While Arman was passionately arguing with the Port Authority Director, the Wilante standing on the deck were also watching the situation on the shore.
Especially Feili.
With two hundred million dinars and eight million silver coins loaded onto his ship, he could not afford to be indifferent about his fate.
Watching Arman and the Port Authority staff seemingly caught in an argument, a trace of gloom appeared on Feili's wife's face.
"...Dear, I can't shake the feeling that they don't really like us."
"Don't like us? Haha... Darling, what a joke. Thanks to those cowardly idiots acting all fierce on the outside, we're lucky to find anyone in the eastern Mid-Continent who doesn't despise us."
At least the Polos used to adore them, but after all the foolish stunts pulled by the Southern Legion, even their last remaining bootlickers were gone.
Feili muttered a low curse under his breath, his eyes glued to the distant pier as he calculated his chances.
He had not come here to strike gold; he was fleeing for his life. Before setting out, he had considered every conceivable complication, including the scenario unfolding right before his eyes.
Over five thousand survivors...
Any settlement would struggle to absorb so many people in one go.
To say nothing of the "notorious" Wilante.
The fact that they had reached this place without running into roadblocks already felt like a miracle to him.
The head of his security detail, standing beside him, also wore an uneasy expression. After hesitating for a moment, he cleared his throat and spoke softly.
"...While it might not be my place to give advice, sir, perhaps you could consider sending some gifts to the local big shots."
"It's nowhere near as simple as you think. What, do you expect me to just grab a random guy and shove a bag of gold coins into his hands?"
Tossing that remark aside, Feili went back to watching the pier.
In truth, compared to Arman and the Port Authority Director, his gaze lingered far more on another Wilante—one dressed in a sharp suit with heavily pomaded, shiny hair.
That fellow had arrived earlier than they had, and he seemed to be doing quite well for himself locally. The "local friend" standing next to him also carried an air of distinction.
Arman appeared to be very familiar with him.
Feili could not help turning the thought over in his mind. He needed to find a chance to have Arman introduce him to that capable fellow.
Right then, a new turn of events took place on the docks.
The local friend who had accompanied his fellow Wilante suddenly stepped into the dispute between Arman and the Port Authority staff.
Within just a few sentences, the aggressive Port Authority Director instantly lost his edge and softened his posture.
Feili's eyes lit up, and when he looked at Arman's old friend again, his gaze burned with eager anticipation.
The security chief beside him had not yet caught on and offered comforting words.
"Actually, even if Settlement No. 1 doesn't work out, there are still Numbers Two and Three..."
"If you can't resolve the core problem and do nothing but run away, even a Number Twenty or Thirty won't do you any good..."
Lowering his binoculars, Feili patted the security chief on the shoulder, pulled him aside, and pointed toward the sharply dressed Wilante on the distant pier.
"Go to the deck of the Nest of Salvation and find out that man's name for me."
Seeing his employer's bright, focused eyes, the security chief felt puzzled, but in the end he asked no questions.
"Understood, sir."
At that moment, Feili had no idea that the man he was so desperate to meet had already set his sights on him.
Even so, Henke had not asked Arman to introduce him to the wealthy newcomer straight away.
Doing so would have been tantamount to advertising that he was eyeing the man's gold.
Once someone grew guarded with preconceived suspicion, collaborating down the line would become exceedingly difficult.
Rather than pressing his warm face against someone else's cold backside, he much preferred having the other party eagerly come over to warm his own.
Truth be told, Henke was nervous as hell inside; that calm, steady smile was pure show.
After all, the local representative he had brought along was not his friend at all—in fact, they had met for the first time just today.
As for how he had managed to persuade the man to come and help, the reasoning was quite straightforward.
First, he had promised that the loyal, brave Wilante would remember Mr. Gu's favor today, and that helping them this once would earn him the unwavering support of every single one of them in the future.
Not only that, he had also told the representative that a business partner of his was on that ship, and that he intended to build a brand-new, flourishing district from scratch on the wasteland alongside this partner to take in even more refugees fleeing the ruins.
Votes, political achievements, and the noble reputation of upholding the constitution... Even if there was a touch of exaggeration, such substantial returns were more than enough to tempt the representative.
Helping the Wilante might offend a few fanatical, hardline Polos, but compared to what he stood to gain, that trifling bit of lost support was negligible.
Besides, those fanatics were always the hardest group to win over anyway.
