Commerce Emperor

Chapter Forty-Seven: The Return (+ Book 2's launch on Kindle)

- Previous Volume's Summary

Chosen as the Merchant Hero, who can buy and sell anything, Robin Waybright has successfully brought back his hometown of Snowdrift from the brink and prevented its destruction at the hands of the Knot of Wrath. However, his ally and fellow Hero, the Knight-prince Roland, requests his help in defeating his usurper uncle as a civil war engulfs Archfrost.

To put an end to Archfrost’s wounds, Robin and his allies travel to the secessionist region of Walbourg, where they meet the Priest, the Druid and the Cavalier; the latter’s death in battle results in her mark passing on to Alaire, Countess of Snowdrift, who finally renounces her title to become the wandering knight she hoped to be. During this time, Eris the Wanderer reveals her identity as the repentant human half of Daltia, the Devil of Greed; whose long-term plot to create an artifact of human souls threatens all of Pangeal.

Though a peace treaty is signed and unifies Archfrost once more, the seeds of war have bloomed; Belgoroth, the Lord of Wrath, is unleashed upon the world in a deluge of fire. A cataclysmic battle begins, where the gathered Heroes suffer wounds and losses; but their clever planning lets them prevail by destroying the Lord of War’s prized sword, stripping him of his immortality and imprisoning his malevolent soul. For the first time in seven centuries, a Demon Ancestor has been destroyed for good.

With Archfrost now free of conflict and ready to heal its wounds, Robin and his allies travel to the Deadgate to honor the Alchemist Colmar’s last request before he passes on. Robin, the Monk Soraseo–who has been revealed to be a lost princess of the distant Shinkoku Empire, Marika the Artisan, Eris and Mirokald the Hunter decide to travel together to hunt down the Devil Coins and put an end to Daltia’s scheme.

Commerce was the art of turning ephemeral desires into tangible reality.

“Excellent,” I said upon examining the crate’s contents. “This will sell for over ten times the price.”

“Ten times?” my fellow merchant Morad, a tuskman twice my size and more fur than charm. “I don’t see the difference with my old wares. It’s just fur.”

“And that’s where you’re wrong.” I grabbed a beaver skin mantle from the crate, exquisitely crafted by artisans I’d personally empowered. “It’s no longer fur, but a high-quality piece of clothing beloved by noblewomen far and wide. Something they will purchase with gold rather than the silver your current partners pay you with.”

I suppressed a sigh. I wished I could just trade away my business skills as I did my tannery and embroiling ones. This would have made explaining how Riverland merchants ripped off their beastmen suppliers much easier.

Morad wasn’t especially stupid—he was actually quite the crafty adventurer from what I gathered from our discussions—but he lacked the necessary understanding of human culture to fully develop his business. Most beastman had no need for clothing since their natural fur protected them from the elements well enough. They sold animal skins hunted in the north because southern traders wanted them, but they lived too far away from the final customer in the chain to understand why.

“Human merchants pay you ten silver per beaver skin, and their clothing guild masters sell the mantles made from them at sixty gold a coat,” I explained. “How? Because a man who wants to buy a mantle for his wife isn’t buying the fur. He’s paying for prestige, affection, and self-confidence. You’re selling goods when you ought to sell an idea. True ancestral beastman craftsmanship.”

Morad snorted in disbelief. “There is no ancestral beastman craftsmanship. We make stuff that works, not things that look pretty.”

“But pretty sells better than plain,” I retorted. “If you don’t have a craftsmanship culture, then invent one. You need to differentiate your tribe’s goods from those sold by your competitors in the Riverland Federation. When a customer sees your mantles, they must instantly recognize that they were created by the esteemed beastmen from Greybeach; a name that will soon be associated with quality and exoticism.”

Morad crossed his arms and pondered my words for a moment. The workshop became almost silent, except for the sound of Little Benicio’s flasks as he dragged resins out of a cupboard and applied them to a sleigh which he had built himself. Colmar’s journal and its chemical blueprints lay open on a nearby workbench.

