When Baston finally returned to Prius Academy from Zeverius Academy, he did not allow himself the comfort of rest.
He sought Panto immediately. The merchant boy had been living in constant unease ever since the fabricated rumor of the cult had taken a root in his imagination.
Baston had planted that seed deliberately, watering it with the vague warnings and the half-truths.
The fear was a powerful fertilizer and it made people became obedient without realizing. When he stepped into the merchant dormitory and called his name, Panto responded faster than usual.
"I need to ask you something," Baston said without greeting, "If I sell this ice bead, how much can I get?"
Panto blinked, "What?"
Baston placed the bead in his palm. The translucent sphere caught the afternoon light. The cold mist curled around its surface before fading into nothing. It was subtle and refined. It was not the kind of trinket that was sold in the roadside stalls.
Panto swallowed, "For something like this, I would need to ask my father. This thing is rare so I cannot determine the value on my own."
"How long?" Baston pressed and his tone carried the urgency, "How long until you can ask him?"
"This week…" Panto replied slowly, "I plan to return home for several days. I can show him this bead directly by then."
Baston nodded as if the matter was simple even though it was far from it.
He had explained the bead's origin as a gift from Zeverius Academy. It was a token from Principal Zener yet he found it was unnecessary for himself. For that reason, he finally decided to just sell it.
"Are you sure it's clean?" Panto asked cautiously, "Some buyers care more about the origin of the goods. After all, they fear about the complications."
Baston allowed a faint smile, "It's clean… You don't need to worry."
The word was steady and Panto soon exhaled.
At first, he feared it might be stolen. In business, the legitimacy was not about the morality. It was about the risk. Even a profitable deal could destroy a family if the wrong enemy stood behind it.
"If you want to deliver it personally…" Baston added, "I will come with you."
Panto's confusion shifted into delight, "You will accompany me back home?"
"Yes..."
The merchant boy's mind raced.
The wizards were expensive to hire. Even the knights cost a fortune when the escorts were needed. His father always employed ordinary guards but never the wizards. After all, the difference in price was severe.
The bandits were manageable while the rival merchants were less so. The money moved people and where the money flowed, the blood sometimes followed. To have Baston along the journey was like acquiring the invisible insurance.
"Thank you!" Panto was elated, "That would be safer then…"
The word of safer lingered and Baston merely nodded. Anyway, he had another reason to see the outside.
Thankfully, Prius Academy didn't force him to always stay here since his status had changed. Indeed, strength and talent were the currency in this small society. The academy did not officially announce the vacation since it was simply called as the recess for external affairs.
The nobles used it to attend the banquets while the merchants used it to inspect their business. Meanwhile, the poor and the commoner rarely used it at all.
For the commoners, leaving meant falling behind. For the poor, it meant suspicion toward their movement. But for someone who had just raised the academy's reputation at Zeverius Academy, the regulations became flexible.
The instructors did not stop Panto's request and they barely questioned it. More interestingly, they did not question Baston. That silence was worth more than the permission because their silence meant the acknowledgment. Their acknowledgment meant the value.
He understood something subtle since he had a value and he was now useful.
*****
Inside his dormitory room that night, Baston reopened the old book. The last page was quiet, indicating no new quest.
At the beginning of his journey, few quests appeared frequently.
There were small ones, personal ones, social manipulation ones, and performance act ones but as the time passed, they grew rarer. Until recently, the inter-academy trip had triggered two new quests unexpectedly.
That was unusual since he had struggled to receive even one before that. Eventually, it meant the old book responded to his circumstance.
When he met Alicia, when he faced Angus, when he confronted Anderson, and when Clark cornered him publicly. Certain individuals triggered the book although it did not apply to everyone. The pattern was incomplete but it existed.
Now, he would test it in a new city and a new environment. Whether it worked or not, he could only try.
*****
Three days later, the carriage rolled beyond Prius Academy's gates.
Panto's personal carriage was smaller than the academy's enchanted vehicle but it was comfortable. The subtle runes beneath the frame softened the impacts.
At the outside, the hired guards rode on horseback with sharp eyes. Inside, Panto unpacked several snacks. It was unbelievable that the boy secured so many things.
