Golden Gallon Port in Chaos

Golden Gallon Port. The harbor district's guard station faced the port's busiest thoroughfare, bustling with crowds surging to and fro. Governor Nihak stood in the middle of the street, staring blankly at the unfamiliar, sprawling boulevard. His eyes were wide with confusion, unable for a moment to recognize where he even was. The clean, tidy street, the white-painted Western-style buildings, the towering black lampposts—everything seemed just as before. Yet unlike in the past, a deafening clamor boiled over the street. Pedestrians crisscrossed in endless streams, and performers darted swiftly through the crowds riding two- and three-wheeled contraptions. Not a shred of Tulip Street's former noble elegance remained. Instead, it looked more like the raucous Klaba Market. Sure enough. Everything here had fallen into utter chaos. "You're free." A voice spoke behind him, slightly cold and tinged with mockery. "Thank you…" Nihak answered instinctively before realizing those were hardly the words he ought to speak. Glaring furiously at the guard, he shook his sleeves and took a step out into the street. But because he was looking backward, he bumped into a child clutching a thick stack of papers. "Hey! Watch where you're going, old man!" the child barked in annoyance, though he didn't stop to argue. Time was money. In the time wasted squabbling, he could make two more runs and earn a few more Gallons. Nihak, however, had no intention of letting the boy off so easily. His face flushed crimson as he reached out to seize the brat by the scruff of his neck. "What did you just call me… Do—do you have any idea who I am?!" "Like I care who you are! It's not like you're one of those Iron Men!" The boy deftly dodged his hand, gave a cheeky grin, and made a face at him before scampering away. Seeing such insolence, Nihak burned to chase after him and teach him a lesson, but lowering himself to throw hands seemed beneath his dignity. Watching the child sprint farther and farther off, all he could do was curse twice, stomp his foot, and give up. "Whose stray mutt is that? Utterly devoid of upbringing!" Judging by the brat's getup, his clothes were somewhat worn, but still relatively neat—likely the child of some fallen noble house. Patches covered the sleeves, showing a complete lack of decency; his family's circumstances had to be wretched. His father was surely an uncouth laborer, his mother was probably selling herself on the street, and they likely went hungry more often than not. Imagining the boy's pitiful, lowly existence, Nihak felt his breath come a little easier, as though he had won some victory. Yet before long, he noticed something else amiss. It wasn't just that boy, nor was it just a handful of people—everyone on the boulevard was wearing clothes. Even laborers engaged in heavy lifting wore cheap coarse-linen shirts and light-blue canvas trousers. Those riding two-wheeled velocipedes dressed even more neatly, mostly in short-sleeved cotton shirts and trousers cinched with leather belts. It wasn't just men, either, but women too—and that was what shocked him most. While the lower classes of Golden Gallon Port had never known proper etiquette, throwing on whatever was at hand and calling a curtain tied around their waist a skirt, there had long been an unwritten code established over two centuries for those who could afford proper attire: who was permitted to wear trousers, who was forbidden, and what to wear on each occasion. When he had seen that boy clothed earlier, he had assumed the brat belonged to an impoverished noble clan. After all, the paupers in the slums usually wore only rags; even if they possessed decent garments, they would never give them to children. Now, however, his assumptions were clearly breaking down. Only now did he realize that there were far too many clothed "nobles" on this street. *Is this Golden Gallon Port?* Nihak stood entirely dumbfounded, his eyes bulging wide. Right then, a cacophony of clamorous voices and overlapping chatter flooded into his ears. The relentless buzzing made him feel as though his head were about to burst. "Newspapers, fresh off the press! All the must-eat treats in Golden Gallon Port, plus the latest news from across the wasteland!" "Sourdough steamed buns! Delicious buns! Fresh-steamed meat buns right here!" "Where to, boss? Only one Gallon per li!" "I pedal fast! Take my cab, boss!" "I heard the expeditionary force won a battle—though it was a pyrrhic victory. More than ten thousand dead!" "*Hiss…*" "Gotta be fake. There were only thirty thousand of them in total." "Hey, not to look down on those guys, but if you told me they won with a hundred dead, I might believe it. Winning after losing ten thousand? I wouldn't believe that till my dying day!" "What kind of book is that?" "Principles of Mechanics, mathematics, geometry… and some miscellaneous stuff. Scored them at the harbor. Heard they're second-hand books cleared out from Dawn City." "What are you reading that junk for?" "Another skill means another path. Can't stay here forever, right?" "What's wrong with staying here? His Imperial Majesty and his governor got kicked out." "It's fine for now, but the Alliance and the Empire signed a ceasefire. Who knows if they'll come back later?" People shouted, chatted, hawked their wares, and haggled at the top of their lungs, turning the