The tall man in the center, wearing a thin smile, paused when his eyes fell on Rusty. For a moment, he held his gaze, as if testing or analyzing the newcomer. Rusty did not look away, curious about why he was being stared at. The man seemed surprised by the prolonged eye contact, then shifted his attention to the other shop owners.

"Who is that?"

One of the merchants whispered, just loud enough for the person beside him to hear.

"Never seen him before. But he has some nerve to stare at the guild director for so long."

"Nerve, or plain stupidity? He looks young. He probably doesn't know how things work around here. He is going to get himself into a lot of trouble."

As the man known as the guild director stepped forward to claim his place at the head of the gathering, another figure turned his head toward Rusty. He looked more like a craftsman than a merchant. His expression held little interest, yet a faint trace of dissatisfaction.

'I don't think these people like me…'

Rusty could not explain it, but everyone seemed to view him as an outsider. He had been studying humanoid expressions for some time and could now recognize most emotions. A few faces showed curiosity, but most regarded him as someone who did not belong.

"Should I do something?"

"Just stay there and don't say anything for now…"

Alexander replied while Rusty adjusted the fur-lined cape on his shoulders, unsure whether to remain seated or rise to acknowledge the men who had entered. The tall man in the center lifted his hands, and the murmurs of the merchants fell silent. His voice, when it resounded, was smooth and carefully measured.

"Fellow masters of trade, we gather once more to safeguard the prosperity of this settlement. Competition has grown fierce, caravans more dangerous, and coin flows as swiftly as blood. Yet our unity keeps us strong."

A polite ripple of applause followed, though Rusty noticed many of the merchants clapped only with their fingertips. He was a little slow to respond but soon mimicked their motions. Because of the leather gloves covering his metal fingers, the sound he produced was distinct from the rest. As he did, the guild director's eyes swept the room again before coming to rest once more on the side where Rusty sat.

"And today, it seems, we welcome not one but two new partners."

Whispers stirred as everyone turned toward Rusty, though he realized he was not the only focus of attention. Another man sat to his left, visibly tense. He looked to be in his thirties, already thinning on top.

The guild director's gaze lingered on the two newcomers. The murmurs rolled like waves, until the thin man with spectacles scribbled a note in his ledger and gave a small nod. That was all the signal needed and silence fell again. The director then spoke again, his smile never fading.

"Two new traders have joined our circle this season. Such fortune deserves recognition. Would the gentlemen care to introduce themselves?"'

Rusty froze for a moment. He had prepared for this, but actually standing in the middle of so many eyes was different than he expected. Before he could rise, the other newcomer stumbled to his feet, wringing his hands.

"M-my name is Jarek. I have opened a small apothecary near the east gate. Potions, salves, herbs. Nothing special compared to you, masters, but I hope to contribute."

His voice wavered, and when he finished, the room answered with polite but faint applause. Yet Jarek was not finished. From his side he produced a small box and presented it to the merchant leader.

"Please accept this small gift from me to the guild."

The director accepted Jarek's offering with a glance toward the thin man beside him. The man stepped forward, took the box, and opened it for all to see. Inside lay a gleaming bracelet of gold, set with glittering gems.

'So this is what they expect of new shopkeepers… a tribute?'

"Pathetic. It always comes down to money with these lesser beings. Look at that sniveling human, bowing before the guild director like a dog."

Aburdon's disdain was clear. The other merchants, however, smiled knowingly, as if this ritual were an initiation they had all endured. Soon their eyes turned toward Rusty.

"You never said I would have to give them something…"

Rusty's voice was low and something only his guides could hear. Aburdon responded with a cackle.

"You never asked. And how would I know the ways of you lesser beings?"

"Sorry, Rusty. I underestimated how greedy these people would be. I am sure you have something in your storage. Just make sure to draw it from your satchel so no one notices."

Alexander's tone was apologetic, but not all was lost. Rusty's storage system held more than enough, even a few items of value. It seemed wasteful to part with them, but he had no choice.