The people of Greybeach had been kind enough to lend us this facility during our stay in their hamlet, and Marika used her power to improve it quite a bit since. The previously small space had become a large warehouse filled with wooden benches, shelves, and even its own fireplace. The adjacent building possessed its own furnace too, which greatly enhanced production.

Crates filled with products meant to be shipped to the Riverland Federation littered the ground: beaver skin mantles, pearl necklaces, metalwork, and other housewares. A fortune’s worth of luxury goods that would satisfy the southern cities’ refined greed.

“You humans don’t have your priorities straight,” Morad said with a shrug. “But if people are willing to buy these coats at sixty gold instead of ten silver, who am I to judge?”

“I would start with selling them at half that price at Tradewind’s markets,” I suggested. “A lower price will let you quickly carve out a clientele, but too low of a price usually signals bad quality.”

“And the metalware?” Morad asked as he reviewed a crate’s contents. “The southerners buy our pearls and skins in bulk because they can’t fetch them themselves, but they don’t need us to make those.”

“There’s a large market for ironmongery and pewter goods, and it is best for your town to diversify while it still can,” I warned him. “The fur trade is booming right now because current Riverland Federation fashion puts a high value on fur, but these trends are like tides. They come and go, and if you don’t return to shore in time they’ll sweep you away into the depths.”

“Ah, I understand.” Morad stroked his mustache. It astonished me that tuskmen could grow them with their snouts. “We should open many wells in case the big one dries up.”

A familiar, bestial laughter echoed throughout the workshop as its door swung open. “I’m surprised you know what a well is, Morad!”

I smiled upon seeing Mirokald the Hunter enter the workshop, closely followed by Marika and Soraseo. Benicio immediately left his sleigh behind to embrace his mother in a warm hug.

“I thought you were wasting your time with this one, Robin,” Mirokald said with a chuckle. “Morad has more of a nose for beavers than commerce.”

“Says the yeti who can’t find anything without his power,” Morad joked back. “What do you have to show for your trip this time, old friend?”

“Gold, of course.” Mirokald flipped a familiar, skull-faced coin at me. “And adamantine.”

I caught the Devil Coin in midair and swiftly checked it. Though its reddish eyes continued to disturb me, I was happy to see the cursed artifact back into our hands. Eris would be pleased.

“Did you slay another demon to get this one?” I asked with a smile. “The last one gave us quite the trouble.”

Soraseo shook her head. “We found that one at the bottom of a purse, my friend. The owner…” She frowned. “Do you say owner when talking about money? I do not remember.”

“Money only has spenders,” I teased her. “But continue…”

“The purse’s owner didn’t know the coin’s value,” Soraseo replied while adroitly sidestepping the grammatical issue. “Someone else paid him with it.”

“The man was a trader provisioning Banefort Island to the east,” Mirokald said, his arms crossed in deep thought. “He was crossing the Autumn Sea on his way to Tradewind when we intercepted him. You should have seen his face when he saw your flying ship coming down on him."

“I can imagine,” I replied. The First Generation wished they had an airship to hunt down Devil Coins with.

Mirokald’s Hunter Class let him find what he was looking for, and the Colmar could travel quickly to nearly any location. Combining both let us efficiently track down the Devil Coins hidden across the Autumn Sea. We had already collected five and dispatched two demons with Soraseo’s help in less than a week’s time; a record number.

However, I’d begun to notice a strange pattern that left me somewhat concerned.

“Can you fetch me a map, Beni?” I asked my new assistant. Beni obediently grabbed the item from the drawer without a word. The boy still struggled with his muteness, though I’d heard him whisper a word now and then. The sound of his voice brought his mother to tears each time she heard it.

I unfurled the map and started drawing crosses on it based on where we’d found the Devil Coins, then pointed at their original destinations and through which places they had transited. Lines and arrows formed around the Autumn Sea; all of them pointing towards a single direction.

