Morning had already broken when he stirred awake. Golden sunlight filtered through the window of his small inn room, brushing the wooden floor with warmth.
He was fully dressed now, wearing the simple villager's shirt and trousers Rowan's party had provided the day before.
He adjusted the collar slightly, wanting to hide his marks until he knew their significance, and what risks might come if anyone recognized him as bearing the same mark as the legendary deity and hero who had saved the world long ago.
He stood, stretching briefly, and moved toward the door. A soft knock came first, followed by Rowan's voice.
When he opened it, Rowan was already there, standing with his arms crossed, his usual energetic expression on his face.
"Morning. Ready for another day?"
"Yes… I think so," he replied, trying to steady his nerves. His mind drifted briefly back to the glowing mark on his shoulder, the statue of Eiscia, and the promise he had silently made to himself.
Rowan smiled faintly.
"Let's tour the town before we head back to the guild hall. I'll show you the key spots and introduce you to some people you'll need to know. There's quite a lot you can do as a merchant."
Stepping outside, the fresh air carried the faint scent of bread and herbs from nearby shops. The village streets were starting to come alive, farmers leading their carts, children chasing each other around corners, merchants setting up their stands.
Rowan pointed out the blacksmith, the tailor, and the apothecary.
"That one's important," Rowan said, gesturing toward a small building with a purple-hatted woman arranging potions in the window.
"Lady Bethilda runs the apothecary. Always call her 'Lady' first… or she'll remind you."
Kael followed as they approached.
Lady Bethilda's tall, peculiar hat swayed slightly as she turned, the leaf-shaped mark embedded into it catching the morning sun.
Her white hair framed her face, a mole beneath her left eye giving her an air of both authority and quiet kindness. Arms crossed, she looked at Rowan expectantly.
"Ahem… and what are you mumbling about this early morning, Rowan?" she asked, one eyebrow raised.
"Ah… nothing much. I'm just showing him around. This is Kael, the one we found in the forest yesterday," Rowan explained.
Her eyes flicked toward him.
"Oh? So this is the young man everyone's been gossiping about."
She stepped closer, examining him from head to toe, her expression unreadable.
"Ah… nice to meet you, Lady Bethilda," he said politely, bowing slightly.
"Hmm. Polite, at least." A faint smile appeared.
"If you need medicine, potions, or anything else, come by my shop," Lady Bethilda said with a faint smile.
Kael nodded politely in response.
Rowan gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.
"Alright, let's keep moving. There's a lot more of the village I want to show you."
Stepping back onto the bustling street, the smells of fresh bread and herbs mixed with the morning chatter. Rowan gestured ahead.
"Next, the blacksmith. You might need a weapon, even as a merchant-adventurer."
Inside the smithy, a broad, burly man with a soot-smudged apron looked up.
"Ah, this is Gilliam," Rowan said, gesturing toward the man. "He's the blacksmith here, one of the best in Liberlan."
Gilliam nodded at them.
"What can I do for you today, Rowan?"
"I've brought someone who might need a weapon. Let him pick whatever he wants, I'll cover it."
Gilliam's eyes roamed over Kael carefully.
"Hmm… go on, then. See what catches your eye."
He scanned the weapons on display. Swords, axes, spears, and several daggers glinted under the morning light. But instead of reaching immediately, he let his senses guide him.
He sniffed subtly, letting the smell of steel and oil fill his nostrils. Most of the weapons carried the same sharp metallic tang, but one stood apart. A faint, almost imperceptible scent… cleaner, quieter.
That subtle difference drew him.
His gaze lingered over the blades. Many were polished, decorated, meant to impress. But one dagger wasn't.
Plain. Unadorned.
And yet… something about it pulled at him.
He crouched slightly and picked it up.
The leather-wrapped hilt fit perfectly in his hand, balanced, neither too heavy nor too light. When he gave it a small test swing, the motion felt natural, like an extension of his own arm.
A faint trace of mana shimmered along the edge, so subtle that most would miss it. But he didn't.
"This one," he said quietly.
Rowan raised an eyebrow.
"You sure? There are better-looking ones. Don't worry, it's on me."
Kael shook his head. "This is enough."
Gilliam chuckled. "Well done, boy."
Rowan frowned.
"Did you just go senile on me, old man?"
Gilliam smirked, lightly tapping the hammer against his palm.
"Can't blame you, Rowan. Not everyone's got the eye for what's worth noticing."
Gilliam chuckled. "Yeah, maybe, but it's true." He nodded toward the dagger.
"That one's not normal. A friend of mine made it look plain on purpose… wanted to see who'd actually notice."
He idly turned a small iron hammer in his hand.
"Some adventurers did pick it up out of curiosity." He gave a faint chuckle.
