Merchant

The rattling of the wagon was a rhythmic torture. Every time the wooden wheels hit a stone in the road, William’s body rose barely a span before slamming back against the floor, as if the vehicle were determined to remind him of his own fragility.

He sat in the back of a supply wagon, surrounded by sacks of grain and tightly bound crates of fabric.

The smell of dust, leather, and dry cereal permeated the air. Traveling beside him was a merchant William found quite charming named Marco, who did not stop talking for a single moment.

In his life as an aristocrat, William had met many people with the gift of gab. Nobles learned from childhood to speak with elegance—to seduce, distort, and extract advantage from any conversation.

However, this merchant moved on a different level: he didn't seem like someone who had learned to speak, but like someone who had been born doing it.

—"As I told you, since the wars began, my father and I have brought sustenance to these lands. That’s how we built our business. This is what you call high gain, high risk... but for that, you also have to be a good merchant, and an even better driver," Marco said from the front of the carriage, where he performed both roles with evident pride.

As he listened, William couldn't help but intervene

.

—"Aren't you afraid someone like me will take your business away?"

Marco let out a brief laugh.

—"Of course not. It doesn't matter how many merchants arrive; the people of this kingdom distrust everyone, even those they already know. In my case, they’ve known my father since before the war. The connections were already made."

Connections.

The word resonated with more weight than it appeared. William knew well that knowing the right person could open doors that merit would never touch. Still, he doubted that was all. In ten years of constant wars, friends changed sides as easily as an emperor changed concubines.

—"Family?" he finally asked.

—"Family," Marco confirmed. "I have my father's brothers, and even a brother of my own, within the main circles of influence. With that, they ensure my family doesn't betray them... nor they us."

Then he lowered his voice slightly. —"And you, young man, you look well-trained. From what Roland said, you come from a noble family."

A noble family. A concept that, in any kingdom, guaranteed a minimum of respect in front of commoners. For most, it was a blessing; for those born at the pinnacle of nobility, it became an invisible chain that bound everything they possessed, even their way of acting. At the memory, William’s mouth went dry.

He settled himself among the merchandise and took a long drink from his canteen before replying.

—"I was born into a prestigious family. I had a family that loved me. Not to brag, but I was popular among the servants. Someone born with a silver spoon. And as always happens, there are those who believe life is defined by how high you reach..."

He took another sip after a brief pause.

—"And if they can't reach it by their own means, they tear it away from others."

Marco whistled, a gesture that seemed automatic every time he heard a story laden with loss.

—"It’s a common story," he said. "After all, what gives us satisfaction is being at the top."

William let out a short, humorless laugh.

—"Is that what you think? Your empathy doesn't match your words. I used to believe that too... until I understood something: what I enjoy most is not being at the top, but the path to get there. If you like starting at the top of the hill, I like the journey."

Marco flushed, as if he had been caught in a secret too obvious: that of being a natural talker who rarely stopped to reflect. He looked away as he saw a guard post ahead.

—"Get ready. The border of the Kingdom of Luion is right ahead."

William sat more firmly in the carriage and prepared for the inspection, ensuring that his inventory tattoo was completely covered and that his luxury items—the ring and the pendant—were not visible to the naked eye.

After a quick inspection and a "personal" fee delivered to the guards, the carriage crossed the border and entered the Kingdom of Luion.

—"Stay alert, friend," Marco said as he tightened the reins. "Unlike the other kingdom, wild beasts abound here. Take it from me, the best beast explorer in the region."

William gripped the hilt of his sword from the back of the carriage, watchful of the surroundings.

—"Why are there more beasts here? And more importantly... what kind of beasts are they?"

—"Actually, it’ll be a little while before we reach the areas where they live," Marco replied without looking away from the road, "but sometimes they escape their habitat. In the other kingdom, there are almost none left because of the wars. Where there is war, there is destruction, hunger... and people hunt whatever they find. They wiped out everything to avoid incursions and surprise attacks."

