The forest canopy finally broke apart just after midday, and Arthur stepped up to the edge of a high ridge.
He stopped completely, the breath leaving his lungs.
He had seen fantasy cities before. He had navigated them on screens, watched them in animated shows, and built them in his imagination while staring at the ceiling of his lonely bedroom. But none of those digital renderings or daydreams had prepared him for the sheer, staggering scale of the real thing.
A colossal stone wall stretched across the horizon, curving around a massive valley. It was reinforced by towering fortifications and tremendous iron gates that looked heavy enough to hold back a titan. Beyond the walls, a sprawling metropolis climbed across the uneven terrain. The architecture was a chaotic, vibrant mix of towering merchant estates with glazed glass windows, tightly packed wooden taverns, and narrow apartment blocks stacked like uneven blocks.
Massive banners bearing distinct, colorful crests snapped in the highland wind. Even from this distance, the city felt alive. He could see the endless stream of carriages crowding the main causeway. He could hear the faint, overlapping echoes of merchants shouting their wares, the ringing of forge hammers, and the steady hum of thousands of lives intersecting.
Down on the road, armored adventurers carrying heavy broadswords and glowing staffs walked shoulder-to-shoulder with farmers, nobles, and travelers wearing the silks of distant lands.
Arthur’s eyes widened, reflecting the bright expanse of the valley. "So this is an actual fantasy city."
A genuine, breathless laugh escaped him. His old life had been spent looking at worlds like this through a pane of glass, wishing he could just reach through and touch them. Now, he was standing right on the edge of one, feeling the wind pull at his coat.
He reached up, adjusting his high collar, his lips curving into a confident smile. "All right. Let’s see what this world has to offer."
The closer Arthur got to the city gates, the more the initial awe was replaced by a creeping sense of caution. He quickly noticed something strange about the way people were reacting to him.
They recognized him.
Not everyone, but enough to make it obvious. A merchant pushing a heavy cart of vegetables glanced up, caught sight of Arthur’s face, and immediately looked down, pushing his cart faster. Two men resting near the roadside abruptly stopped their conversation as he passed, watching him from the corners of their eyes. A woman carrying a woven basket whispered something to her companion, pulling her shawl tighter around her shoulders.
Arthur kept his expression neutral, though his mind was working quickly. *Do they know this body?*
Apparently, they did.
When he finally reached the massive iron gates, a heavily armored guard stepped forward, blocking the path with a halberd. "Name and business."
Arthur hesitated for a fraction of a second, his mind flashing back to the ledger he had read in the manor’s study. "Arthur."
The guard glanced down at a thick, leather-bound ledger resting on a wooden stand. "Arthur Valen?"
Arthur’s eyebrows rose slightly. So, the previous owner had a surname. He offered a calm nod. "Yes."
The guard’s expression instantly shifted from bored authority to sheer, unfiltered shock. The man stared at Arthur, looked down at the open ledger, and then stared back at Arthur, his grip loosening on his halberd.
"You’re alive."
Arthur blinked, caught off guard. "...Was I supposed to be dead?"
The guard shifted uncomfortably, realizing he had just spoken out of turn to a man of clear status. "My apologies, my lord. It’s just... rumors spread quickly when a man of your standing disappears from his estate for several days without a word."
Arthur’s thoughts raced. The previous Valen’s absence had already caused ripples. He couldn’t afford to look lost or confused. He needed to lean into the arrogance he had seen in that painted portrait.
He offered a smooth, polite smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "I had a sudden illness. But I’m feeling much better now."
The guard stared at him for another tense second before quickly stepping aside and bowing his head. "Welcome back, Lord Valen."
Arthur walked through the towering gate, keeping his pace steady. Only after he was swallowed by the noise of the city crowd did he let out a long, quiet exhale.
*Lord Valen.*
Interesting. He had apparently inherited a great deal more status than a simple trader.
