Chapter 672.2: Gold, Gold Everywhere!
They thought it over. With mutant attacks nonstop, their stockpile of carcasses was overflowing. Processing hides was the least of their worries.
A bulk sale sounded... reasonable.
“Go for it.”
“Yeah, we trust you.”
“Better sell than watch it rot.”
Grateful for their faith, Old Wine Lamp wiped a tear. “Brothers! I won’t let you down!”
One clapped his shoulder. “You’re the one doing us a favor.”
Another suggested, “Hey, why don’t we form a Craftsmen’s Association? Set unified prices by species, sell together next time. We’ll earn more and stop NPCs from picking us off one by one.”
The idea caught on immediately.
“Brilliant!”
“Agreed!”
“No more NPC scalping!”
Old Wine Lamp realized belatedly why Mojave had nearly blown up. It wasn’t a single vendor, but a massive network.
Still, it wasn’t the time to plan unions before they actually took control of the island.
“Let’s settle this deal first,” he said.
Everyone nodded.
With their blessing, he returned to the beach and found Mojave pacing nervously. Backed by his comrades’ approval, Old Wine Lamp now bargained hard, and finally clinched the deal for 140,000 silver coins.
Not quite his dream price of 150,000, but it was clearly the NPC’s limit.
When Mojave finally agreed, he looked like a man whose soul had been extracted. Even if he was an NPC, Old Wine Lamp felt bad squeezing him any further. Long-term trade mattered more.
As part of the agreement, French Fry Harbor’s players would help load over a thousand bundled hides onto the Poor Bitch cargo ship.
With no dock, hauling 20 tons of fur wasn’t easy, but Old Wine Lamp agreed readily.
“As you wish, 140,000 silver coins. I’ll fetch the money from the ship. Bring the goods to the deck; we’ll trade on the spot.” He headed south, stopping by the fence gate to make sure Old Wine Lamp understood every detail.
Seeing his pained expression, Old Wine Lamp waved cheerfully. “Got it, go on! Tell your captain to hold steady, we’ll have it there soon!”
“Deal,” Mojave said, then hurried toward the beached raft.
His mercenaries, seeing him rush back, blinked in confusion.
“Boss?”
“What’s... happening?”
“It’s done!” Mojave patted one’s shoulder. “Time is money, move! We need to get back fast!”
Every minute wasted meant another hide rotting in the heat, and the thought made him ache, especially the crimson sable pelts bundled with rhino leather, still slick with blood and grease.
Savages!
The mercenaries groaned. They had just hauled the raft ashore, hoping for a drink at the settlement, and now they had to turn back.
“What are you waiting for?” Mojave snapped. “Move it!”
“Yes, sir...”
Swallowing their irritation, they obeyed.
Wading through the surf, all three men pushed the raft back to sea, pant legs drenched, sweating in the glare.
After half an hour of struggle, they finally reached the cargo ship.
The two Federation patrol boats still loitered nearby. Their commander, Muda, leaned against the bow, smoking impatiently.
Mojave wasted no time climbing aboard.
Captain Song Haining approached immediately. “What’s going on ashore?”
“The prophecy was right!” Mojave burst out laughing. “A land paved with gold, ha! I struck it rich!”
Song Haining blinked, utterly lost. “What gold, ”
“I bought a batch of goods! They’ll send it up soon, I’ll go ready the payment!”
He started toward the hold, but Song grabbed his arm. “Wait, what goods? How are they getting it on board? We don’t have a dock!”
If they had to ferry it piece by piece, it’d take all day, and invite submarine attacks from Shelter 70.
Mojave brushed him off. “Relax! They said it’ll be quick!”
Song Haining scowled. “We don’t have long! The Federation patrols are our escort through the minefields, if we delay...”
“Tell them I’ll pay extra! 2,000 dinars!” Breaking free, Mojave hurried below deck, while Song Haining stood frowning deeply.
Then a sailor ran up, breathless. “Captain! The airship, it’s heading this way!”
“What?!” Song Haining yelled and looked up toward the northern shore.
The hovering airship was lowering ropes, carrying bundled cargo.
His eyes nearly popped out their sockets. “They’re... air-dropping it?!”
Even Mojave, emerging with a briefcase of cash, froze at the sight.
Within minutes, the airship drifted above the Poor Bitch, lowering the swinging bundles like pendulums until they landed safely on the deck.
Song Haining’s heart nearly stopped. One wrong sway, and they would have been crushed. But miraculously, everything landed intact.
From atop one stack jumped a man in a leather jacket. Old Wine Lamp spotted Mojave and grinned. “Delivery’s here. Where’s the payment?”
Still in disbelief, Mojave closed his mouth, gave a helpless thumbs-up, and handed over the case. “140,000 silver, all there.” [1]
Old Wine Lamp peeked inside, bundles of crisp notes. Satisfied, he smiled. “Pleasure doing business.”
“Pleasure’s mine,” Mojave replied, coughing awkwardly under his captain’s glare. “I’ll be back in a few days, save the good stuff for me. Oh, and... you guys really need a dock. No one’s gonna risk hauling me back like this again.”
Old Wine Lamp’s eyes lit up. “We can fix that! I know a contact!”
“You... got a ship?” Mojave asked incredulously.
“Of course! When you reach Ring Port, look for a woman named Tail, she’s with the crew flying a flag with the white bear.”
Mojave nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind. And you, how are you getting back?”
Old Wine Lamp chuckled, “The same way I came!”
He latched the ropes to his harness and waved, clutching the briefcase as the airship lifted him back toward shore, swaying like a pendulum in the wind.
Song Haining and his crew watched, dumbfounded, until the figure disappeared over the horizon.
Swallowing hard, Song Haining turned a murderous look on Mojave.
Mojave coughed awkwardly. “They’re... good people, really. Much friendlier than most wastelanders, just, uh, a bit reckless sometimes.”
“I don’t care how friendly they are!” Song snapped. “You’ll not drag my ship into their madness again! 20 years she’s sailed, and this is the last time we’re doing this, never again!”
Mojave nodded sheepishly. “Y-yes, yes, of course.”
Never again? Impossible.
That one trade had nearly matched his entire cargo’s profit.
He would not only be back, but he would even stay for some time.
Maybe when they reached Ring Island, he would find that woman Old Wine Lamp mentioned.
Though come to think of it... That name sounded awfully familiar.
1. need to change silver coins to silver since they’re dealing in notes now ☜
