Azm and his wife stood at the heart of the chaos, surrounded by the fallen bodies of knights and Edward’s loyal subordinates. The air was thick with the metallic scent of blood and the acrid stench of sweat. To the untrained eye, the scene might have seemed like a grim tableau of death—lifeless corpses strewn across the ground, brutally mangled and left in silence. But amidst the carnage stood a woman full of life and feeling: Arinas, Azm’s wife. She stood firm, her hands clenched tightly on the reins of a horse, her knuckles white with tension. Her eyes darted anxiously toward her husband, who was delivering a slow, agonizing retribution to the slaver who had dared to cross them. Her heart pounded with worry, fearing for Azm’s safety even as he exacted his vengeance.

  Azm’s hands moved with deliberate precision, each crack of bone echoing like a macabre symphony. The slaver’s screams were raw and guttural, a sound that sent shivers down the spines of those who watched from a distance. No one dared to intervene. Even Edward, tears of blood streaming down his face, could only stand and bear witness to the barbarian’s wrath. It was a grim reminder of the fate that awaited anyone foolish enough to enslave a barbarian or harm his kin.

  Unable to endure the spectacle any longer, Azm ended the slaver’s suffering with a brutal twist, ripping his head clean from his body. The crowd gasped, their faces pale with horror. Azm raised the severed head high, his voice booming like thunder across the battlefield. “Let this be a warning to anyone who dares to touch a barbarian’s kin! This is the fate that awaits those who try to enslave us!”

  With his wife at his side, Azm mounted his horse and rode off, the slaver’s head dangling from his belt like a grotesque trophy. He intended to hang it in his clan’s territory as a grim reminder to all who might defy them. As they galloped away, Azm caught sight of Jasper in the distance. The two men locked eyes for a brief moment, and in a silent gesture of respect, they each clenched a fist and struck their chests. It was a wordless farewell, a bond forged in the heat of battle. Then Azm was gone, leaving nothing but a cloud of dust in his wake.

  Though a handful of knights gave chase, Azm dispatched them with ease. Jasper, seeing no need to involve himself further, turned his attention to the battered wagon. He hauled it back to the workshop, his mind already racing with plans for the next steps.

  “We’ve done what we came here to do,” Jasper said, brushing dirt from his hands. “Now let’s head to the wheelwrights, sell this heap of scrap, and get ourselves a new wagon.”

  Ivar tilted his head, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Huh? Don’t you think you’re forgetting something, Master?”

  Jasper frowned. “What?”

  “Poison,” Lysandra whispered, her voice low and sibilant, like the hiss of a snake. The word sent a chill down Jasper’s spine.

  “There’s no need for that anymore,” Jasper replied, shaking off the unease. “Our friend Azm has done more than enough.”

  Azm had ensured that the knights who humiliated Jasper at Baron Buck’s mansion would trouble no one ever again. Their deaths were brutal and public, designed to send a clear message to anyone who dared to cross Jasper. Rumors spread like wildfire: a curse had struck down the very knights who had assaulted him in Baron Buck's hall. Jasper had long suspected that someone was retaliating on his behalf, though he couldn’t identify who. But now, he was determined to take matters into his own hands. He began by encouraging the spread of the rumored curse among the crowd, hoping that fear would reach the furthest corners of the land. Fear was a potent weapon, and he intended to wield it effectively.

  The rookie guard clung to his captain, shivering as he heard tales of the knights' gruesome fate...

  The wheelwright’s shop was a bustling hub of activity, filled with the rhythmic clang of hammers and the sharp scent of freshly cut wood. The craftsman, a portly man with a perpetual smile, greeted Jasper warmly. “Ah, if it isn’t our favorite merchant! How can I help you toda—” His cheerful tone faltered as his eyes fell on the mangled remains of Jasper’s wagon. “What the—, what happened to my beautiful wagon?” he exclaimed, his voice tinged with genuine sorrow.

  Jasper shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “A barbarian happened. He destroyed it and made his escape. I’m just grateful he didn’t crush me along with it. Anyway, I’m here to sell it as scrap and buy a new one. Plenty of the parts are still usable. Please give me your second-best wagon, deduct the scrap’s value from the price, and don’t forget to throw in a discount. After all, I’m one of your best customers now.”

