Totem Lord Trades Old for New (34)

...If my colleagues back on Earth had been this serious, things would have been so much better.

Muttering to himself, Ian said helplessly, "Anyway, after you crush the wooden box, throw what's inside into the sea. Wait ten-odd minutes, and an Ironclad Shark will come."

"This Ironclad Shark understands human speech. Tell it to go to the area around Sighing Cliff. By then, it will definitely sense the signal I release. Tell it to rendezvous with me."

As he spoke, Ian watched Scott's expression change, only to discover with some dejection that this Iron Folk man showed not the slightest surprise, astonishment, or disbelief—as though an Ironclad Shark that understood human speech, and the plan to rendezvous afterward, were not worth even a shred of surprise or curiosity.

"That's roughly it. Is there anything else you want to ask?" Ian said, handing him the wooden box from his arms.

As though he had received permission, Scott suddenly jolted, only then revealing a surprised expression as he curiously asked, "Ironclad Sharks can understand human speech too? That's incredible... What if it can't understand? Do I need to carry bait and guide it all the way to Sighing Cliff?"

"...No. Even if you casually point at the sea, it will understand what you mean."

Ian truly was not very good at dealing with people who followed every rule so rigidly. So Scott had not been surprised or curious earlier because he had not received permission—people like this were definitely the most reassuring subordinates to have. No wonder he could get promoted despite being so inflexible. But as a friend in everyday conversation, he really knew how to choke a person speechless.

Afterward, Ian asked Scott about the natives' recent movements.

During this period, the natives had continued lying low. Even at the borders between forces on the outskirts of the wilds, most native hunters had remained extremely restrained. Whenever they encountered the guard patrols, they would take the initiative to avoid them, never causing any conflicts.

"This isn't normal."

Scott summarized with a grave expression, "It could be explained if it were the Mountain Tide Tribe, but even the Surging Wave Tribe, who used to take the initiative to greet us, has begun avoiding us... This may be a sign that the Mountain Tide and Surging Wave Tribes are joining forces again!"

"When I reported this to Captain Yam, he didn't seem to care."

"Mm. As expected." Ian was not surprised. Based on the information he had gathered, the current Surging Wave Tribe—or perhaps all the natives—were likely secretly preparing for the newly emerged powerful Magic Beast, the Deepsea Crystal Dragon.

If they could turn the Deepsea Crystal Dragon into their "totem spirit"... its potential would surpass that of sea eels, Crocodile Dragons, or shadow spiders by an unknown number of times.

Perhaps only the Great Redwood Forest Sea, the true foundation of the natives, could compare with it.

If that happened, Harrison Port would likely be in quite a headache.

And Knight Yam did not care...

Ian did not think that was possible. Yam had dealt with the natives for decades; he could never overlook intelligence concerning them.

But what if it was intentional?

Yam was Viscount Grant's right-hand man. His will was Viscount Grant's will... If Viscount Grant was allowing the natives to act freely in order to highlight his own importance in this survey and capture operation, curry greater favor with the Ellen Family, and earn more merit in the imperial capital...

That was not impossible either.

At the very least, Ian felt that Viscount Grant was exactly the sort of person who would do that.

The natives' movements and the backup plan for summoning Sha Sha had both been secured. Scott would certainly spare no effort in accomplishing what he had promised.

"Right."

Thinking of this, Ian spoke again—this time, watery halos lit up in the youth's eyes. "After the storm begins, when you go looking for the Ironclad Shark, you can investigate the natives' situation again."

"If you had to choose, where would you go to scout for unusual native activity?"

"Unusual activity..." Scott looked troubled as he spoke. He had trouble making choices, which was why he preferred others to assign him tasks.

After pondering for quite a while, he tentatively said, "Around Mist Forest? That's the boundary between the two major tribes. If we want to investigate the situation, that place must be quite important."

In Precognitive Vision, Scott's mist was extremely steady, with no signs of red or black.

"What else?" Ian neither confirmed nor denied it. "Give me a few more."

"The Fluorescent Sea?" Scott suggested again.

"Mm, next."

"The Southern Redwood Mudflats..."

"Oh, that one works. What else? Somewhere around here?"

"In that case, there's only the mouth of the Clodore River north of Sighing Cliff."

After Ian rejected several possibilities in succession, Scott thought for quite some time before reaching an answer. "That place is the Surging Wave Tribe's core territory, where they build ships and put out to sea. I usually only observe it from afar and don't dare approach..."

