"Master, your son wishes to speak with you…" the supervisor bowed low and his hands were folded neatly before him.
Rembrant did not immediately respond. He was seated behind a broad oak desk that was polished by years of restless fingers and sleepless nights.
The window behind him overlooked the district with several rows of tiled roofs, the fluttering banners, and the wagons that were rolling past with mundane goods that kept the city breathing.
"One hour…" Rembrant said at last, "Tell him to come back in one hour."
"Yes, Master…"
The door closed and the silence soon returned.
Rembrant's gaze drifted to the small framed portrait that was resting near the corner of his desk. It was just a simple painting that was commissioned many years ago. It was a boy with bright eyes and unrefined arrogance that stared back at him.
It was his own son named Panto.
When was the last time they had spoken properly?
Rembrant could not remember. He had provided the money, the protection, and the status but as for the guidance and the supervision, there was none of that.
After all, the business had always come first. In the absence of the structure, the boy created his own hierarchy at the academy which was a petty tyrant among the weak.
Still, he took faint comfort in one thing that his son never provoked the nobles. The boy possessed enough instinct to recognize the boundaries. That instinct might yet save him.
Rembrant returned to his documents. Then, his eyes fell upon the paper that had been haunting him all morning.
It was an invitation. It was an auction that was hosted by a noble family.
All the surrounding merchants were invited. Each of them would present one item which was the most rare, exquisite, or outrageously expensive for the venue.
The event was not about the profit. It was about dominance since the reputation in the merchant circle was as fragile as the glass.
If someone did not show up or offer something, the rumors would spread. They would then have no connection, their trade routes would dry up, and they would have dealt only in common goods then.
From the rumors came the hesitation and from the hesitation came the loss.
Rembrant's fingers tightened over the parchment. He had sacrificed too much to let his standing crumble yet, he lacked a centerpiece.
Several unique items required some rare channels, the rare channels required the favors, and such favors required the leverage. However, the time was very short at the moment.
He considered the black market but purchasing an artifact there would cost more than its potential auction value. A merchant who lost money for the prestige was a fool. He as the merchant surely could not be foolish.
"Master, one hour has passed..." the man reminded.
Rembrant exhaled slowly, "Let him in..."
Panto slowly entered with surprising composure and he bowed properly. Amidst the pressure he always felt, it seemed there was a slight confident on his expression.
"Good afternoon, father. I have something to discuss on behalf of my friend."
"A friend?"
"Yes..." Panto placed a small object carefully onto the desk, "He wishes to sell this but since I cannot determine its value, I can only seek your help."
Rembrant glanced down and he then froze after looking at the item.
A translucent sphere rested upon the polished wood. The mist coiled faintly around its surface like the breath on winter glass. The cold radiated outward, not violently and not aggressively but with contained refinement.
It was an ice bead.
The item looked authentic and based on his first impression, it had high purity. Clearly, it was not a decorative trinket.
His pulse quickened. For a brief moment, the auction invitation vanished from his thoughts. Then, it returned but this time with dazzling clarity. This was not just an item. Instead, this was his savior.
He forced his breathing to steady before asking the important question, "Where did this come from? Who is your friend?"
"His name is Baston," Panto answered, "He is staying at a nearby inn. He preferred not to approach you directly."
"Why?"
"He is a fallen noble, a bastard son. He doesn't wish to attract much attention."
Rembrant leaned back. Regarding the identity as a fallen noble, that explained the quality of the item. His behavior also explained his caution.
He studied his son carefully, "Is there anything else I should know?"
Panto hesitated only slightly before continuing exactly as instructed, "He obtained the item from Zeverius Academy since the ice bead was a gift. Because he didn't have any use of this item, he asked for my help to sell it."
Rembrant's mind sharpened. He had ever heard Zeverius Academy since that place did not distribute the gifts lightly.
If the source could be traced back there, the legitimacy would be unquestionable. Still, he did not rise immediately. He looked again at the ice bead that was resting on his desk.
