The old gnome led Celine through two rows of wagons, finally stopping at the deepest part of the Heavy Cargo District.
Six cargo wagons were parked in a row between thick stone pillars.
The caravan emblems on the sides of the wagons had been painted over with black paint, but the wheels and chassis still bore the wear and tear of long-distance travel.
Tethered nearby were seven one-horned camel-beasts. They were all curled up on the ground, sleeping peacefully and looking completely harmless.
A few wooden chests containing repair tools and miscellaneous carriage supplies were stacked neatly at the very front.
“Foreclosed assets left behind by the Windwing Caravan,” the old gnome said, tapping his hand against the leading wagon. “Six wagons, seven camel-beasts, and all the remaining tools and parts bundled together as a package deal.”
“One of them is heavily damaged and can only be stripped for spare parts. The other five just need a bit of work, and they'll be ready to hit the road within seven days.”
Celine didn't take his word for it.
She inspected the chassis, axles, and wheels of several wagons in turn, then lifted the carriage curtains to check the residual magical patterns inside.
The condition was indeed better than she had expected.
Although the wagons were old, there were no visible cracks in the load-bearing beams. The damage was mostly concentrated on the axles, harnesses, and the shock-absorbing magic arrays, which had lacked maintenance for a long time.
As long as she could find a decent craftsman, most of it could be repaired within two days.
Finally, Celine walked up to the main wagon in the center.
This wagon was the best preserved on the outside, and its four wheels showed no obvious damage, yet its body was anchored to the ground by several dark red chains.
“What's the deal with this one?”
The old gnome spun his brass prosthetic eye and walked over. “This one is in great shape, but it still recognizes its original master.”
Celine looked at the dimmed hexagonal array plate beside the carriage door. She had seen something similar in the old Rosalind archives.
This was an ownership magic array commonly used by caravans.
Once bound, any transfer, mortgage, or dismantling of the vehicle had to be confirmed by the owner.
No one other than the owner registered on the array plate could alter its ownership without authorization.
Even if the vehicle was seized due to debt, the creditor only obtained the right to store and restrict its use, and could not sell it directly to someone else.
“The ownership of these wagons hasn't been transferred yet?”
“Exactly.” The old gnome reached out and tapped the array plate. The dormant runes flared to life for a brief moment before fading back into darkness.
“After the Windwing Caravan disbanded, the original owner mortgaged the wagons to the Secret Alley. The Old Machinery Yard is responsible for storing and appraising them, as well as finding a buyer on his behalf.”
Celine looked at the other five wagons. “All six wagons are bound to the same person?”
“The very same,” the old gnome said, pointing at the leading main wagon. “The ownership marks are all recorded in the primary array plate. Once the original owner agrees to the transfer, the ownership of the remaining five wagons will change as well.”
“And if he refuses?”
“Then they can't be sold,” the old gnome replied flatly.
Celine looked around the massive trading floor and asked in confusion, “Can't you just erase it?”
“We can,” the gnome replied. “But stripping the array runes from all six wagons and carving them all over again would take ten to fifteen days. Plus, the cost of materials and array wear-and-tear would have to be billed separately.”
Celine glanced at him, finally understanding why this set of wagons had sat in the Heavy Cargo District for so long.
Those willing to buy couldn't afford to wait, while those who could afford to wait weren't necessarily willing to bear the cost of carving six new sets of array runes.
From what she had seen on her way here, most of the remaining vehicles in the Heavy Cargo District were practically scrap metal.
Either their chassis were cracked, their axles were rotted, or they couldn't even assemble four intact wheels.
The only ones that could truly be repaired within seven days and were sturdy enough to endure a long-distance trial run were the ones right in front of her.
The Castro family had already blocked all above-ground rental channels; she didn't have the luxury of time to slowly search for another option.
Rather than spending over ten days stripping array runes or buying a few junk wagons that might fall apart at any moment, she might as well talk to the original owner herself.
At the very least, living people always had something they wanted.
Celine looked back at the old gnome.
“Where is the original owner?”
“The Red Well.” The old gnome pointed in another direction, as if he had been waiting for her to ask this. “He's down there gambling.”
Celine raised an eyebrow slightly. His wagons had already been mortgaged, yet he still had the heart to linger at the gambling tables.
