Altaïr did not interfere with Francesca's trading.
First, he was only there as a guide. What his employer chose to buy and how much she was willing to spend were her concern; he had no reason to meddle.
Second, Senior Francesca had far more business experience than he did. He was better off keeping his petty little tricks, the kind unfit for respectable company, to himself.
At first, Altaïr had worried that if Francesca misjudged one of the Nomads' specialty handicrafts and bought it, a flood of similar wares would immediately be thrust in front of her.
But she was exceptionally shrewd and bought only the handful of items she could personally verify. Whenever she was uncertain about something, she simply brushed it off with a curt "Not interested."
She bought four or five items in succession, and at least to Altaïr's eye, none of them appeared problematic.
Isis also performed her role as "the young lady's guard" perfectly. Whenever an ill-tempered vendor whose wares Francesca had passed over began cursing and looked ready to lose control, Isis grabbed them by the collar and tossed them out.
She had been a well-behaved child all her life and had never committed such an "excessive" act of violence, at least by her own standards. The faint thrill of guilt proved rather addictive.
Towering over the crowd, she kept a close eye on everyone pressing forward to hawk their wares. The moment anyone dared talk back to Francesca, Isis began cracking her knuckles, and the offender promptly fell into line.
Seeing that the young lady from the Northland was genuinely willing to pay good prices, quite a few people eagerly brought out their old possessions. Francesca seized the opportunity and bought a large pile. She could not make sense of most of it herself, but that did not matter; she knew a true expert.
Besides, she spent only 20,000 to 30,000z in total. To the Nomads and desert travelers, who relied primarily on barter, that was undeniably a fortune. To her, it was hardly worth mentioning.
Later, she would keep whatever she liked and foist the rest on her grandfather at a markup.
Altaïr was watching from the sidelines when Sajji suddenly jumped onto his back and whispered into his ear, "Boss, meow! I found something good, meow!"
Altaïr raised an eyebrow. After telling Isis and the others not to wander off, he followed Sajji's directions to a small stall.
The vendor was a traveling desert merchant who appeared to be in his thirties. The boxes and crates holding his wares contained a jumble of medicinal herbs, furs, low-quality gemstones, and other odds and ends.
The merchant looked slightly surprised when he saw Altaïr approaching.
He had noticed the four people causing a stir but had not joined the commotion. After all, the young lady leading them had specifically asked for "old things." He did not deal in antiques and had no intention of going over only to be turned away.
Altaïr first greeted him in the Nomads' dialect. This established that he was a local, keeping the man from mistaking him for an outsider and overcharging him.
The merchant smiled and replied in kind. After they exchanged a few pleasantries, Altaïr sounded him out. "Judging by your accent, are you from Val Habar?"
"I am," the man answered with a smile.
Altaïr began building a rapport, chatting about everything from Val Habar's spices to the Dragonship Guild Hall and the Felyne Chef's food stall.
As a traveling merchant, the man was naturally skilled at reading people. Convinced that Altaïr wanted something from him, he quietly grew more wary.
Only when Altaïr said, "You're a traveling merchant from Val Habar, so you must know Karim. He and I are good friends," did a flicker of surprise cross the man's face.
So Karim had not been boasting after all, Altaïr thought.
Karim still exchanged letters with him from time to time. The young merchant, only a few years older than Altaïr, seemed to have built a substantial business by now.
In his letters, Karim boasted that every traveling merchant in the Great Desert knew his name, especially around Val Habar, and claimed that mentioning him would open doors.
Then again, how else could an ordinary merchant have made the acquaintance of someone as exalted as the Princess?
"Just tell me what you want." Although the merchant could not be certain whether Altaïr's claim of friendship with Karim was true, his tone unconsciously became more respectful.
"I want the object in the hidden compartment at the bottom of your trunk." Altaïr stopped circling the issue and nodded toward the trunk on which the man had displayed his wares.
