Translator: CinderTL
The morning market was already bustling with activity. Roland crouched before a stall, picking up a bracelet strung with rare local gemstones. He squinted at it against the rising sun.
"How much?" he asked casually.
The stall owner, a wiry middle-aged man, glanced around before holding up three fingers.
"You have excellent taste, sir! Thirty copper coins—the craftsmanship and quality are absolutely worth it!"
Roland gently set the bracelet down with a faint clink.
"Five copper coins," he countered, his expression unchanging.
"Fifty-five?" The stall owner choked, then feigned exaggerated distress. "Sir, you must be joking! That wouldn't even cover my cost! Twenty-eight copper coins—my absolute lowest price!"
"Seven," Roland replied, his tone flat, his gaze sweeping across every subtle shift in the stall owner's face.
"Twenty-five copper coins! I really can't go any lower!"
"Nine," Roland said, making to leave.
"Twenty copper coins! Final offer—consider it a friendly price!" the stall owner called out urgently.
Roland paused, turned back, and stared at the man in silence.
The silence made the stall owner uneasy. Just as he was about to speak again, Roland finally said slowly,
"Ten copper coins. Deal."
A struggle flickered across the stall owner's face before settling into a resigned sigh, accompanied by an exaggerated shrug.
"Ah, fine, fine! I'm practically giving it away at a loss! You're quite the negotiator."
Money changed hands, and Roland claimed his purchase.
As Roland stood up, a steady voice cut through the crowd.
"Roland!"
He turned to see Reggie pushing through the throng.
The Knight Academy mentor wore travel-ready leather armor, a longsword at his hip, and a slight frown creased his brow.
"Still wandering around? The caravan's about to depart. Come back with me immediately."
"Yes, Instructor Reggie."
Roland casually stuffed the newly acquired bracelet into his pocket and hurried to catch up with Reggie.
The pair navigated the bustling fair, heading toward the western gate of the royal capital.
Reggie walked briskly, but after a moment of silence, he couldn't resist turning his head to ask, his tone laced with clear bewilderment.
"Roland, I thought I saw you haggling with that stall owner earlier? If I recall correctly, you're not exactly short on funds, are you? Why waste your breath and time over a few copper coins?"
Roland kept his gaze fixed ahead, offering a dismissive reply.
"Just felt like trying it out. A... an experience."
He paused, then added a weak explanation:
"Besides, saving money is always a good thing, right?"
Reggie glanced at him, shook his head, clearly unconvinced, but didn't press further. He simply quickened his pace.
"Hurry up. Let's not keep everyone waiting."
Roland nodded slightly and fell into step beside him, his gaze sweeping over the semi-transparent Job Panel only he could see.
You have successfully completed a negotiation, earning 1 experience point.
Current Level: Lv. 2
Detected: Basic Class Merchant available for advancement.
Requirements: Strength 0.5, Agility 0.5, Spirit 0.5, any Lv. 3 Trade-related skill.
Advance?
During his time at the Golden Acorn Guild Hall, Roland hadn't truly indulged in hedonism.
Beyond his relentless practice of breathing techniques and study of ancient arcane codices to awaken his bloodline, he had deliberately engaged with various individuals, constantly probing and triggering the hidden rules of the mysterious Job Panel in his mind.
The Merchant class information now floating before him was one of the results of his calculated efforts.
With a mental flick, he dismissed the floating text and refocused his attention on the road ahead.
The exchange program between the Golden Valley Kingdom and the Knight Academies of the River Domain Nations had become a routine affair, resulting in a remarkably simple departure ceremony devoid of pomp and fanfare.
After casually handing Theresa the colorful stone bracelet he had just purchased, Roland quietly blended into the ranks of the student party.
As Graham delivered his customary words of encouragement and caution from the platform above, the group of fewer than a hundred students quietly set off, steadily advancing westward.
The party moved forward, the monotonous rhythm of wagon wheels grinding against gravel filling the air.
Suddenly, a lively figure detached from the front ranks, a harp slung over his shoulder, and sauntered over to Roland.
"Hey, Roland! Still savoring the taste of that 'golden acorn' wine?" Galvis grinned lazily, plucking a few discordant notes from his harp.
"But trust me, compared to the royal capital of the Golden Valley Kingdom, this place is nothing more than a backwater market town." He leaned closer, his voice brimming with boastful enthusiasm, as if sharing some extraordinary secret.