The interior of the city was a brilliant, overwhelming assault on the senses. Arthur wandered down the main avenue, doing his best to absorb the mechanics of his new reality. To his left, a blacksmith hammered a piece of glowing, red-hot metal beside an open forge, sparks dancing in the air.
Across the street, a woman stood behind a brightly painted stall, selling jewelry that pulsed with faint, elemental light. A group of heavily armed adventurers crowded around a massive wooden bounty board, arguing over parchment requests, while a pack of laughing children darted between the legs of passing horses.
Somewhere nearby, a street musician was plucking a strange, multi-stringed instrument that sounded like a cross between a harp and a lute.
Then, the rich, savory smell of roasted meat drifted across the street.
Arthur stopped in his tracks as his stomach gave a loud, demanding growl. "...Right."
He hadn’t eaten a single thing since waking up in this body. Following the scent, he navigated through the crowd to a small, smoking food stall where thick cuts of meat were sizzling on wooden skewers over an open fire.
Arthur stared at the steaming meat. "Two copper?"
He reached into the inner pocket of his heavy coat, his fingers brushing against a small leather pouch he had taken from the manor’s desk. He pulled out a coin and held it out to the vendor.
The vendor’s cheerful smile vanished instantly.
Arthur looked at the coin resting in his palm. It was solid gold, heavy and stamped with an intricate royal crest. He looked back up. The vendor was staring at him as if he had just pulled a live snake out of his pocket.
Arthur stared back. "...How much is two copper?"
The vendor slowly reached under his apron and pointed to a tiny, dull brown coin resting in a wooden bowl. "That."
Arthur looked at his gold piece, then at the tiny copper flake. "Oh."
He quickly shoved the gold coin back into his coat, feeling his cheeks heat up. He dug around until he found a few of the dull brown coins, placing them on the counter. "Right. Here."
The vendor handed over the skewer, watching him with deep, undisguised suspicion. Arthur took a bite of the meat. The flavor exploded across his tongue—rich, perfectly spiced, and completely unlike anything he had ever tasted in his past life.
His eyes widened in genuine delight. "That’s actually incredible."
The vendor’s suspicion melted into a booming laugh. "First time in the city, young master?"
Arthur nearly choked on the meat, coughing into his fist. "Something like that."
Once he had eaten, Arthur focused on his primary objective. If he was going to survive in this world, he needed to understand exactly what kind of empire he now controlled. He needed to find the merchant guild.
The building was impossible to miss. It stood several stories higher than the surrounding architecture, constructed of pale, polished stone. Above the enormous, brass-reinforced doors hung a massive crest depicting a perfectly balanced golden scale.
Arthur stepped inside, and the atmosphere shifted immediately.
The grand hall was a hive of high-stakes activity. Well-dressed merchants argued over shipping routes, clerks ran back and forth carrying stacks of wax-sealed contracts, and the air hummed with the sound of snapping coins and low negotiations.
Arthur approached the main reception desk. "Excuse me."
The young receptionist, currently sorting through a stack of invoices, looked up. The moment her eyes locked onto his face, her polite customer-service smile shattered.
Arthur recognized the expression instantly. It was the same look the guards and the street merchants had given him. Deep recognition, followed immediately by sharp, nervous discomfort.
"L-Lord Valen?" she stammered, nearly dropping her pen.
Arthur nodded, keeping his voice calm and authoritative. "I need access to my business records."
The receptionist swallowed hard. "Of course, my lord. Immediately." She practically scrambled out of her chair. "Please, wait here just a moment."
She hurried toward a set of heavy wooden doors at the back of the hall. Arthur watched her go, his jaw setting. There was definitely something wrong with the way people looked at this body. It wasn’t just respect. It was fear.
A few minutes later, the wooden doors opened. An older man with sharp, hawkish features stepped out. He wore luxurious, deep blue robes embroidered with silver thread and leaned on a polished cane. His expression was a masterpiece of careful control.
He approached Arthur and offered a shallow, measured bow. "Lord Valen."
