Godfather's System
128. Development - 25

"I really need to find a better way to transport this stuff," I murmured even as I put another sealed crate into the secret storage room under our headquarters that only me and Zolast could use. It was already evening, and I had traveled almost thirty times, which was barely enough to match the size of an ordinary Lord Beast.

A great loss considering I had managed to hunt six more in the process. The pieces I had brought were the best cuts from those six beasts, but that still didn't change the wasteful nature of my operation.

It was tempting to create a secret cove to pile the remaining pieces under a mana ward in order to store them until I could come up with a more scalable logistical approach, but I decided against it for the same reason I didn't use any of the existing black market connections.

The risk of being revealed.

Zolast made it clear that, unless he stayed around to actively manage the wards, there were many ways for a competent mana user to discover such a hiding spot. Revealing the existence of my extremely profitable hunting operation wasn't worth it. Sᴇaʀch* Thᴇ ɴøvᴇlFɪre.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of nøvels early and in the highest quality.

Still, there was one advantage in the process: Since I had to travel back and forth repeatedly, I was able to attend to the tasks around the town. I oversaw the reopening of the casino in the outer town, and put the finishing touches to the temporary one in the inner town — including designing a safe for mana stones, allowing people to directly deposit mana stones for chips rather than silver and gold — as well as redesigning the patrols around our properties.

I even managed to stop at the outpost for three hours, using that opportunity to farm enough experience for another level up — this time costing thirty-three million — that further increased my available stat points.

As darkness fell, I left the town once more, but this time, I wasn't going toward the shore.

No, my destination was Town Maell once more.

I had swung by the town several times during the day, but every time, there was a huge mana barrier around the town, blocking all entrances and exits to the inner town, while the outer town panicked.

Technically, I could have broken through the barrier, but doing so would be an unnecessary risk.

When I arrived, I saw that the mana barrier was gone, and the town had returned to its usual operation. Well, somewhat.

The number of guards at the outer walls had increased significantly, especially around the gates, applying a much stricter identity check for everyone who was trying to enter. "Amateurs," I said as I watched the huge lines outside, everyone gossiping about the reason for such a change, each guess more outlandish.

Some thought that the dungeon had suffered an accident, while others talked about some kind of revolt from the criminals. There were others who believed one of the churches was trying to take control of the city. And, these were just some of the guesses.

Regardless of the inaccuracy of these, one thing was certain for everyone to see: House Maell had just gone through a horrible misfortune, one that was only known because of the over-the-top security measures they had implemented.

Admittedly, such a loss of reputation might have been worth it to catch the responsible party — my poor self. But, considering I was able to pick up Limenta, explain the situation to him, and then leave the town without even using my Speed other than some short bursts before they even raised an alarm, they should have realized that all that effort was counterproductive.

To be fair, they probably did. It wouldn't be the first time I watched an organization hyperfocus on security after a similar event just to feel a psychological sense of security.

Even if those new measures didn't stop me as I went into the town once more.

The combination of Speed and Concealment was a frustrating combination … for others.

Once I was back in the town, stealing one of the new identity plates the guards had been issuing to everyone was trivial. A quick change of clothes later, I was walking freely in the outer town, trying to understand the changes.

Changes that surprised me greatly. "No, they can't be serious," I muttered as I looked at the burnt remains of a shop, one that had been owned by one of the stronger underground operators in the outer town.

There was a chance that he was unlucky, and had been chosen as a victim to be blamed … but as I visited the next nearest place, this time an inn, I found that it was destroyed as well.

A quick walk around the town — with occasional changes of disguise to avoid suspicion — confirmed that every single black market operation in the town had been destroyed. House Maell went all in purging the black market. Even my new residence was included in that flame-heavy cleansing.

Which wasn't surprising. There was a reason I had immediately extracted Limenta. Purchasing that building had already been a test, so it was normal for him to fail to properly cover up.

I was shocked by House Maell's stupidity.

