Ashveil departed Ashen Hollow shortly after sunrise.
Two spearmen took turns pulling a small wooden cart behind the group. It carried four carapace-reinforced shields, several iron tools, and the spare weapons Rowan had prepared for trading.
Although the goods were hardly impressive compared to the equipment recovered from Silvercrest, they represented several days of work by Ashen Hollow’s villagers.
Losing them would be a considerable setback.
For that reason, Ashveil decided to bring four spearmen as escorts, leaving the remaining six to protect the settlement under Rowan’s supervision. Three of the defenders would continue their archery training, while the others maintained patrols around the cottages and farm.
Ria and Seraphina accompanied him as well.
Before departing, Ashveil reminded Rowan to continue repairing the damaged cottage and preparing the defensive trenches. If the market possessed the materials he needed, he intended to return with enough supplies to begin construction immediately.
The group followed the western trail, traveling through wooded hills and narrow stretches of rocky terrain.
Fortunately, they encountered no dangerous creatures along the way.
By late afternoon, the surrounding mountains had begun forming a natural passage between two steep ridges.
Ashveil unfolded the map recovered from the destroyed Grade B territory.
They were approaching the Western Valley Lord’s Market.
However, before they could proceed any farther, Ria suddenly stopped.
"Little lord, we’re being watched."
Ashveil immediately raised his hand, signaling the soldiers to halt.
Several figures emerged from behind the rocks ahead.
They wore matching dark-blue uniforms beneath reinforced armor, and each carried a polished spear. Two additional guards stood farther uphill with bows already drawn.
Unlike the poorly equipped soldiers Ashveil had encountered previously, these men possessed the discipline and equipment of an established military force.
One of them stepped forward.
"State your business."
"We’re here to trade," Ashveil answered.
"Market permit?"
Ashveil retrieved the document bearing the number 047.
The guard examined it carefully before returning it.
"Valid. You may enter, but your soldiers must keep their weapons secured. Any fighting inside the market will result in immediate expulsion."
Market permits were issued to individual trading parties, but possession was sufficient for entry. The guards apparently cared more about whether a permit was genuine than who had originally received it.
"There’s also an entry fee."
"How much?"
"Twenty Gold Coins for a trading party of your size."
Ashveil’s expression stiffened.
Twenty Gold Coins?
He hadn’t even sold anything yet.
Ashveil noticed an unfamiliar insignia on the guard’s armor. It seemed the market had its own organized garrison. Whoever controlled the valley clearly possessed enough military strength to enforce its rules.
Nevertheless, arguing with the guards would accomplish nothing. The soldiers stationed along the passage were clearly stronger than his own, and the market’s protection was precisely what made the location valuable.
He reluctantly handed over the money.
After confirming the payment, the guards stepped aside.
"Follow the road. The trading grounds are beyond the ridge."
As they passed, one of the archers glanced toward Ria.
The succubus had concealed her more distinctive features beneath a traveling cloak, while Seraphina wore an ordinary hooded robe over her usual clothing.
Ashveil had decided against bringing the Forgotten Kobold.
A creature associated with the Forgotten Dominion would attract unwanted attention, and he had no desire to explain his unusual military arrangements to strangers.
Fortunately, the guards allowed them through without further questioning.
The narrow passage gradually opened into a broad valley.
Ashveil stopped.
Ahead of him stood the largest gathering of people he had seen since arriving in Eryndor.
Wooden stalls lined several winding streets, while larger merchant tents occupied the central square. Carts moved between the buildings, and armed escorts waited beside stacks of supplies.
Lords from different backgrounds mingled among the merchants, accompanied by soldiers, heroes, and unfamiliar creatures.
Some were selling weapons and armor, while others displayed food, medicinal herbs, construction materials, and magical items.
The entire valley was filled with the sounds of bargaining and conversation.
For a moment, Ashveil almost forgot that he was standing in a world where countless Lords were struggling to survive.
Here, people were laughing, arguing over prices, and conducting business as though the dangers outside the valley barely existed.
"Quite impressive, isn’t it?" Ria remarked.
Ashveil nodded.
Whoever controlled this market was undoubtedly making a fortune.
Even the entrance fees alone must generate a considerable income.
More importantly, the market possessed something Ashen Hollow desperately lacked.
A functioning economy.
Instead of gathering every resource personally, Lords could exchange their surplus for whatever they needed.
Ashveil suddenly understood how territories with better starting conditions could develop so quickly.
Resources weren’t merely something to collect.
They were something to trade.
He instructed the spearmen to remain close to the cart before entering the marketplace.
As they walked, Ashveil examined the various stalls.
One merchant displayed sacks of grain and preserved meat. Another offered bundles of medicinal herbs beside several bottles of pale-blue liquid.
Farther ahead, a heavily armored Lord was selling monster hides and enormous weapons that appeared far too large for ordinary humans.