“You’ve noticed it too, Robin,” Mirokald said. He must have gathered as much from his power over the last few days. “These cursed coins were all moving to the southeast when we intercepted them."

I nodded sharply. “Two or three would be a coincidence, but five is a pattern.”

“Is Daltia pulling them away from the Autumn Sea because she knows we are hunting them?” Marika wondered.

I stroked my chin as I checked the map and then shook my head. “I would be flattered if the Devil of Greed feared us so much, but her coins would have spread out across the region in that case. Instead, they all seem to be converging towards a single spot.”

“It could be a feint,” Soraseo suggested. “A distraction to lure us out.”

“Could be,” I conceded. “But these coins are literally pieces of Daltia’s soul. Each one she loses to us brings her closer to defeat, and the further they’ve spread apart, the harder our task. She wouldn’t try to gather them together without a damn good reason.”

And I could think of a few. My gut told me that a storm of some kind was brewing.

We had spent the last few days undecided on our next destination. Though Soraseo wished to return home, we couldn’t exactly ignore reports of the Shadow of Envy’s activities in the Arcadian Freeholds. Word of Belgoroth’s final defeat had caused his colleague and the Knots to go underground, but Mr. Fronan indicated in his letters that it was only a matter of time before they resurfaced. I also contacted one of the known world’s largest publishers in the Everbright Empire to fulfill Colmar’s last request of having his journal distributed far and wide.

So many problems to address with so few hands. I was starting to wonder why the Artifacts didn’t create more than twenty-two Heroes. This world needs hundreds of us.

I shook my head and banished these thoughts from my mind. I had to show more trust in my colleagues’ abilities. If my group managed to defeat the Lord of Wrath for good—a feat which even the First Generation failed to do—then my fellow heroes could handle the Shadow and their like.

I knew which Demon Ancestor I should focus on.

Whatever chaos the Shadow of Envy sowed in the Arcadian Freeholds, it paled before the Devil of Greed’s plan to create a fifth Artifact shaped from human souls. Her coins gathering couldn’t mean anything good for the world.

“We need to investigate,” I decided after furling the map. “Follow the trail wherever it leads.”

Marika scowled. “You think this could be related to her Artifact project?”

“I hope not, but we’ve never been that lucky,” I replied with a grim expression before turning to Mirokald. “Would you mind traveling south with us for a while? Your power would help us greatly in tracking down the remaining coins.”

“Can’t see my people prosper if a demon enslaves us all, can I?” Mirokald shrugged. “Morad and the others already know where the mineral deposits are, so they don’t need my presence anymore.”

“We never needed it at all,” Morad joked. Mirokald lightly slapped him in the back of the head for his trouble, much to the tuskman’s amusement. “We’ll miss you though.”

“I know,” Mirokald replied with a crooked smirk. “There’s no way I’m leaving Old-Ma behind, however. She’ll need more room to fit in that flying ship of ours.”

“Are you sure?” I asked with some amusement and a great deal of concern. “She would be the first stonetusk to fly leagues above the ground.”

“And she’ll love it,” Mirokald reassured me. “Old-Ma is a tough beast. I’ve never seen anything that could faze her.”

“I could add some space on the Colmar for her,” Marika mused before winking at me. “How many crates do you plan to bring along, Robin?”

“Do you even need to ask?” I lightly patted the nearest one, which overflowed with ivory, pearls, and other luxury goods. “As much as the Colmar can carry."

Our cargo would sell for a fortune in the southern markets.

Now that we had a plan in mind, we soon split up to prepare for our trip. Mirokald and Morad left to settle their affairs with the town’s tribal council, Marika and Benicio moved back to the Colmar to set space aside for Old-Ma, and Soraseo helped the local tuskmen load our supplies onto the ship.

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As for myself, I ran a detailed inventory of what we could expect to sell on our way. In total, the Colmar would carry five hundred fur coats, five hundred pearls, one hundred raw gemstones harvested from Mirokald’s hidden deposits, five hundred pounds of ivory, ten tons of ironmongery, and one hundred-fifty logs of timber.