The merchant froze. When he looked down, he finally noticed that a corner of the object he had tucked into the hidden compartment was protruding.
It was an ancient foreign coin with a coppery-yellow sheen.
He quickly shoved the coin back inside and laughed awkwardly. "No, I can't sell this. It's my lucky gold coin."
Pretending an item had accidentally slipped into view was a common sales trick. In this case, however, the coin had not slipped out on its own. Earlier, Sajji had wandered over and crouched beside the trunk to rummage through the wares when he felt something beneath the false bottom with his paw pads.
While the merchant was not looking, Sajji used his claws to pry one corner into view. After examining it closely, he ran off to report his find to Altaïr.
"Name your price," Altaïr said with a grin.
"I really can't sell it."
"6,000z."
"Six..."
"I'm really not selling it. I've carried it with me for years."
"It hasn't made you much luckier, has it, meow?" Sajji quipped as he eyed the clearly unsuccessful merchant.
"It still means something to me..."
"If luck is supposed to help you make money, why not cut out the middleman and turn something as vague as luck into cash?" Altaïr coaxed. "With hard cash, you can buy more inventory and expand your business, right?"
The merchant fell silent.
Seeing him waver, Altaïr decided to raise the stakes. "This is a gold coin from the ancient Schrade civilization. A few still circulate on the market, so you've probably checked the going rate yourself.
"6,000z is the market price, but I genuinely like this coin. I'll give you 10,000z for it. Even a collector might hesitate to offer that much.
"With that kind of cash, your business would run much more smoothly this year, wouldn't it?"
The merchant gave a wry smile. "To be honest, you're offering a fair price, but I came across this coin by chance on the Western Continent. It was a stormy night..."
Altaïr held up a hand to stop him. He did not want to hear the man's life story.
By his own reckoning, he had already offered an extremely high price, and far too quickly at that. Jumping straight from 6,000z to 10,000z was no way to haggle.
But he genuinely wanted that ancient coin.
The reason was simple. In the journals left by Isis's parents, he had read that her mother had once given her father a gold coin of the same kind. Unfortunately, it had later been lost, and Mr. Gordon had regretted that loss for a very long time.
When Altaïr first read that passage, he had considered asking someone to find him an identical coin. Later, however, he decided that would feel too contrived and let the idea go.
Now, by sheer chance, the same kind of coin had appeared before him. The moment felt "meant to be," and he had no intention of letting the opportunity slip away.
Seeing that the merchant was still hesitating, Altaïr sweetened the deal again. "One more thing. What I said earlier about Karim and me being good friends wasn't an empty boast. I can swear by the Great Desert on that.
"I'll also write you a personal letter stating that I owe you a favor. Take it to Karim, and he'll give you some assistance."
The merchant looked up in astonishment.
For a merchant, connections were even more valuable than money.
If Altaïr's offer of 10,000z was merely wealth, then this letter of introduction could become an opportunity that changed the man's entire life.
He stared into Altaïr's eyes for several seconds. Once he was convinced that Altaïr was not trying to deceive him, the merchant gritted his teeth, nodded firmly, and agreed.
"Deal."
The moment he accepted the letter promising Altaïr's personal favor and handed over the ancient coin, the merchant felt no reluctance. Instead, a sudden realization came over him.
Perhaps this was how the "luck" embodied by the gold coin was meant to pay off.
Altaïr returned to his companions, clutching the ancient coin that had come at no small cost.
By then, most of the peddlers had dispersed. The market had not held many people to begin with, and there was little worth buying.
Noticing Altaïr's light step and excellent mood, Isis could not contain her curiosity. "Where did you go?"
"The gift I promised you." Altaïr grinned and flicked the coin toward her, sending a glint of gold arcing through the air.
Isis instinctively raised a hand to catch it, then opened her palm and looked down.
It was an ancient foreign coin with a coppery-yellow sheen and a small hole near its edge, as though someone had once worn it as a pendant. On the back, a stylized dragon motif had been polished to a faint gleam.