Numisley wrote a letter to his brother reporting his success in their native language; to ensure whoever opened it wouldn’t understand what he wrote; though he also knew that this is not entirely foolproof. He also thinks that their hometown of Renimburg and the language that they speak isn’t that well known even within the continent they came from, so he is confident that no translation magic or Feat can completely decipher it. There is the habitual twinge of worry, for his brother didn’t write to him for a while, though he chalked up to it to the usual delays when sending a letter. Their father always taught them to not send important messages with [Message] spells after all.

  They were in Ascolitica again after participating in the Ichoricon to rest, though many of the Naveirei had separated from the caravan to travel to their demesnes or to attend to other matters. After Numisley asked one of the [Servants] to deliver the letter, he was summoned by the matriarch herself.

  Soon, he was in one of the private rooms within the castle and not in the throne hall where they received petitions. A more private setting, magically warded from most attempts at eavesdropping. Numisley knelt before her grandmother despite the strain on his leg and the arm he used for his walking staff.

  “Numarr Unor Naveirei. As a newly-inducted member of the House, yet to be landed, you are entitled to a stipend of fifty .” Matinronra informed, invoking Numisley’s new name, though he is yet to be converted to the kingdom’s religion.

  “Thank you, my lady,” Numisley said stiffly. Fifty silver coins is more than enough for a year if he didn’t have a business to tend to; yet this is a welcome bonus with the profits he earns from being a [Merchant].

  “I hear that you learned much in a short time,” Matinronra said. “Then I shall let you continue being a ward under your uncle for you to know what it means to be a Naveirei. You will do as we order you do as a member of House Naveirei. So first, tell me, how did my daughter–your mother die?”

  “I never knew Mom.” Numisley’s voice cracked, letting go of all required formality. “Pops never said how she died. Only that she died shortly after I was born. I never knew what my father was thinking even back then.”

  Matinronra was disappointed with the answer, for it did not bring closure.

  “All I know is that she was a hero in this land and back home,” Numisley confessed.

  “You mean Liberan?” Matinronra asked.

  “Yes. All the people back in our town say that she scared off monsters and even fought a Dragon and a tribe of Trolls while she was carrying me in her belly. Pops never confirmed that those tall tales were true, though. That is all I know.”

  “It sounds like something that she would do.” Matinronra betrayed a subtle upward curl on his lips. “That is enough. Where is she buried?”

  “In our manor in Renimburg. Though I do not know what happened to it after we were attacked.”

  “When things settle down, I will visit her grave.”

  Numisley went ahead and unfurled a piece of paper he had kept since they arrived here.

  “May I ask a favor?” Numisley asked.

  “Go ahead.” Matinronra let his grandson speak.

  “My father had prepared a land title. For us, I presume.”

  Numisley gave Matinronra the original copy of the title. She scrutinized it, scanning the language and wording. The seal of the Torregornian crown and the seal of the Holy Hall of Conscanco, where it was notarized, remain in perfect condition despite the visible wear on the parchment.

  “If I am allowed to, if the document is true, I would like to claim it,” Numisley spoke after a few moments of silence.

  Matinronra, though he sees Numisley as a lacking heir compared to her daughter, now saw what he had inherited from her father. Though she is surprised, she refuses to show it. If the document is true, then that means that her daughter’s husband had planned this far.

  “Assume that this document is valid. Why do you expect that I will ratify it? Much less finance the holding?” Matinronra challenged Numisley’s claim.

  Numisley had expected this. He knew that his grandmother always looked at him with disappointment, her eyes judging his being with a heavy silence, like he is always standing on a scale that weighed against his parents’ legacy and the expectations now thrust upon him. Regardless, he stared still at the eyes that judged him even now and reinforced his conviction with the determination he always had. He mentally activated his [Argument of the Claimant], and after a moment of consideration, he decided to not voice the argument given to him by the Feat.

  “I know that I do not have the right. I do not ask for my title to be ratified now. Yet, let me prove myself to you and our House. Before the Role of [Lord] that is vested upon me, I am a [Merchant]. I have the ear of the Commerros, and I had assisted them in regards to their finances. I made substantial connections in the short time that I was there in Ovespuerte. The fact that I am here, that I had crossed the ocean, proves that I am a Naveirei, and I shall act in our House’s interest.” Numisley proclaimed.

  A pregnant pause filled the room with anticipation before the Duchess made his final judgement.

  “Then, you are vested with the responsibility of being House Naveirei’s representative in Ovespuerte. Remain as their steward. Act in our interests, but first, further build rapport with our potential clients. You are also free to expand your trade into our lands, as a [Merchant] of the Naveirei.” Matinronra announced.

  “Thank you g–my lady,” Numisley uttered, stumbling on his words.

  “Your mission is to expand the economic influence of our House in Ovespuerte and the southern coasts in spite of Escribanorr’s initial investment. Our access to the Golden Triangle from the House’s coastal holdings is limited because of the Aureleon Empire’s [Privateers] in our northern waters. I’m sure you understand how important this is.”

  “Yes. You need me to sell your goods in Ovespuerte.”