Since I intended to sell the fur coats at thirty gold coins, I expected a profit of around twelve thousand gold coins after factoring in the usual tariffs on these goods. Gemstone prices crashed lately after Stoneland goods flooded the market, but I could easily earn fifteen to twenty thousand gold from our chest’s contents. By contrast, the price of pearls went up to a record five hundred coins per piece since the embargo on Seukaian goods starved the south of its supply, so our chest’s worth of them could sell at twenty-five thousand. I expected a similar return on our ivory investment.

By contrast, I doubted we would make more than six hundred gold from the one hundred logs of timber and the ten tons of ironmongery we would also take with us. Southern shipyards might pay more for the former if we ever visited them, but not by much. At least it would pay for our provisions and runestone fuel.

If I’ve counted correctly, we could earn around ninety-thousand gold coins from our total cargo, down to eighty depending on local tariffs in the Riverland Federation and Everbright Empire, I calculated in my head. The latter two nations were the only ones close and wealthy enough to afford these purchases. Quite the hefty war chest to split between us. Alaire’s estate earned a quarter of that amount before I came to Snowdrift, and that was in a year’s time.

All of these expected profits were purely theoretical for now. I doubted I would find enough buyers with deep enough pockets for all the pearls, ivory, and gemstones in a single transaction, and unloading them all at once would crash local market prices. I was better off selling smaller quantities in individual ports and using the profits to buy imperishable goods to sell over at our next destination.

I already knew where I would invest my excess funds. I heavily believed in the soundstone project and building a facility capable of producing it would demand quite the hefty gold infusion.

Once I’d finished running the inventory, I left the warehouse to tour Greybeach’s marketplace one last time in case I’d missed a good deal. I wanted to leave this place without any regrets.

I stepped outside on melting summer snow and walked among robust wooden cottages. Warm light spilled out from their windows and cast a cozy glow on the snow-covered streets as I walked among them. Tuskmen swept snow off their roofs while the seaside wind blanketed their walls. A few—the younger among them in particular, who had never seen humans—sent me strange glances now and then, though I didn’t feel any particular malice from them anymore. The locals had been quite reserved when we first arrived, but Mirokald’s support and the services we’d provided since earned us their tolerance, if not their respect.

A shame we had to leave so soon. I had grown fond of Greybeach over the last few days. This small town, located on the shores of the Autumn Sea which separated the northern lands from the Riverland Federation, was the easternmost beastman settlement in the region. The locals regularly traveled south-east to trade fur and other raw materials to human merchants.

Which made it the perfect commercial hub to foster the beastmen’s economic development.

I’d spent the last few days teaching locals how to diversify and improve their production, either by infusing clothes with the necessary skills or personally guiding aspiring merchants like Morad today. I was cautiously optimistic about the town’s prospects. Give it ten years, and I could see it become a key production center for all of eastern Pangeal.

We had done our part in improving its infrastructure over the last few days as well. I bequeathed Greybeach’s people skill clothes to train their future craftsmen with; Soraseo taught them advanced metalworking techniques, and Marika built furnaces for them to use alongside diving suits to increase their pearl harvests’ yield; even Benicio contributed by helping his mother improve local sleigh designs so the beastmen would have an easier time transporting raw material across the icy wasteland. The gemstone and metal deposits Mirokald found would surely fuel the flames of beastmen industry over the next decades.

Of course, since any work deserved payment, I’d asked for us to be paid in production surplus. The lion’s share of our cargo came from this transaction, alongside what we’d purchased from our own pockets.

If Roland and Therese govern wisely, their neighbors will use their new resources to make goods rather than weapons. I didn’t have too many fears on that front. The letters that Alaire sent me from Snowdrift indicated that Archfrost was finally taking steps towards making peace with beastmen tribes under Selestine’s auspices. The Priest spent most of her time serving as an intermediary between the two factions, and Alaire spent her days hunting Zharkov’s remaining marauders in hopes of capturing them. I hope all these efforts will pay off.

