Chapter 59: The Black Market Broker

  Professor Aris eventually recovered from his profound academic trauma, though he continued to shoot mourning, pained glances at the small pile of grey ash currently resting on his office floor—the final resting place of a piece of history that had cost a fortune. True to his word, however, he utilized his extensive, high-level network within the Academic Guild to secure a buyer for the pristine Crimson Ape pelt.

  The buyer arrived within the hour, flanked by two silent, heavily muscled porters. She was a tall, incredibly sharp-eyed Elvarian woman representing one of the high-end artisan guilds in the upper canopy. She wore robes of embroidered silk that cost more than Zeno’s entire life earnings, and her eyes scanned the room with the predatory focus of a hawk, completely ignoring the bound, unconscious assassin still resting in the corner.

  She walked over to the massive, rolled-up crimson bundle. She ran her manicured hands over the thick, matted fur, checking the density.

  "It is a mature specimen," the buyer noted, her voice cool and detached. She poked a finger at a slight depression in the fur where Zeno’s gauntlet had made impact. "However, the hide is bruised here at the shoulder. The integrity of the leather might be compromised. I can offer you fifty silver coins. It is a generous price for damaged goods."

  Zeno frowned, about to say that fifty was less than ninety, but Lyra stepped forward. Her street-smart demeanor shifted instantly into that of a hardened negotiator. She didn't look grateful; she looked insulted.

  "Damaged goods?" Lyra laughed, a short, sharp sound. She walked over and slapped the 'bruised' spot on the pelt. "That isn't a cut, and the leather isn't torn. That depression is where my Vanguard hit the beast. He shattered the ape's shoulder bone completely without breaking the skin. That proves the durability of this specific hide. It withstood an impact that would have crumbled a stone wall."

  Lyra leaned in, her emerald eyes locking with the buyer's. "This pelt absorbed a direct kinetic impact from a Strength stat that defies logic, and it didn't tear. That makes it premium grade armor material. One hundred silver. Or I take it to the Blacksmith's Guild. I know Kaelen would pay double just to study it."

  The buyer paused. She looked at Zeno, seeing the massive spiked gauntlets and the terrifying density of his muscles. She looked back at the pelt, realizing Lyra was telling the truth.

  "Ninety silver," the buyer countered, her tone losing its haughtiness. "And my guild gets first refusal on any future Rank C materials you harvest."

  "Deal," Lyra said instantly, extending her hand.

  The buyer signaled her porters, who handed over a heavy, clinking pouch before hauling the massive bundle away.

  "Ninety silver, plus the forty for the subjugation bounty," Lyra calculated, the tension in her shoulders relaxing as she tied the heavy pouch to her belt. She looked at Zeno, who was currently attempting to carefully scoop the ashes of the map into a small clay pot he had found. "We are officially rich again, big guy."

  "Good," Zeno nodded, securing the lid on his pot of ashes. "Now we can buy the roasted snake."

  Before they left, Aris contacted the city Vanguard to collect the bound assassin. The guards hauled the mercenary away to the deepest holding cells, the anti-Tena collar still humming softly around his neck.

  "I will dispatch a secure courier to Envoy Elian informing him that the original map has been... dealt with," Aris said, rubbing his temples, still unable to say the word 'burned'. "The Syndicate network in Verdant Reach will likely go completely dark to avoid detection. You should be safe from immediate retaliation. However, I strongly suggest you spend your newfound wealth carefully."

  "We will, Professor," Lyra promised.

  They left the academic tier and descended into the vibrant, chaotic lower markets. The smell of roasting meats and exotic spices immediately filled Zeno’s highly attuned senses. He led the way with unyielding focus, marching directly past stalls selling glowing fruit and intricately carved wooden weapons, entirely driven by his stomach.

  They finally reached the culinary plaza. The vendor selling the roasted river-snake was easy to spot; he had an incredibly long, wide iron grill set up, upon which rested several massive, thick segments of white meat sizzling over a bed of fragrant, smoking cedar chips.

  Zeno purchased two massive portions, completely ignoring the cost. He handed one to Lyra and immediately took a massive, entirely unhesitating bite of his own.

  The meat was incredibly tender, lacking the heavy, briny taste of the crab, completely absorbing the rich, smoky flavor of the cedar wood and the spicy rub the vendor had applied. Zeno closed his amber eyes, letting out a loud, highly satisfied hum.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  "This is fantastic!" Zeno cheered, chewing rapidly. "It tastes like spicy chicken, but much longer!"

  Lyra took a cautious bite, nodding in pleasant surprise. "It's actually really good. And lean. Good fuel."

  As they ate, Lyra pulled a small, detailed map of Verdant Reach from her pouch. She scanned the various districts, her mind shifting from immediate survival back to long-term planning.

  "Alright, Zeno," Lyra said, tracing a route with her finger. "We have the silver. We have a secure base camp. And we know we are capable of taking down Rank C threats. It is time to seriously upgrade our defensive capabilities. Your Rock Serpent gauntlets are perfect weapons, but your river-reed tunic is completely shredded. You look like a highly aggressive beggar."