  “Never just you; don’t be so arrogant. You shall pave the way for our [Merchants] as the Commerros’ steward.”

  “Sorry–Apologies.”

  “No offense taken. You are my daughter’s son after all, as much as I dislike the fact. You will leave Ascolitica when a caravan leaves for Ovespuerte with our goods, and when we assign an aide to you. You are dismissed, Numarr.”

  Numisley bowed in the way that his tutor taught him, and hobbled away to the room.

  “Mother, would it be wise to assign him such a responsibility?”

  Escribanorr made his presence known behind one of the dividers within the room a few minutes after Numisley closed the door.

  “When he fails, we could simply replace him with you or someone who’s still competent and can be trusted.” Matinronra replied to his son’s inquiry.

  “That is…true. You expect him to fail, don’t you?”

  “No. Someone as young and crippled as him who crossed that treacherous ocean somehow to land here takes guts that none of your cousins, nephews and nieces has, even if he somehow snuck in a ship or paid for board. None living among our House, even if our ancestors were [Shipbuilders] and [Sailors], could claim to cross the Obscure Ocean. Much less our subjects that never laid eyes on the sea.”

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  “You expect great things from Numisley.” Escribanorr voiced his realization.

  “Numarr.” Matinronra corrected. “This is only the bare minimum he has to do if I have to acknowledge as my .”

  Escribanorr was about to say that his grandmother had already accepted Numisley by letting him complete the Ichoricon, but he held back his words, lest he trap himself in a never-ending argument. Matinronra held up the parchment that contains the land title and handed it to his son.

  “Find someone to verify it. No one from any Scribe Guild or any guild or affiliated with someone influential. None from the crown or other nobility too.” Matinronra ordered.

  “Mother, no sensible [Scribe] or [Notary], nor anyone capable would not be patroned by a guild, clan or someone influential.” Escribanorr argued.

  “There are always freelancers that dislike the noose of guilds. Or would you rather have them purchase that tract of land?”

  “No, mother.”

  “If you can’t find anyone, then send your most trusted vassal to Conscanco.”

  Numisley spent the few days in Ascolitica studying rhetoric to speak more fluently, wizardry to efficiently use his walking staff, and the history of their House and the kingdom they serve under Escribanorr’s [Tutor] until the trade caravan that was heading to Ovespuerte was ready to leave. Numisley was accompanied by Malanyari outside the gates of the city, approaching the circle of carts.

  This assembly was composed of many wagons and carts, guarded by varied individuals with a diversity of arms, from spears and axes to wooden wands and staves. None save a few wore the same or similar garb, which led Numisley to deduct that they were adventurers.

  A plump man with a tangerine mane, with a complexion far lighter than the usual copper color of the people in this kingdom approached him. He ostentatiously showed up with a necklace of many colored stones on his white embroidered shirt, accompanied by a quartet of armored men with wands and polearms who approached them.

  “Your Lordship.” The [Merchant] knelt before Numisley. “I’m honored that you will join our caravan. I’m Merchant Vhtechinethor Chidurr Scchioir of Scchioir Trading. A carriage is prepared for you and your [Mage].”

  “[Mage]?” Numisley stared at Malanyari.

  “My orders are to accompany you and to report to Escribanorr. You may use me as a [Mage], for I know a dozen and more spells, including [Message]. I was ordered to advise and continue your tutorship.”

  “I see,” Numisley said, turning to the [Merchant]. “The honor is mine. I’m Numisley Gildin of Gildin Trading, and I look forward to–wait, I mean…Numarr Naveirei. Pleased to meet you.”

  “You are–were a [Merchant]?” Vhtechinethor uttered his surprise.

  “I am a [Merchant]. I am now also a [Lord], who both sells goods and information. Though now I am a Naveirei.”

  “Apologies for my rudeness, my lord.”

  “No need to be formal. I understand that you are selling your goods to Ovespuerte.”

  “Yes,” Vhtechinethor said, regaining his composure. “I have been informed by Lord Escribanorr that you are now a steward of the Commerros, and will handle any future Naveirei trade there. I’m sure that your financial expertise would bring glory to the Naveirei House.”

  “Soon,” Numisley said, trying not to cringe from the obvious flattery that he got blindsided with. “I will take a look at your goods once we make camp, if you don’t mind.”

  “Of course, my lord.”

  The caravan set off into the road after Numisley and Malanyari had gotten into the carriage. After Numisley experienced the speed of Palden whenever they rode on a horse, wagon, or cart, or Escribanorr’s flying carpet, he felt like that this carriage ride and the caravan was unbearably slow.

  “Do you know that guy?” Numsley asked. “Anything I need to know?”

  “Unfortunately,” Malanyari answered brusquely. “He works under the Naveirei after his family fell into obscurity and poverty after the Gaviolos failed to overthrow the crown. The misfortune of choosing the wrong side, but fortunate to switch loyalties before it was too late.”

  Numisley remembered his parents’ role in that particular affair. “So we can’t trust him?”

  “We can, if he continues to suck up to my employers. He has been working for the Naveirei for almost a decade as a [Merchant] under them. Never had I seen any indication of betrayal from him, nor does he have any crumb of guile.”