Their demands were impossible to satisfy and their rhetoric was the most shrill; the slightest displeasure would make them forget every sweet promise of the past, instantly flipping their extreme support into extreme opposition.
Pleasing them brought zero benefits; it amounted to forsaking an entire forest just to nurse a few sickly saplings that refused to grow.
Naturally, there were hardliners among the Wilante too, but none of them were aboard these twelve ships.
Even the most cunning Wilante from the New World possessed more faith, credit, and professional integrity than the Polos, who worshipped a thousand gods.
Although Henke could tell that Gu Ning had not swallowed all of his smooth talk whole, his silver tongue had ultimately convinced the man to stop waiting on the sidelines and wade into these murky waters.
He was confident that the tycoon sitting on over a thousand tons of gold was keeping a close watch on the dock and would definitely notice him "pulling the strings" in the background.
When the time came, Henke would not need to say a word—the man would seek him out on his own.
And once that happened, he could begin delivering on the next grand promise he had made to Mr. Gu!
Following in Arman's footsteps, the group boarded the deck of the Nest of Salvation.
While Representative Gu comforted and checked in on the survivors aboard, Arman grabbed Henke's hand in excitement.
"Thank you! I really don't know how to thank you. If not for your representative friend..."
"Think nothing of it. The same blood runs in our veins; it's only right for folks to help each other out when they're far from home. No need to stand on ceremony."
Henke delivered the line with righteous conviction, not blushing in the slightest, as if the representative truly had come solely out of respect for him.
Arman never doubted Henke for a second. After all, the man had just done them an enormous favor, and he was too grateful to question anything.
All he could think now was how fortunate it was that he had overridden everyone's objections back then to rescue this man, hauling him out of the sea.
Truly, good deeds brought good returns.
"By the way, your friend helped us out so much—is there anything we should offer him in return?"
Seeing Arman's earnest expression, Henke chuckled and waved him off.
"Don't talk like an outsider. Speaking up for Alliance citizens is his job in the first place... You can think of him as a tribune."
Arman blinked in surprise.
"A tribune?"
"I almost forgot, you've never been to the New World," Henke said, smacking his own forehead. "Basically, back in the Western Legion, if you run into soldiers you can't reason with, you go find those guys to speak for you. They remember every single word the Marshal ever uttered—even the ones the Marshal himself forgot. Taking your case to them might not cure every ailment, but it's certainly more useful than praying to the Marshal."
"...That's definitely news to me," Arman said, scratching the back of his head.
The Western Legion was in the New World.
By comparison, he knew more about the Eastern Legion than he did about the west.
Then again, he had always assumed the systems across the four legions were just copied and tweaked from Triumph City, differing at most in how much they retained, without any fundamental divergence.
He had never imagined their western kin would introduce something new.
It seemed his supposed "thorough understanding" had been nothing more than his own assumption.
Henke grinned and clapped him on the shoulder.
"When you arrive in a new place, you have to learn the rules of the local game... That principle holds true across the four seas; it's never failed me once."
Just as Henke was reveling in his success, a burly man strode over from the gangway on the other side of the deck.
He wore a lightweight security exoskeleton, and his powerful build made him look like a battle-hardened veteran.
Stopping beside the two of them, the man gave a respectful nod.
"Excuse me, are you Mr. Henke?"
Henke looked at him, sizing him up from head to toe. He already had a good idea of who had sent him, but he suppressed his eagerness and replied with a polite smile.
"I am... And you are?"
The man continued in a courteous tone.
"I am a bodyguard employed by Mr. Feili. My employer would like to have a word with you, whenever it might be convenient."
*So that fellow's name is Feili!*
A surge of excitement washed over Henke, but he did not accept immediately. Instead, he shot an inquiring glance at Arman beside him, pretending not to recognize the name.
Sensing his confusion, Arman obligingly introduced him.
"Feili is a well-known jeweler from Evernight Port... After a string of recent incidents, he liquidated all his local assets and boarded my ship."
Henke put on a look of sudden realization, then cast a sympathetic gaze at the bodyguard.
"Abandoning everything in Evernight Port to come here... That must not have been an easy decision for your employer."
The bodyguard hesitated and gave a wry smile.
"My apologies... That is a matter of client privacy, and I don't know the details. Perhaps you could ask my employer directly."
