main gate, my jaw dropped slightly.

The line of merchants waiting to enter the main city stretched out for nearly half a mile.

Thousands of people were standing in the hot sun, holding their papers, arguing with guard clerks, and waiting for their turn to pass through the high iron archway.

Standing at the front of the gate were the empire’s border guards.

They were terrifying to look at. They were humanlike crocodile beastmen, standing nearly seven feet tall with broad, muscular bodies covered in thick, dark green scales.

They wore heavy dark steel armor decorated with the crest of the empire, and they held massive two-handed halberds that could chop a horse in half with a single swing.

Their long, scaly snouts were filled with rows of razor sharp teeth, and their cold yellow eyes scanned every single merchant with absolute, ruthless suspicion.

“Crocodile beastmen,” Xavier murmured in a low voice. “The empire’s heavy guard unit. They have terrible tempers and zero patience for illegal papers. If one of them catches you lying, they won’t even arrest you. They will just toss you into the river.”

“Great,” I muttered, looking at the massive line ahead of us. “At this rate, we are going to be standing in this street until tomorrow morning.”

While we were waiting in the slow moving line, a commotion near the roadside caught my attention.

Sitting on a dirty wooden crate near a stone pillar was an old, ragged rabbit man.

He had long, droopy gray ears covered in matted fur, a worn out wool coat full of holes, and a dirty cloth wrapped tightly around his eyes like a blindfold.

He was holding out a small, cracked wooden bowl with trembling hands, asking passing merchants for spare coins in a weak, raspy voice.

“A copper for a blind old man, please,” the rabbit man begged softly, bowing his head as rich merchants walked right past him without even looking down. “Just a small copper coin for a warm loaf of bread.”

Most people completely ignored him, pushing their heavy wagons past his crate or stepping around his dirty bowl with disgusted looks on their faces.

A young wolfman merchant walked past, accidentally kicking the old man’s wooden bowl across the cobblestones, sending a few rusty copper coins rolling into the dirt.

The wolfman did not even apologize, chuckling mockingly as he kept walking.

“Watch where you sit, old dirty beggar!” the wolfman laughed.

The old rabbit man let out a sad sigh, dropping to his hands and knees in the dirt, feeling around blindly with his trembling fingers to find his scattered copper coins.

I watched him from our wagon seat, my magnifying loupe resting over my right eye.

As the old rabbit man reached out toward a copper coin that had rolled under a wooden cart, something caught my attention.

Enjoying the journey? Don’t let the adventure stop here!