After the on-site visit to the steam engine, Roland and Margie returned to the castle office to continue negotiating the details of the trade contract. Such negotiations, if they involved bargaining, could often take a day or two for both parties to argue over, so they were usually handled by the Minister of Finance, with the lord only needing to specify the quantity and bottom line. However, since the other party had already finalized the price, Roland was spared a lot of effort.

"I anticipate that my next arrival will be in a month, at which time three brigantines laden with niter will arrive with me," the female merchant wrote quickly on the parchment. "Calculated at jiug of the market price, that would be worth approximately three hundred and fifteen gold dragons."

"By then, the town should be able to produce about two steam engines," Roland deliberately lowered the number. "That's a thousand gold dragons. You can make up the difference with gold dragons, or you can substitute other goods."

"What kind of goods do you need?"

"Iron, copper, lead, green vitriol," he said. "They're all common minerals. However, for the first three, I don't need ore, but smelted metal ingots. Also, I need ten sets of crystal glassware. It doesn't matter if they're engraved, or whether they're pitchers or goblets, but they must be the highest quality products produced by the royal capital's alchemic workshops. If the price exceeds the difference, I can make it up or deduct it from the next month's fee for two steam engines."

"You're treating me like your personal merchant now," Margie chuckled. "Although I don't run any mines, I know several colleagues who specialize in ore trading. But I never expected that such a remote borderland could harbor such great business opportunities. Not many nobles live here, yet it consumes a large amount of niter; the town itself was established for the North Slope Mine, but it has to buy minerals from outside. This simply defies my common sense as a merchant. Your Highness, your territory is truly unbelievable."

A major characteristic of industrial production is the massive consumption of raw materials and the output of finished products. Roland spread his hands. "The town will need even more in the future. I think we can reach a long-term—"

Just then, Margie suddenly widened her eyes, staring in astonishment behind Roland. The latter paused, and subconsciously turned his head, only to see Lightning, soaked to the bone, plastered against the French window, her hands gripping the glass, her face filled with panic—her complexion was pale, strands of hair stuck to her forehead, and droplets of water dripped down her hair, as if she had just been pulled out of the water.

Roland quickly got up and opened the window. Lightning flew into the room and plunged into Roland's arms. Her panicked expression immediately relaxed, and her body went limp as she fainted.

"Nightingale, quickly summon Nana Wawa," he said anxiously.

"Yes." A reply came from his empty side.

What was going on? She shouldn't encounter any evil beasts or devils in the air. Did they also have the ability to fly? Roland roughly checked Lightning's body and found no obvious injuries, which relieved him slightly.

"Your Highness, is she… the Lightning you mentioned?" Margie covered her mouth, slowly approached the prince, and carefully examined the little girl in his arms.

Roland's heart skipped a beat. Damn it, how could he have forgotten about her? He shouted towards the door, "Sean!"

The guard responded and entered the office.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Margie, but I'll have to ask you to stay here for a while," the prince said, picking up Lightning. "Take this royal capital merchant to a guest room on the first floor and keep her under guard. Do not let her out without my orders."

"Yes, sir!"

"What? No, Your Highness… please wait," she suddenly realized. "I have no malice towards witches, especially since she is the daughter of Thunder. I won't report her to the church—"

"I'm just taking precautions," Roland interrupted. "I'll come find you later to verify."

...

"Your Highness, she's awake," Nightingale said, opening the door.

Roland nodded and followed Nightingale into the bedroom. The bucket of water beside the large bed was still steaming, and the wet clothes were casually hung beside the bucket. A group of witches surrounded the bed. Wendy sat at the head of the bed, gently combing the little girl's still not completely dry hair. Lightning, whose face was previously bloodless, now had a slight rosy color. She leaned against two stacks of pillows, the quilt pulled up high, revealing only half of her head, her eyes staring straight at Roland.

"How is she?"

"She wasn't injured. It was a coma caused by the exhaustion of her magic power," Nightingale replied. "Wendy helped her wash her body and put her in bed. She woke up not long after."

He walked to the bed, smiled at Lightning, "What happened? What made you fly back in such a panic in the rain?"

"I found the ruins," she muttered in a low voice. "But there are devils inside."

This sentence changed everyone's expression.

"Did you go in?" Scroll asked.

"No," Lightning shook her head and recounted what happened. "The devil was guarding the entrance to the basement, and there were people inside calling for help. But I was too scared and only cared about escaping. I didn't think of a way to save her." She shrank her head into the quilt. "Does this mean I'm not qualified to be an explorer?"

"No, you did well," Roland comforted. "Good explorers know how to assess the situation and won't deliberately put themselves in danger. You couldn't save her alone. Running away was the right choice."

"Was the person in the stone tower a witch?" Wendy pondered. "Besides witches, no one can reach the depths of the Misty Forest."

"Witches wouldn't go there either," Scroll shook her head. "Those are ruins from four hundred and fifty years ago. If it weren't for a map indicating the direction, finding the location of the stone tower in the vast sea of trees would be as difficult as ascending to heaven. Unless..."

"Unless what?" Roland asked.

"Unless someone has been living there all along," Scroll said slowly.

"You mean to say that they didn't start from the kingdom, but have been there since four hundred and fifty years ago, continuing their lineage and living in isolation from the world?" The prince rejected this guess in his heart. Living in the primeval forest, what kind of concept is that! Elusive beasts, all kinds of terrifying insects and poisonous creatures, no stable food source... Even Bear Grylls couldn't live in the forest for a long time. What's more, this world has winters with months of heavy snow, plus the rampant evil beasts and devils. Settling down in the Misty Forest is simply courting death. He looked at Lightning, "Were there any traces of human habitation near the ruins?"

"No." The little girl shook her head.

"Perhaps there's more than one map," Soroya said. "Maybe there are others like us who are also looking for the whereabouts of Taquila."

"Regardless, we can't help them," Leaf sighed. "Besides Lightning, no one can quickly go to the stone tower."

"The truth is probably only known when we go there ourselves," Roland stroked his chin. "In any case, it's good that you came back safe and sound. Let's suspend tonight's lessons for one day, and everyone should rest well. When the time comes, the riddle will naturally be solved."

Leaving Lightning's bedroom, he said to Nightingale, "Next, we have another trouble to solve."

"As long as she takes off the God's Punishment Stone," she smiled, "leave everything to me."