I would likely be dead long before I could see the seeds I’d planted bloom, but the thought of my homeland achieving long-term peace with its ancestral enemies gave me life.

The crash of waves echoed nearby as I walked closer to the rocky shore. A few trees and bushes broke through the melting snow here and there, adding some green to a palette of white. The port bustled with life with the waning cold, with small boats docking along the wooden pier. A few carried tuskmen pearl-hunters wearing Marika’s diving suits, much to my amusement; these devices helped fill out our own reserve.

By contrast, the presence of waterkin fishermen among them left me somewhat anxious. One of their tribes sided with Belgoroth’s forces during the Archfrost civil war and nearly routed us back then. Mirokald insisted that Greybeach’s inhabitants were a peaceful lot, but I’d always sensed a feeling of distance whenever I tried to engage with the waterkin in conversation. I’d attempted to make small talk with a few, asking them about life underwater, if they had ever visited other countries, what they liked… I’d tried to broach a hundred subjects, and nine times out of ten they answered me with a croak and blank stare.

“Did you expect a frog to think like you, Robin?” Mirokald had laughed at me when I reported my troubles to him once. “Most use sound frequencies that you humans can’t even hear to communicate, so you’d have better luck engaging a mute-deaf in conversation. Besides, these guys spend most of their lives underwater and only surface to trade with us now and then. Land struggles hardly matter to them.”

A good merchant should be able to talk to everyone and anyone, but I draw a blank at how to communicate with these people. The Knots managed to do it well enough to secure their assistance in battle, so I knew it was possible. Mirokald tells me they have cities underwater. Perhaps I should take a diving suit and visit them one day, or use a soundstone to translate their language.

A familiar sound next to me, followed by the sudden appearance of a small cloud and white mist, drew me out of my thoughts.

“Is that a deerskin mantle you’re wearing, handsome?” Eris asked as she pulled her arm around mine. “Won’t the beavers be jealous?”

“I’m an equal opportunity customer,” I replied with a chuckle, my breath visible in the cold air. That, and the beastmen avoided overhunting local fauna to preserve their environment. Fewer beavers resulted in more floods. “Is that ermine you’re wearing?”

“You like it?” She put a hand over her coat, whose white texture fit well with her long black hair. “This was a personal gift from Lady Alexios herself.”

“Did she bless it?” I joked. “Can it heal wounds on contact?”

“Yes, but only for people I like,” she replied with the same tone and a wink. “So you better behave."

I smiled and kissed her on the cheek. “I’ve missed our banter, Eris.”

She raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in her gaze. “Only our banter?”

“And the rest of the package, of course,” I teased her before waving a hand at the marketplace. “Would you join me on this last promenade across this beautiful village? We’re planning on leaving soon.”

“You are, at long last?” This didn’t seem to surprise Eris. In fact, a slight scowl soon formed on her fair face. “It’s about my other self, isn’t it?”

I nodded grimly. It saddened me to ruin her mood this way, but she deserved to know the truth. “Have you sensed anything?”

“Somewhat.” Eris bit her lower lip, her Wanderer mark’s silver lining reflecting the sunlight. “I sense her presence at the edge of my mind while I sleep lately. She calls out to me in my dreams, begging me to join her.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know.” Eris avoided my gaze. “I didn’t answer.”

I couldn’t fault her for it. For all we knew, doing so might open her up to the Devil of Greed’s influence.

“Her coins are moving south on their own,” I warned my girlfriend. “We can’t tell where exactly, but my gut tells me she’s gathering them somewhere.”

Eris confirmed my fears soon enough. “Arcane Abbey spies reported that many demons have started to migrate to the southeast for reasons we couldn’t glean yet. Lady Alexios asked me to investigate.”

“We’re already on the case.” I took her hand into my own, squeezing it in spite of the tension in them. I knew how deeply the prospect of dealing with her demonic self frightened Eris. “You don’t have to join us if you don’t want to.”

