Finally, I have arrived at the city of Rosetta—a kingdom in its own right—and I'll be starting out around the lower parts of the city. It wasn't luck that brought me here, nor did I ever intend to appear in this place. But a fantasy land isn't half bad. Of course, it comes with its own challenges. I now have to make survival a priority, now that I've placed myself in such a predicament nonetheless.
Lady Inn at the Carriage Station, Shonna Town — Three Weeks Ago
All things were finally wrapped up. I hired two carriages to handle my cargo—a private company. Thankfully, they agreed, and even more thankfully, the gold coins convinced them enough to set aside any suspicions. Not everyone here is bad, though.
After being in this place for a couple of weeks, I made friends with a merchant family. It was a good idea—kind and generous people willing to help someone like me, someone "lower," as they put it. They weren't rude; they just stated the obvious, which explained the whispers I had been hearing behind my back lately.
"Is all the cargo ready?" a voice asked behind me.
"Yes, it is," I replied as I turned to see who it was. "Everything is ready and set."
George Vlande, a middle-rank merchant, stood in front of me, looking over the carriages. He's a member of a merchant family, a husband, and the person who helped me quite generously. Brown hair, a barely-there moustache, peach skin, and a dryness to his features—as if time had gently pulled at his face. Still, he carried a sharp appearance for someone in his forties.
If I knew better, I'd say Mr. Vlande is one of the best middle merchants I've met—proud, kind, a little strict, filled with discipline and respect. Not like the other merchants I'd come across. The others were fools—absolute trash sometimes. Their mouths full of discrimination. All they cared about was money—the bronze, silver, and gold currency used throughout Èrthai.
Well, I knew people here would be different, and I was ready for all kinds of criticism.
Anyway—did I mention Mr. Vlande was a husband? Indeed, a husband with a lovely wife and daughter.
I recently had the honor of visiting them. The visit was great—so great I felt like I belonged there. His wife, Mercedes Vlande, is sincere, devoted, and loyal. The kind of person anyone would hope to have beside them. Their daughter, Lyla, followed her father's footsteps, though he gently pushed her to forge her own path. She now wants to be a painter. A very wholesome family, to say the least.
"I really want to thank you again," I said, scratching my head as I stepped closer. "None of this would be possible without your connections. For me, it would take years just to know half the people around Èrthai."
It was true.
This place was mysterious when I first arrived. People worked differently. From an Earthling's perspective, things like technological and scientific advancement were rare. People relied on what they called magic or arcane energy—though only a handful could use it. Certain people, specifically.
The world looked medieval in many ways, though not exactly like early Europe. Architecture had a European feel mixed with designs I didn't recognize. Shonna Town had some modern comforts combined with industrial elements. And this world—Èrthai—was home to more than a hundred races, still counting.
This place was far from normal. Peculiar, even.
As my thoughts drifted, Mr. Vlande's sudden laugh snapped me back. "Huhuhuhhhhhh."
He placed his hand on my shoulder. "You remind me of my younger days—a curious lad trying to make a mark. I had my own plans back then. Helping the poor was one of them. So I did."
Then he said something that stayed with me.
"At my time, people like you didn't do well. So it's my duty to help those with potential. People like you."
His words brought a swell of relief. Mr. Vlande was a philanthropist in disguise.
He let go of my shoulder and turned toward the carriages.
"If I may be bold—where are you planning to go with two carriages filled with goods this big?" he asked.
I couldn't tell him the truth; it would cause trouble. The kind that spreads.
After a breath, I answered, "To the city of Rosetta," with a half-smirk.
His expression shifted—skeptical and confused. Understandable. I was trying not to get caught.
"Don't mind me," he said. "I'm just curious where you'll be taking all of this. Or if you need help again—"
"Actually, I've got someone," I cut in.
"Really?" He raised a brow. "That's a first. And who might this be?"
"Lady Sopia," I said bluntly.
His face froze—eyes wide, mouth stiff. For a moment, he didn't move. Had I offended him? Challenged his pride? I wasn't sure.
"Lady Sopia," he repeated.
"Yes."
"...….."
Silence hung thick in the air.
Then—"Huhuhuhhhhhh"—he laughed again. "That's something I won't hear every day. You're something else for your age." His voice shifted. "But seriously, how did you come to know that woman?"
"Well… that's a story I can't tell. I promised someone," I replied awkwardly with a chuckle.
He sighed.
"If you must know, Lady Sopia is a High Merchant," he explained. "High Merchants have privileges the middle and lower merchants don't. And Lady Sopia is special—one of the few women to ever reach that rank. The royals talk about her. Do you understand what that means?"
I kept quiet and listened.
"It means the person you're working with has many connections. Anyone who crosses her regrets it—including other high merchants. I hope you know what's at stake."
Another warning—one I needed.
'So Lady Sopia is a High Merchant…' I thought. That explained everything. I had met her by pure chance, seeing her only as a normal, elegant woman.
Good thing Mr. Vlande told me. Otherwise, I'd be dead meat.
Lady Inn
The sun began to set.
Light faded, little by little, until darkness blanketed the land. Night creatures emerged—big and small—moving through the shadows. The inn's lanterns lit the paths for travelers. This inn offered two services: lodging and logistics.
With its medieval design, I hoped I wouldn't be sleeping on a pile of straw.
In One of the Inn's Rooms
Reality was both good and bad.
The bed had a pillow and blanket—itchy, but better than nothing. The mattress was thin over a wooden plank, but I didn't complain. It reminded me of hard times back home. I lay down anyway, exhausted from preparing everything.
Lady Gwendolyn Sopia. A high merchant. A person of interest among merchants and royals. Thinking about her twisted my mind up.
At the waiting stalls earlier, Mr. Vlande had lectured me for hours about the merchant hierarchy and royal structure—important information for newcomers like me, he insisted. Six hours a day, weekdays. Like being in elementary school again. It filled my head so much I couldn't sleep.
If not for his help, I wouldn't have survived here at all.
I tried to sleep, staring at the ceiling, counting sheep.
Lady Gwendolyn Sopia.Lady Gwendolyn Sopia.Lady Gwendolyn Sopia.
The thoughts wouldn't go away.
People feared her—common folk especially. Nobles treated her as one of their own.
I remembered the moment we met.
She was gentle as a butterfly. Kind as a flower. Beautiful beyond compare—blonde hair, emerald eyes, features like a blend of Egyptian and European beauty. I thought she was younger, but her beauty was deceiving; she hinted she was in her thirties.
I met her three days after the merchant family helped me.
It was pure coincidence—I walked into an empty stall and saw her sitting alone, covered in a grey coat that hid her identity. She stood up in fear as if expecting danger. I raised my hands, trying to calm her.
Later, after getting a package from the shopkeeper, I sat down with my meal. But seeing her sit alone, gloomy and afraid, made it hard to eat comfortably.
So I took my lunch and sat near her, introducing myself quietly. She barely responded, but I kept it gentle.
I offered her half of my meal. She asked why. I told her no one should eat alone when they're struggling, and everyone deserves a chance in life.
She accepted—with a small, shy chuckle.
I paused, remembering.
"Lady Gwendolyn Sopia… I hope we meet again," I whispered.