The waters of Lake Tonnigat were deep and dark, reflecting the scattered lights of magic lamps in the distant city.
A long, narrow island lay in the middle of the lake, covered in a dense, layered forest of funguswood that concealed most of its surface.
There were almost no lights in the forest, save for a faint glow at the top of a solitary tower.
The western and eastern shores were less than a kilometer apart, so the crossing was brief, and the ferry soon docked at a small pier.
Several family servants stationed there hurried over along the jetty, scrambling to tie the ferry to the mooring posts and lower the gangplank.
Renato disembarked with Tristana, leaving the remaining work to the half-drow.
"This is the family's most important ranch." The priestess stood at the end of the pier with her hands on her hips, drawing a deep breath of moisture-laden air. "This island produces roughly thirty percent of the rothé supplied to all of Samoriel City."
She pointed toward the distant funguswood forest and continued her introduction.
"Including the funguswood trade, this place brings the family over ten thousand gold coins a year. That's enough to equip nearly a hundred elite family warriors, or cover the daily sacrificial expenses of several mid-ranking priests..."
Renato had no idea why Tristana looked so satisfied. The air here was thick with the smell of moldy mushrooms and stagnant water, damp and clammy.
In his opinion, the air quality here was only slightly better than in a rubbish heap like the Gray Zone. As far as comfort went, it couldn't compare to his little courtyard.
Yet when the little cleric had visited the Gray Zone, she had looked disgusted, keeping a hand over her nose the entire time.
"Renato, trust me. This