"I certainly would like to speak with him—about the past, the present, and the future..." Henke nodded, adopting a concerned demeanor. "Then I'll trouble you to lead the way."
The bodyguard paused.
"Right now?"
Henke raised an eyebrow slightly.
"Is it inconvenient for him at the moment?"
"No, not at all..." The bodyguard glanced hesitantly at Arman, then looked back at Henke, speaking with slight hesitation. "It's just, walking away so suddenly... won't that be a problem?"
"What problem could there be?"
Henke chuckled, looking over at Representative Gu, who was comforting the elderly and the children, and then back at the equally hesitant Arman.
"Leave professional matters to professionals. With my friend watching over things here, it's more than enough. Rest easy... In all the time I've spent here, I've never seen any government department dare break the law in front of the Local Representative Council, let alone violate the constitution."
Having reassured Arman, Henke followed close behind the bodyguard to an adjacent ship, and soon met the immensely wealthy tycoon on the deck.
The moment his feet touched the planks, Henke could hear his own heart pounding.
Beneath his feet right now lay two hundred million pure gold dinars!
Even including the two shiploads of munitions he had previously lost, he had never possessed such astronomical wealth!
Excited as he was, Henke did not let a trace of it show on his face, maintaining his courteous, refined smile.
Unlike Henke's composed demeanor, the tycoon with the vast fortune stepped forward the moment he saw him, eagerly extending his right hand in greeting.
"A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Henke! I had intended to pay a call at your residence, but I never expected you to come in person..."
"You're far too polite!" Henke gripped Feili's right hand and laughed heartily.
Naturally, he could never let this man visit his actual residence.
After all, even in an Alliance that championed equality, no business mogul would negotiate a multi-million-coin deal with a dockworker living in a four-man dormitory.
Still, his performance so far had been a complete success; at least he had not slipped up in front of this golden backer.
Shaking Henke's hand warmly, a brilliant smile spread across Feili's face as he struck up a courteous conversation.
"I hear you hail from the New World?"
Henke smiled.
"That's right. I was a resident of the Western Legion, but that's all in the past now... The sea breeze blew me here a long time ago."
Feili looked at him in surprise.
"You already have Alliance citizenship?"
"Uh... not yet, but that hardly matters. Not everyone living in the Alliance holds formal citizenship. Besides, my identification card is already being processed; it will be issued soon," Henke explained vaguely after a light cough.
He was too embarrassed to mention that he worked on the docks, though in the grand scheme of things, that was beside the point anyway.
Feili nodded in understanding and thought nothing of it.
To his mind, since Mr. Henke had befriended a local "big shot," he naturally would not have to worry about a trivial matter like residency status.
The fact that someone would not be harassed over status issues was undoubtedly welcome news for him as well.
Seeing that Feili seemed poised to ask more questions, Henke quickly steered the conversation away, directing it back toward Feili himself.
What interested him most was the gold aboard the ship, but bringing it up directly was out of the question—it would make his intentions far too obvious.
The best approach was to find a natural opening that would allow the topic of the gold to emerge organically.
It would be even better if Mr. Feili could be prompted to ask for his help on his own.
"I hear you abandoned everything you had in Evernight Port... May I ask what drove you to make such a bold decision?"
At those words, the light in Feili's eyes instantly dimmed, and the bright smile on his wife's face beside him was replaced by a look of sorrow.
Realizing he had stepped on a landmine right out of the gate, Henke quickly added, "My apologies, did I ask something I shouldn't have?"
"There's nothing wrong with asking," Feili said, forcing a faint, bitter smile as his expression turned complex. "Both of my children were murdered by those bastards... They opened fire in the streets, and they shot at their own people."
*Damn...*
*Did the Southern Legion really go that far?*
Henke looked at Feili in disbelief, deeply shocked, yet he kept his tone soothing and gentle.
"I'm terribly sorry to have brought up such painful memories... How utterly horrifying. I don't even know what words to use—those degenerate thugs have sunk so low that they've abandoned the honor and faith of the Wilante! Opening fire on their own kin is nothing short of a betrayal of the Wilante, a betrayal of His Imperial Highness the Marshal!"
Feili curled his lips in a sneer, his expression dark.
"Yes, that's exactly what I think. They even tried to cover the whole thing up, so I refused to stay there for another second. I sold everything I could liquidate and took all my wealth... Even if I ended up in the belly of a fish, I would have accepted it. I would rather see these gold coins sink to the bottom of the ocean than leave a single coin behind for those murderers! They have no faith, but I still have mine."