once-serene boulevard into an uproarious tempest. Nihak couldn't fathom what they had to celebrate, much less what there was to enjoy about such an unruly mess. In his day, if an inferior dared show his face on this street without a valid reason, his officers would beat them soundly with batons. And if any girl dared wear trousers, they would confiscate them before running her off, or lock her up for a few days until her family came to claim her, depending on their mood. He had assumed the Alliance's reckless meddling would plunge the city into ruin, and indeed it had—in just a few short months, the place had devolved into complete anarchy. Yet what frustrated him most was that these fools, having suffered so much, weren't rejoicing at his return. They had forgotten his very face. Not just the lower classes, either; not a single one of the nobles who once swarmed around him was here to receive him. Who knew what they were all busy doing? An age of crumbling propriety and ruined decorum had arrived. People scurried about like headless flies, hopelessly trapped in the sugar-coated poison brought by the Alliance. It seemed all his assumptions had been nothing more than wishful thinking—he had believed he was indispensable, that the people here couldn't survive without him, and that the Alliance had scrambled to release him out of desperation. The truth was that without him, they were actually living better. Confronted by this alien reality, a feeling of utter helplessness welled up inside him. Right then, a tentative greeting sounded behind him. "Mr. Nihak?" Reacting instinctively to his name, Nihak turned around to find a man in a leather jacket watching him. He didn't recognize the man, but the man clearly recognized him. The moment their eyes met, delight washed over the stranger's face, and he hurried forward with evident joy. "It truly is you! I am Aksh, servant to Lord Isel." Nihak was a ring rounder than his portraits, his neck almost entirely vanished, so much so that Aksh had nearly failed to recognize him. "Isel?" Nihak blinked, clearly having never heard the name. The man didn't mind his blank expression at all, simply smiling warmly as he continued. "A prominent lord like yourself naturally wouldn't remember my master. He is merely a baron who deals with uncouth men like me day in and day out. But my master has always remembered you. Two years ago, at the coming-of-age banquet His Majesty hosted for the Fourth Prince, he had the honor of meeting you once. He often tells us that only after seeing Governor Nihak did he understand what a true noble looks like." *The coming-of-age banquet for the Fourth Prince two years ago…* Governor Nihak certainly remembered the Fourth Prince; he remembered everyone close to His Majesty. But as for whom he had met or shared a drink with at some prince's banquet—how could he possibly recall such trivialities? All he remembered was waking up the following morning in a countess's bed. A mere baron wouldn't have possessed the standing to shake his hand at an occasion like that. Even so, though he looked down upon the name from the bottom of his heart, a thread of warmth crept into Nihak's chest. Those who used to lick his boots on normal days hadn't sent a single soul to visit him, yet someone he had met once two years ago still held him in high esteem. The only flaw was that this baron hadn't come in person, choosing instead to dispatch a servant to receive him. As if sensing his displeasure, the man named Aksh offered an apologetic smile. "My master wished to welcome you in person, but unfortunately he is bound by military orders and cannot leave the front line. He could only entrust me to attend to your needs." "Military orders? What military orders?" Completely ignorant of outside affairs, Nihak asked in bewilderment. Aksh replied with a smile, "The expeditionary force, of course. Right now, across the entire wasteland… including Brahma Province, which is hardly a wasteland at all, nothing matters more than the war against the Enemy of Mankind. Not only have we deployed troops, but the Legion, the Enterprise, and the Academy have all sent forces." Nihak nodded as if he understood, though inwardly he remained utterly lost. What was this "Enemy of Mankind"? When had the Empire acquired another enemy? Knowing these matters couldn't be explained in a few sentences, Aksh seized the opportunity to say, "The circumstances are quite complex and can't be explained in a moment. My master has prepared a welcoming banquet for you at the Triumph Grand Hotel. Please step with me into a private dining room there, where I will explain everything at leisure." "Very well, I shall trouble you then." Nihak glanced left and right, and seeing that no one else had come to receive him, accepted the courtesy and followed behind Isel's servant. The two boarded a tricycle—more precisely, a covered carriage pulled by one. Meanwhile, on the other side of the street, a sharply dressed young Rat Clan man watched the prison gates with a cool, detached gaze. Only after the carriage disappeared around the end of the boulevard did he speak in a low voice. "Kunal, my friend, do you remember that fellow?" The young Dog Clan man beside him nodded, rumbling in a muffled voice, "Of course I remember. He was the lord of the Governor's Mansion." Axin spoke unhurriedly. "That was a long time ago. Now he's just like a rat crawling out of a sewer, terrified by ordinary folks on the street. Cowardly, pathetic, putting on a brave face while trembling inside… *Tsk, tsk.