"Try this…" he said eagerly, "It has excellent taste."
Baston stared at the stack of wrapped pastries, "Why did you bring so many?"
"It's a two or three day journey! You might get bored if there was a little to eat."
"I cannot eat these snacks for three days straight."
Panto laughed awkwardly.
The fat boy's anxiety was almost endearing. As they traveled, Baston observed the guards' formation, the distance between the horses, and the rhythm of their shifts.
He noted the terrain, the forests, the narrow roads, and the isolated segments that were ideal for the ambush. Anyway, no incident occurred thankfully.
Still, Panto mentioned casually that the merchants did not fear the bandits. They feared more about the competitors. The bandits robbed visibly but the competitors destroyed invisibly.
There were stories of poisoned shipments, forged contracts, and the entire caravans that were misdirected by falsified route permits.
The accidents that were not accidents and the fires that burned only one warehouse in a district of the stone buildings. The money did not simply buy goods. It bought the silence, the delay, and the disappearance.
The academy trained wizards to wield mana while the merchant association trained men to mobilize the currency. It was different systems but the same brutality.
"By the way, what should I tell my father about you?"
Baston leaned back, "If you introduce me as a poor, he will be very suspicious of me, right?"
"Yes…"
"So just tell him that I am a fallen noble."
Panto blinked, "Fallen noble…?"
"A bastard son that was casted aside with few connections but no formal backing."
The lie was elegant. It explained the possession of the rare items, justified the secrecy, and invited the curiosity without demanding a proof.
"Understood," Panto said with a grin.
Baston wondered briefly whether Panto would obey any command if it was given directly. Though he doubted him, Panto had been very useful at the moment. Without his help, he couldn't possibly sell the ice bead.
No one was stupid enough to trust a poor person with such rare item. The first thing they thought must be it was stolen from somewhere.
*****
By the time the third day arrived, the landscape began to change.
The forests thinned first and the dense trees that once pressed close to the roadside gradually gave way to wider clearings. The road itself improved as well.
What had been the uneven stone and dirt became carefully laid slabs, fitted so precisely that even the carriage wheels rolled more smoothly.
"We're close," Panto said, brushing crumbs from his robe.
The traffic thickened long before the city walls came into sight.
The caravans merged from different directions like the converging rivers. The wagons filled with grain, the cages was full of livestock, and the crates that were sealed with merchant sigils was being delivered. Even heavily guarded transports that were bearing iron chests started to line up. No one moved recklessly.
Every caravan maintained the distance and the guards rode not lazily but in disciplined formation. It felt less like a road and more like an artery that was feeding something enormous. By then, Baston saw it.
Farbarus City did not rise suddenly from the earth.
It emerged gradually first as the faint towers against the horizon then as thick walls of grey stone were reflecting the afternoon light.
Unlike the noble cities that were adorned with banners and crests, Farbarus bore the symbols that were carved directly into the stone. It was adorned with scales, coins, contracts, and crossed quills. This is the trade sigils.
Even from a distance, he could sense something different about this place. The smoke rose from multiple districts, especially from the workshops and foundries. The watchtowers were placed not just for the defense but for the visibility over trade routes.
Outside the main gates, a secondary market had already formed. It was consisted of temporary stalls for those waiting clearance to enter. No one wasted time here.
At the outer checkpoint, the officials did not ask about their titles or noble lineage.
They were inspecting the cargo lists, verifying the seals, and weighing the goods by using big enchanted scales. The taxes were calculated swiftly and it was recorded by the scribes who barely looked up.
When Panto's carriage approached, the guards examined the merchant insignia that was attached. The recognition was as fast as a light flickered.
"Proceed…" one officer said simply.
There was no bow and no ceremony.
It was just an acknowledgment of the business standing. As the gates opened and the carriage passed through, Baston glanced back once.
Outside the walls, the opportunity gathered. Inside, the opportunity was harvested.
*****
Farbarus City was truly overwhelming. Its gates towered high, carved with the trade sigils instead of the royal crests. The caravans queued in disciplined lines and the guards inspected the goods while ignoring the people.
