The Road to the East
"The speed isn't dropping! If anything, it feels like we're speeding up every time we punch through those waves!"
"Capricious winds and strait currents are nothing but splashes against 150 atmospheres of boiling steam."
I replied casually from the wheelhouse, gripping the helm with ease. This was insane high-speed navigation—something that would have been impossible even with a hundred galleys in the old days—forcing nature itself to submit through sheer power.
This steel side-paddle steamer, belching thick black smoke, thrust its ugly prow into Masina Port, the continent's largest southern hub, just two days after departing Peluah.
Rooooaaarrr—!!
The beastly, guttural horn shook the entire port. The merchants and guards of the Southern Alliance, who had packed the docks waiting for favorable winds through the strait, nearly drew their weapons in terror at the sight of this bizarre monster ship charging upstream against the rapids, sans sails, spewing smoke and fire.
But as the vessel docked and hundreds of cartloads of dazzling white cotton fabric poured out, their fear turned to shock and explosive cheers.
"It's the Carnoble Mark! The Carnoble Guild from Peluah has brought goods to Masina!"
"No way! I heard the northern seas were becalmed—no ships could sail! And they punched through this brutal strait already?!"
"They arrived a full fortnight ahead of schedule! And double the promised quantity!"
Valerius's scheme to block the land trade routes, forcing us into breach-of-contract penalties, was utterly shattered before the raw might of this steamship that had torn across the sea in just two days and landed at the South's premier trade port.
"There! We've delivered every bit of the promised goods without a single discrepancy! Now pay the balance in cash—minus the advance!"
Aila disembarked proudly, her red hair whipping in the wind as she barked at the merchants.
The quality was flawless, the delivery absurdly fast. The southern merchants gaped, then piled gold coins high onto carts and dumped them at her feet.
"Magnificent! As expected from Carnoble and Golden Fleece! Let's contract the next shipment right now!"
Amid the cascading waterfall of clinking gold, Aila flashed an ecstatic smile.
"See that, Elpanso? We did it! Not only did we escape the penalty trap, we gobbled up the entire southern market quota! That old bastard Valerius will keel over clutching his neck when he hears."
Aila bounced with joy, hugging a heavy pouch of coins to her chest.
But I leaned against the wheelhouse bulkhead, cigarette between my lips, staring coldly at the sea.
"Aila. Too early to celebrate."
"Huh? Why? We've paid off the debts and made a fortune."
I exhaled a long plume of smoke and jerked my chin toward the empty cargo hold.
"Sure, we sold everything and made money. But what about the cotton to spin the next batch of fabric?"
"Ah......"
Aila's beaming face froze in an instant.
Valerius had bribed the southern plantation owners on the Rom Peninsula to corner the cotton market—a situation that hadn't changed. Without raw materials to feed the machines, our factory would grind to a halt, no matter how much gold we had now.
"Th-then we use this gold to go to the southern planters right away, cover their penalties if needed, and buy back the cotton......"
"Foolish talk. Think Valerius did this because he has less money than us? If we bid double, he'll bid ten times. We can't out-capital him in a resource war inside the Rom Peninsula."
"Then what do we do? No materials means the machines stop!"
As Aila stomped in frustration, I wrenched the helm hard, swinging the ship's bow away from the peninsula toward the open ocean—the east.
"So we go where his money can't reach."
"The east? You mean...... the heretic empire?!"
Aila cried out, pale as a ghost.
Across the eastern seas lay the mighty hegemon that rejected the Light God worshipped by Peluah and the Rom Peninsula nations, instead clinging to their own pagan faith: the Osan Empire.
For centuries, the western Light-worshipping kingdoms and the Osan Empire had loathed each other, waging bloody wars. Merchants might sneak trade for profit, transcending religion, but that sea route was a hellish deathtrap swarming with imperial galleys and pirates.
"You're insane! Taking this ship into that savage empire's waters?! And how long to go all the way to the distant east and back? We need to return before the factory runs dry......"
"We won't be late. And we're not heading to the empire's heartland."
I jabbed a grease-blackened finger onto the chart spread in the wheelhouse.
An island in the midst of the eastern seas. The frontline of fierce territorial disputes between the Osan Empire and western kingdoms—and, thanks to its warm climate, home to the continent's vastest cotton fields, a shining treasure trove.