"Imagine, Roland! The city walls truly shimmer like molten gold under the midday sun! The markets overflow with spices from the southern archipelago, filling the air with a cloying sweetness."
"And the meticulously crafted machines by dwarf artisans line the widest white stone boulevards, ready for anyone to choose... Of course, the grand arena is the highlight. They say gladiatorial combats happen daily, even featuring magical beasts! It's the very heart of the kingdom's wealth and power."
Roland listened quietly.
During his time in the Blackwater Territory, he had heard rumors about the Golden Valley Kingdom's overall situation. But Galvis's vivid, boisterous portrayal of the royal capital far exceeded his previous understanding.
"It sounds... quite different indeed."
"Of course it is!"
The hint of interest in Roland's voice instantly ignited Galvis's enthusiasm.
Throughout the long journey that followed, Roland felt trapped in an endless, cacophonous banquet.
The bard's incessant storytelling, accompanied by his nearly tuneless lute improvisations, buzzed around Roland's ears like a swarm of bees, driving him to the brink of exasperation.
Once out of Avril's sight, the poet completely abandoned all restraint.
Even Roland's stern reprimands and harsh glares had little effect. Galvis would pause briefly with a sheepish grin, only to revert to his old ways moments later.
Realizing that driving him away was hopeless, Roland reluctantly turned to Theresa, who had remained silent beside him.
They exchanged a glance, each seeing in the other's eyes the same profound sense of helplessness.
At that moment, Roland suddenly missed Hoby and Freddy acutely.
As newly enrolled freshmen, they naturally weren't eligible for the exchange program.
If they were here, at least they could share this "misery" with him.
Whether it was the earnest Freddy or the lively Hoby, both held immense enthusiasm for Galvis's half-true, half-fictional adventure tales, enough to draw the poet's full attention.
This tormenting cacophony only gradually subsided as the party slowly crossed the Golden Valley Kingdom's border.
It wasn't that the bard had finally run out of stories, but rather...
As the party ventured deeper into the Golden Valley Kingdom's Eastern Province along the main avenue, the lush greenery of the frontier gradually faded.
A stifling, almost stagnant atmosphere began to envelop the surroundings.
Roland's gaze swept across the vast fields stretching along both sides of the road, his brow furrowing involuntarily.
The brief report he had seen on the Adventurer's Guild scroll now unfolded before him in a far more harrowing reality.
This blight was no ordinary crop failure; it felt more like a silent plague.
As far as the eye could see, the fields had been utterly drained of life. The crops weren't merely withered and yellowed; they were a putrid, nearly rotten grayish-black, lying limp on the earth as if some invisible force had sucked out their very essence.
The soil itself was disturbingly unnatural.
Under the pale afternoon sunlight, the ground reflected an unsettling, oily sheen, as if coated in a layer of low-grade grease.
A faint, indescribable metallic-rusty odor hung in the air, mingling with the earthy scent to create a strange, oppressive atmosphere.
Even more chilling were the clusters of brittle, obsidian-like crystals scattered among the overturned, decaying crop roots and in the cracked fissures of the fields.
These crystals were far more prevalent than the "discoveries" mentioned in the report, their dark surfaces refracting an eerie, shadowy light.
Yet even more oppressive than the blighted land itself were the people who lived upon it.
Scattered farmers stood on the ridges between fields, not working, but staring blankly at the dead earth, their faces etched with bewilderment and a weariness born of shattered hope.
A peasant woman, her head wrapped in a tattered scarf, clutched her child's arm tightly, refusing to let him take a single step closer to the fields, her eyes betraying an uncontainable fear.
The occasional village they passed was eerily silent, almost no smoke rising from chimneys, doors and windows tightly shut, as if the inhabitants were hiding from the cursed land outside.
In stark contrast, the number of Golden Valley Kingdom guards had surged dramatically.
They patrolled in small groups, setting up makeshift roadblocks and guard posts at major intersections.
Their armor, once gleaming, was now caked in dust, and deep fatigue etched itself onto every face, the result of long patrols and constant vigilance.
Their eyes were sharp and tense, their grips tight on their weapons as they scrutinized every traveler on the road, especially those who dared approach or examine the withered fields. They would immediately issue stern warnings and wave them away.
A silent tension hung thick between the soldiers and the silent populace, as if a single spark could ignite the panic simmering beneath the deathly stillness.
The scene before them was far more widespread and...
Ominous.
(End of the Chapter)
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