"But the moment they saw the price, they put it right back."
Rowan frowned. "Then why price it that high?" He glanced at the dagger.
"I've seen that thing sitting there for years. You still haven't told me why."
Gilliam smirked, the hammer tapping lightly against his palm.
"Because it's not meant for just anyone."
Kael tightened his grip on the dagger.
The feeling returned, faint, but unmistakable. Different. The balance, the weight… even the quiet presence along its edge, it all felt natural in his hand. Goosebumps rose along his skin.
The dagger wasn't just unusual.
It felt like it had been made for him.
"Okay, here's your gold, old man." Rowan handed over a small pouch, the soft jingle of coins spilling slightly as Kael watched.
Gilliam gave a warm nod. "Pleasure doing business with you, boy. Treat that blade well."
Kael slid the dagger into his belt, feeling its weight settle naturally against him. He flexed his fingers, testing the balance one last time. The quiet satisfaction of holding a weapon truly his own lingered for a moment.
Rowan clapped him on the shoulder. "Ready to see the next part of town? Let's head toward the Guild Hall."
As they walked, the streets buzzed with morning activity, merchants calling out their wares, children darting between stalls, and townsfolk exchanging greetings.
Adventurers passed by, some nodding at Rowan in recognition, others casting curious glances at Kael, the newcomer.
Slowly, the massive doors of the Guild Hall came into view, carved with intricate curling symbols.
Rowan pushed them open, and the lively noise of the hall washed over them, clinking mugs, laughter, and the chatter of adventurers checking the quest board.
"Crimson-Tusk… Voidscale Drake…" one said.
Kael froze internally, recalling the golden-furred boar with crimson fangs and the dark-scaled lizard with the forked tongue and curling purple smoke he had narrowly escaped.
People didn't realize how dangerous these things really were…
Meanwhile, as Kael was still adjusting to the rowdy, lively atmosphere of the Guild Hall, a cheerful man stepped forward near the center.
He wore elegant purple clothes trimmed with gold embroidery. His blonde hair was neatly tied back, long eyelashes framing sharp blue eyes, and a carefully groomed mustache added to his theatrical appearance. Every movement he made, swaying, twirling, gesturing, was almost like a performance.
"Wonderful! Absolutely wonderful!" he exclaimed, voice carrying across the hall.
Rowan stepped beside him, smiling.
"Darius, this is Kael. He's applying to the Merchant Guild."
Darius extended a hand with a flourish.
"Ah, yes! The young man from the forest yesterday! Wonderful, simply wonderful!"
He paused, twirling slightly, eyes sparkling.
"You can also join adventurer parties as a support member, Hawkers. Fund the party, manage loot, organize shares… Twice a month is enough to maintain membership."
Darius leaned closer, voice dropping in excitement.
"However, only a few have chosen this path, and it takes a lot of effort to do so… Besides…"
He let the words hang for a moment.
"…getting a licensed Hawker pass isn't easy."
Darius said, leaning forward slightly, his eyes bright with excitement.
"But Zerilda, the Guild Master, personally endorsed you to me, and I already sense potential in you for this line of work. So… why not?"
He gestured grandly.
"Being a licensed Hawker gives you a special adventuring merchant pass. With it, you can travel freely between towns and cities, gain access to information, and experience things most adventurers never see. Wonderful, isn't it?"
He blinked, still taking in the eccentric display.
The chaos of the hall, the shouting adventurers, the clinking mugs… and now this flamboyant man. His mind raced, trying to process it all. Business, adventure, information… all at once.
"Perfect." Rowan placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
"Don't worry. You won't be forced to talk about what happened in the forest. For now, the important thing is that it's been explored and partially cleared. That's why the Guild Master called in S-rank adventurers from the capital… to make sure the villagers stay safe."
Darius clapped his hands once again, spinning on his heel in his flamboyant manner.
"Wonderful! Now, young man, come with me. We'll discuss your role properly in private, far from the noise of the Guild Hall."
Rowan and Kael followed as Darius led them through a side corridor. The hall's clamor faded behind them, replaced by the soft creak of polished wooden floors.
He pushed open a sturdy oak door, revealing a cozy chamber lined with bookshelves, ledgers, and small cabinets filled with trinkets, maps, and scrolls. Sunlight streamed in through a high window, illuminating the warm, inviting space.
"Wonderful," Darius said again, gesturing grandly for them to sit at a round table in the center.
"Here, we can speak without interruptions. Let me explain everything about your privileges as a Merchant-Hawker."
Kael took a seat, his eyes scanning the room with a mix of curiosity and calculation. Perfect… quiet, private, and organized. I can actually think here.
