Chapter 197: Caravan

The rising morning sun brought a renewed vitality to the dawn of a new day.

The administrative officer—no, Wilson, who had already been promoted to Chief of Administrative Affairs—rose early from his bed.

After a swift wash, he grabbed a mere two pieces of bread and hurried out of Marsh Castle with his assistant, ready to begin another bustling day.

The air was damp, tinged even with the faint, stagnant scent of earth, yet Wilson found it remarkably crisp.

He drew a deep breath, letting the air of Marsh Town fill his chest, finding it thoroughly intoxicating.

"Good morning, Administrative Officer!"

Selin, who had been waiting outside the castle gates, stepped forward and greeted Wilson with a respectful bow.

A few days ago, Ronin had dismissed Selin from his post as the administrative officer of Marsh Town, intending to relegate him to the status of a common commoner.

However, during the subsequent inspection of the fief and the deep dive into the town's affairs, Selin's expertise had once again won Ronin's favor.

Coupled with his dedicated assistance to Wilson in taking over the local administration over the past few days, which earned Wilson's praise, Ronin had ultimately allowed him to continue handling administrative matters.

Yet Selin was not restored to his original rank; he currently held the role of a temporary "administrative clerk," a step above an assistant, with his specific duties subject to Wilson's arrangements.

"Mr. Selin, Lord Wilson is no longer the Administrative Officer,"

the assistant at his side reminded in a low voice. "Yesterday evening, the Lord appointed Mr. Wilson as the Chief of Administrative Affairs for the Northern Crow Territory."

Chief of Administrative Affairs?

Selin was slightly taken aback; he had never heard of such a title, but gathering the meaning from the assistant's words, he understood it to be an upgraded version of the administrative officer.

"Congratulations, My Lord!" he hurried to say with a solemn expression, offering his felicitations.

Wilson gave a bashful smile. "This is all due to the profound grace of the Lord. It is his kindness and trust that have made me who I am today!"

He turned and bowed toward the castle. "Praise be to the Lord!"

With their superior leading the salute, the others naturally followed suit.

Wilson, in truth, rather enjoyed this sensation; he had never imagined that a day would come when he would have subordinates of his own, and summoning the courage to apply for the administrative officer position at Mountain Forest Castle back then was truly the wisest decision of his life.

Snapping back to the present, Wilson led his men at a leisurely pace away from Marsh Castle, speaking as they walked:

"Selin, your abilities are sound, and you possess a thorough understanding of Marsh Town's affairs. Though you are but a clerk now, as long as you serve the Lord with absolute sincerity, it is not impossible for you to become the administrative officer of Marsh Town once more."

Selin shook his head bitterly. "The Lord will not make me the administrative officer. After all, I once pledged my loyalty to Baron Rayson."

"The Lord is merciful!"

Wilson emphasized, "Selin, do not view Lord Ronin through worldly eyes. Do you know of Knight Tom, the one who went to Horse-Pasture City?"

Selin recalled for a moment, then nodded. "I remember. He was one of the first knights to accompany the Lord to Marsh Town."

"Exactly!"

Wilson said, "Tom also used to work for Rayson, and he even drew his sword against the Lord. Yet, far from executing him, the Lord gave him a chance to follow him."

"Now, Tom has not only earned the Lord's trust but is also held in high esteem by him."

At this point, he looked at Selin and said with earnest gravity, "Therefore, work hard. The opportunity lies right before you; it only depends on whether you can grasp it."

Selin's eyes flickered with emotion; he had not expected Tom's past to be so dramatic. Moreover, did this not mirror his own predicament?

If even Tom could be entrusted with great responsibility, why could he not?

"I will!"

He believed Wilson's words.

"Haha, excellent!"

Wilson laughed heartily. "Then today, let us distribute the craftsmen of Marsh Town according to the registry!"

On the other side, Ronin, having risen and washed, was currently enjoying his breakfast.

Bread, milk, paired with boiled prawns from Marsh Town and fresh vegetables; though the texture was quite ordinary, it excelled in nutritional balance and suited his palate well.

"My Lord, do you require me to send word for Galen and Bella to come over from Mountain Forest Town?"

Chahar inquired softly while respectfully handing over a towel for Ronin to wipe his mouth.

Although Marsh Castle had recently recruited new servants, they had not yet hired personal valets or maids, meaning Chahar had been attending to him these past two days.

