Chapter 22: Sellout

Chapter 22: Sellout The test began. Luma, with a firm grip, held the Damascus steel pocket knife. Its unique, flowing pattern seemed to absorb the light. She then took the Steelfang blacksmith’s new dagger, a beautiful, ornate piece, and with a powerful, deliberate motion, brought it down to strike the Damascus blade. A sharp, metallic CLANG echoed through the marketplace, cutting through the murmuring crowd. Sparks erupted, showering the air. The Steelfang’s dagger, struck with full force, snapped in two with a sickening CRACK. One fragment spun through the air, narrowly missing a nearby stall owner, before embedding itself with a thunk in a wooden support beam of a fruit stall. The blacksmith slumped, his burly shoulders collapsing. His eyes, wide with disbelief, stared at the small, unassuming pocketknife in Luma’s hand. It had survived. Not only survived, but it showed no damage at all, its flowing water pattern still pristine, its edge unmarred. The crowd, previously murmuring, now erupted in a roar of astonishment. They surged forward, piling towards Orkesh’s stall, a wave of disordered customers eager to get their hands on at least one of these miraculous blades. Orkesh, Mina, and Manicia braced for the influx, their eyes wide with a mix of excitement and apprehension. Rook stepped forward, his cloaked figure moving to the center of the surging crowd. His face, covered by a simple cloth, remained impassive. "Please, a moment of order," he intoned, his deep, synthesized voice cutting through the din with polite authority. Luma, recovering from her own surprise, quickly joined him, her voice sharp as she directed the crowd. "Form a line! One at a time!" Manicia, nimble and quick, helped organize the chaos, her small hands gesturing firmly. The Steelfang blacksmith, still stunned, simply turned and walked away towards his stall, his shoulders hunched, his pride utterly shattered. Orkesh let out a long, shaky sigh, then a wide, genuine smile spread across his furry face. He felt a surge of pride, a warmth spreading through his chest. For the first time, the products he was about to sell weren’t fake, weren’t built on fabricated stories. These were real, high-quality goods, proven in public. He adjusted his stance, his shoulders straightening, confidence radiating from him. Just as he was ordered, there would be no auction, just a standard transaction. Orkesh stepped forward, his voice ringing out, clear and strong, over the murmuring crowd. "Esteemed patrons of Stonehorn!" he called, his voice carrying a newfound authority. "You have witnessed the unmatched quality! These are not mere blades; they are works of art, forged with precision and tempered with true skill!" He swept his hand over the display of Necro Corp blades. "And for this grand debut, as a gesture of good faith and to earn your valued trust, each piece comes with a promised discount! We offer only the finest, and we will not betray your confidence!" He picked up an iron sword, holding it aloft, letting its polished surface catch the light, then a steel dagger, its edge glinting. "Behold the craftsmanship! Feel the balance! This is quality you can rely on!" They needed no further persuasion. Within moments, every single product produced by the Metallurgy Center—the iron swords, axes, blades, and especially the steel knives, daggers, choppers, and the legendary Damascus pocket knife—was sold out. A curious Lupen, still marveling at the speed of the sales, asked, "When will you sell here again? Do you have more of these blades?" Orkesh smiled, a genuine, confident grin. "If you wish to buy more, you can visit our establishment, the old dungeon, at the foot of the Spinebride Mountain. It’s just three days’ walk from here." He paused, a subtle emphasis in his voice. "These weapons are made by a master blacksmith, a true artisan of steel." He carefully avoided mentioning they were crafted by a bunch of skeletons. Next, he presented the artistic wooden crafts. The Ursaroks, known for their deep appreciation of precise artistry and intricate detail, were immediately captivated. If Lupens were obsessed with swords and blades, the Ursarok were on another level with their appreciation for craftsmanship. An Ursarok, a large bearfolk who had been squinting and listening to the commotion earlier, now rushed and approached the stall. It was none other than Knight Commander Urma, Captain Luma’s superior. Urma had been curious about who could beat Nu so decisively, especially after Nu had reported back to him with bruises and a humiliating story. So, he had set out to investigate the group. He had easily spotted them, the human-looking figure of Rook being tall enough to be seen from a distance. But now, he was utterly enthusiastic, his eyes wide with wonder, by the artistic skill and patience required to craft such carved wooden figures. Especially the anime figures—ones inspired by Sailor Moon, and One Piece. The precise details, the vibrant poses... it was so wonderful, so captivating. "These are... magnificent!" Urma boomed, his voice rumbling with genuine awe, a star-struck expression in his eyes. He turned to Orkesh. "I’ll buy them all! Every single one for 50 golds!" He reached for a heavy pouch at his belt. He