He paused for a moment, then looked toward Henke with an appeal in his eyes.
"Still, my wife and I were fortunate, and Mr. Arman is an honest, trustworthy man. Thanks to his help, my wife and I were able to bring our belongings and make it safely across the ocean to this place... Speaking of which, I was hoping to ask a favor of you regarding this matter."
Henke assumed a serious expression, his senses sharpening to maximum alert.
"Please, don't hesitate. Whatever trouble you're facing, just let me know. Even if I can't solve it myself, I'll do everything I can to help you find a way."
Feili hesitated a moment, then let out a sigh.
"To be frank, the two hundred million dinars aboard this ship represent my life's fortune, but they are also a massive headache... Even though I believe the Alliance is safe, that doesn't change the fact that this is still the wasteland. And as long as you're in the wasteland, accidents are inevitable."
Henke nodded thoughtfully, looking thoroughly sympathetic.
"Indeed. That much cash is bound to draw eyes anywhere. If I were in your shoes, I certainly wouldn't feel comfortable leaving it sitting in a bustling, chaotic port."
A trace of worry surfaced on Feili's face again.
"That's precisely what I wanted to talk about... Do you know of any trustworthy banks?"
Henke smiled.
"Trustworthy banks? All the banks in the Alliance are quite trustworthy. Their risk control is top-notch, and they even insure depositors' savings... But since you have so much cash on hand, why not consider opening a bank of your own?"
"Open... a bank of my own?" Feili stared at him blankly, hesitating. "Could that really work?"
Although the Mutual Aid Community's digital settlement channels could convert dinars into silver coins, the platform itself was merely a foreign exchange marketplace. In other words, someone had to sell silver coins to buy dinars for him to offload his massive stockpile.
In times of peace, it wouldn't have been a big issue; with enough time, dinars could gradually be exchanged for silver coins. The problem was that the two sides were currently at war.
To dispose of his dinars quickly, he would have to sell them at a steep discount—one attractive enough that buyers would see a clear profit.
Seeing the utter bewilderment on Feili's face, Henke smiled and explained.
"The Alliance has many types of banks; they aren't all savings banks. There are also investment banks. As long as you have good investment targets and collateral to secure the investments, setting up an investment bank is easy."
Feili said, "I'm sorry, I don't quite follow..."
"To put it simply," Henke said, "you use the dinars in your possession as collateral to take out a loan in silver coins from an Alliance bank."
"Collateral? A loan?" Feili grew even more confused, staring at Henke. "But I just want to find a bank to deposit the money."
Henke continued patiently.
"That's precisely the issue, my dear Mr. Feili. While Alliance banks handle a wide range of services, frankly speaking, no bank can easily absorb such a massive quantity of foreign currency all at once—especially a precious-metal currency like the dinar, which has low circulation and takes up enormous physical space."
Feili was dumbfounded.
"They won't take the deposit?"
Henke shook his head.
"Of course they will, but any deposit exceeding a thousand dinars incurs a 'counting fee,' and that fee is charged as a percentage. As for two hundred million... no one has ever deposited that much, so even I don't know the exact rate. Or you could rent a vault and pay regular vault rental fees... But frankly, I wouldn't recommend either option."
Feili didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
"I just want to deposit some money—why is it this complicated?"
Looking at Feili's bewildered expression, Henke chuckled.
"That's completely normal. From the bank's perspective, what you're depositing isn't just money; it's risk. No one in Settlement No. 1 comes looking to borrow dinars from a bank. Even if people genuinely need dinars, they go to Golden Gallon Port or Silver Moon Bay, which are closer to the Legion's markets."
"Here in Settlement No. 1, the banks can't earn an interest spread off your gold, and on top of that, they'd have to worry about your gold tarnishing, or you waking up one day on a whim and deciding to withdraw it all... If you were the branch manager, would you agree to that? Dinars aren't legal tender in the Alliance; asking anyone for a favor won't change that."
Watching the disappointment wash over Feili's face, Henke continued in a measured tone.
"Mr. Feili, I'm giving you my honest advice. If you don't want to sell your dinars at a heavy discount or spend a fortune renting a dedicated vault, the best solution is to open a bank yourself."
Feili smiled bitterly.
"How is that any different from buying a vault?"