  The craftsman’s smile returned, though it was a bit more strained this time. “Anything for a loyal customer,” he said, though his eyes lingered on the wreckage with a hint of regret.

  The deal was struck for five gold coins. As Jasper hitched the horse to the new wagon, the craftsman called out, “Sir, I never caught your name.”

  Jasper paused, his face still hidden beneath his hood. After a moment, he replied, “I’m known as the Ugly Merchant. At least, that’s what my epithet will be.” Without waiting for a response, he climbed onto the wagon and drove off, leaving the craftsman staring after him.

  “What a strange fellow,” the craftsman muttered to himself. “Though I can see why he calls himself the Ugly Merchant. He made me buy high and sell low.”

  His apprentice, a wiry young man with a sharp tongue, smirked. “You’re just a fool when it comes to buying and selling, Master.”

  The craftsman shot him a glare. “Quiet, you brat, and get back to work!”

  Jasper’s next stop was the mercenary guild. The journey to the royal capital was fraught with potential dangers, and he wasn’t willing to take any chances. Hiring an escort cost him thirty-five silver coins, but it was a necessary expense. He paid half upfront and the rest upon arrival, a common practice to ensure the mercenaries stayed loyal.

  The journey itself was surprisingly smooth. The roads were well-traveled, and the mercenaries were professional, if a bit surly. Jasper took the opportunity to ask Lysandra if she wanted to visit her hometown before continuing, but she shook her head. “There’s nothing left for me there,” she said quietly, her eyes distant. Jasper didn’t press further.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  They stopped in every village to replenish their supplies(costing them another 5 silver), but Lysandra remained hidden in the wagon, only emerging when absolutely necessary. Jasper and Ivar were cautious; they knew all too well how mercenaries could turn on their employers, especially when greed or lust clouded their judgment.

  When they finally reached the royal capital, the sight took their breath away. The city was a sprawling labyrinth of towering stone buildings, bustling marketplaces, and crowded streets. It was the first time any of them had seen such grandeur, and they couldn’t help but stare in awe. However, the mercenaries seemed increasingly irritable as they navigated the city’s winding streets.

  Their unease became clear when a passerby sneered, “What are these country bumpkins doing here? Our city is turning into a cattle pen!” The remark was followed by a chorus of jeers and disdainful glares. Jasper, however, remained unfazed. He had long since grown immune to such insults.

  After paying the mercenaries their due, Jasper made his way to the merchant guild to register as a merchant. The guild’s influence was limited, but registration was a necessary step for anyone looking to establish themselves in the trade.

  The guild hall was a cacophony of voices, with merchants haggling over deals and discussing their latest ventures. Jasper approached the receptionist, a harried-looking man with a permanent scowl. “Excuse me,” Jasper said, his voice calm but firm. “I’d like to apply for a merchant identity.”

  The receptionist looked up, his eyes narrowing as he took in Jasper’s hooded figure and rough dialect. “Tsk. At least show me your face if you want to work as a merchant.”

  Jasper sighed. “My face was ruined when I was a child. That’s why I keep it hidden.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I need to see your face at least once. Or do you have a recommendation letter from a prominent merchant or noble?”

  “No, I don't have. And I know that showing my face is the obvious thing to do. But I’m the son of the late merchant Kenan.”

  The mention of Kenan’s name sent a ripple through the room. Conversations halted, and all eyes turned to Jasper. Everyone knew Kenan’s son had been disfigured, but they wanted to see his face for themselves. The receptionist’s scowl deepened. “Yeah, and I’m the crown prince. Stop wasting my time. Either show me your face or leave. I don’t have all day.”

  Reluctantly, Jasper removed his hood, revealing his hideous face. The room fell silent, the air thick with tension. The receptionist wasted no time in driving him out. “Our guild isn’t powerful, and if we associate with you, we are doomed. Adding you would ruin our image with that face of yours. Get out!”

  ...

  Kenan, though successful as a merchant, had inadvertently tarnished the reputation of his trade. Zoliland, a fledgling kingdom, was still adapting to the newly established feudal system. The hierarchy placed the king and nobles at the pinnacle, followed by knights, scholars, merchants, mercenaries, and commoners, with peasants at the base. Merchants, already viewed with suspicion, were seen as self-serving and opportunistic, and Kenan’s actions only deepened this disdain.