  Zeno looked down at his dirty, torn tunic. "It has character," he defended it politely. "And it breathes very well."

  "It breathes because it has twenty holes in it," Lyra countered practically. "The Crimson Ape almost broke your ribs because you didn't have any padding. We are going to the armorers. We are going to get you something that can actually take a hit without you having to use your arms to block."

  They finished their meal and headed toward the artisan district, entirely bypassing Kaelen's open-air forge. Lyra was looking for something very specific. She guided them through the winding, mossy streets until they reached a small, incredibly unassuming shop tucked away beneath the massive, sprawling roots of an ancient tree.

  The sign above the door simply read: The Loom and the Anvil.

  Lyra pushed the heavy wooden door open, a small brass bell chiming softly. The interior of the shop was immaculate, completely lacking the dust and soot of a standard forge. It smelled intensely of rare oils, cured leather, and something incredibly sharp and metallic.

  Standing behind a polished wooden counter was a man who looked entirely out of place in the humid jungle. He was incredibly thin, completely bald, and wore a pristine, highly tailored suit of dark grey silk. His eyes were a startling, unnatural shade of vibrant gold, scanning them with terrifying, absolute precision.

  He was a Weaver. A highly specialized artisan who combined elemental Tena with physical materials to create enchanted clothing and armor.

  "Welcome," the Weaver greeted them, his voice smooth and entirely devoid of accent. "I do not usually cater to independent contractors. My work is highly specialized and entirely beyond the financial reach of the average mercenary."

  Lyra didn't argue. She stepped forward and placed a stack of thirty solid silver coins cleanly on the polished counter. The unmistakable sound of heavy wealth instantly commanded the Weaver's attention.

  "We aren't average," Lyra stated firmly, her emerald eyes meeting his golden ones without a trace of intimidation. "I need a custom-tailored, highly durable, completely unrestrictive combat tunic for my Vanguard. And I want it woven with defensive Tena."

  The Weaver looked at the silver, and then turned his golden gaze entirely onto Zeno. He took in the massive, dense muscle structure, the terrible scars on his shoulder, and the incredibly heavy, spiked Rock Serpent gauntlets resting comfortably on his arms.

  "He is an anomaly," the Weaver murmured, his golden eyes glowing slightly. "His physical density is absurd. Standard iron plating would only slow him down and restrict his kinetic flow. He needs something that moves like cloth but stops blades like steel."

  The Weaver turned and walked into the back room, returning a moment later carrying a massive, heavy bolt of incredibly fine, dark red fabric. He placed it on the counter. The material seemed to absorb the light in the room, shifting slightly like liquid shadows.

  "This is Crimson Spider-Silk," the Weaver explained, his voice filled with professional pride. "Harvested from the deep caverns beneath the city. It is incredibly lightweight, completely breathable in this humidity, and possesses a tensile strength five times greater than forged steel. I have woven dormant earth Tena directly into the threads to drastically increase its kinetic resistance. If struck by a blunt force, the fabric temporarily hardens to disperse the impact."

  Zeno reached out, touching the dark red silk with his wrapped finger. It felt incredibly soft, almost completely frictionless. "It feels like water," Zeno noted, entirely fascinated.

  "It will move like water until you are hit," the Weaver promised. "Then it will stop a charging boar. I will tailor it into a sleeveless, high-collared combat tunic to accommodate your massive gauntlets. It will cost forty silver, entirely upfront."

  Lyra froze. Forty silver. That was nearly half of their entire fortune. She looked at the stack of thirty coins on the counter. She looked at her pouch.

  Her hand trembled slightly as she reached in. She felt the cold metal of the coins. Every instinct from her years of poverty screamed at her to haggle, to walk away, to save the money for food. But then she remembered the sound of the Crimson Ape’s foot slamming into Zeno’s arm. She remembered the sound of the wind being knocked out of him. She couldn't protect him from everything with her daggers.

  She gritted her teeth, biting the inside of her cheek. Slowly, painfully, she counted out ten more silver coins, placing them onto the stack one by one.

  "Forty," Lyra said, her voice tight. She looked up at the Weaver, her eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. "But listen to me closely. I am paying for perfection. If a single thread on this tunic snaps, or if it shrinks in the rain, or if it doesn't stop a blade like you promised... I will come back here. And I will use your own expensive thread to sew your mouth shut. Do you understand?"

  The Weaver blinked, taken aback by the ferocity of the small girl. He nodded slowly. "My work is flawless. I stake my reputation on it."

  "Measure him," Lyra commanded, stepping back and clutching her lighter pouch.

  For the next twenty minutes, Zeno stood perfectly still while the Weaver utilized a series of glowing, magical measuring tapes to perfectly map the exact dimensions of his broad chest and massive shoulders.

  "It will be ready tomorrow morning," the Weaver stated, recording the incredibly precise measurements into a small ledger.

  They left the shop, Lyra feeling a strange mixture of financial nausea and deep relief. They were poorer, yes, but Zeno would be safer. And that was worth every single coin.