At this point, his expression hardened with resolve. "But if you need me to go, I'm willing to take the risk..."

"No need." Ian swiftly shook his head. "That's precisely the place you absolutely cannot approach. Once the Ironclad Shark sets off, just return and stay in Harrison Port."

"Ah, all right. No problem."

In the youth's eyes, the dense crimson mist around Scott changed back into its original green halo. Only then did Ian nod in satisfaction, thinking, It seems the Surging Wave Tribe will also try to capture a Deepsea Crystal Dragon hatchling during the storm.

Sure enough, Precognitive Vision needs an observation intermediary to truly display this kind of intelligence-gathering ability.

Ordinary people were useless. Only someone like Scott, who would faithfully carry out his requests and was exceptionally single-minded in both conduct and dealings with others, could produce such good results.

"Right."

Ian thought of something else. "There's an alchemical longsword in my family's warehouse, inside the false panel on the second floor. During the storm, go to my house and take out the sword. Give it to that Ironclad Shark and have it deliver the sword to me."

This time, Ian could vaguely see Scott's gaze flicker. He was also very curious about why Ian had an alchemical longsword, and why an Ironclad Shark could even manage something like delivering a sword.

Beneath his stern and rigid exterior, this Iron Folk guard captain was in fact a young man barely over twenty, filled with vigorous curiosity and a desire to ask questions.

But this time, Ian did not tell him he could ask—when the youth said farewell, he could even see Scott's expression droop, like a somewhat dejected big dog.

It was not that Ian was deliberately teasing Scott. The origin of the alchemical longsword truly could not be shared with him.

After bidding farewell to the somewhat downcast Scott and leaving the garrison, Ian estimated the time and decided to go to the Elders' Hall to speak with Elder Pude about matters concerning the natives.

Though Viscount Grant might indeed already have a plan in mind, what needed to be said still had to be said.

But something unexpected happened.

"Ian? Perfect timing. Come judge how this tea tastes!"

In the office on the second floor of the Elders' Hall, Ian unexpectedly found Viscount Grant drinking tea with Elder Pude. The two sat on fur sofas, chatting leisurely and comfortably. Clearly, they had been talking for quite some time.

"I wouldn't dare make rash comments, Lord Viscount."

Ian glanced sideways at the tea on the table. It was a prized product from the Nine-Cold Mountain Oasis, fragrant and pleasant; a single brick of tea cost over a hundred talers, and Elder Pude himself was usually reluctant to drink much of it. "I don't know how to drink tea. As you know, I prefer flavorless distilled water."

"Haha, indeed. Young people should drink purer water—those noble children in the imperial capital have consumed the purest medicines and water since childhood, ensuring that their path of sublimation will not be affected."

With another great gulp, Viscount Grant drained a large cup in the few sentences he had exchanged with Ian... Judging by Elder Pude's expression, it was like watching a cow chew peonies—too painful to behold!

"Who would have thought, Pude? I thought you only liked drinking liquor. Didn't expect you to have the refined leisure of those Elves."

After finishing his cup, the viscount even tried to pour himself more tea, forcing Elder Pude to snatch away the teapot and pour it for him.

Ian could tell the two old men were ribbing each other—Elder Pude must have drunk Viscount Grant's treasured liquor with abandon not long ago, so the viscount had come today specifically to get his revenge.

Ever since Harrison Port became prosperous, everyone had gained much more time for refined leisure. To say nothing else, even the few White Folk families who had once gone hungry could now ponder whether to have whole-wheat flatbread or toasted bread for breakfast.

"Lord Viscount, Elder Pude, since you are both here, I'll report directly."

Although Ian himself did not really wish to disturb such a rare harmonious atmosphere, what needed to be said still had to be said.

The youth's tone made the two men on the sofa pause slightly. They exchanged a glance, then sat upright and listened seriously to Ian's report.

But his first sentence left both of them stunned. "I foresaw Isengard's death."

"On this voyage, he will certainly encounter unexpected danger... Whether it is the natives, an accident at sea, or an assassin's attack, I do not know."

As he spoke, he recalled something and added one more sentence. "Right, and one more thing."

"Today, when I went out with Isengard and his guards, we seized firearms used by the natives after repelling their attack."

"According to them, this model is a weapon from the Blazing Flame Lands. It is rather strange."