"I don't have any accessories like that one… This is probably the most valuable thing I can offer…"

Rusty reached into the satchel at his side, letting his gloved hand linger longer than necessary. The gesture gave the impression of careful selection, as though he were weighing treasures rather than silently summoning the piece he had already chosen. When his hand emerged, it revealed something far larger than anyone expected.

Its crimson surface gleamed with a faint light, and beneath the chandelier glow the metal seemed to ripple like flame. The edge was thick, rimmed with silver etchings that pulsed softly, alive with enchantment. Rusty set it down on the long table before him, and the hall fell silent.

"A buckler?"

Someone muttered under their breath.

"Is that all?"

Another voice dismissed it without seeing its worth.

"That metal looks uncommon…"

A third speaker's tone carried more curiosity than doubt. Rusty straightened his cape and lifted his chin, trying to imitate the poise of the other merchants.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

"This is a humble token from my forge made by Master Oswald. Please, accept it."

The room awoke with hushed whispers. Several merchants leaned forward, brows arched in interest. One man finally stepped out from the group. He was older, with the look of a craftsman rather than a merchant. Taking the buckler into his hands, he studied it closely, tracing the silver etchings with calloused fingers before speaking.

"Well-processed crimson steel, two enchantments, lesser mana shield and lesser durability. Refined work. Not bad."

"If Master Drexel says so, then it must be good."

Another merchant whispered as the buckler was taken by Drexel. He did not bring it to their leader as the tall man just nodded. Rusty kept his gaze focused on the red buckler, something that he had just recently made with a new alloy. It was quite a waste of resources but he could still recreate it once he had enough base resources.

"A fine gift. Unexpected… but fine. The Living Metal Forge, was it? Your craft speaks for itself."

Drexel, the broad-shouldered man beside him, gave a grunt, his scarred fingers drumming on the table.

"Enchantments of this quality at half the price…"

The man mumbled to himself, but most people did not catch what he was saying. Soon the three main merchants sat down, and the group's discussion began. Rusty leaned back and listened. As someone who had opened a store less than two months ago, this was eye-opening. The humanoids spoke quickly, and it became clear they were shrewd.

Rusty folded his hands over the head of his cane, silent and still. The talk around him was chaotic at first, and he struggled to follow it, but soon he realized the group was a valuable source of information.

"Caravan routes are changing again. Bandits have set up near the western hills."

"If the tariffs rise by even one more coin, I will stop selling through the city altogether."

"Bah, you would never give up that profit. Do not bluff."

The men were discussing the flow of resources in and out of the city. By being here, Rusty had the chance to secure good deals and learn what these merchants needed. The mention of bandits caught his attention. If they were hoarding stolen goods, that might create an opportunity for him. He listened with interest.

"They took my shipment of mana crystals. What am I supposed to do now? Those blasted adventurers would rather stay in the dungeon than risk their lives outside the city borders."

"What about the guards or the mercenaries?"

"Hah, you know how they are. Not worth the coin. They would probably steal half the shipment for themselves."

"That may be true. They have grown brazen lately, but I am sure the lord will take care of them eventually. We should just wait."

Bandits often lived in hidden caves or abandoned fortresses. People became bandits for many reasons. Some were disgraced knights, others were adventurers who had been caught killing, and many were deserters from military conflicts. All of them were combatants who could not survive in normal society and turned to preying on ordinary people. Clearing them out was usually the responsibility of nobles and their armies, but for some reason the noble who governed this city showed little interest in dealing with them.

"I wouldn't be surprised if that bastard was involved with the bandits."

Alexander murmured inside Rusty's helmet. He had known this man in his past and had never considered him trustworthy. Accusing a noble of working with bandits was dangerous, however. If he spoke such words openly and someone reported him, he could be imprisoned or even executed. Still, the thought gave him a lead worth checking. His progress had stalled lately, and a bandit encampment might be the perfect place to gain strength.

