“I know, but finding children outside has become nearly impossible. I can only target those within the town. Yet withBerinpresent, it is difficult to act…” sighed Glas.
“Hmph. Those accursed knights—detestable creatures even in the last era. They caused no small trouble for the Great Ones, and I myself suffered greatly because of them. But heaven is just: one by one, those mighty figures vanished, while I, once overlooked and insignificant, have endured to this day.” The voice seemed lost in memory.
“So, what should we do?”
“Heh… the answer is simple. We wait. The knights will not remain here forever. When the time comes and they depart, that will be our moment to strike.”
“We must not be too ostentatious either—the constables here are troublesome enough.” Glas nodded, then muttered, recalling a report his men had just delivered: “Bayek… what a curious place. Should I send someone to investigate?”
“Best not to invite needless trouble. That place harbors an unknown power—my instincts are not mistaken.”
“Very well. I will heed your counsel.”
Duder, central street.
As always,Imununfolded his stall, laying the cuts of meat he had prepared the day before upon a wooden board, some dangling from the canopy above.
It was already noon; the fruit sellers and bakers had set up their stalls long before dawn, far more industrious than he.
Yet Imun felt no concern for his business. As one of the few butchers in town, the townsfolk had no choice but to come running, copper coins in hand.
And as expected, the moment his stall was ready, several waiting townsfolk crowded toward him.
“TwoBellasof chicken, please!”
“Three Bellas for me!”
A Bela was a unit of weight in theKingdom of Zehn, roughly equivalent to one pound.
“One at a time, or I’ll sell you nothing!”
“Here—take it! That’s your share. Two Bellas, no more—now get out of my sight!”
“And you—stop dawdling! There are others waiting!”
Imun’s attitude was abysmal. He never treated his customers as patrons, but rather as supplicants, knowing full well they relied on him for their meat.
Resentment simmered in the townsfolk’s hearts, but not a soul dared speak out.
Time passed, and the meat dwindled. Imun knew another day’s work would end with ease.
“How much do you want this time? Be quick—I’ve no patience left!” he barked, turning from one customer while arranging the last of his wares.
“Ah… I’m not here to buy meat,” came a young voice. “I’m here to sell it.”
Imun lifted his head in surprise. Before him stood a lean youth—features clean and striking, eyes bright, his clothing somewhat loose but unable to conceal a well-proportioned figure and a straight, proud stance.
“Sell meat?” Imun thought he had misheard.
The youth wasGlenn. He stepped aside, revealing the black boar he had dragged with him.
“Freshly hunted,” he explained.
Imun wiped his hands on his grimy leather apron, circled the beast, and prodded it with deliberate care.
“A black boar?”
“Yes, sir.”
Returning to his stall, Imun cast Glenn a contemptuous glance. “Thirty copper coins. I’ll take it.”
“What? A single chicken of yours costs forty, and you’ll give me only thirty for a whole boar?”
“Forty-two,” Imun corrected solemnly. “One of my chickens costs forty-two coppers.”
“And why is that? Even if black boar is rare, surely it deserves more than this paltry sum.” Glenn kept his temper in check.
“No reason. I set the price, and the price is final. Sell to me, or sell to no one.” Imun’s voice was flat, as if he held all the cards.
“Have you never been punched before?” Glenn crossed his arms and sneered.
“You think you can strike me? Boy, with your little frame? And need I remind you—ourconstabularyis not for show.” Imun gave a mocking laugh.
“I wonder if your skull is as hard as you claim.” Glenn pressed a single finger into the thick wooden counter. The timber, nearly ten centimeters thick, hissed with smoke as his finger bored through.
Imun’s eyes bulged; his throat convulsed, but no words emerged.
“You’d best pray I don’t meet you again outside.” Glenn seized the cart’s handle. He was not truly angry—men like this were all too familiar from his past life. When opportunity came, a proper lesson would suffice. But now, better to turn the beast into coin quickly, before trouble grew.
“Hmph. Arrogant fool,” Imun muttered under his breath, though in his heart he quickly added:I’ll simply never leave town.
Glancing warily at Glenn’s retreating back and finding he had not been heard, Imun resumed serving customers.
But Glenn had heard—and ignored it.
This time, an old woman approached, hair silver as snow, back bent, trembling hands fishing for scattered coppers. Looking up at towering Imun, she pleaded, “I have only this much left. Please, give me two Bellas of chicken.”
Snatching the coins, Imun counted roughly, then barked, “Not enough! At most you’ll get one Bela!”
“They should be worth more than that. Please, I beg you—my grandchildren need it, they’re still growing.”
The old woman pleaded, but Imun remained unmoved, shoving a paltry cut into her bag.
“Take it and go. Don’t block my business.”
“Just a little more, please. My grandchildren are hungry—”
Her voice cracked with desperation, yet Imun only grew more impatient.
Not far away, Glenn halted. He had kept an eye on the stall since leaving, and now, unable to stomach it, he turned back, striding swiftly.
Imun, who had nearly snapped at the woman, suddenly noticed Glenn’s approach. His bravado drained, his head lowered, and he cowered.
“Madam,” Glenn said softly, “you wish to buy meat, don’t you?”
The old woman lifted her tear-lined face, astonished by his youthful gentleness.
“And you are…?”
“I, too, am a seller of meat. Why not buy from me instead? I can promise you far better prices.” His tone was calm and warm.
“But… I’ve no more copper.” She searched her clothes again, despair deepening.
Glenn smiled. Before her astonished gaze, he slapped the butcher’s counter sharply and called out, “How much did this lady just pay you?”