He reached into a drawer and withdrew a thin silver rod that was etched with some detection runes.
Casually as if adjusting the bead's position, he brushed the rod against it. The rune glowed softly, signifying that it was stable and pure with high density.
Rembrant's eyes narrowed toward such gift from Zeverius Academy. The item was plausible but such a gift implied the recognition.
Why would such academy give something of this grade to a fallen noble bastard?
He studied Panto carefully. His son avoided his gaze since there was a guilt and fear inside the heart.
"Your friend…" Rembrant said slowly, "Does he understand the value of what he is selling?"
Panto hesitated, "He knows but he doesn't seem attached to it."
The answer unsettled him more than the greed would have. A desperate man clung to his assets, a foolish man flaunted them, and a confident man discarded them strategically.
Which one was Baston as his son's friend?
He finally stood while looking at Panto, "Take me to him..."
In his mind, the auction had already shifted from the opportunity to the examination. He was really curious toward Baston. He really wanted to see and assessed the boy.
*****
When Rembrant went to the inn, he was dumbfounded.
The place was modest, too modest for Panto's friend to stay. At least, this came from noble's standard since they would likely pick the best one even though they already fell behind.
An artifact of this caliber did not belong to someone that could only stay at this type of inn.
"Why is he staying here?" Rembrant muttered.
"He chose it himself," Panto replied quickly.
Rembrant did not comment further. If the young man preferred the anonymity, perhaps it was a wise decision. They climbed the stairs and Panto knocked the door.
"Baston, my father is here…"
"Come in..."
The door opened and Rembrant stopped his steps.
The room was simple but not unguarded. Two hooded figures stood silently near the walls. They did not move and they did not speak. However, the air around them felt dense and they instilled the pressure.
Rembrant had conducted the business with the nobles before.
He had seen the real knights and the court wizards. He understood the difference between the hired muscle and the trained professionals. These two were surely not ordinary guards.
The pressure was subtle. It was not the crude intimidation but it was more disciplined.
He allowed his gaze to drift naturally across the room. The guards did not flinch and their breathing was slow plus their stance was balanced.
A fallen noble with guards of this caliber?
Either the boy had hidden backing or he was not as fallen as the rumors suggested. He smiled politely, but inside, the calculations multiplied.
If Baston truly possessed the protection of this level, then selling the ice bead was not an act of necessity.
Perhaps, he was testing the merchant class. Perhaps, he was converting his liquid assets. Or perhaps, he was probing for the allies.
Rembrant decided instantly. He would not treat this negotiation as a simple purchase. He would treat it as an introduction.
"Greetings…" he said with proper respect, "I am Rembrant, Panto's father."
The young man seated near the window rose calmly. Panto had already introduced him which was Baston. His features were composed and his expression was unreadable.
"Yes, thank you for coming…"
His voice was steady. He was not arrogant nor timid. It was just like he treated everyone equally and Rembrant liked that.
"I wish to confirm the origin of the ice bead," Rembrant said carefully, "After all, the buyers sometimes inquire about such matters."
"It was obtained from Zeverius Academy," Baston replied without hesitation, "It was a gift and I have no personal use for it. You can confirm by yourself to Zeverius Academy then."
His words had no stammer and no pause. Either he was telling the truth or he was accustomed to lying.
Of course, there was no need for lying. Judging by the strong guards, he did not need to. His strength had already implied the truth.
Rembrant smiled politely, "I understand…"
He allowed a small silence to form before presenting his proposal, "There is an upcoming auction among the regional merchants. Each of us must present a notable item. I would like a permission to place this bead in that auction."
He met Baston's eyes directly, "I believe it will fetch a higher price than a standard transaction."
The silence stretched between them. He did not rush. He wanted to see if Baston would press for the immediate numbers.
The young man eventually did not. Instead, Baston folded his hands loosely and waited. There was no impatience and bargaining tactic.
