Gerald grabbed an apple from the stall on the side of the street. He swiveled it in his hand, a mix of yellow and red, bulgy on one side more than the other. "Where do the apples come from?" he asked Arthur.

The old minister was wearing a green woolen robe that would strike any passerby as negligibly rugged, and his head was covered with a loose part of the robe. He glanced at the stall and said, "I believe those are grown in the basin, my lord."

'Huh.' Gerald brought the apple closer to his face, scrutinizing it. "I didn't know we had orchards in the basin."

"We do, my lord. Not many, however."

He nodded and placed the apple back in place. He had taken Arthur to visit the streets of his castle with a modest merchant's clothes on him. He wanted to see his bustling streets himself, and they were just as he'd imagined them; crowded and noisy. But they were certainly better than the dying streets that'd greeted him on his arrival from the Malfi Duchi.

He made sure to keep his ears open for news and hearsay. He'd heard many things from merchants between the entwining words of haggling and cursing that filled the streets. Some were planning to return where they came from with their caravans. Others were planning for their routes north. And many were planning to stay and make the best from the current opportunities while they lasted.

He traversed further into the crowds with his minister. As soon as he got to the middle of the street, his ears were caught by some interesting words once more.

"I cannot believe they're back at war after so many years," a gruff old man said. His croaky voice didn't match the luxurious garments he wore.

A younger merchant beside him chortled. "It's not like there is any trade to be had with them. Not with the Damnation Sea and the Wild Plains between us and them."

"If only those damn pirates would relent."

Gerald pulled Arthur aside and mixed with the crowd of bystanders on the side of the road, then he continued listening.

"The Asura continent is cursed by war. If a hundred thousand lives aren't reaped every decade, the lands will cry then dry," the young merchant quipped, the mockery dry in his tone. "The Kings oblige when the land demands for blood, and they go to war, throwing thousands of young men to their final rest."

The old merchant spat on the floor and gave the younger one a glare with his side eye. "A nephew of mine died in one of those wars, you fool. It's not a jesting matter, I tell you. If the sovereigns of the land don't come to their senses and halt this eternal bleeding, war will come for all of us until no one is left."

"War will never end, old man."

The old merchant sighed and shook his head. "I can't believe Aloira is at war. I thought that old King would have taught his son something before he died."

"A good King doesn't always birth a good King, old Leyr. We would all be living in prosperous lands if it was like that. And it's Frika now. Won't you let the past be past? No one calls it Aloira anymore."

"Not since that damn Shrine took root there. I'd wager half my life's gold that they had something to do with the war, and that's only because I don't have the other half at this moment."

"The Empire always finds a way to reach outwards. If they can't march into your lands, they send their priests to your cities. Babylon is always the victor, they say."

"Horseshit is what I say. No one has lost as many wars as they have. In land, They have tried to invade the Quresh alliance for their wealth, and in the end they fled back like dogs after starving in the marshes and thirsting in the deserts. In the sea, the United Archipelago taught them how ships are meant to battle, and the Empire's old fleet rests at the bottom of the Diamond Sea to this day."

Gerald glanced at Arthur as he listened to the two merchants argue.

The old minister had his brows raised in disbelief. "Frika and Gascar are at war again?"

"There is no reason for two conversing merchants to lie to themselves," Gerald whispered.

"No one stands to gain from such a war but Babylon," Arthur said, narrowing eyes.

Gerald nodded. The Babylonians were envied not only for their territory but also for the Imperial Family's power over religion. The Sun Shrine was being used by them to spread their influence in all of the surroundings lands, not just in Frika. Half of the Warring Duchies already embraced The Shining God. On the other side, The United Archipelago fought with pure gold to balance the influence in the Duchies and gain themselves a footing. "It is nothing for us to bother about, Arthur. The War is far away. Neejer and Mali are close by. When they return to war again, we will have to suffer from its implications." Frika and Gascar were southeast of the subcontinent, separated from it by the wide Wild Plains. Riding the seas, one would have to leave the Sleeping Sea and cross the pirate-infested Damnation Sea south of the Wild Plains to reach the shores of Frika.

Arthur nodded. "I understand, my lord. I simply didn't expect such a thing to happen again. Both Kingdoms know what happened last time they went to war."

Gerald chortled. "Yes. Something is odd indeed. Unless they want the Babylon Empire to try to swallow them again, they should be thinking of how to avoid a war. I'm surprised the Adis Kingdom didn't interfere on behalf of peace. If one of them falls, the other two would soon follow. Regardless, let's continue our walk."

"Yes," Arthur said.

They soon left the street and entered another less bustling one. "Arthur," Gerald called, looking at his minister solemnly.

"My lord?"

"There is an undertaking that I have been thinking about."

"My lord, don't we already have our hands full with one in the scorched forest?"

Gerald chuckled and shook his head. "This is something else. You see, Arthur, I believe that my eyes deceived me the first time I came here. I always believed that the refugees are what made Ard crowded. But after most of them left to work in the scorched forest, only the surroundings of Ard became less crowded. The castle is still congested with people, and that's with many of them working in the scorched forest as well."

"Your lordship's forefathers have prepared the castle for this," Arthur said with a reassuring smile.