*" He shook his head slightly, making no effort to hide the disdain and mockery in his eyes. That man looked almost identical to his past self. Strip away the clothes on his back and cast him into the street, and he wouldn't carry himself any better. So these were the Empire's nobles. There were no true Sun Clan, Ox Clan, or Elephant Clan here—only different breeds of rats. Kunal muttered, "I don't get it. Why didn't the Alliance just kill them all?" Wouldn't it be better to become the Emperor themselves? Why make things so complicated? All they had to do was advance one step farther west, and they could have taken the City of a Thousand Pillars. By adding just one more pillar, they could have reigned over this land as "Iron Men," becoming the 1,001st god of this realm. "It's natural you don't understand—I can't figure it out either. But my gut tells me that's precisely one of the reasons the Alliance didn't slaughter them." Glancing at his friend, Axin dropped the subject after that brief remark, knowing it would lead nowhere. A pity. He had originally intended to treat the down-and-out lord to a meal, hoping to establish a connection with Tiandu and expand his business in Banana Bay. But it seemed he was one step too late; someone else had already set their sights on the man. Still, it hardly mattered. A lord of that stature was unlikely to share drinks and make merry with a Rat Clan native anyway, and after seeing the man's pathetic display, Axin had abruptly lost interest. Especially when he considered that this vast Empire was being run into the ground by such a worthless lot, he felt a wave of humiliation, unable to hold his head high. *Might as well replace the whole lot of them,* a thought suddenly flashed across his mind. Once it surfaced, the notion ran wild, fermenting uncontrollably in his thoughts. Of course, he had no ambitions of becoming Emperor himself; an Emperor's life was hardly as comfortable as his current one. He had heard there was a Moon Clan rebel army in the northern forests. Perhaps he could invest in them. For instance, he could use his connections among the warlords to supply them with equipment, or arrange for some of their people to study in Dawn City. Pulling that off wouldn't be difficult at all. Through that inn known as the Shipwreck Haven, he had established ties with the commanders of both the Tiger Army and the Black Panther Army. At least half the resources produced by estates and mines across the eastern region were funneled through his shadow port into Golden Gallon Port. High risk, certainly—but what if those Moon Clan rebels actually succeeded? The returns from investing in a new dynasty would vastly eclipse anything to be gained from backing a washed-up old aristocrat… *** At that moment, Governor Nihak had no inkling that a young Rat Clan man was staring at his back and contemplating treasonous designs. Following Aksh to the Triumph Grand Hotel, he was thoroughly stunned by the lavish feast laid before him. Compared to this dazzling array of delicacies, the boxed rations he had eaten in prison were no better than pig slop! Watching the former governor devour the food like a starving beast, Aksh started to offer some soothing words about how he must have suffered hunger in prison, but at the sight of the sagging folds of fat on the man's neck, he swallowed the words back down. The Alliance had clearly never starved him. In just a few months, they had fattened him up like a hog; whatever flowed through his noble veins was probably mostly lard. Suppressing the urge to sneer, Aksh stood by his side, respectfully recounting everything that had occurred during this period, taking special care to highlight General Babita's stupidity on the northern front and his master's grueling hardships eating insects in the south. Having eaten and drunk his fill, Nihak picked up a napkin to wipe his mouth. At the mention of eating insects, he waved a hand in disgust to cut the servant off. "Enough, enough. I understand the situation. It's a simple matter—I'll put in a good word with His Majesty on your behalf to transfer that Baron Babita to the south and reassign your master to the north." Judging by their titles, His Majesty couldn't hold this expeditionary force in very high regard anyway. A baron serving as myriarch meant the army barely possessed any professional soldiers—just a mob of serfs at best. The spoils squeezed from a hundred of them wouldn't match a single regular soldier. Reassigning a few barons was a matter of a few spoken words for him. Aksh nearly choked on his own saliva upon hearing this and stammered in a rush, "My lord, that won't do at all… If we are moved to the north, wouldn't we… wouldn't we end up taking the blame for General Babita? All the hardships we suffered on the southern front would be in vain!" "That makes sense too," Nihak belched lazily. "How about this: I won't bother racking my brains over such trivialities. Name your conditions. As long as they aren't unreasonable, I'll do you this favor." Hearing this, Aksh instantly perked up. Leaning in with an ingratiating smile, he whispered into Nihak's ear, "…Our request is modest. We merely ask His Majesty to split the expeditionary force into a Southern Army