The Seven Kingdoms

“Further ahead is Estica.”

Modi’s finger tapped lightly on a pristine, ornate section of the border on the map.

“It’s not that we can’t enter, but even if we do, we might not be able to sell anything. The Perfect Garden only recognizes goods that are near-perfect. If the quality isn't high enough, the goods are destroyed on the spot. If there’s a breach of etiquette or the paperwork isn’t spotless, you’re deported immediately. Given the current quality of our goods, even if they leave the factory in perfect condition, a single bump during transport would make them unsellable there.”

Sophie: ...

What a kingdom of perfectionists.

“Moving on, we have Avericia,” Modi said. “In that place, a merchant caravan is seen as nothing more than prey. The financial magnates, the legions, the distribution bureaus, the debt courts—every single one of them wants to bite a piece out of your cargo. Moreover, there is an active front line between it and Estica. It’s hard to say if the goods would even arrive, or if we would arrive as merchants or spoils of war.”

Sophie glanced at the route on the map, which was severed by a bright red dashed line. She decided to respect reality and refrained from commenting.

“What about Destinos then?” Sophie changed the route, tracing a line from Laisenia to Destinos.

Destinos—that was the home of Miss Hero and Servant A. Those born there were cursed with their identities from birth.

There were bound to be people with merchant identities there.

“Destinos is open for trade,” Modi said. “But that is 'open for trade' on a map, not for a caravan. Perhaps an individual could traverse the entire snowy wasteland, but a caravan certainly cannot.”

“What do you mean?” Sophie asked.

“Exactly what it sounds like, Lady Saintess.”

Modi’s finger moved to the pale, snowy expanse of Laisenia.

“The place is indeed passable if you take the official roads, but it’s impossible to maintain steady traffic. No one knows when the snow will fall, and as long as you are under that heavy snow, people lose random memories. They forget the way, they forget contracts, they forget ownership of goods, they forget their guard duties... sometimes people even forget why they are standing there in the first place. Spot valuations at the border are possible, and short-term alliance trades can be done, but a deep trek along a major trade route is definitely out of the question.”

“If you fail even once, you’ll be stuck there forever, becoming a tribesman along with those Qi Cultivators,” Modi explained.

Sophie: ...

That curse sounded absolutely terrifying.

The Snow Witch, Aishide.

Sophie hadn't had any contact with her yet.

“As for trying to bypass it through the Chaos Wasteland or dealing with the demons there, let's not even mention whether those dangerous and despicable enemies of humanity are even capable of trade... essentially, only adventurers operate in the Chaos Wasteland. And adventurers are a bunch of greedy daredevils; your goods would likely be snatched up before you even reached a demon you could trade with.”

The legendary adventurer, Sophie: “That... that sounds about right.”

“Therefore, Lady Saintess, your far-trading plan might... for the time being, have to start with the neighboring countries...” Modi reminded her diplomatically.

Sophie looked at the map and didn't speak immediately.

When she had first thought of starting a merchant group, she was still thinking of the Red Moon Empire as it was before its collapse.

Back then, roads were roads, and cities were cities. The Imperial Capital hung high in the center of the continent, and caravans could follow the official relay stations and pilgrimage lines all the way, carrying goods, ledgers, and ambition to any place they desired.

But what lay spread out before her now was no longer a unified and prosperous empire. It was the Seven Kingdoms, brutally torn apart by curses, war, oblivion, desire, and disorder.

People no longer calculated how much they would earn next year, nor did they dream of taking their business to the ends of the continent.

Most of the time, they simply kept their heads down, calculating the value of their own lives and identities, wondering if today’s goods could be saved, if they could survive tonight’s moonlight, and if they would still remember the way, their names, and the people beside them when they woke up tomorrow.

Thinking of this, Sophie suddenly felt a tightness in her chest.

The world she once knew was truly dead.

And the source of all this...

Sigh.

How could Hiso be so wicked?

At this thought, Sophie suddenly felt like sighing.

Five hundred years.

That really was excessively long.