CHAPTER 67: RARE GRAINS

Grant rose to his feet, circled around the table, and stepped out of the tent but even he hadn’t expected this.

His breath caught as his gaze locked onto Kaelor, mounted atop a beast that defied natural sense: a massive, three-headed creature, larger than any cow and black as ink. Each of its heads moved with eerie awareness, its thick, sinewed necks rippling like coiled ropes of shadow.

For a heartbeat, Grant stood motionless, his boots rooted to the earth as if the very soil had seized him. Around him, the once-busy merchant grounds erupted in gasps and cries. Conversations halted mid-sentence, purchases forgotten, and even hardened traders stepped away in alarm. The creature’s presence cleaved a path through the crowd like a blade through silk.

Titan, the beast, made no effort to hide its hunger. It snarled with one head, bared its gleaming fangs with another, while the third lolled its long, meaty tongue over jagged teeth, its maw dripping with imagined delight, already savoring the tender flesh of the onlookers and the crunch of bone beneath its jaws.

When Baron Garrick finally emerged from the tent, the sight drove the breath from his lungs. His lips parted, but no words came. His eyes bulged, and his entire form tensed like a man staring into the jaws of a nightmare. "Is that... a Devil Beast?" he whispered hoarsely.

Grant’s lips twitched into a faint smile, eyes never leaving Kaelor. "A sign," he said, voice low with meaning, "that he has begun to conquer the things that drive other men to run. Tell me, does he not remind you of the Red Dragon?"

The moment the title left Grant’s lips, Garrick’s face twisted. The Red Dragon. A name that belonged to only one man, Duke Merlin Dravion who established House Dravion. From then, the title had been passed down and now belonged to Duke Caldor of House Merlin.

He had earned that name long before he inherited his father’s seat, carving his legend into the northern frontiers with blood and fire during the border wars with the Winter Kingdom. He was ruthless. Fearless. Victorious.

And now, this... disgraced whelp was being compared to him?

Kaelor had never earned a thing in his life. He was filth, exiled from nobility, scorned by commoners. The man had soiled the capital with scandal. Rumors claimed he had laid with nearly every prostitute within its walls, and perhaps even threatened the daughters of decent men into his bed. He squandered coin like it grew on trees, destroyed thriving businesses with his antics, and brought entire taverns, like his brother’s, to ruin. He was a walking plague of shame and destruction. Worse still, he had never held a blade with skill, never lifted a finger in service of the land. He was weak. Laughable.

So what madness had gripped the world that allowed him to ride that?

Garrick’s voice trembled, more from disbelief than awe. "Isn’t that... the guardian of the gate of death? The three-headed dog?"

Grant raised a brow, eyes shining with quiet intrigue as Kaelor dismounted the beast with practiced grace. Garrick, meanwhile, stood slack-jawed, every part of him rejecting what his eyes insisted was real.

Kaelor pulled off his gloves, his motion slow, deliberate. Then he spoke, voice calm, yet iron-laced.

"Sit down."

Behind him, Titan lowered its monstrous form into a sitting posture, obedient and silent, but not tame. Each of its heads continued scanning the surroundings, the air thick with tension. Despite its stillness, the implied threat in its very presence was unmistakable.

"It won’t harm anyone," Kaelor said, his tone, assuring as his eyes swept over the stunned gathering. "You have my word."

He didn’t shout. He didn’t raise a sword. And yet the crowd listened.

Because the monster at his back was no illusion and that alone made every word Kaelor spoke feel like law. Even if none could say whether he’d keep it.

Grant saw the Bloodstone Archers. His gaze sharpened, narrowing subtly as he noted something peculiar about them.

’Hmm... Kaelor Dravion. You’re a mysterious man.’

"Greetings, Baron Garrick Fenlan. I’ve heard of your exploits, holding the frontier against the horrors of the Devil Forest. Were it not for your tenacity, I daresay I might have no land to call my own." Kaelor bowed slightly, the motion smooth and respectful, but somehow distant.

By noble standards, a Baron stood above a Lord. Kaelor ruled only Redwood Town, while Garrick held dominion over the entire region, including Redwood up to the dreaded borders of the Devil Wilderness.

Technically, Kaelor was his vassal. Yet, it was evident Kaelor had no intention of ever kneeling. He had never once appeared before Garrick, nor sent tribute or token of respect. And now, in full view of the public, he offered words of flattery as if it were enough to mend years of absence.

Had Kaelor always been this calculating?

When Garrick offered no reply, Kaelor turned with a composed smile and approached Grant. "I trust you’ve made ready for my arrival."

"I gathered what I could in the time given," Grant said, his voice steady but curious. "They should be worth your time. But those wagons behind you, what do they carry?"

Kaelor’s smile deepened. "Starlight Rice. Eonwheat. And gallons of honey."

Both Grant and Baron Garrick’s expressions shifted, a flicker of shock flashing through their eyes.

The average sack of rice, about 110 pounds, sold for five silver coins. Higher-quality grain fetched fifteen to twenty silver, but the top-tier varieties, especially rare types like Starlight Rice, were in a league of their own.

Renowned for its exquisite flavor and latent mana, a sack of Starlight Rice could sell for forty to fifty silver coins. Naturally, sacks weighing less would be priced accordingly.

Wheat followed a similar trend. Common wheat cost no more than fifty copper coins per sack, but Eonwheat stood on an entirely different pedestal. Even the best regular wheat couldn’t compare. A single sack of Eonwheat sold for ten silver coins, a staggering gulf driven by its rarity and exceptional properties.

As Grant thought of stumbling upon a gold mine in the most unlikely place, Baron Garrick’s thoughts raced. In his mind’s eye, Redwood Town gleamed like a trove of untapped treasure.

There was no way he would let Kaelor enjoy rewards he hadn’t earned. Wealth like that could elevate a mere Lord into a Viscount... or even a Count!