When the plot-skips players into the game world

Seeing Young Rabih following him out, Aiwass felt somewhat surprised.

He obediently and silently followed behind Aiwass, looking rather cautious.

Aiwass turned his head, "Aren't you going to stay with your grandfather?"

"Not now."

"Why? It took so much effort to find him... Wasn't that your purpose for coming to the Holy Nation?"

"Yes."

Young Rabih spoke seriously, using the Avalonian language haltingly, "But Grandpa has been rescued. He is safe now. I need to thank my benefactor. That is more important."

As he spoke, he glanced at Aiwass and Sherlock with some worry, emphasizing, "Grandpa is not... particularly cruel."

The young Troll Wizard tried hard to defend his grandfather.

Aiwass didn't say anything; he just smiled, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

Sherlock, however, snorted coldly, "Then can you explain why he chose to curse Zumaidi first? Because Zumaidi is a Cursing Sorcerer?"

"Yes... I'm glad you understand."

The young Troll Wizard replied without hesitation, "Cursing Sorcerers are all descendants of sinners. Dirty things are more poisonous."

Sherlock looked up to meet his gaze.

From Young Rabih's clear eyes, he did not see any shame or repentance.

At least that's what the Trolls truly believed.

This made Sherlock choke on the words he originally wanted to say, momentarily at a loss for words.

Aiwass patted Sherlock on the shoulder and pulled back his slightly leaning body, "Every place has its customs and traditions. We may not understand, but we should at least respect them.

"In the southern continent, Cursing Sorcerers have the lowest status. Wizards can also use curses, but Cursing Sorcerers can't use rituals."

Wizard is another translation for Curse Ritual Magician in the south, where they are inclined to use that term. Curse Ritual Magician is the term used in the east. This is also why the advanced profession for Curse Ritual Magicians is called High Wizard.

"You are wise, a Prophet. The respected Archbishop."

Young Rabih made some strange gestures with his hands in front of him and then bowed deeply, "Avalon is so developed, hence you don't understand. Our tribes are backward. There are few clever people; it is the wizards who guide us.

"Cursing Sorcerers are all sinners. They violate [Taboos], or they murder, cannibalize. There are also hostile tribes, which we defeated. [Sin] flows in their blood until the third generation. They smell foul, beasts can scent their [Sin], they can't be hunters, nobody needs them..."

Young Rabih tried hard to explain.

He gesticulated wildly, his body language extremely expressive.

Still, there were some words he didn't know how to say in Avalonian, so he had to use Elvish instead.

Luckily, both Aiwass and Sherlock were quite proficient in Elvish and could understand him.

That is except for Lily, who was still obviously struggling—her current level in Elvish was about that of a college freshman who barely passed the English Level 4 exam. She could manage basic reading, but she might be confused by fast-paced conversations or some less common words.

Clearly, Young Rabih's command of Elvish was much better than Avalonian. For a young Troll of just eighteen years old to have mastered two foreign languages—this level of intelligence already surpassed many Avalonians.

But out of respect for Aiwass and the other two, he chose to use Avalonian as much as possible in conversation.

Sherlock also noticed the polite and sincere attitude of the other party.

He sighed, went over, and made an effort to pat the other's shoulder. Young Rabih also very considerately and humbly bent down so that Sherlock could reach his shoulder without having to stand on tiptoe.

"I know you are a good kid, Rabih..."

Sherlock patted his shoulder, speaking slowly, "But you don't have to care too much about our opinions and attitude towards you. Unless you have something else to say to us; or rather, unless there's a reason we will meet again in the future."

Although he was one centimeter taller than Aiwass... in front of Rabih, who was almost three meters tall, with arm muscles thicker than Aiwass's thighs, he still appeared as small as a frail child.

"Sir."

Young Rabih couldn't remember Sherlock's name, so he simply addressed him as sir, "I respect the Avalonians greatly, for you and the Elves are similar. You are better than the Star Antimony people, or the Irisflower People. The worst are those white-cloaks."

"The Iris Kingdom doesn't allow the sale of Trolls either, does it?"

Sherlock inquired.

He was very interested in this—a very rare source of first-hand information, far more accurate than books or scholarly papers. Being an heir to a Troll Tribe and a smart Troll who had mastered several foreign languages at a young age, the information he could provide was far more accurate than research reports written based on speculation and deduction.

Upon hearing this, Young Rabih immediately became serious and even a bit agitated—an emotion he hadn't shown when discussing the "white-cloaks," "The Irisflower People come here to trade with us. But all the trades are unfair! Completely unfair! Even worse than the Goblins!"