'It isn't that far away. If I use my skill, I should reach it in no time.'

table class="chapter-table"

tbody

tr

td

pstrongElemental Meld L4/strong/p

/td

td

pstrongActive Skill/strong/p

/td

td

pstrongAllows the user to merge with the elements they are attuned to. Unless a certain elemental density threshold is reached, this skill won't be able to function correctly./strong/p

/td

/tr

/tbody

/table

Since his visit to the barbarian camp he had been cautious about using Elemental Meld for travel, but the skill continued to improve as he relied on it within the dungeon to hide from other adventurers. With it he could move quickly in a straight line, although he could not bring Gleam along. Fortunately, she had grown swift enough to catch up with him on her own.

The guild meeting stretched late into the evening. Wine cups emptied, roasted meats dwindled, and the musicians returned to their instruments, filling the background with softer tunes. Some merchants lingered and spoke with one another, but the official business concluded when the guild director rose from his seat and offered a final word.

"Our circle remains strong. May your ledgers be filled and your store shelves emptied by eager hands. Until the next quarter, my friends."

The crowd began to disperse, and it was clear the gathering was over. Rusty remained seated, motionless except for the slight tilt of his head as he observed the subtle exchange of favors, coins, and promises. None of it involved him. The merchants did not seem to value his presence, as not one of them had offered him a deal.

As the hall emptied, a man approached his bench. Rusty recognized him as one of the younger merchants who had avoided his eyes earlier. The man glanced around before lowering his voice.

"Master Edmund, the guild director requests your presence. Better not keep him waiting."

Rusty adjusted the fur-lined cape and tapped his cane softly against the polished floor as he rose. At that moment he wished he could discard the costume that was clearly unsuited to the occasion, but for now he had to maintain appearances.

"Very well."

The man did not walk with him. He simply pointed toward a narrow stairwell behind the main hall. Rusty ascended alone, his steps slow and boots clacking against the wood. The corridor above was quiet, lined with closed doors. At the far end, bright candlelight shone before the last room, the one marked with the guild director's title.

'Even this plaque looks expensive.'

He had noticed a discrepancy. Most of the merchants did not appear wealthy, yet their leader dressed with extravagance. The difference between the shopkeepers and their director was striking.

"It is me, Edmund. The director wanted to see me?"

He knocked on the door and waited.

"Ah, Mister Edmund, please come in."

At the sound of the voice, he entered. The door swung silently, and once inside he noticed several things. The director sat behind a large dark oak desk, but he was not alone. In a broad chair sat the older man named Drexel, and by the wall stood two guards who looked far stronger than the pair of hired muscle Rusty had dealt with earlier.

The director's smile returned as Rusty stepped inside, but Drexel did not waste time on pleasantries. His scarred hand tapped once against the armrest before he spoke.

"You've got a skilled blacksmith, boy. That buckler wasn't the work of some apprentice tinkering in a back alley. It was the work of a craftsman. But your prices are too low."

Rusty tilted his head slightly.

"Too low?"

Drexel leaned forward, the chair straining under his muscular frame.

"Yeah. I'll forgive you this time since you seem new, but try undercutting me again and I'll…"

Before he could finish, the guild director stopped scribbling on his parchment and raised his hand.

"That's enough, Master Drexel. Try not to scare off our new business partner. You always do this."

The blacksmith held his tongue and turned away in indignation.

"I apologize for my associate. He can be a little rough around the edges, but…"

The director licked his lips and set aside his quill.

"He speaks the truth. We can't have stores undercutting each other. It ruins the balance of our association."

"Balance?"

Rusty repeated the man's words. The truth was that he didn't really understand how any of this worked. All he wanted was to sell his items and blend in. The resources he earned went into buying better metal and improving his frame.

"You must understand, Mister Edmund. This is not about you. It is about the circle. We have worked hard to maintain harmony in this city. If one smith begins selling weapons and armor for half the price, what happens? Chaos. Dissension. Perhaps even violence. And we would not want violence to spread through our settlement, would we?"

The man smiled, but Rusty could tell this was no request. The two guards standing by the wall looked ready to move at a moment's notice, and it was clear these people would not take a refusal lightly…