“You are kind, Robin, but I can’t avert my eyes forever.” Eris looked at the cloudy sun with resolve. “She is me, and I am her. I have to see this through.”

“Not alone,” I reassured her. “We’ll be there with you. I’ll be there with you.”

Eris smiled at me, then silently kissed me on the cheek. Her lips warmed me up on this cold summer day, but I could still sense her distress underneath. She had spent most of her new life running away from her past crimes, and now she would have to confront them personified.

The best I could do for now was to lift her spirit, which I did by guiding her to Greybeach’s marketplace. Stands and taverns stood along the docks, the smoke from chimneys mixing with the light mist partially obscuring the Autumn Sea. The Colmar was docked near a pier like any other ship, its wings waiting to take flight at our signal. It made for quite an imposing picture next to smaller boats.

“I bear good and bad news, handsome,” Eris changed the subject as we browsed the stalls. A tuskman offered us warm egg cakes filled with squid, which we gladly purchased for a handful of copper. “Which ones would you like to hear first?”

“Can you alternate between them?” I asked half-seriously after biting into my cake. “To help me keep a tepid, balanced mood?”

“Isn’t tepid just another word for bland?” Eris teased me with a chuckle. “I’ll start with the good news then. Lady Alexios agreed to release the Alchemist mark back into the wild today.”

“What took her so long?” I asked with a frown. It had been over a week since Colmar’s final death, and I would have expected the Fatebinder to release his mark back into the world immediately after our friend passed on.

“Lady Alexios wished to confirm that exposure to Belgoroth’s essence and the Deadgate hadn’t compromised the mark somehow,” Eris replied. “That, and she wondered whether releasing it so soon was wise.”

I scoffed. At least two Demon Ancestors were active and the others might break out of their seals at any time. “I would say our current situation warrants all the bodies we can throw at it.”

“Silly Robin, marks select the best candidates first and lower their standards with each death.” Eris glanced at my hand, and the coin symbol hidden beneath my glove. “Cycling through so many Heroes in a single generation’s time is exceptional because each replacement is worse than the last. We aren’t finding a century-old master alchemist of Colmar’s standing again anytime soon, if ever.”

“Not to mention that we waste time training and organizing the new Heroes, I suppose,” I guessed. “Still, the Demon Ancestors are rising one after another, and Belgoroth’s defeat didn’t put an end to their threat. We can hardly wait ten years for a good Alchemist candidate to appear.”

Eris’ expression noticeably darkened. “If only that mark was the only cause for concern.”

My jaw clenched. Her prophesied bad news was just around the corner. “What’s going on?”

“I have discussed a certain matter with Lady Alexios at length, and we both agreed that we required your help to see it through.” Eris gathered her breath. “It’s about Mersie.”

I stopped dead in the middle of the walkway, which caused a surprised waterkin to accidentally bump into me. He croaked angry words at me in a language I didn’t understand, then leaped around us.

I hadn’t heard her name in months.

“Mersie?” I repeated in disbelief.

“Mersie,” Eris confirmed with a slight snort. “Yes, believe me when I say that discussing how to track down your ex is awkward for us both.”

That was one way to put it. Mersie and I left on amicable terms, but we still shared some unresolved tension. I’d committed to Eris since and wasn’t particularly looking to bring in more baggage into my new relationship.

Moreover, Mersie had left Snowdrift while consumed with hatred. She was aiming to move to Erebia the last time we met in order to pursue the last living assassin of her family, a retired cultist called Chronius.

“She failed her quest?” I guessed. “Chronius was already dead, and now she has nothing left to live for?”

“Oh no, he’s very much alive. Our dear Mersie is bound to find him at this point and is determined to do so.” Eris let out a sigh. “And once she does, either one will kill the other or they’ll both perish. None of these outcomes will work in our favor.”

Her wording raised an eyebrow. “None of them?” I repeated. “Not even if Mersie slays Chronius?”