It seemed his gambling addiction was no ordinary vice.
“What does he look like?”
“He's very easy to recognize.” The old gnome walked over to a nearby wagon and gestured with his hands. “He's an Aberrant, very tall with a bit of a hunchback. The right side of his body is covered in grayish-black lumps, and he has a backward-curving horn on his forehead.”
At this point, he added:
“He's even easier to spot when he's losing. His face turns from red to purple, and steam starts blowing out of his nose and ears.”
Celine fell silent for a moment. That description did indeed sound hard to mistake.
“What is his name?”
“Gunner.”
The old gnome fell silent after that, standing there with his arms crossed as he stared at her.
Celine waited for a moment.
“And then? How do I find him?”
“The Red Well is huge. Of course you can't find him just by his name.”
The old gnome grinned, revealing two gold-plated front teeth.
“You need his contact token.”
Only then did he slowly pull out a dark red iron plate from behind the ring of keys at his waist.
The iron plate seemed to be cast from a mix of animal bone and some dark red metal. The front was engraved with a deep well wrapped in chains, while the back bore a distorted magical mark.
The shape of the mark was highly similar to the residual aura on the main wagon's array plate.
It was not only a temporary guest token for the outer ring of the Red Well, but also a contact credential Gunner had left behind for potential buyers.
The old gnome pinched the iron token between two fingers, but showed absolutely no intention of handing it over.
Celine asked directly:
“How much?”
“Fifty black tokens.”
“Fifty?”
Celine stared at the iron token in his hand, almost thinking she had misheard.
The total number of black tokens she had exchanged upon entering the Secret Alley wasn't that high to begin with.
Just to borrow a lousy token that had likely been used by countless people before would cost her fifty tokens.
She had seen dishonest merchants before, but now she had truly witnessed a black-market swindler.
“This token is worth fifty black tokens?”
“Of course it is,” the old gnome said, shaking the iron token as his brass eye narrowed slightly. “It gets you into the Red Well, and it will make Gunner willing to listen to you speak a few words.”
“Did the previous buyers pay fifty tokens as well?”
“Prices fluctuate,” the old gnome replied righteously. “Today, it just happens to be fifty tokens.”
Celine understood. What "fluctuating prices"?
He had clearly realized she was in desperate need of wagons within seven days and was taking the opportunity to rip her off.
Instead of the Old Machinery Yard, this place might as well be renamed the Fleecing Yard.
The warmth completely drained from Celine's face.
“I don't want it anymore.”
The old gnome froze for a moment, apparently not expecting her to give up so decisively.
But he quickly shrugged and hung the iron token back at his waist.
“Suit yourself. It's not like the wagons will rot away while parked here anyway.”
With that, he turned around to head back to his workbench. “The exit is that way. I won't see you out.”
He was clearly convinced she had no other way of getting a token for the Red Well and would eventually return to accept his price.
Celine didn't argue further. She turned and walked out of the Heavy Cargo District.
However, as she passed by the old gnome, a Soul Thread silently dropped from her hand, slithering backward along the black iron plates on the floor.
The Soul Thread wound past the spare wheels stacked on the ground and climbed up the cluster of tools hanging at the old gnome's side.
The old gnome was looking down, checking his ledger, completely oblivious.
A moment later, the Soul Thread gently hooked onto the edge of the dark red iron token. It wasn't until she had walked over a dozen paces away that she finally pulled the thread tight.
The iron token slipped silently from the old gnome's waist, sliding rapidly across the ground beneath several wagons before finally landing in her palm.
Celine slipped the iron token into her cloak, a slight smile playing at the corners of her lips.
Trying to swindle her out of fifty black tokens?
Don't even think about it.
This token was originally something Gunner had left behind to contact potential buyers.
The Old Machinery Yard was merely storing it on his behalf, yet the old gnome was treating it like a ticket to repeatedly milk buyers for money.
Furthermore, the magical mark on the back of the token belonged to Gunner, not the gnome.
As long as she could get Gunner to agree to the transfer, the Old Machinery Yard would have to release the wagons in accordance with the mortgage contract.
When that time came, whether the old gnome wanted to cooperate or not would no longer matter.
Celine didn't stop her pace, quickly blending into the crowd outside.
Rate on N.U.