But Chahar had his own duties to attend to during the day and was frequently absent; he worried that no one would take proper care of the lord.

"No need, I shall return to Mountain Forest Town myself in a few days."

Ronin took the towel and wiped his lips. "You mentioned that Kales's iron-smelting technique and Jim's kiln have made progress, and I haven't even had the chance to look yet."

He handed the towel back. "Has that fellow named Pierson arrived?"

"He arrived long ago. I have already had him waiting in the drawing-room for some time," Chahar replied.

Pierson, a lean and tall middle-aged man, was currently waiting in the drawing-room, sitting on pins and needles.

Even though the castle servants had poured him a cup of water, he did not dare to drink it lightly, for he had no inkling of why this new lord had summoned him.

Was it to call him to account for his past crimes in serving Rayson?

Or was it, like Selin, to allow him to continue serving Marsh Castle?

Pierson prayed it was the latter.

Over the years, he had grown accustomed to leading the trade caravans of Marsh Castle, traveling far and wide to make sales; if he were forced to abandon this career and pick up a hoe to till the soil, truth be told, he would find it hard to adapt.

The sound of approaching footsteps echoed, and Pierson sprang up like a coiled spring. He turned, looking with a mixture of nervousness and anticipation at the young man walking toward him.

Silver hair and black eyes—the hallmarks of the Black Mountain family.

He bowed deeply. "Greetings, Lord Viscount!"

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Pierson."

Ronin raised a hand slightly. "Please, take a seat."

Pierson sat down anxiously, his spine straight as a ramrod, as he inquired with utmost caution, "May I ask what instructions Your Lordship has in mind by summoning me here?"

"You need not be tense."

Ronin's tone was exceptionally gentle; he knew that many in the town felt pressured in his presence, given that his displacement of Rayson had not been achieved through peaceful means.

"I heard that you have always been the one leading the trade caravans of Marsh Town. I would like to hear of your experiences."

Pierson let out a silent sigh of relief; it appeared the Lord had not come to make trouble for him, and he seemed to scent an opportunity within this.

Thereupon, Pierson began to recount the nature of his work over the years.

The commodities Marsh Town sold to the outside world generally fell into only two categories: black water buffaloes and aquatic products.

For the sale of black water buffaloes, Rayson usually took the lead in negotiations; after all, only nobles could afford them and purchase them in bulk.

Pierson was primarily responsible for the transport and husbandry care during the journey, ensuring the goods reached the clients safely.

The sale of aquatic products, however, was a different story.

High-end fish and shrimp were monopolized by the Green family of Lake Town; the aquatic goods from Marsh Town were generally sold to the common folk living in the surrounding towns.

Ronin could not help but wonder if Rayson's previous strike against the Green family had been driven by commercial considerations.

In the realm of aquatic sales, Pierson was the chief coordinator; according to him, he had already established cooperative relationships with numerous merchants in other regions over the years.

In Marshtown, whether fresh or dried, all aquatic products could be sold without difficulty.

“My lord, according to past records, Marshtown consistently brings in three or four hundred gold coins annually from fish, shrimp, and other aquatic goods.”

After introducing his work, Pearson stepped forward voluntarily: “Marshtown needs a caravan—and I am willing to serve you!”

Ronin nodded in deep satisfaction.

Though he now possessed considerable wealth, the actual profits he had earned through trade were few and far between.

The fact that Marshtown alone generated three or four hundred gold coins each year from aquatic sales was already a substantial sum for a baron’s domain.

Ronin had no intention of letting this income slip away.

“I do indeed need a caravan.”

He turned to Pearson. “I recognize your abilities. So now, perhaps we may discuss the compensation for you and your caravan members.”

With an established sales channel already at hand, Ronin saw no reason to abandon Pearson and rebuild a caravan from scratch.

As for whether Pearson might embezzle the proceeds—such concerns need not be overthought.

Every shipment was meticulously recorded; even if he managed to pocket a little extra, that was his own affair.

Commerce and sales were never perfectly clean.

For Ronin, as long as sufficient coin flowed into his coffers, that was all that mattered.

Yet one matter still required consideration.

Pearson was merely a common man, and so were his men.

If they were to transport valuable goods—such as bulk shipments of Blackwater Bulls, or later, silk and porcelain—the caravan would need knights to escort and protect it.

“When the time is right, I shall need to find a professional knight to serve as transport officer.” (End of chapter)