  For 70 years since its founding, Zoliland had struggled with a crippling shortage of salt. The kingdom relied on unfair trade agreements with neighboring realms, as the sea was too distant, and transporting salt from the coast was prohibitively expensive and fraught with the risk of theft. The kingdom had no choice but to endure these exploitative terms—until Kenan changed everything.

  Thirty years ago, Kenan discovered a salt lake in a perilous, uncharted region teeming with monstrous creatures too powerful for most to confront. Against all odds, he found a safe route through the danger. With his men, he began harvesting the salt, refining it, and presenting it to the king—not as a gift, but as a business proposition. The king, eager to secure this invaluable resource, offered Kenan a noble title in exchange for ownership of the lake. But Kenan, shrewd and forward-thinking, declined the title. Instead, he requested the exclusive right to distribute the salt, arguing that he was the one who had discovered the lake and the only one who knew the safe route. Reluctantly, the king agreed.

  This decision sparked outrage among the nobility. Kenan’s refusal of a title, coupled with his monopoly on salt distribution, was seen as an affront to the established order. The nobles, already wary of merchants, now harbored a deep-seated resentment toward Kenan in particular. His success had not only disrupted the kingdom’s fragile hierarchy but also cemented the merchants’ image as cunning opportunists who valued profit over honor. In their eyes, Kenan had overstepped his station, and his actions would have lasting consequences for both himself and his trade.

  To be completely honest, Kenan’s move was, in some ways, unwise. He had risked his life to discover the salt lake and secure the route, and the thought of handing over what he had nearly died for to others was unbearable. His pride and determination clouded his judgment, but for Kenan, it was a matter of principle. He couldn’t let go of what he had fought so hard to claim, even if it meant making enemies of the very people who held power in the kingdom. On the other hand, Jasper left all the wealth when he knew he couldn't guard it on the pretense he trusted Ferdinand to take care of it. Deep down, he is still trying to trust Ferdinand, but is he really trustworthy?

  ...

  Jasper returned to the wagon, his mind racing. Ivar and Lysandra waited for him to speak, their expressions a mix of curiosity and concern. “What happened, Master?” Ivar asked, unable to contain his curiosity.

  Jasper sighed deeply. “Do you know the chance of being accepted as a merchant?”

  “Well, no?”

  “It’s 99.99%.”

  “So?”

  “I got the 0.01%.”

  “Wow, while I didn't get it, you are so lucky, master!”

  Lysandra smacked Ivar on the head. “Are you stupid?”

  “I’m not stupid. I just don’t understand what he’s saying about those 99 somethings.”

  Lysandra groaned. “I can’t blame you; you’re illiterate. It’s my fault. See these ten pieces of wood? If I break one into ten small pieces, the chance of being accepted is like randomly picking one of the nine whole pieces, including the nine small pieces. In comparison, the chance of rejection is like the chance of me randomly picking this one faulty piece out of all the pieces. Do you get it now?”

  “Hmm, doesn’t that confirm how lucky he is?”

  “Ugh! I’m done explaining!” Lysandra shouted, throwing the sticks at him.

  “Stop, please! I was just joking!” Ivar pleaded, shielding himself.

  Jasper chuckled. “Leave him be, Lysandra. He’s not wrong. I was lucky. If I had joined them, they would have controlled my every move. The best course of action is to create our own guild.”

  “Is that even possible?”

  “Not right now, but it will be soon. To start a guild, I’ll need a building as large as this one, pay the royal family ten to thirty thousand gold, and give them forty percent of our income, adding the help of building roads and funding the royal army. It could go up to forty-five or forty-eight percent.”

  “But Master, isn’t that too much? It’s like we’re doing all the work while sharing the profit.”

  “What can we do? That’s how most kingdoms operate. The nobles avoid paying their fair share, burdening the rest of us. It’s a corrupt system from top to bottom... Wait a second.” Jasper’s voice trailed off as he pondered. “Sharing the profit while doing all the work...”

  “I’ve got it! Let’s find a place to stay first, then we’ll start working.”

  Jasper.

  Profession: None(Self-proclaimed Merchant.)

  coins: 790 Gold 5 Silver 1 Bronze 0 Copper