"The circulation of currency can't rely solely on the major clans. They're too centralized, too conservative, and too self-important. If you depend only on them, money will just circulate among the elites—flowing from warehouses to treasuries, and from treasuries back to warehouses."

  Seeing the thoughtful look on Selene's face, Draven continued,"Lady Selene, do you know how the beastkin society is structured? It's not an egalitarian world, but a clear three-tier system. At the bottom are the laborers and slaves. In the middle, you have merchants, craftsmen, and transporters. At the top are tribal chiefs and nobles."

  "For currency to flow, the middle tier is the key. They're the ones trading, transporting, producing, and consuming every day. Only when they start using currency will the entire city come to life."

  Selene remained silent—she did not deny it. In truth, she had vaguely sensed this problem before. But it wasn't until Draven laid it out so clearly that she realized how rigid her original approach had been.

  Draven knew she was listening now, so he pushed the point further:"I suggest that for now, you don't rush to enforce currency use in all transactions. Instead, start with a product that everyone accepts and that isn't too controversial. Something that doesn't affect the lower class, but can stimulate consumption among the middle and upper classes."

  He pulled out a jar of bloodwine from his storage ring. Once the seal was opened, the rich crimson liquid gave off an intoxicating aroma, with a wild, almost maddening scent.

  "Something like bloodwine."

  As he poured the wine into two stone cups on the table, he continued,"This is something all beastkin love. The lower class can't afford it, so they won't make a fuss; the middle and upper classes are more than willing to pay for it—some might even fight over it. And if you then require that all bloodwine transactions be conducted in currency…"

  He didn't finish the sentence—because he knew Selene had already understood the implication.

  Draven lifted one cup and offered it to her without hesitation. Their fingertips brushed at the rim of the cup, but this time, Selene didn't let go right away. Instead, she smiled slightly and accepted it gently.

  She took a sip. The wine slipped over her tongue and into her mouth—whatever annoyance she had felt moments ago vanished instantly.

  She suddenly realized: this werewolf chieftain had become interesting again.

  Just before leaving, Draven added,"Lady Selene, perhaps it's time for the Lord's Hall to have its own merchant fleet."

  He didn't wait for Selene to reply. He turned, bowed, and left. He understood that, despite now commanding five hundred slaves, he was still just a village-level lord—a mere pawn on the board. He had said enough. Any more would be overstepping.

  As he stepped out of the great hall, his stride was light, his expression relaxed, as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

  Beside him, Rurik was still dumbfounded, clutching the metal token that represented the slave transfer. Even after leaving the Lord's Hall, he hadn't recovered.

  "Chief, is this real?" Rurik finally couldn't hold back.

  Draven snatched the token from his hand."It's real."

  Then he chuckled. That token had been handed to him personally by Selene—five hundred slaves, five hundred lives, five hundred laborers. If used wisely, they could become a new village—or even a city.

  But he didn't rush off to claim the slaves. He had other matters to attend to.

  When they returned to the stone house, Bran was sitting by the door with a silly grin on his face, like a drunkard after a long night. Two young rabbitkin children squatted beside him, curiously studying the big, fluffy"uncle."

  Draven wrinkled his nose and gave Bran a swift kick."Looks like you had a pleasant night."

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  He stepped inside and grabbed the still-dozing Eyebrow-Patterned King Serpent. Giving its head a firm pat, he said,"Wake up—it's your shift."

  He didn't bring Rurik this time—he could handle this alone.

  Bran finally snapped out of his daze and leaned close to Rurik, whispering excitedly about his romantic adventure the night before, eyes gleaming, urging his friend to join him again that evening.

  Completely unaware that inside the house behind them, Angelica was grinding her teeth, her face frozen in fury.

  Draven made his way to the dwarven blacksmith Edric's forge. He didn't bother knocking and instead circled into the back courtyard. Edric was hammering a glowing hot iron plate by the furnace, his face smeared with a mix of sweat and coal dust.

  Draven walked over and said,"We agreed—two serpent bones for one bloodline weapon."

  The Eyebrow-Patterned King Serpent opened its mouth and let out a low hiss, reluctantly spitting out two massive bones. They hit the ground with a wet thud, still slick with mucus.

  The bones were thick, over two meters long, their surfaces marked with purplish-black patterns and faint spiritual pressure. Together, they nearly filled the entire courtyard.

