Chapter 73

Chapter 73
Arriving at the capital, the cobblestone roads of the capital had never seen anything like it. Two armoured Humvees and seven big trucks, each painted in deep matte black with shimmering gold trim, rolled across the main trade highway with engines growling like beasts of war. Following close behind were eight reinforced trucks bearing the symbol of Robinson Town: a rising tree entwined with the wings of a phoenix. Each truck was stacked high with crates of food, gifts, banners, and tech-laced merchant stalls. Steam hissed from the pressure runes on the engines. The people lining the roads gawked in amazement.
The convoy moved like a dragon—long, unstoppable, and full of fire.
I rode in the lead Humvee, elbow resting on the window as I watched heads turn, jaws drop, and street vendors abandon their posts just to get a glimpse of what we brought.
Kael sat beside me, arms crossed, scanning the city with a hawk’s eyes. Behind us, Raymond was reading over the finalised merchant pitch, while Felix laughed at a passing noble carriage whose driver was too stunned to steer straight.
“I’m starting to like this whole 'overpowered merchant' gig,” I said with a grin.
“It’s ridiculous,” Felix replied, “but I love it. They look at us like we came from the heavens.”
“No,” Kael muttered. “They look at us like they don’t know if we’re their salvation... or their replacement.”
He wasn’t wrong.
Capital Royal Castle – High Balcony
From the white-stone towers of the royal palace, the view stretched far across the capital. The noble guests had gathered early, eager to see the foreign dignitaries arrive. Gold-embroidered dresses rustled in the breeze. Gem-encrusted monocles clicked into place. But none were prepared for what they saw next.
The first low rumble made them still. It wasn’t hooves. It wasn’t a carriage.
Then came the convoy.
“By the gods…” one duchess whispered.
“What... What those?” asked a baron from the Eastern Isles, nearly dropping his goblet.
The Crown Princess stepped forward beside her father, eyes wide. “That’s from Dirk Robinson’s town. Those are the ‘machines’ the Saintess told us about.”
Even the King, regal and still recovering, leaned heavily on his cane as his breath caught. “It’s like... watching a march of titans.”
Behind them, the envoys from the Elven Dominion and the Dwarven Confederacy stood speechless. The air crackled—not with mana—but something foreign, something . Magic intertwined with machinery. Civilisation meeting steel.
And all of it came from the northwestern frontier—from my town.
The capital of Aurelia was always majestic—but now, as our convoy of modern trucks and Humvees rumbled through the cobblestone roads, all eyes turned to us. People leaned from balconies, nobles peeked from behind enchanted silk curtains, and street vendors stopped mid-call, mouths agape at the sound of roaring engines and the sight of large, metallic beasts gliding through their ancient city.
Felix grinned from the passenger seat beside me. "We're making a scene."
"Good," I said, fingers tapping the steering wheel of the lead Humvee. "Let them know the frontier isn't behind anymore. It's leading the charge now."
Behind us, the rest of our convoy followed in disciplined rows—flatbed trucks carrying tents, display stands and, most importantly, goods from Robinson Town. Cup noodles, toiletries, mana-charged yoghurt milk, enchanted mamons, rainbow-coloured chips, fried chicken with resistance buffs, bottled mana water—the finest innovations born of survival, trade, and creativity.
As we turned into the royal grounds near the Festival Plaza, the guards tried to stop us. That was, until Butler Raymond stepped out in his black tactical suit, holding up a scroll with the king’s golden seal.
Permission granted. Royal decree.
The gates opened. And then the show began.

The moment our convoy engines went silent, we got to work like clockwork. No time to waste. The festival was in just a few days, and the capital’s Festival Plaza, though grand, looked more like a half-forgotten war zone than a celebration ground.
Cracked tiles, trash piling in corners, tangled weeds between cobbles. It wouldn’t do—not for the kingdom’s grandest event, and certainly not under my name. I stood atop a supply crate, looking over the workers unloading gear and crates from our trucks. “Felix! Get the tools out—brooms, magic sweepers, everything! Igor, prep the tents. Karl, organise the mana light posts!”
They saluted with laughter. Felix already had a broom in one hand and a mamon in the other. “Multitasking is the soul of progress!”
But I knew there was more to be done. This wasn’t just about setting up booths. This was about community. I turned to where Ella was helping unload mana-cooled water bottles. “Ella!”
She looked up. “Yes, my lord?”
“I want you to prepare food packs—basic ones. Mamon, bottled water, and cup noodles. Set a stall right by the north plaza. Make it visible.”
“For… us?” she asked, puzzled.
I shook my head, grinning. “For anyone who helps clean.”
It began with just a few curious eyes. Then whispers. A child tugged at his mother’s sleeve. “Ma, they said if you sweep the streets, you get to try magic mamon.”