and a Northern Army. That will make command and coordination much smoother. After all, the two fronts are far apart, and with interference along the way, every telegram has to be relayed twice." "Done. I'll handle it." Nihak agreed with a casual flap of his lips. Aksh knew how to read the room. Catching the eye of a nearby servant, he had a briefcase brought forward and placed gently onto the chair beside the table. "This is a small token of my master's goodwill… and an apology for not being able to pay his respects in person. Please accept it, my lord." Nihak reached out a greasy hand and popped the case open, only to be taken aback by the stacks of gleaming golden banknotes inside. Dinar gold notes! These specially marked, anti-counterfeit banknotes could be redeemed for an equal face value in dinars in Triumph City. Although they circulated primarily in the western part of the Mid-Continent, Wilante merchant ships frequently visited the western coast of Brahma Province, and Wilante traders accepted them readily, imposing at most a five to ten percent discount. He gave the briefcase a rough count. There had to be at least five hundred thousand dinars here. The equivalent of five hundred strapping slaves! "It seems your master lives quite comfortably." Nihak narrowed his eyes, casting a knowing smirk at Aksh. The sum wasn't enough to make him lose his composure, but seeing a mere baron produce five hundred thousand dinars truly surprised him. Aksh put on a bitter smile and let out a gentle sigh. "To be frank with you, my lord, this constitutes my master's entire fortune. But if he cannot return safe and sound, what good is all the money in the world… isn't that so?" "Heh." Nihak chuckled, not taking the servant's words to heart, and simply accepted the case. "Indeed. Isel, was it? I'll remember your master's name. By the way… how do I get back to Tiandu from here?" Aksh replied hastily, "Rest assured, my lord. We would never let you make the journey alone. We have already arranged a ship at the docks. It will deliver you safely to West Sail Port, which is Wilante territory. We have a carriage waiting there to escort you to Tiandu." Hearing this, Nihak finally let go of all his lingering worries and anxieties, nodding with satisfaction. "You know how to handle affairs." Aksh's face bloomed into a broad smile as he replied with utmost deference, "As long as you are satisfied, my lord." *** Meanwhile, at the harbor of Golden Gallon Port, a cargo ship flying a white bear flag lay moored alongside the pier. The freighter's hold was packed with canned herring and distilled spirits produced in Golden Gallon Port. Both items were great favorites among the Legion's junior officers and enlisted soldiers. Although the distilled spirits made here couldn't match the craftsmanship, flavor, or prestige of Dawn City's liquor, most of the distillery equipment used here had been retired from Dawn City and Daybreak City, so the difference wasn't terribly large. With electronic transit permits having been active for some time now, traveling to Legion territory was no longer a perilous venture—provided one didn't go seeking trouble in restricted zones. Tail wanted to check out "West Port," which was under Legion control; Sesame Paste and Rou Rou were equally curious about what it looked like; and Sisi was fine going anywhere. Thus, the three girls and one bear reached an immediate consensus, setting the destination for their next voyage. Leaning an elbow against a mast, Rou Rou let out a yawn and mumbled in utter boredom, "When are we finally setting off?" Standing on the deck, Sisi glanced over the manifest in her hands, rubbing her chin with her index finger. "There's one more passenger… Hm, I only just noticed, but this guy seems to be an old acquaintance of ours." Nihak. There shouldn't be anyone else sharing that name in this port. At the thought, Sisi's expression turned subtle. "Oh! Is it that fur-trading guy?" Tail leaned over curiously. "The fur guy? No, not him… By the way, how do you still remember that guy? I've almost forgotten his name," Sisi said helplessly. Wearing a mischievous smirk, Tail poked her lightly in the ribs with a forefinger. "Typical Sisi—a cold-hearted woman!" Rou Rou looked over with wide, surprised eyes, while Sesame Paste pricked up her cat ears with keen interest. "What's the story?" "Could there be… some drama that happened behind our backs?" Facing their gossipy stares, Sisi didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "What nonsense… We only crossed paths a few times, that's all." Then again, they really had encountered quite a few interesting characters along this journey. From Red River Town to the oases and fortresses in the desert, then on to the coastal bays on the desert's fringes, the tropical Baiyue Strait, and finally distant Golden Gallon Port. If not for Sesame Paste saying "I want to go traveling" and Tail chiming in with "sounds like fun," she probably never would have traveled this far. Instead, like most ordinary players, she would have experienced the game strictly according to the path laid out by the developers. Yet meeting so many intriguing individuals had made her feel more and more that these weren't NPCs, but living, breathing human beings. *What kind of world is this really?