  The dwarf Edric showed no concern at all for the mucus-covered serpent bones. He stomped his short, stocky legs and circled around the two massive bones.

  While inspecting them, he occasionally tapped the surface with his fingernail, listening to the clarity of the echo to judge the bone's quality.

  The slippery mucus dripped from the bones, forming small puddles on the ground, but Edric acted as though he didn't see any of it.

  Draven stood silently to the side, letting the Eyebrow-Patterned King Serpent crawl back onto his shoulder. The creature's body was thick and slick, but it slid comfortably under Draven's clothes and nestled against his back like a living scarf.

  Draven sighed. For this deal, the serpent's help had been indispensable.

  After completing his inspection, Edric finally stopped and wiped the sweat from his forehead with a sleeve.

  "The bones are fine," he said."But it would've been better if you'd brought the serpent's head too." His tone held a hint of regret.

  Draven shrugged."No can do. The green python's head was used in a ritual, and the black one's head—half was cut off, the other half fed to this little guy."

  He gave the serpent on his back a pat."What you see here is all that's left."

  Edric nodded."Alright, a deal's a deal. I won't go back on my word. Come with me."

  He turned and walked toward the inner chamber of the smithy, pushing open a heavy iron door. Behind it was a storeroom dimly lit, filled with the scent of metal.

  Weapons were neatly arranged on racks. Under the flickering oil lamps, their cold gleam exuded a quiet but overwhelming presence.

  "The row at the back—those are the bloodline weapons I forged myself," Edric said, pointing to a row of racks in the corner."You can pick two. Those serpent bones are worth more than I expected."

  Though his voice was calm, his eyes betrayed a flicker of pride. Clearly, he was very pleased with his work.

  Draven scanned the racks. Most of the weapons were axes, spears, warhammers, and heavy blades—brutal and straightforward, matching the combat style of beastkin.

  Still, a few unusual items caught his eye—some oddly designed crossbows and small weapons glowing with faint magical auras.

  He knew bloodline weapons were extremely rare, usually reserved for chieftains. In his previous plans, he had even considered having Rurik return that blood elf longbow—since Rurik didn't really need it inside the city. But now, with two items to choose from, that was no longer necessary.

  Draven circled the rack a few times, running his hands over the materials of the weapons. He even picked up a few axes to test their weight and swing before setting them back.

  After much deliberation and under Edric's impatient urging, he finally made his choice.

  Draven smiled and pointed to a cloak."I'll take this one."

  It was a dark grey hooded cloak, with a subtle scaled sheen like the hide of some magical beast.

  "Chameleon lizard hide?" he asked.

  Edric nodded."Color-shifting chameleon lizard. It blends into the surroundings when worn—great for visual concealment, though it doesn't hide magical presence."

  "No problem," said Draven. He already had skills to suppress his magical aura. Paired with this cloak, he could practically become invisible.

  He folded the cloak and stored it in his spatial ring, then moved on to pick his second item.

  In the end, he selected a small, elegant bone staff from the bottom shelf. Unlike the bulky weapons around it, this one looked more like a piece of art.

  The staff was a pale red, like intertwined coral. At the top, a bright red magic crystal was cradled by two bone-like vines, giving off a warm glow.

  "Made from the bones of a fire-type beast?" Draven asked.

  Edric nodded."Mid-tier fire-type beast. Called a Flamebone Beast. I don't make staves, just rough blanks. You'll need a mage to carve the arrays and infuse the magic."

  Draven smiled faintly. He could already picture Viola practicing magic with this staff—she was bound to love it.

  Just as he was about to leave, Edric suddenly frowned. He looked at the empty weapon rack, then at the cloak and staff in Draven's hands, and said,

  "Wait a minute—both of those aren't offensive weapons."

  Draven raised an eyebrow."So?"

  Edric walked to the door, grabbed a flail from a side rack, and shoved it into Draven's hands."You don't like head-on fights, right? But even then, better armed than barehanded."

  "Edric, this wasn't part of the deal," Draven said, trying to hand it back.

  "Consider it a gift—for a friend," Edric said, pushing him out the door."Now go, I've got work to do."

  The flail wasn't anything special—just a standard dwarven make, mass-produced, but decently balanced and reasonably weighted. It wasn't as refined as the other two items, but hey—it was still a bloodline weapon.