Deltarune Shipping Novels & Stories

A logbook. Although most packs operated independently, they still carried out trades with other packs. If somehow there was an arrangement with someone or another pack, it would have been in it. Carefully, I perused the book, paying attention to every little detail. Shipping. Import. Export. Finally, I found something of interest. There was a shipping that occurred about two weeks back, close to the day that Sal got kidnapped. There was only one object that served as the cargo for the shipping. A rune for blocking scents.

Chapter Fourteen[ The decission-making] The gorgeous couple wakes up early in the morning, ready to face the new hectic day aboard the navigating ship, where David is one of the announced stockholders of the largest international shipping company in Europe, after spending a romantic night of rest in that cold, windy, favorite weather. After a short while, the pair is fully attired and ready to confront any unforeseen circumstances that may arise on their journey that Tuesday, August, along the southwest seacoast of the countryside, Southeast Asia Pacific island.

During the crossing over the scarlet waters of the Atlantic, Alvaro lived the five best days of his life; drinking unlimited quantities of the most exquisite liquor, smoking one after another, the best tobacco; and trying out the women he wanted. He alternated all this with card games, darts and billiards. Boarding the ship from the United Kingdom to Le Havre, France, was the most fun part for Alvaro; he had not wanted the ferry to ever arrive. The owners of these cargo ships used to accumulate exaggerated debts with the Tonali brothers, so the shipments of their merchandise were a form of retribution.

"Different methods. Customs delays. Equipment failures. Traffic accidents blocking the route. Make it look random." "And while Ocean is scrambling to fix his shipping problems, we move into his territory. Quietly." Dmitri pulls out a map of London. Points to areas marked in red. "These regions. South London docks. East End pharmaceutical distribution. We start servicing his clients. Offer better prices. Better reliability." "Won't that provoke him?" Marco asks.

“De Marco knows we’re close. That makes him sloppy.” Talana’s eyes didn’t leave the door. “We need to move faster.” Massimo looked between the women, his voice tight. “We will. But if De Marco has moved that second shipment, we have a narrow window to intercept.” Lorenzo returned moments later, blood on his sleeves, his jaw set. “He gave up a name,” he said. “Carlos Mendez. They’re using an old fishing route through Calabria. Supposed to move by tomorrow night. We’ve got less than twenty-four hours.”

Elena was reviewing shipping documents in her office when Margaret walked in looking worried. "We have a problem," Margaret said, sitting down heavily in the chair across from Elena's desk. Elena looked up from her computer. "What kind of problem grandma?" "The Vaelthorne branch of Ravenwood Shipping is having serious issues," Margaret explained. "Three of our cargo ships have been delayed at the port for two weeks. They're losing us millions of dollars every day." Elena felt her stomach tighten. "What's causing the delays?"

Then I looked sideways at Reina, voice low in Italian. “La dolce piccola spia. Diamole qualcosa da portare ai suoi padroni.” (Sweet little spy. Let’s give her something to carry back to her employers.) Bruno gave the smallest of nods and sat across from us, already slipping into his role. “We need to move the schedule up,” Bruno said immediately he was settled, voice calm, calculated. “The warehouse in Porticello is being watched. So we’re rerouting the next shipment through the docks near Marechiaro.”

The merchant ship descended to a low altitude and immediately, a ship approached. A young man’s voice came from inside. “Hello, I am the navigator of this large trade zone. If you need anything, just ask me. I know this place very well.” Upon seeing the word ‘Central’ engraved on the other party’s ship, Marlee felt relieved. If they were another swindler like Willie, there would not be the word ‘Central’ on their ship. This was a means of transportation that only staff members recognized by the Central Sacred Continent officials could drive.

"I was hoping to speak with you." I turn to find Alpha Marino from the western territories. Mid-forties, ambitious, and clearly overestimating his position. "Alpha Marino." I incline my head politely. "What can I do for you?" "I've been reviewing shipping routes through the northern passage," he says, getting straight to business. "The Woolf family controls most of the commercial traffic. I believe there's room for... diversification." Ah. So he wants to muscle in on our territory. "Diversification," I repeat, my voice pleasant. "Interesting choice of words."

“These are original signatures. Wet ink.” “Exactly,” Chang said softly. “You burn us, you burn them.” I leaned back, crossing one leg over the other. “And yet here you are. Asking me to dance.” “We’re not asking for a dance,” Lee said. “We’re offering you the party ground.” He tapped the screen beside him. The table lit up—an interactive feed of Westport’s shipping lanes. Warehouses labeled Bright-Gates. Crates with barcodes moving in real time under an unsettled sky. Aerial drones gliding between terminals.