The landscape began to transform gradually. The dry, discolored trees that seemed to struggle for a single drop of water gave way to others that were lusher and healthier, growing closer together until they formed what was clearly a forest.

The journey continued amidst conversation and constant vigilance until they reached the first village.

—"Careful, friend," Marco warned. "The beasts have already claimed victims here."

In the distance, cracked walls could be seen, with villagers repairing them with makeshift wood and weary hands.

—"I don't think it's a good idea to stay long," William commented.

As they passed through the village, he noticed that the wooden walls were broken, and some sections had even been torn down, as if a gigantic beast had smashed into them. The villagers hurried to rebuild them with efficient movements—too efficient. Habit was evident in every gesture.

William slipped among the villagers. Everyone looked exhausted. I suppose there have been continuous attacks, he thought.

Marco, with his usual momentum, headed toward the center of the village where a man was giving orders: the village leader. William, instead, approached a pair of men resting near a half-ruined wall.

—"What monsters attacked you?" he asked.

—"Bears," they replied. "Enormous beasts... and they didn't come alone."

William thanked them and walked away without saying anything else. Bears moving in a group, he thought. It was peculiar.

In a secluded part of the village, piles of blackened straw rose. From afar, they looked like simple debris, but as he approached, he distinguished ashes and charred bones. A crematorium. They’re already used to losing people here, he concluded.

After trading what was necessary, they resumed the path toward the nearest city.

—"Careful..." Marco whispered. "Monsters nearby."

From the west, a pack of wolf-shaped creatures appeared. They were large—too large—and their jaws were armed with long, curved fangs like sabers.

William jumped from the carriage. Marco, on the other hand, locked himself inside without the slightest shame.

—"What happened to being a great monster hunter?" William asked as he evaluated the terrain and the pack's position.

He carefully observed the fangs.

—"Since when do wolves have cat teeth?"

—"I am a great hunter," Marco replied from inside, "but I use traps. In these areas, there are animals with scales and thick hides; those fangs serve to pierce their necks."

While William reflected on how familiar the situation felt, five wolves began to surround him.

One lunged.

With precision, he took a step forward and placed his sword in the exact trajectory. The wolf's head collided with the edge.

—"One."

He pulled the sword out with a jerk, ducked to dodge the second one's attack, and activated Shadow Step. He was still at an introductory level; they were more like mana-boosted leaps than steps. However, the ring elevated him enough to deploy the technique actively. His figure vanished for an instant and reappeared at the beast's side, decapitating it with a clean cut.

Then he turned toward the other three.

They didn't get to attack him. Seeing their companions fall, they fled into the undergrowth.

—"You have good skills, friend," Marco said as he finally came out. "It's the first time I've seen someone aim directly for the head and scare off monsters in seconds."

While cleaning his sword, William spoke:

—"It’s strange. Normally there’s a leader. But these didn't have one. As soon as the first one fell, they fled."

Marco approached the bodies and examined them carefully, feeling the flesh and observing the wounds.

—"They are malnourished. Pass me that canvas bag from the front of the wagon."

William did so. Inside were butcher knives and ropes.

—"Are you going to process them here?" he asked. "We were just attacked."

With skillful movements, Marco began to dismember them.

—"In these areas, the beasts are used to wagons. Once you scare one off, the others don't come near."

He cleaned the fangs as if they were relics.

—"I trust my skills as a butcher. After all, I'm the best in the region. Besides, these teeth are hard to get; they usually attack in packs."

William remained silent. He wasn't sure if Marco was truly the best butcher in the region, but his hands showed experience.

—"Don't they seem strange to you?" he said at last. "Bears attacking in a group... now malnourished wolves. Aren't you supposed to be a beast expert?"

Marco nodded slowly.

—"Two different species, in different places. The only thing they share is the region. Whatever it is, it’s a problem affecting this entire area."

After a while, the processed remains were added to the cargo. Then, the carriage set off again toward the city.