  “Sucking up is an understatement. He looks like he could also perform tricks on it.”

  That innuendo made Malanyari let out a short guffaw-gasp before stopping himself. He saw why many of the Naveirei took a liking for this person in the Ichoricon. Hours before sundown, they stopped in the shade of a tree taller than a castle’s watchtower, after their guards shot the giant carnivourous squirrels living in its canopy with projectile spells and arrows after one of them had killed an adventurer with a [Fireball] spell from its chittering maw.

  When Numisley went out, opening the doors of his carriage, he saw the adventurers carving the corpses of the beast, severing sinew from muscle, carving muscle from bone, skinning hide from flesh, and carefully ripping entrails that may be valuable. While this was happening, the wagons began to form a wall around the camp, while the others set up their totems and charms. This is not an unusual sight for Numisley, who had been selling monster parts back home with their father.

  “Apologies for the sight, m’lord.” Vhtechinethor apologized.

  “No need for that. I’m used to it.” Numisley reassured him. “Used to sell parts to ‘venturer’s guilds. Head-Eating Squirrels?”

  “Looks like some sort of large Spell Squirrels, m’lord, though I’m unsure. I apologize for my lack of knowledge regarding the beasts of the wild. Your experience is astounding, m’lord.”

  “That explains the boom earlier. That means someone died.” Numisley guessed, and based on his experience back home, an ambush that begins with a destructive spell will always result in death.

  “An astute observation…my lord.” Vhtechinethor stared at the burnt corpse, now being sprinkled by silver dust by a [Priest] uttering a prayer over it. “We were fortunate that only one life had been sacrificed to protect your greatness.”

  This blatant flattery was starting to grate on Numisley’s nerves, but he knew he had to bear with it if he needed to accomplish the mission given to him.

  “Let me see the goods you plan to sell.”

  “Of course, m’lord.”

  Vhtechinethor guided Numisley along with Malanyari to the wagons containing the goods. All were spatially altered with his Feats, their insides further enlarged with basic dimensional enchantments, and many are stored in Chests of Holding, in a great effort to fit many goods with a quantity thrice from the number of his wagons.

  Within the wagons are many raw materials and finished goods. Numisley laid eyes upon ingots of iron, copper, tin, steel, silver, white copper, and even metals imbued with mana or ingots etched with runes, and even smaller ingots as black as night, as brilliant as the sun, and as cold as winter, all assorted into boxes. Several carts are also packed with voluminous jars of pure freshwater, mana-infused water, and the liquid form of mana, covered in canvas and bound tight with overlapping knots and grids of rope The wagons next to it were full of ceramic flasks wrapped with padded cloth, metal flasks engraved with symbols, flasks of various leathers from brown to white, and even some meticulously decorated with engravings, embroideries, and painted icons; all packed in wooden racks. Every one of them is arranged by the color of string wrapped around their necks. This piqued Numisley’s interest.

  “What’s inside them?”

  “Potable water, wiseweed-infused water, herbal water, and liquid mana to be sold to the water guilds in the Beastkin lands, m’lord. And potions.”

  “I heard that it is a land of sand that stretches to the horizon.”

  “That is true. I am in awe with your worldly knowledge, m’lord.”

  “How much can you sell them for?”

  “I can sell each jar to their ships around ten to twenty and higher in the summer. Those [Water Merchants] that buy from me will sell for thrice the price in the Beastkin lands in…whatever type of currency they use there.”

  “The usual, then.” Numisley is intimately familiar with this practice. Water, usually sold for next to nothing, will sell for silver in the desert. Among the first things that his father taught him was the lesson of supply and demand and how demand is exacerbated when there is a lack of supply, which means those who sell can get away with charging higher prices, especially the guilds, clans, and companies.

  His curiosity is satisfied, taking note of this fact, and they took a look at the rest of the goods. Wands, scrolls, and other magical tools imbued each with a single spell, as well as solid mana crystals, whole or powdered, and runestones were in specially designed wagons lined with lead and metal that suppressed mana. The more mundane wagons contained tools for various trades, fabric such as linen and wool, leather items such as bags, pouches, and even armor, and jewelry and glass.

  The sun soon started to set to into the black band of the horizon, and in its descent, the clouds and islands drifting ceaselessly and ponderously across the boundless sky and the mountains at the end of the known world cast shadows that crossed continents. The best portion cut from one of the beasts recently killed was spiced and roasted and was offered to Numisley, and what spoiled the taste was his guest’s constant attempts of ingratiating himself to him and the name he had taken.

  Numisley soon retired in a large tent prepared just for him, with even a chest, mattress, and a desk with a lantern. He had bought a sheaf of parchment for him to write on, but to his surprise, there were letters already written on it. He swore that he specifically bought blank parchment for him to write on. Numisley read what is written:

  Numisley knew that this is an effect of both his [Primary Source] or [Area of Sources] Feats, though this is the first time that he encountered this. He read it a second time, and he didn’t find out what had happened to his brother or someone he knows. He guessed that the information was parsed from many [Informants] or some other source of information he could not even begin to comprehend.

  Despite this, his belief in his brother’s wellbeing never wavered.