"Of course it's different," Henke said earnestly. "The biggest difference is that you won't have to sell your dinars at a discount. Instead, you pledge them as collateral to the bank and borrow a substantial sum of silver coins at market value."
"And then pay them a hefty chunk of interest on the loan?" Feili couldn't help interjecting. "I might as well just let them take their counting fee."
Henke smiled gently.
"It's only four percent interest. And if the funds are used to invest in infrastructure for Settlement No. 1, that rate can be discounted further."
Hearing that interest rate, Feili caught his breath for a second.
A two percent interest rate!
That sounded...
Remarkably attractive!
And most importantly, by handing over the dinars to the bank as collateral, he wouldn't have to worry about the security of the gold anymore.
The burden of worrying about safeguarding it would fall onto the bank instead.
It was very similar to depositing money in a bank, yet not quite the same!
"It sounds interesting, but on a loan that large, the annual interest is no small sum—"
"As long as your return exceeds two percent, everything above that is pure profit! I can't speak for other places, but my friend, this is the Alliance's Settlement No. 1. An annualized return over two percent is ridiculously easy to achieve," Henke said with a laugh. "To give you an example, I have a project right now that yields three to four percent. If you really can't find anything worth investing in, you can put your money into my project."
A flicker of vigilance crossed Feili's mind, but remembering the influence this fellow countryman possessed locally, he instinctively believed about half of it.
"Your project? What kind of project?"
Henke's expression turned somber and compassionate as he cast his gaze out over the surging waves in the distance.
"In a single day, over five thousand of our kin arrived at this port. If this war keeps dragging on, who knows how many more will be displaced from their homes? I can't just stand by and watch my own people sleeping in the streets. I intend to build a new home for them here—a community tailored for the Wilante... Of course, other wastelanders would be welcome too, provided they like us."
"As for the name... let's tentatively call it Wilante Street."
Feili stared at Henke in astonishment, never imagining the man possessed such noble ideals and breadth of vision.
Yet thinking it over carefully...
That project might actually turn a profit.
After all, there were far more survivors on the wasteland who hated the Wilante than those who liked them. Given the choice, he would much rather live alongside his own kind than be neighbors with the Polos.
"But... would the Alliance allow it? A name like 'Wilante Street'?"
Hearing that, Henke couldn't help bursting into laughter.
"Why would you even ask that? Forget Wilante Street—even if you called it Triumph City Street, I'd bet you no one would bat an eye."
Just as Feili was becoming persuaded, on the deck of the Nest of Salvation, Gu Ning had finished comforting the refugees and returned to Arman's side to discuss matters with the ship's owner.
"Over five thousand fleeing survivors, arriving all at once—that's no easy burden for any settlement to bear."
Arman said nervously, "But you have a way... right?"
Gu Ning nodded.
"Of course there's a way, but we need to hear your thoughts as well. After all, this might not just affect these five thousand people, but many more Wilante to come."
Arman looked at him intently.
"Please, go ahead!"
Unlike a certain someone, Gu Ning did not beat around the bush and laid out the "Wilante Street" proposal he had discussed earlier with Henke.
"Settlement No. 1 lacks the budget to build a separate community just for you, and the other representatives certainly wouldn't permit it... After all, the resources allocated to us are limited. Many people are still sleeping in shipping containers. If we give you too many green lights, everyone else will be left waiting at a red light. Over time, those who initially sympathized with you would come to resent you for cutting in line without restraint."
"I understand," Arman said, nodding. "We don't expect special privileges; we only ask to be treated fairly."
Gu Ning gave him an appreciative look.
"I'm glad you see it that way. It shows you haven't come to freeload off us, but genuinely intend to join our cause."
"In fact, having said that, we've already found the approach to resolving this problem, haven't we? As long as it doesn't consume the limited local public resources, I believe most people will be willing to help you, and the few dissenters won't be able to find fault with you... Your friend Henke was clever enough to find a solution, and he put forward a very sound idea."
"Based on his suggestion, I intend to draft a proposal to set aside a new urban district adjacent to Settlement No. 1, offering policy support such as low-interest loans and tax incentives so that you can build your own new home with your own hands."
Arman stared at him in shock, his astonishment not a whit less than Feili's.
"Is... is that really acceptable?"
Gu Ning smiled faintly, his tone mild and reassuring.
"Solving problems for the citizens of the Alliance is my job."
"Even future citizens."
Chapter 904