Ashveil also noticed several stalls offering enchanted equipment.
Unfortunately, their prices were well beyond his current budget.
A simple enchanted dagger cost more Gold Coins than Ashen Hollow could comfortably spare.
He quickly moved on.
His priority was finding stone and other construction materials.
After asking several merchants, Ashveil eventually located a trading yard near the northern edge of the market.
Large piles of timber, stone blocks, and metal ingots were arranged beneath covered shelters.
A merchant stood behind a wooden counter, recording transactions in a thick ledger.
"Looking for something?"
"Stone," Ashveil answered. "Preferably enough for defensive construction."
The merchant examined him briefly.
"How much?"
Ashveil explained the approximate quantity required for reinforcing the ground around his settlement.
The merchant considered the request before presenting several options.
Unfortunately, the prices were higher than Ashveil had anticipated.
Transporting heavy construction materials across the surrounding hills was expensive, and purchasing enough stone would consume a substantial portion of his remaining funds.
Worse, he would need additional carts and workers to carry everything back.
Ashveil frowned.
He had found the materials he needed, but acquiring them would be another matter entirely.
"Do you accept equipment in exchange?" he asked.
"Depends on the equipment."
Ashveil gestured toward his cart.
"Then perhaps you’d like to take a look."
The merchant examined one of the carapace-reinforced shields with considerable interest.
He tapped its surface several times before testing the durability of the overlapping plates.
"Monster shell?"
"Burrowfang carapace."
"Interesting. Not particularly refined, but it’s sturdy."
He turned the shield over.
"Who made this?"
"My territory’s workshop."
The merchant raised an eyebrow.
"You manufacture these yourselves?"
Ashveil nodded.
The merchant inspected the remaining shields before making an offer.
It was lower than Ashveil had hoped.
He rejected it immediately.
The merchant laughed.
"You’re a difficult customer."
"And you’re offering too little."
After several minutes of bargaining, they eventually agreed on a better price.
The merchant purchased two shields and several iron tools, allowing Ashveil to recover a portion of the money he had spent entering the market.
It wasn’t an enormous profit, but it proved something important.
Ashen Hollow’s products could sell.
The merchant also expressed interest in purchasing additional carapace equipment if Ashveil could improve its appearance and consistency.
Ashveil promised nothing, although he carefully remembered the suggestion.
After completing the transaction, he used part of the proceeds to purchase a modest quantity of stone and arranged for the merchant to provide a small handcart.
It wasn’t enough to finish every defensive trench, but it would allow construction to begin.
Ashveil intended to search for cheaper suppliers before spending the remainder of his funds.
However, as he prepared to leave the trading yard, a nearby conversation caught his attention.
"Another territory disappeared north of the valley."
"Again?"
"That’s the third one this week. They say mounted monsters were seen nearby."
Ashveil stopped.
Mounted monsters?
He immediately recalled the Grimfang Riders he had encountered while returning from Silvercrest.
The creatures had slaughtered another Lord and searched his belongings before disappearing into the forest.
Could they be responsible for the recent disappearances?
Ashveil approached the merchants.
"Excuse me. These mounted monsters you’re talking about. What did they look like?"
One of the men glanced toward him.
"Gray-skinned riders on enormous wolves. Why?"
Ashveil’s expression grew serious.
He had encountered them before.
"Do you know what they’re searching for?"
The merchant shook his head.
"No idea. But several traveling parties have gone missing, and people are starting to avoid the northern roads."
Ashveil thanked him before returning to his companions.
Ria noticed his expression.
"Something troubling you, little lord?"
"Those riders we saw near Silvercrest. Apparently, they’ve been attacking other territories."
"Then perhaps we should be careful on our way home."
"That’s exactly what I’m thinking."
Ashveil had no intention of becoming their next victim.
He decided to finish his business quickly and leave before nightfall.
As Ashveil returned toward the central square, he noticed that several merchants had begun gathering around a particular stall.
A woman dressed in a dark traveling cloak stood beside a collection of unusual materials.
Unlike the other merchants, she displayed no weapons or ordinary supplies.
Instead, several small crystals and unfamiliar metallic fragments were arranged neatly across a black cloth.
Ashveil initially intended to walk past.
However, the woman suddenly spoke.
"You’re the Lord carrying the market permit numbered 047, aren’t you?"
He stopped immediately.
The woman hadn’t been present when he entered the market.
How did she know his permit number?
Ashveil turned toward her.
"Do I know you?"
"Not yet."
She lifted her head slightly, revealing a pair of pale golden eyes beneath her hood.
"But I believe you’ve found something that belongs to someone else."
Ashveil’s expression remained unchanged, although his hand instinctively moved toward the pouch containing the mysterious wooden token.
The woman noticed the movement.
A faint smile appeared beneath her hood.
"Yes," she said quietly. "That."