"Kipro Island."
Aila gasped at my declaration.
Kipro Island was indeed the continent's top cotton producer, but even Peluah merchants hesitated to import in bulk. The round trip took over half a year, and the extreme risk of imperial galleys seizing cargoes made it folly. Better to pay more for safe Rom Peninsula cotton—that was common sense.
Valerius was trapped in that mindset. He'd bet we'd starve without peninsula cotton.
Sail-powered ships could never make it to Kipro and back before the factory halted!
"But Aila."
I shouted toward the dwarves shoveling coal into the furnace like madmen.
"This black steel beast can round-trip that brutal eastern sea in not half a year, but just 'two weeks'."
Overwhelming mobility. That was the true terror of the technological revolution.
"If he dries up the frog pond, we cross the sea and dig up a whole new one."
"Ten days...... sweep Kipro's cotton clean......"
Aila's pupils shook wildly.
Fear flickered briefly, then the giant's greed buried deep in her bones surged fiercely.
Kipro cotton cost half or less than Rom Peninsula's. Solve transport risks, time, and pirates, and you could slash costs exponentially. A golden island.
"......Hey."
Aila swallowed hard and approached the bow.
"I heard Kipro's cotton fields produce at least five times the entire Rom Peninsula output?"
"Probably about that."
"Then."
Aila grinned wickedly, clenching her fist. Demonic ambition to dominate Peluah gleamed in her eyes.
"Isn't it a waste to use all this gold we scraped from the south just to buy cotton for our factory? What if we load the ship to the brim with every last bale from Kipro and sail back to Peluah......"
"Peluah's weaving workshops will grovel to buy cotton from us. Valerius's overpriced Rom Peninsula stock will be worth shit."
Aila burst into roaring laughter at my response.
"Puhahaha! Perfect! Let's go nuts—head east! I can't wait to see that old fart Valerius's face twist!"
"Full speed ahead!"
I cranked the throttle valve wide open.
Hiiisssshhh—!! Boom!!
The furnace roared like a waterfall, 150 atm mana steam slamming the pistons. The massive side paddles thundered, churning the sea to froth. The steamer surged eastward from the Rom Peninsula, painting the sky thick with black smoke.
In a world where the Light God was silent and the sun split a ashen sky, the arrogant miracle shattered all fantasy world's common sense.
Rooooaaarrr----!!!
The eastern trade route forcibly pried open by steel and steam.
In the top floor of a grand mansion ringed by red roofs around Masina Port, Count Lorenzo—the Southern Alliance heavyweight who controlled strait traffic and a shadowy loan shark kingpin—dropped his wine glass to the floor at the bizarre scene outside.
Crash!
"Wh-what the hell is that...... A sail-less ship moving on its own to dock?!"
Lorenzo's face drained bloodless white.
Before his eyes, Carnoble's black steamship had disgorged hundreds of cartloads of fabric into mountains on the docks, while southern merchants cheered and showered Aila with gold.
With no stake, he'd just cheer a merchant's success. But for Lorenzo, it was his own noose tightening.
"Th-this can't happen! Agent Valerius swore it! They'd block everything—Carnoble could never reach Masina on time!"
Lorenzo tore at his hair, screaming.
Valerius's lackey, he'd schemed beyond mere bankruptcy: a devilish "derivative product" to multiply his wealth dozens-fold.
Contract Breach Compensation Claims
Hoards of them. If Carnoble got stuck in Peluah and missed delivery, southern merchants gained rights to triple claims. But fearing Carnoble bankruptcy would turn those into worthless paper, they hesitated.
Lorenzo exploited that psychology.
"If Carnoble goes bust, your penalty claims become trash. So I'll buy them all now for 10% face value—in cash."
To cut losses, merchants rushed to dump the claims cheap to Lorenzo.
His plan was flawless. Once Valerius choked Carnoble in Peluah, he'd sic Masina's lordly forces on their remnants and Peluah factory, seizing assets for full face-value payouts.
Tsk, idiots. The real prize was the unlimited fabric-producing factory—not petty cash. That tech was true wealth's source.
So Lorenzo bet big. Guaranteed returns, foolproof gamble. Blinded by greed, he pawned his mansion, merchant fleet, even underworld loans to sweep every claim on the market.
And yet.
"They arrived...... a fortnight early!"