Across the entire planet Bernardo, alchemists hold significant importance in every empire. The alchemical industry, as a crucial component of an empire, must never fall behind—it could even be considered the foundation of an empire.
Though currently just an ordinary clan entrenched in the wilderness, the iron dragon already envisioned a grand future. Its dream was to establish an empire belonging to dragonkind. Moreover, it had received Garoth's promise: if the Clan of Molten Iron were ever elevated to an empire, this brilliant glory would not be enjoyed by Garoth alone.
"Blueprints for simple, universal alchemical tools can be easily purchased," Nick said. "But those for complex and powerful alchemical items never circulate openly in the market. Acquiring them requires a hefty sum." As he spoke, his gaze flickered toward the crates piled inside the tent.
Frostfang waved her claw, and burly werewolves opened the crates one by one, revealing biological materials and various ores within. Ores like purple copper and red copper were common in trade, but an entire crate of diamonds surprised and delighted Nick.
"These diamonds are of excellent quality and high value. I can bring at least ten different advanced alchemical blueprints, including at least one for an alchemical golem," he said. After a mont's thought, he added, "But if we also exchange for gravity-enhancing alchemical tools, supplies in other areas will be sowhat reduced."
Blueprints and tools carried steep prices, while the cheapest goods were items like alcohol and dried fruits. Frostfang had the werewolves open the last large crate, exposing ice-blue bones.
"What are these?" Nick asked, his eyes curious and puzzled.
The bones were extraordinarily thick and massive, with faint traces of magical energy lingering on them. As soon as the crate opened, a frigid chill rushed out, seemingly freezing the very air.
"Frost behemoth bones," Frostfang said, twitching her ears. "This crate of bones, plus another of purple copper ore."
Hearing this, Nick broke into a bright smile. "No, you've underestimated the value of behemoth bones. This crate alone is sufficient. The extra ore can be used to bring more goods."
As a sorceress, Frostfang was naturally inquisitive. "Behemoths are war machines of the giants. Their bones are extrely hard but have few other properties. The magical energy on them will gradually dissipate and can't be sustained, making them unsuitable for crafting high-quality weapons or armor. Their coarse texture also makes them poor materials for the delicate ornants nobles favor." She frowned. "Where does their value lie?"
Instead of exploiting the information gap for personal gain, Nick explained in detail: "Rumor has it that grinding behemoth bones into powder—just a pinch mixed into alcohol—creates an extrely potent aphrodisiac liquor. Alternatively, steeping the bones directly in alcohol achieves the sa effect." He chuckled. "Nobles are always eager for such strong drinks."
Frostfang frowned in disagreent. "That's incorrect. Behemoth bones aren't that special. They don't have such properties."
Nick shrugged. "What matters isn't the truth, but what people believe—and that there's market demand."
Before Frostfang could question further, Nick abruptly asked, "The Permafrost Tundra isn't peaceful these days. Did you obtain these frost behemoth bones there?"
Frostfang's eyes narrowed slightly, but she didn't answer. Instead, she countered, "How do you know about the unrest in the Permafrost Tundra? What exactly is happening there?" Her pupils contracted into thin slits as she glared coldly.
Nick hastily raised his hands. "Don't be alard. Our caravan hasn't been to the tundra, but a month ago in a Lothrian Federation tavern, a ranger who'd lost three fingers to frostbite was boasting about witnessing battles there. Besides, news of the tundra war is spreading rapidly." Lowering his voice, he added, "The Frost Giant Alliance and the Warhowl Clan have gone to full-scale war, fighting fiercely across the Permafrost Tundra. Their conflict will overturn the entire region's power structure."
Intrigued, Frostfang pressed for more details. Nick organized his information and carefully relayed everything he knew.
anwhile, Garoth listened to the entire conversation from Needleleaf Valley, where he hovered over a communication stone that transmitted the dialogue from the trade route in real ti.
"The Frost Giant Alliance and the Warhowl Clan," Garoth mused silently.
The Warhowl Clan was a massive faction of northern barbarians, the largest clan in the Permafrost Tundra with strong armies and nurous mbers—practically a barbarian nation, though they preferred the clan designation over formal statehood. As for the Frost Giant Alliance, also called the White Frost Coalition, its na revealed its composition: an alliance of frost giant clans, another major power in the tundra.
According to Nick's information, the war erupted when a large vein of glacial marrow ore was discovered in the buffer zone between their territories. Neither side would concede, leading to escalating conflicts over the deposit. After years of skirmishes with mutual losses, both recognized the other's strength and decided to negotiate peace.
They sent emissaries to the border for talks, reaching a consensus. However, on their return journey, the frost giant delegation was ambushed and slaughtered in the frozen wastes—including one of the White Frost King's offspring. Enraged by his child's death and the loss of many clansn, the frost giant ruler unleashed his vengeance upon the Warhowl Clan.
Initially, the barbarians tried to appease them, denying involvent in the ambush, but their explanations couldn't quench the giants' fury. As frost giants pressed forward aggressively, the hot-tempered barbarians abandoned conciliation and engaged in open war. The conflict between these two titanic forces had plunged the Permafrost Tundra into chaos and danger.
"Did that frost behemoth beco separated from its unit in the chaotic battlefield? Or was its original force annihilated, leaving it to flee barbarian pursuers and wander here?" Garoth speculated. Though uncertain, he felt certain the behemoth's appearance was connected to the tundra war.
"The northern outposts need reinforcent," he thought silently.
The Permafrost Tundra was no paradise—a resource-scarce, brutally harsh environnt where only thin moss covered the ground in normal tis. When blizzards struck, the entire world would be buried under snow and ice, leaving only the hardiest creatures alive. Now with large-scale warfare added to the mix, native tundra creatures would likely migrate en masse. While the Ser Wilderness wasn't the best destination, it would undoubtedly be one of their choices.
"The White Frost Coalition and the Warhowl Clan—organizations of such scale must have legendary beings with life levels exceeding 20," Garoth mused, his tail flicking unconsciously with yearning. "Legendary... when will I reach legendary status?"
Dragons inevitably beca legends, but their growth was prolonged. Though Garoth's adaptive evolution shortened this period, compared to short-lived species like humans, his progress remained sluggish. Humans were a study in extres—the weak were like ants, but gifted individuals could attain legendary status within a century, with nurous examples. The human king who unified the Lothrian Federation beca a legend before turning forty. In contrast, even a century-old adult dragon achieving legendary status was exceptionally rare in recorded history.
However, human legends had their drawbacks. Even after reaching legendary status, they couldn't significantly extend their lifespans.
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