It was just stillness. That stillness unsettled him more than the aggressive negotiation would have.
Most sellers spoke first when the profit was mentioned. They revealed eagerness but this one unfortunately revealed nothing. He decided to escalate just to see more response.
"Of course…" he continued evenly, "Placing it in the auction carries risk. After all, the visibility invites much attention."
Baston replied calmly, "The attention is unavoidable for rare items. It is better to control where it gathers."
Rembrant's eyes sharpened. He did not provide a naïve answer since he gave a strategic one. This boy understood the reputation mechanics. If this was a game of posture, he would show his own strength.
Rembrant did not reach for the end immediately. Instead, he let the silence stretch one breath longer. He wanted more confirmation from the seller.
"Regarding the ice bead…" he said mildly, "If the auction draws the wrong kind of interest, will that trouble you?"
The question was vague on purpose. It was not regarding the price and the competition. It was about the interest.
"The wrong kind of interest only becomes troublesome when one lacks the preparation."
The answer had been given. It was not a bravado nor threat. It was just certainty from him.
Rembrant's eyes flicked toward the two hooded figures almost involuntarily. They had not moved once since he entered. Their stillness was a controlled restraint.
A merchant survived by reading the rooms and this room did not belong to him. He understood something then that he was small but significant. This transaction was not merely about the profit. It was more about the alignment.
If he placed the bead in the auction, the message would not only be that Rembrant possessed the rare goods. It would also be that he would also have access to some uncommon channels.
If he wished to stand taller at the auction, he would do so openly without flinching.
He reached into his inner coat. The motion was slow and deliberate. He withdrew a slim black card that was etched with faint silver veins of mana circuitry. It was not flashy and not decorative but those who understood the finance recognized its weight.
He placed it gently on the table between them. He was not sliding it forward and he was not pushing it toward Baston. He was just setting it down.
"This magic card holds ten thousand pounds," he said evenly, "Consider it as my sincerity."
He watched carefully. For the first time since the negotiation began, Baston's fingers paused mid-fold. It was only for a fraction of a second before they resumed.
It contained a surprise with his controlled reaction. Rembrant smiled inwardly since the boy was disciplined but not numb. This was real money to him and that made the alliance became meaningful.
"This is not the full price," Rembrant continued calmly, "It's merely a proof that I do not engage this transaction lightly. After all, I can't just take the item away."
Now, the posture was complete. He had shown his strength and money. He had shown his willingness to bind himself to the outcome. The next move belonged to Baston.
"Very well… I will accept this payment first. Do what you deem the best…"
Panto inhaled sharply. The battle between his father and his friend seemed very long. After everything was done, the money soon was put on the table.
A down payment of that size signaled the seriousness. It also bound both parties together. This was no longer a casual interest since it showed more about the commitment.
After the final courtesies, Rembrant and Panto departed. To his surprise, Baston insisted on escorting them.
"It would be improper not to…" Baston said lightly, "After all, you have placed your trust in me."
Rembrant studied him again. The fat boy was polite, strategic, and observant. Despite being a noble in the past, the boy really had matured early.
"I fear our home is not refined enough," Rembrant said cautiously.
"I am not easily discomforted," Baston replied.
*****
The merchant district gradually replaced the inn's narrow alleyways.
When they arrived at Rembrant's store, Baston's gaze lingered across the façade. It was expansive, structured like a miniature marketplace under one roof.
The shelves were lined with the daily necessities, the magic trinkets, and the enchanted lamps that were illuminating the display cases. Baston entered quietly, but then, a faint tremor happened.
Hidden within his robe, the old book stirred by himself. He kept his expression neutral, but inside, the anticipation surged.
The old book did not react without reason. He then wandered between the aisle before he finally allowed himself to slip the old book partially free.
The last page shimmered and the ink formed slowly. Inside his mind, he wondered what the words were.
"Let's see what kind of quest this time…"