Uprooting the existing underground structure was never a challenge to any functioning government. Yet, they never did so, and while there were many reasons on the surface, from bribes to blackmail, the core reason never changed.

It was impossible to stamp out organized crime.

A purging like the one House Maell had employed might have looked useful for a while by getting rid of the current batch of criminals, but it was temporary. Other criminals might stay away for a while, but not for long, especially when a high-value target like a dungeon town was concerned.

Some criminals would stay away. Particularly the calm and collected kind with a clear idea of their limits, that treated crime as a serious, long-term business.

Leaving the space for the aggressive kids with delusions of grandeur, who believed shocking displays of violence and mayhem were better than cold calculation and patience.

Of course, that was not the worst thing that could happen.

The worst thing was to have an enemy that was looking for an opportunity to move in.

Like me.

Thirty minutes — and three bribes — later, I was the proud owner of a trade license for low-grade metal ores, and was standing in front of a warehouse on the outskirts of the town. "It's unacceptable. I have personally built this warehouse, spending twenty derums of silver in the process," the merchant in front of me promoted aggressively. "Then, there's the cost of land, and—"

"And, risk of fire," I cut him in sharply, pointing at the field with blackened remains of a recent fire. Then, I slapped the wood hard and pointed at a crack. "You have been swindled hard if you paid anything more than four derums for the construction. I'll give you twelve derums of silver for both the land and the building."

The merchant looked tense as he considered the offer, which was close to his bottom line. I was able to read him easily. He wasn't a particularly good merchant, panicky enough to sell his assets at the worst possible time.

The price was almost a quarter of what he would have asked yesterday, but he didn't have a choice.

He wasn't the only one trying to get rid of his real estate with deep discounts. I was tempted to purchase real estate aggressively just to flip them a few days later once the prices normalized — the previous high was difficult, but I still expected it to rise by a significant percentage — but that was more of a force of habit than anything else.

The little profit I would make wasn't worth the inevitable attention such a move would generate.

"Fifteen derums of silver," the merchant countered after a long breath, trying his luck.

"Thirteen-and-half, and only if you throw in those carts," I said, pointing at half a dozen cheaply made carts that were waiting, their pulley animals absent.

"Deal," he agreed. I was equally satisfied as we signed the necessary documents and registered the sale with the officials — with another half a derum of silver to thank for their assistance at such a late hour.

The merchant left, satisfied with his victory. I was even more satisfied with the results, allowing me to establish myself as a merchant.

For the next two hours, I walked around, buying beasts of burden, acquiring new carts, and even hiring some workers.

Just like that, I had established a permanent trade caravan.

I had gone through all that trouble for several reasons. First of all, it would give me a legitimate excuse to have a lot of workers in town … and if a few of those workers had a habit of hanging around the gates to kill time, what was the harm?

It was not exactly a full-fledged spy ring, but I would be happy as long as I could track any surprise noble visits or sudden troop movements. I didn't want to get caught off guard.

Another benefit was to finally have an excuse to constantly send carts toward the port city. It was also good to have an excuse to buy a lot of metal ore. With the consumption of our smithy increasing, I'd rather establish an alternative supply line earlier than later.

Another advantage of having a lot of cheap ore … I could slip a few additional carts filled with beast meat, and it would travel inconspicuously, giving me an alternative to carrying them directly.

It would be easier to establish such a caravan in Town Yoentia, but it shouldn't take long for our enemies to start hitting our supply lines to cripple our economic capabilities.

And, if they get caught, it would be my enemies dealing with the heat of smuggling charges.

Yet, the biggest advantage was none of these. I planned to build a nice large bunker under the town, maybe even a tunnel to allow our soldiers to go in easily.

I wanted to be ready to deliver a counterblow if House Maell was still determined to make an enemy out of us…

As I thought that, I was busy carving a name board, suppressing my desire to name it something impressive. The aim was to stay unnoticed.

In the end, I settled on something simple.

Iron Trust Traders.

Sᴇarch the NøvᴇlFirᴇ(.)nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of nøvels early and in the highest quality.