knew his wife was going to kill him for spending all his savings, but she would also love to see these. Orkesh smiled, a genuine warmth in his eyes. "Commander, if you are interested in a life-size figure, you could find the artisan at the old dungeons." Urma, barely listening, handed a heavy pouch of gold coins to Orkesh. He then grabbed a large burlap sack and quickly, almost frantically, began putting all the figurines inside, glancing around suspiciously to see if there were any sneaky Ursaroks nearby who might try to steal them. He quickly sneered at all the other Ursaroks nearby who were also interested in the art, a clear warning in his eyes, and Urma quickly took off without another word, leaving all the other wooden toys, puzzles, and chess set pieces behind. An Ursarok, interested in the remaining puzzle and chess sets, approached the stall. "What is the purpose of these?" he rumbled, his brow furrowed in curiosity. Rook, ever polite, stepped forward. "These are tools for mental engagement and strategic development," he explained, his synthesized voice calm and clear. He picked up a chess piece. "This is a chess set, a game of strategy. Each piece has a unique movement." He proceeded to explain the chess movements, demonstrating each piece’s path on the board. "Would you care to volunteer for a demonstration?" he asked, gesturing to the Ursarok. The Ursarok, intrigued, nodded. While they played a match of chess, Rook continued explaining the rules, the nuances of strategy, and the purpose of each piece. After explaining, they played two matches, then three, then four. The bystanders, not only the Ursarok and the Goatfolk but also the Foxkin, who were known for their intellect and cunning, watched with growing interest. This was more than just a game; it was a strategy game, a form of entertainment to hone their strategic thinking skills, a mental exercise that could be directly applied to tactics and war. Before anyone else could catch a drift, a shrewd Foxkin approached Orkesh. "I’ll take the remaining three chess sets," she said, her voice sharp and decisive, placing two gold coins on the counter. "And I would like to order one hundred of them for our clan. We will pick them up on your next arrival at the market." She handed Orkesh two large pouches of gold coins. Later, after the chess match concluded, the Ursarok who had played with Rook, now thoroughly impressed, bought the chess set they had used for one gold coin. Everyone else who had watched the spectacle was now interested in the chess sets, but was astounded to find they were too late. They quickly bought the remaining puzzle toys for their children, not wanting to leave empty-handed. Not four hours had passed, and all of their products were sold. To add to that, a significant number of orders had been made. What truly caught everyone’s attention was the new form of entertainment: chess. Not only was it beneficial for spending leisure time, but it was also incredibly useful for honing strategic thinking skills, skills that could be directly applied to warfare and diplomacy. And now, everyone knew where these revolutionary crafts were produced: at the "old dungeons" in the Spinebride Mountains. It was now clear that the Necro Corp dungeon would be receiving an influx of customers. Orkesh, Mina, and Manicia couldn’t quite believe the weight of the gold coins they held in their pouches. Orkesh’s small, clawed fingers trembled as he counted the shimmering discs. They had rarely, if ever, seen so much gold in their lives. Ten bags of gold, each heavy with the promise of security and comfort. "Ten... ten bags of gold," Mina whispered, her eyes wide, her voice barely audible. She held her pouch tightly, as if it might vanish. "We usually struggle to make even twenty gold in a good month, let alone ten bags of gold in a single day!" Manicia, usually the more pragmatic of the two, stared at her own pouch, then at the overflowing sacks Orkesh was now trying to secure. "This is... this is more than our entire village used to earn in a year, before the orcs came," she murmured, a mix of disbelief and dawning hope in her voice. "The Lich... he truly meant it. This isn’t a trick." Orkesh, still reeling from the sheer volume of wealth, let out a shaky laugh. "I... I don’t think I’ve ever held so much. It feels... unreal." He looked at his kin, a new light in his eyes. This wasn’t just money; it was a future. Rook, ever vigilant, secured them from any confident thieves and thugs, his presence a silent deterrent. With the money, they spent it on essential supplies: salts from the Frogkin stalls, various clothes, rolls of woven cloth, and cured leather. Mina also bought a list of things the Chef had requested: various seasonings, a large sack of flour, and a barrel of milk. To transport all these goods, they needed more than just their backs. They bought a sturdy wagon and a strong horse, with a total expenditure of just a measly 30 golds, thanks to the generous discounts offered by other merchants eager to establish a relationship with these successful new traders. Their mission accomplished, they proceeded to return to the dungeon, their packs lighter, their wagon full, and their hearts filled with a mixture of awe and success.