“No, it won’t help us.” Eris scratched her cheek, her eyes deep in thought. “Chronius is… How to put it…”

I waited for her to find her words when I noticed a light rising to the southwest.

Mount Erebia, as befitting of the mountain where the Goddess once descended to create the world, could be seen from nearly anywhere in Pangeal. There the Fatebinder oversaw the Arcane Abbey’s destiny and the safety of the Heroes’ marks. All had been attributed, save for one.

A silver star rose from the mountain’s top and surged across Pangeal’s skies.

While Greybeach’s beastmen immediately gathered near the shore to take a better look at a chorus of shouts and croaks, I held my breath in solemn silence. My friend Colmar’s mark was finally returning to the world in search of a new holder.

“Who do you think the new Alchemist will be?” Eris asked with a mischievous smirk. “I’m betting on some recluse who hasn’t seen the light of day in years.”

“I’m an open-minded person,” I replied as my eyes trailed after the silver star. “But I would take almost anyone over Florence of Arcadia.”

Thankfully, the Alchemist’s mark appeared to agree with my assessment. The silver star copiously avoided Archfrost and instead moved in a completely different direction.

Namely, ours.

I watched in astonishment as the Vassal Hero’s mark aimed straight for the Autumn Sea, and then utter disbelief when it started to descend upon Greybeach’s region specifically. The irony amused me slightly.

“This mark seems intent on selecting beastmen bearers,” I mused. “First Colmar, now someone from here.”

“It seeks a soul marked by tragedy and disaster,” Eris replied softly. “The Alchemist represents transformation, upheaval, and sudden change. This class always finds a home in broken ones taught by adversity. The smarter the better.”

I tried to think of anyone I’d met in the town who would fit these criteria and drew a blank. A week wasn’t long enough to learn a thousand souls’ personal stories. The silver star’s trajectory bent towards the docks.

Towards the Colmar.

My eyes and those of Eris widened in recognition. We immediately ran towards our airship before the crowd of beastmen could do the same. This could be a mere coincidence and cosmic irony—Colmar’s old mark seeking someone near his namesake—but my mind and instincts put forward a candidate that would fit Eris’ description twice over; a broken soul marked by terrible tragedy.

The marks chose candidates according to their own whims and anyone would be found wanting as an Alchemist in Colmar’s shadow. Could his old Class select someone who had no business being anywhere near a battlefield merely because they had great untapped potential?

It wouldn’t dare! I rushed towards our airship as fast as my legs could carry me. Goddess, please choose someone else!

The silver star hit the area near the Colmar in a flash of bright light, crushing my hopes.

In stark contrast with the shouts of the beastmen crowd along the dock, an eerie silence had fallen upon our airship’s pier. Soraseo, Mirokald, and a handful of beastmen surrounded Little Benicio, who lay on the ground on his back, his skin paler than chalk. Marika examined her son’s left hand with a mouth open in disbelief and eyes wide with horror.

A silver symbol glowing on Benicio’s skin: a flask bound inside a snake eating its own tail and marked with the Erebian number for sixteen.

I’d said that I would take nearly anyone else over Florence of Arcadia for our new Alchemist. I now cursed my willy tongue. The Goddess had heard my prayer and turned it into a cosmic joke of epic proportions.

Benicio Lunastello, a mute, traumatized boy not even a decade old, was our new Alchemist.

I was short on witty words, and could only come up with one.

“Shit,” I said.

A/N

Hi guys, I released this chapter today instead of yesterday to coincide with the launch of Commerce Emperor's second volume (following the civil war arc all the way to the final battle with Belgoroth) on Kindle and Kindle Unlimited(and thus avoid a double-post). As usual, I would like to thank you all for supporting this book during its creation.

Link: /amazon/B0CWHJV1B5

Like always, I would appreciate any review on Amazon or anyone's help in spreading word of the launch, especially since the first volume didn't sell all that well and the next book will be the trilogy's last.

See you soon,

Voidy.