The merchants shouted the prices, the porters carried the crates, and the inns advertised several vacancies from the balconies.
The air smelled of spice, ink, sweat, and coin. Every building was a business and every home doubled as the enterprise. In this city, the merchants seemingly could operate anything as long as they had a spot of land.
"There are no empty plots here anymore…" Panto explained proudly, "Many houses operate as the inns if needed. No one rests here unless the profit sleeps first."
Baston watched carefully where the information flowed like the currency. This city did not worship the magic.
Instead, it worshipped the transaction which meant the influence could be purchased and the enemies could be bought. That made it more dangerous than any academy.
After all, the money had been a tough law in this city.
*****
Instead of bringing Baston home immediately, Panto suggested with caution.
"I will show the ice bead first," he said, "If my father is interested, I will then bring you to meet him."
The boy did not leave immediately. He stood there for a moment as if something remained unsaid.
"My father is not an easy person to speak with," he finally admitted, "He doesn't raise his voice but when he looks at someone, it feels like he already knows the answer before the question is asked."
Baston tilted his head slightly, "Does that frighten you?"
"A little…" Panto confessed honestly, "He rarely wastes time on people that he finds unimportant. If he thinks this ice bead is ordinary, he might not even ask who the seller is."
"That would be convenient," Baston replied calmly.
Panto blinked, "Convenient?"
"If he is uninterested, then there is no need for further explanation."
The merchant boy hesitated again, "And if he is interested?"
"Then I will meet him."
"Alright…" Panto said at last, "Wait for my message."
He turned and left, bearing the weight of his father's expectations settling on his shoulders. Baston watched him go with unreadable expression.
In Farbarus City, the strength was measured differently. Soon, he would see whether the influence born from magic could stand against the influence born from gold.
*****
The inn that Panto had paid stood three streets away from his family establishment. It did not advertise loudly like the others. Its sign was modest, carved from dark oak and it was bearing only a single silver coin symbol.
The building was narrow but tall, squeezed between a textile shop and a contract scribe's office. Inside, however, the refinement revealed itself.
The floors were polished to quiet shine. The air smelled faintly of dried herbs, likely to mask the odor of the travelers. The lanterns hung evenly spaced along the corridor, each fueled by the steady-burning alchemical oil rather than the simple flame.
Panto spoke briefly with the innkeeper, lowering his voice when mentioning his family's trading shop.
The reaction was subtle but immediate. The innkeeper's posture straightened and his tone softened.
"Of course… The best available room then..."
The payment was made without bargaining. That alone told Baston something. Even here and even in a city where everyone negotiated, Panto did not haggle.
The reputation mattered more than saving a few coins.
The room assigned to Baston faced inward toward a private courtyard rather than the busy street. That meant less noise and fewer listening ears from the outside windows. It was very thoughtful.
Once inside, he closed the door and remained still for a moment. The silence felt different here and he examined the room carefully.
The window latch was sturdy and the wooden beams showed no sign of tampering. Beneath the desk, he checked for the carved listening arrays or the hidden runes. In a merchant city, the information was worth more than magic stones.
Finding nothing suspicious, he finally allowed himself to sit. He rested his elbows on the desk and folded his hands.
Farbarus City did not resemble Prius Academy at all.
There were no students that were measuring each other's magical strength. There were no nobles that were whispering about their bloodlines.
Here, the worth was determined by the reputation and the influence was calculated with money.
However, the structure felt familiar. In the academy, those without value were ignored. In here, those without value were erased economically.
He opened the old book slowly and the page remained blank for now. Patience, that was what he needed for now.
Panto had said his father disliked wasting time on unimportant people. Baston did not mind since being considered unimportant was safer than being considered threatening.
For now, he leaned back in his chair and closed the old book gently.
At the outside, the city did not slow down even as the evening approached. The lanterns were being lit one by one and the shopkeepers adjusted displays for the night trade.
Farbarus City never truly slept since it merely shifted the clock.
Soon, a message would come and when it did, he would step not into a noble's office, but into the heart of a merchant room.
The magic had its hierarchy while the gold had its own. He intended to understand both.