Arthur inclined his head slightly. "And you are?"
The man’s eyes flickered with a brief spark of confusion before smoothing over. "Guildmaster Orsen, my lord."
Arthur raised an internal eyebrow. Guildmaster? Apparently, Valen was important enough to warrant personal attention from the absolute top of the hierarchy.
"I need to understand my current business situation," Arthur said smoothly.
Orsen studied him for a long, quiet moment, his gaze sharp and calculating. "You truly do not remember?"
Arthur’s heart did a sudden, uncomfortable skip. "Remember what?"
The guildmaster’s expression became even more guarded. "Nothing." He offered a polite, incredibly fake smile. "We heard you were struck by a severe illness. Perhaps the fever affected your memory."
Arthur silently thanked Xetra for giving him the perfect excuse. He hadn’t inherited Valen’s memories, which was bound to create massive blind spots, but "fever-induced amnesia" was a brilliant cover story. New chapters come out on novelping.com first.
"Perhaps it did," Arthur agreed easily.
Orsen led him away from the crowded lobby and into a private, soundproofed office on the second floor. A clerk quickly brought in stacks of heavy ledgers, laying them across the guildmaster’s expansive desk.
Arthur spent the next hour absorbing the sheer magnitude of his own wealth.
He didn’t just own a trading company. He owned a massive logistical network. He possessed warehouses in three different districts, a fleet of heavily armed merchant vessels, exclusive trade contracts with northern mining operations, and a small army of hired caravan guards.
Arthur stared at the final tally at the bottom of the main ledger. "This is..."
He couldn’t even finish the sentence. His old life had been a masterclass in scraping by, rationing cheap groceries just to make it to the end of the month. This wasn’t just wealth. This was the kind of economic power that could buy small armies.
Orsen sat across from him, smiling faintly. "You are one of the wealthiest independent operators in the entire region, Lord Valen."
Arthur leaned back in his leather chair, his eyes tracking over the ink. It was an empire. But he remembered the damp, rotting cages beneath his manor. He remembered Xetra’s warning.
"Are there any problems?" Arthur asked, looking up.
Orsen hesitated, tapping his silver cane against the floor. "There are always problems in the trade business, my lord."
"Specific problems, Orsen."
The guildmaster looked at him carefully, as if trying to figure out if this was a test. "Several shipments have gone missing recently."
Arthur’s expression sharpened. "How many?"
"Three this season."
"Accidents? Storms?"
"We don’t know," Orsen replied smoothly.
Arthur leaned forward, resting his forearms on the desk. "And the people responsible?"
"We don’t know that either."
Arthur smiled, a cold, dangerous expression that felt entirely natural on Valen’s face. "Convenient."
Orsen’s eyes narrowed slightly, but he said nothing.
Arthur looked back down at the documents, pulling over a map of the trade routes. He traced the lines of the missing shipments. His heart sank. Each lost caravan had vanished along the exact same northern roads detailed in the coded documents hidden in his study. The routes marked with the shattered crown.
*So the criminal network isn’t separate from the legitimate business,* Arthur realized with a quiet surge of disgust. *It’s completely intertwined.*
He closed the heavy leather folder. "I’ll investigate this myself."
Orsen looked genuinely shocked. "Personally?"
Arthur nodded, standing up. "I have the time."
The guildmaster recovered quickly, offering a strange, unreadable smile. "That is certainly new, my lord. We look forward to your results."
Arthur ignored the subtle jab. Before he reached the door, he paused, his hand resting on the brass handle. He needed to confirm the ugliest part of this reality.
"Orsen. Is there an auction house in this city?"
The guildmaster paused. "There are several."
Arthur looked back over his shoulder. "Human auctions?"
The silence in the opulent office was heavy and immediate. Orsen watched him carefully, his grip tightening slightly on his cane. Finally, he answered.
"Yes."
Arthur’s jaw tightened. "Where?"