* She had pondered this question more than once, and had even tried sending private messages to the trash dev to ask, but had never received an answer. Perhaps the answer was waiting at the journey's end, accessible only to those who cleared the game… While the friends were laughing and bantering, Governor Nihak, briefcase in hand, arrived at the pier under Aksh's respectful escort. Standing on the dock, he cast his eyes up toward the deck, only to spot the white bear that spoke with human speech. He froze on the spot. Unpleasant memories from months ago instantly rushed back into his mind, and panic slowly crept onto his face. Not wanting the servant behind him to notice the fear in his eyes, he cleared his throat to feign composure, asking in a hurried whisper, "Why is there a bear on board? Can we switch to another ship?" Aksh paused, looking troubled. "My lord, switching is possible… but this is the only vessel departing for West Sail Port anytime soon. The crossing at the Eternal Flow River remains blockaded, and West Sail Port hasn't fully opened to Golden Gallon Port yet. Only Alliance and Legion merchant ships are unaffected. If you wish to return as soon as possible, you will have to make do with this one." In truth, there were other ships—he would simply have to wait two days. But Aksh didn't dare wait. If General Babita's battle report reached Tiandu first, his master's five hundred thousand dinars might very well go down the drain. Emperors never admitted their mistakes; once a verdict was handed down, no amount of maneuvering would help. Hearing that this was the only ship, Nihak cursed silently, steeling himself to walk up the gangway. Taking an Alliance ship home… What rotten luck! Beside the gangway, a crew member stepped forward with the passenger manifest to verify his identity. "Mr. Nihak, is it? Please follow me… Wait, *you're* Nihak?" The crewman's eyes widened in surprise as he looked him up and down. Nihak scowled, glaring fiercely back at him. "Is there a problem?" "No… just that you've put on quite a bit of weight compared to a few months ago." The crewman gave him a strange look, pulling his gaze away before the former governor could blow his top. He made an inviting gesture. "Your cabin is at the end of the corridor on the right side of the lower deck. Please follow me." With the final passenger aboard, the *Rou Rou* sounded its horn and slowly pulled away from the pier. At this moment, the vast majority of Golden Gallon Port's residents had no idea that their former governor had been released from prison and slunk out of the city like a beaten dog. Even if they had known, they probably wouldn't have cared, perhaps treating it as nothing more than a passing joke. In just a few short months, they had forged miracles unseen on this land for two centuries. In their hearts lay both gratitude toward the Alliance and a swell of pride they had never felt before. Though some fallen nobles and reactionaries still pined for the old hierarchy, even they had to admit that life now was undeniably better than before. If only the two worlds could be merged into a happy medium—using the Alliance's technology while dispensing with all that nonsense about equality. Those machines weren't actually that difficult to operate; they didn't require more know-how than farming. Slaves wouldn't necessarily do a worse job; in fact, they might work even faster and better. Of course, they could only daydream. Here, at least, they were in no position to dictate terms. The "inferiors" who had stood up now practically worshipped the "Iron Men" as gods walking the earth… *** At the very moment Nihak was fleeing with his briefcase, a telegram from the Governor's Office in Port French Fries was delivered into Chu Guang's hands. Though the Imperial governor named Nihak was merely a negligible minor player in the eyes of the Administrator contemplating the entire wasteland, the Empire was, after all, a member of the Slime Mold Research Community. High above the Weifu Wasteland, aboard the *Heart of Steel*. Having finished reading the report from Port French Fries, Chu Guang placed a call to the Alliance's Minister of Foreign Affairs, giving concise instructions. "Have the *Survivor Daily* put the word out. No need for fanfare—just mention 'Governor Nihak has returned home' on an inside or back page. Also, contact Duke Garava again and give them a graceful way out." The Legion had deployed ten more divisions to the front, and the Academy and the Enterprise had also stepped up their reinforcements. He had a premonition: once the old bomb was dismantled, a new powder keg would inevitably emerge. The Slime Mold Research Community required unity; it couldn't simply disband the moment the war ended. He had to eliminate every potential spark that might ignite the powder keg. After all, the Empire was an unpredictable wildcard, while the Legion's ranks were fractured by factions and riddled with opportunists. That was the true reason he had specifically instructed the Baiyue Company to exercise restraint in Brahma Province. Noting the Administrator's directives, Cheng Yan nodded earnestly. "Understood, sir." Watching the holographic screen turn dark, Chu Guang leaned back in his chair and cast his gaze out the floor-to-ceiling window at the lifeless grey fog outside. The vanguard of the coalition forces was entering Haiya Province. And according to their reports, conditions there could only be described as hell on earth…