The returning guards eyed Konrad with suspicion.
"Are they gone?" the merchant looked pale.
His fear — a rancid smell — reminded him of the beastfolk girl sniffing him.
A cold shiver, and a much warmer feeling crept up on him. What did he smell like for—
Focus, damn it.
Were those monsters so scary that a nomad trader shook like a leaf?
If so, he'd better take advantage of it. Money or fame, whatever could convince the mage in Aset to teach him. Anything could've helped — except biting his tongue.
"I dealt with the—MN."
His face burning hot, he spun around as if hearing noises.
"You?" mercenaries scoffed, "killed five Griphlets?"
They saw nothing, but the monsters were dead. Sure, he didn't kill them, but for all the guards knew, he could have done it, too. He only had to prove it.
"There were six of 'em." Konrad held out his crystal.
Hungry eyes locked on the purple haze, the peddler almost salivating.
If he wanted reparations for the horse, he was in trouble, but at least they must have believed—
"Where's your sword, though?"
Nope, they didn't believe him at all.
A keen-eyed archer asked too many questions.
"I, uh — it got stuck in one of 'em, and it ran." Konrad improvised, cheeks flushed.
The oldest mercenary raised his voice.
"I don't know how the boy survived," he admitted, "but this tunic tells me he fought."
Konrad had already forgotten. The same talons raked across his chest that cleaved their horse in half. He only survived because of the little ginger's healing magic.
Well, that's what she said.
He never saw the spell cast, but didn't feel pain, either. For a beauty like her, he was willing to believe anything. Thinking of her made him want to look cool, too.
"Ah, 'tis but a scratch," he claimed, pocketing the crystal, "they weren't that tough."
And if the others were about to believe him, this boast made them question everything again.
Konrad had yet to learn when to shut the hell up.
"The food must've distracted 'em," the guards concluded. All because that girl ate like a starving animal. "Not sure if you're lucky, crazy, or good, but you sure have balls, kid."
He took it as a compliment, but the worst was yet to come.
They had to push the damned wagon, until the horizon turned purple and orange. By the time the next village came into view, they were swimming in sweat.
Isbra, as the locals called it, had no inns, but enough rooms for everyone.
Konrad fell asleep as soon as he hit the straw, clutching the crystal all night. When the morning sun almost blinded him, he woke up rested.
His sword — recognized from the pommel, as everything else was different — lay by his side.
"How the hell?" He mumbled, still half in a coma.
It was an inch shorter but more robust, tapering from the base. If he were to question where it came from, a 'W' rune near the hilt hinted at the tribesman.
He thought they'd weld the halves back together and hand it over the next time they met. But of course, it wasn't how it worked. Welf reforged it from scratch, and in a single night.
How did they even find him?
Well, as easy as they took those Griphlets out, it shouldn't have been a surprise. He felt bad for claiming the kills as his own now, but nobody would've believed the truth anyway.
***
They reached Aset by noon.
While it was the same size as Halaima, this town was full of life. Spearmen posted at every crossroads, clean, cobblestone streets, and merchants hawking their wares.
Konrad saw elves, dwarves, even beastmen — but none as heart-throbbing as that catgirl.
"Take care, boy," the peddler said. "Let's make business again sometime."
When they shook hands, Konrad found a few coppers in his palm. It wasn't much, but it must have been the first time he got a gift — at least, without Father Alastair taking it away.
Finally, he was on his own. Free — and completely lost.
Tears gathered in his eyes that never fell.
Wasn't this his dream? To be in control?
Well, he still didn't know where to find that famed mage, or what his name was — let alone how to make enough money to hire him.
"Five hundred gold," he mumbled at the crowd.
He had three and a crystal that should be worth one, according to the blacksmith.
But where does he sell it?
"Enchanted tools! Magic items appraised by the famous Green Mage. They're all unique: if they're gone, they're gone for good."
Well, that answered his last question.
The peddler's hair was a tangled mess, and the cloak he wore had more patches than original fabric. Konrad gave merchants profitable tips all the time and met many of them.
Smart ones, diligent ones. Traders who'd sell their mothers for a coin.
And scammers, who would never even consider a legitimate business. The one yelling his heart out seemed like a textbook example of that last category.
He didn't seem rich or trustworthy, and yet, it was his only lead.
Fighting through the crowd, he soon noticed his cart, too — he didn't even have a stall. His wares: the most random collection of household items, cheap jewelry, and weapons.
The only common theme was the faint glow of runes etched into each of them.
"Hey, kid, don't block the view. You can't afford anything from here."
Ouch. He didn't even want to. But he took a deep breath and took his chances anyway.
"I want to sell — and meet this Green Mage of yours." Konrad flashed the crystal, and the peddler's eyes went wide. The pulse of it reflected from his iris, hungry, and mesmerised.
A good sign, if he ever saw one.
"Oh, a nice find," he schooled in his tone, but the gulp gave him away. Grubby hands reached out. "The mage doesn't accept visitors, but I can buy that from you for two silver."
An obvious lowball. Welf must have known what he was talking about when he said one gold.
"Then tell me where that mage is for one silver and I'll sell it to him myself." Konrad yanked the crystal back, ready to walk away. The trader grabbed his arm.
"Ah, sorry, it was a slip of my tongue, I meant to say two gold, not silver."
Or, the blacksmith had no clue of the real value, after all.
Konrad froze. It came too fast, desperate. He smelled blood and didn't want to let go of his prey.
"I know what it's worth." He had no idea, but the peddler wouldn't know that. Playing the calm, his heart was about to explode. "And I want to meet with that mage, too. It's non-negotiable."
"Ugh, fine, fine. Four gold then, but I need to see if the core still has its charge," he bowed, hands raised like a beggar's. "If it's depleted, the Green Mage would burn us both alive."
Charged? Depleted? Konrad had no idea, but he had a hunch he could get an even higher price. Still, stretching his luck at this point would have been reckless.
Finally meeting that wizard was worth more than a little extra profit. To play it safe, he handed over the crystal.
And the peddler bolted.