"Explain in detail."

Sherlock grew interested, even taking out a notebook from his pocket, "What exactly is unfair about it?"

"They trade soap, cloth, salt, and liquor with us for medicinal herbs. Also maize, cocoa, coffee. Some magical beast teeth, skins, meat. But I know the prices are not right!"

Young Rabih gave examples, "A barrel of liquor for five carts of coffee; a cart of salt for a cart of ivory!"

Sherlock furrowed his brow, scribbling calculations on a piece of paper.

He quickly worked out the prices and then looked at Aiwass with a surprise bordering on astonishment.

"How much?"

Seeing his reaction, Aiwass leaned in and asked in a low voice.

"At least fifty times the profit, it's frightening," Sherlock whispered into Aiwass's ear, "No wonder the Iris Kingdom has been squeezed so much by Star Antimony, yet they keep persevering. Turns out they are the ones with the most money."

So Sherlock raised his head: "Is it the same price for the goblins?"

"Goblins... a bit less."

After Young Rabih finished speaking, realizing that his description wasn't very precise, he added, "The Irisflower People are worse."

In other words, the profits for goblins were lower than for the Irisflower People.

"Then why don't you trade with the goblins?"

Sherlock blurted out without thinking.

But as soon as he posed the question, he realized he had said something foolish—why not trade with goblins? It was glaringly obvious; goblins had long deceived and plundered trolls, even trading them and squeezing their presence back into the depths of the rainforest. The trolls harbored a deep hatred for goblins.

The high reputation of the Irisflower People among the trolls was precisely because they did not buy troll slaves. Many trolls vied to do business with them, actually hoping that the Iris Kingdom's influence in the southern continent would grow, ideally pushing out the Star Antimony, the Parthian, and the goblins.

...Who would have thought that one day the Irisflower People would be better at doing business than the goblins.

Aiwass also felt somewhat moved.

Upon hearing this, Aiwass understood Young Rabih's meaning: "Do you wish to... cooperate with the Avalonians?"

"The Avalonians, they are the best,"

Young Rabih said firmly, "Almost as good as Elves! They also have Elvish Binding... and the Elves are the fairest of all."

The assessment of Elves was not at all problematic... but you, child, have too high an opinion of Avalon.

Aiwass thought to himself, and Sherlock's expression was somewhat peculiar.

However, Young Rabih really did come to the right place.

Aiwass was now the Chairperson of the Lohar Society, and what he said truly mattered.

Originally, Avalon was restrained by the influence of Elves and the maintenance of the Path of Authority, refusing to do business with other races. But now that prohibition had been lifted by Queen Isabel, even goblins had come ashore to build railways... Trading with trolls would pose no problem.

"War Song Tribe, is that it?"

"Beast Song Tribe."

Young Rabih corrected him.

"All right, Beast Song Tribe—where are you located on the southern continent?"

Aiwass said with a grin, "It may not seem like it, but I am the recognized business leader of Avalon, the Minister of the Department of Care of Magical Creatures, a Knight of the Round Table's Inner Circle, the first confidant of Queen Isabel, the Chairperson of the Lohar Society, the future head of the Founding Family 'Moriarty', and heir to the Moriarty Group."

"And also the future Prince of Avalon."

Sherlock nodded and added from the side.

He placed his right hand over his chest, with a mix of pride, self-importance, and a hint of grinding his teeth, "And I am his right-hand man."

"You're the secretary, and also the assistant secretary."

Aiwass emphasized, "You can communicate directly with him."

"Oh!"

Young Rabih's eyes lit up immediately.

He knelt halfway to the ground, extending his huge, meaty hands for a sincere handshake with Sherlock: "Thank you very much! Welcome! Looking forward! Please visit us, esteemed guest.

"We are, one of the largest tribes... or maybe top three, or top five. In the most central location... when your people come, just mention my name. Beast Song Tribe's Rabih, my guest. Those small tribes, they wouldn't dare to stop you."

Sherlock glanced back at Aiwass with a glare.

—You love dumping this troublesome work on me, don't you?

The look in Aiwass's eyes responded: Why not give it to your brother?

—That works too.

Sherlock guessed what Aiwass was thinking.

He said to Young Rabih softly, "I will write a letter to Avalon as soon as I'm back, and I will have the Minister of the Privy Council deal with you directly... You know the Minister of the Privy Council, right?"

"Oh, yes! The Chief Hunter, or the High Priest!"

Young Rabih nodded repeatedly, citing the two positions second only to the tribal leader: "The High Priest is my grandfather! I know, he has taught me!"