Darius leaned slightly over the table, eyes sparkling.
"Now, as a registered merchant, you'll be issued a merchant pass. This allows you to enter any village or city freely, show it, and doors will open to markets, trade halls, and local authorities."
Kael glanced at Rowan, eyebrows raised, silently asking if that was really true.
Darius chuckled at the look.
"You'll gain access to information, resources, and areas most adventurers never see. Your status can increase over time, eventually reaching the rank of Grand Hawker, a rare position granting privileges few can imagine."
Rowan nudged Kael lightly.
"Sounds like a pretty sweet deal, huh?"
Kael's lips twitched into a small smile, still processing the enormity of it all.
"Wonderful, isn't it?"
Kael nodded slowly, processing the magnitude of the opportunity. Business, travel, adventure… and information. This is perfect.
"And that's not all."
Darius leaned back in his chair and folded his hands.
"I'd like you to meet Trone, one of the elite Hawkers here in Liberlan. He'll guide you through the duties, responsibilities, and what's expected of someone in this position."
From the corner of the room, a lithe figure appeared. His long pink hair peeked out from under a brown leather hat with brass goggles perched atop it. A massive sling bag, clinking with vials, scrolls, and maps, hung over his shoulder. His amber eyes glinted sharply as he studied Kael.
Trone grinned.
"So, you're the new boy, huh? I'm Trone. Welcome to the life of a Hawker. Adventure, logistics, money, and danger all wrapped into one. Follow me, and I'll show you how to keep a party alive, and thriving, without drawing your own blade too often."
Kael inclined his head respectfully.
"I'm Kael. It's an honor to meet you."
Trone smirked.
"Keep your honor. You'll need your wits more than manners in this line of work."
Darius clapped his hands together, leaning forward.
"Wonderful! Trone will walk you through practical exercises, party coordination, and resource management. You'll understand how to fund adventurers, organize loot, and make yourself indispensable. Twice a month of activity keeps your status valid, but your influence can grow far beyond that. Wonderful, isn't it?"
Kael felt a spark of excitement. Twice a month, and I can still explore, trade, and gather intelligence… I can even pursue what I came here for.
Trone swung his massive sling bag over one shoulder, the contents rattling softly.
"First, you learn organization. Know what your party needs, when they need it, and how to deliver it efficiently. Miss a detail, and it could cost the party… or you. But if you succeed, you'll earn trust, money, and influence. The first step to becoming a Grand Hawker is knowing exactly what the world, and your party, needs."
Kael straightened, gripping the edge of the table. This… this is it. This is my path.
The morning sun streamed through the chamber window, dust motes dancing in the golden light. Outside, Liberlan continued its bustle, unaware of the young man quietly taking his first steps into a rare world of commerce, adventure, and secrets.
As Kael listened to Trone explain the nuances of a Hawker's life, a faint chill ran down his spine. He turned slightly toward the window, thinking of the forest, of Eiscia, of the dangers he had narrowly escaped.
And then he saw it.
A figure standing on the edge of the plaza below, tall, cloaked, with a hood of pale white interwoven with threads of shimmering light blue that caught the morning sun.
They weren't moving, yet he felt them. A small pulse of blue light glimmered faintly against the sleeve of their cloak.
Kael's heart skipped.
No… that can't be…
The figure raised a gloved hand and pointed directly at him.
In that instant, He felt a tingle along his right shoulder, the mark hidden beneath his shirt pulsed faintly, glowing in rhythm with some unseen heartbeat.
His pulse spiked. Without thinking, he grabbed his leather bag and bolted for the window, swinging it open.
"Wait....what are you doing?!" Trone called, but Kael was already gone, sprinting across the plaza.
He skidded to a stop where he'd seen the figure, heart pounding, eyes scanning every shadow, every corner.
But the plaza was ordinary. Villagers carried baskets, merchants shouted their wares, and children chased each other between stalls. There was no hooded figure, no pulse of light… nothing unusual.
He clenched his fists, frustration clawing at him. Slowly, almost instinctively, he touched his right shoulder, the mark hidden beneath his shirt, the same mark he had seen on Eiscia's forehead in the statue.
The faint glow lingered, warm and insistent, as if reminding him of a promise yet to be fulfilled.
"…What now?" he whispered to himself, voice low, almost lost in the morning bustle.
The plaza seemed calm, ordinary, and yet… the pulse beneath his fingers hinted that someone, or something, was still out there. Watching. Waiting.
Kael's fingers lingered on the faintly glowing mark, his mind racing. Whoever, or whatever, had pointed at him had vanished as quickly as it appeared.
His instincts screamed that it wasn't random. The pulse beneath his skin seemed like a signal, a call, or maybe a warning.