Gerald shook his head again. "No, no." He knew what Arthur was speaking of. Ard had been expanded twice in the past, until it had become nothing short of a small city. If there was a difference between an ordinary city and Ard, it was the liveliness, the luxury, and the people. "Ard needs to become a city, Arthur. We need to expand beyond these walls, and hopefully build other ones around them too."

"My lord!" Arthur nearly shouted, hardly suppressing his voice. "Such . . . such wishes would need an unimaginable amount of gold to achieve. The scorched land's undertaking is our treasury's extent now."

Gerald sighed. "Don't assume, Arthur. I don't intend to build walls and a city now. We can begin by planning and building the streets for each anticipated city quarter without walls. We could also build a true market expanse in one of those quarters. I saw the market in Malfi City several times, and it proved time and time again that it was the lifeblood of the city. Workshops and craftsmen working day and night. Merchants arriving and departing, unending. Not simply passing by, but there to trade. If we could have a similar market here, you wouldn't have enough room to store the gold."

Arthur seemed conflicted for a moment but he hurriedly shook his head. "But now I have plenty of room, my lord, and not enough gold for expanding Ard into a city. Even if it's just streets and some small constructs."

"We need the market, Arthur. We have an opportunity. The Baronies don't work their copper or silver. We could negotiate with their envoy. We could bring these resources to Ard. And we have iron, even if it's not the best. The castle could become a craftsman's paradise if we could bring so many resources here. We could also buy timber, then Ard would lack for nothing. The taxes that came from the workshops in Malfi city, only from the workshops, were unimaginable. We don't need to have the mines to earn the gold. Trade is much more important. That's why Duke Malfi is obsessed with trade and its routes, even though he has two gold mines at his fingertips."

Arthur was shaking his lowered head to no one in particular, a struggle apparent on his face. Both anxious and contemplating, he finally spoke with an enlightened smile. "One quarter."

"Huh?" Gerald cocked his head.

"We don't have to work around Ard from every direction, my lord," Arthur grinned. "You can choose the quarter you want the market and workshops to be in, and we'd work in that direction. We'd set the streets and build some constructs for the market."

Gerald raised a finger and smiled wide. He pointed at his minister. "True. Very true. Then we can begin leasing the land after it's prepared. The treasury would gain a considerable amount from that. And there would be more gold to come from trade."

Arthur nodded.

"How much gold would we need?" Gerald said.

Arthur pressed his lips. "At least five thousand gold, and that's simply to begin, my lord. We will need more later."

"Regardless, begin your preparations once we return. We will begin in the south. The merchants come from that direction, after all. So let's begin with the southern quarter." Gerald rubbed his chin. "This basin will be very different a year from now."

"Yes, my lord."

Gerald heard a few whispers from around the corner. He dragged Arthur and peered towards the whispering merchants. He slipped into their crowd and watched.

"I tell you," a young merchant in blue robes said, keeping his eyes on a man who was easy to recognize as a mercenary. He gestured towards a shortsword with a tint of green to its shine. "My words are a truth that stands time and beyond. This blade was forged with the help of an alchemist. It's forged with poison that will last for years if not eternity. Every part of it is melded with steel and potent poison. Only an alchemist can do such a thing. If you don't believe me, you can attempt to use it." He pointed at three deer chained to an iron pole.

"Alchemist?" Arthur widened his eyes, shifting them between the merchant and Gerald.

"I doubt that his words are a truth that would survive a single day," Gerald snorted. "But even if they do, nothing binds me to go after an alchemist-crafted sword. And even if an alchemist was standing here, I wouldn't pursue him without a King peering over me. It's a risk would not take." It was a tragedy, he believed. Alchemists had been hunted down to extinction by Royals and Imperials all over the Asura continent. No one knew why.

He'd heard many hearsay about alchemists, and he'd read a lot about them out of curiosity. He'd spent a lot of his leisure in Malfi City reading, after all. He loved to read about history, and books about alchemists always attracted his interest. It was said that alchemists were the ones to discover the method for forging Highsteel. Not only that, but it was also said that they were the ones that had made the mellowing water that was needed to bend bows. Many other things were rumored to have been discovered by them, like the burning water that treated wounds, and many herbs and remedies that treated illnesses.

He'd read an old book that claimed that alchemists had ruled the continent before the Red Age. And it even claimed that their rise to power preceded The Shattering itself. Not that he believed the night stories of a shattered continent that now rested at the bottom of the seas. The book had said that the Asura continent was named a continent because there was one before it, supposedly to the west. He'd heard the myths, even before reading the book. But what the book told was much more distinct.

Gerald led Arthur towards another street, and as he walked, he spied a familiar young face running from the other end of the street. Harrid.

The boy's eyes were darting from side to side, his head swiveling in every direction.

Gerald waved with his fingers, and the boy's eyes caught sight of him. He ran towards the two of them and arrived, sweaty and panting. "My lord," he bowed. "Sir Robard sent me to tell you that Master Rudolf," he stopped to take a breath, "and—"

"And Gasper?" Gerald said. "They're back in the keep?"

"Yes, my lord. They've returned."

"How did you find us?" Arthur asked, raising a brow.

"I looked everywhere, your Excellency."

Gerald glanced at the boy and chuckled. "Very well. Let us return. I've missed Uncle Rudolf."