“A cup of noodles too!” added an older man holding a cracked broom handle he hadn’t used in years. Within the hour, a small crowd gathered around the edges of the plaza. And then, magic happened—not with spells, but hope. I watched them as I handed out my own broom to a teenage boy, giving him a firm pat on the back. “You clean, you eat. Deal?”
He nodded with the biggest grin. Soon, women brought out buckets of water from their homes. Men with tired shoulders leaned down to scrape grime from stones. Even a few off-duty guards joined in, handing their spears to younger cadets to wield brushes instead.
It was a swarm of volunteers, laughing and sweating, driven by one glorious thing: Food they had never tasted in their lives.
Ella ran the stall like a battlefield quartermaster.
“Here you go—one mamon, still warm! Don’t crush it!”
“Careful with the soup—it’s hot! Yes, real meat!”
“Don’t forget your bottle—it’s mana-infused water!”
A little girl bit into a mamon and gasped. “It tastes like clouds!”
Her father grunted. “We cleaned the sewers for this. Worth it.” People sat on ledges with steaming cups of noodle soup, slurping with joy, some wide-eyed in disbelief that no one charged them a copper coin.
Even the nobles peeking from across the square whispered among themselves, uncertain how this ragtag mix of commoners and warriors had transformed an unkempt plaza into a festival ground buzzing with life.
Then we started to set up our stage. Nobles came to watch in awe as we opened the Humvees and trucks and took everything out in the open. Boxes upon boxes of wares were scattered in the street while the capitol guard volunteered to watch them in exchange for noodles and mamons.
Our modern portable stage was nothing short of legendary. Constructed with telescoping metal scaffolding, polycarbonate panels, and embedded lighting systems, it unfolded like a blooming mechanical lotus in the centre of the plaza. The rest of my team was tasked with decorating the stage with Robinson’s flaglets, balloons and modern Christmas lights that made the people in awe. Elvie and Igor coordinated the engineers and mages to stabilise the magical nodes beneath it. Each side had enchanted screens that could project performances or advertisements like a modern Earth concert.
The townsfolk from Aurelia gasped as the metal unfolded in smooth, elegant arcs. A noblewoman dropped her fan.
A little boy shouted, “It’s a dragon’s egg! It’s hatching!”
Felix laughed while securing the power cables. “Let them think that. This dragon sells chicken and cold drinks.”
One by one, brilliant tents made from mana-treated canvas were raised. Coloured red, blue, and gold, the cloth shimmered under the sunlight like silk made of starfire. Woven lanterns imported from dwarven crafters in the underground tunnels were strung along pathways, each glowing with a warm elemental core.
Miss Agness barked orders from atop a crate like a general in battle. "Noodles by the stage. Yoghurt milk on the western aisle! Don’t let the refrigeration runes drop below twenty degrees!"
We even brought portable AC units for indoor tents which were modified by the drawfin workers, cooling the area to perfect conditions for certain baked goods and mana-sensitive items.
Then came the decoration enchantments—spell-ribbons that floated midair, displaying holographic advertisements like:
"Get a bite, gain some might! Dirk’s Fried Chicken now with a strength buff!"
"Mamons for your mana! One bite = one sparkle!"
Kids chased the ribbons laughing, while elderly mages murmured to each other in disbelief at the spectacle while the stall of cotton candy and dried fruit candy was busy.
By the time the sun dipped behind the capital’s rooftops, the plaza was transformed. It wasn’t just clean—it looked like a festival of the future. Mana lights lined the walkways, humming gently in hues of soft blue and green. The air buzzed with energy and anticipation.
And now came the real show: the unveiling of the Robinson Goods Pavilion.
Our convoy had delivered everything we needed: colourful modular tents, retractable canopies, foldable modern tables and chairs, and product boxes stacked neatly like military crates but bearing bright logos and labels. The tents were arranged in a half-moon arc around the central stage, each colour-coded—red for food, green for clothing, blue for household goods, and white for magical accessories.
I stood in front of the central display tent, clipboard in one hand, mamon in the other. “Alright! Felix, Karl—start unboxing the top-tier items! Elvie, make sure the product samples are clean and labelled. Ella, get the mana speakers tested. And where the hell is the ice cream freezer?”
“It’s behind the chicken fryer, boss!” Karl called out, hauling out a tall silver case.
“Elvie!” I called. “That’s your cue—make the yoghurt milk chill just right! We want the nobles to sweat with curiosity!”
She smirked and tapped a small spell crystal, chilling the drinks instantly. “On it.”
Within minutes, the tables were brimming with carefully arranged products:
Herbal mana tea, coffee, chocolates, candies, toiletries and magical chips, healing bandages, cloth napkins with cold-silk weaving—and even sparkling fruit soda that fizzed with every twist.