"Master, your son wishes to speak with you."
The supervisor bowed low, hands folded neatly before him.
Rembrant did not immediately respond.
He was seated behind a broad oak desk polished by years of restless fingers and sleepless nights.
The window behind him overlooked the merchant district with rows of tiled roofs, banners fluttering lazily, and wagons 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 resting near the corner of his desk. It was not expensive art. Just a simple painting commissioned many years ago. A boy with bright eyes and unrefined arrogance stared back at him.
It was his own son, Panto.
When was the last time they had spoken properly?
Rembrant could not remember.
He had provided money, protection, and status but as for guidance and supervision, there was none of that.
Business had always come first.
In the absence of structure, the boy created his own hierarchy at the academy.
A petty tyrant among the weak.
Still, Rembrant took faint comfort in one thing that Panto never provoked nobles. The boy possessed enough instinct to recognize 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.
An auction hosted by a minor noble family seeking to reassert its influence.
All surrounding merchants were invited. Each would present one item which was the most rare, exquisite, or outrageously expensive for them.
The event was not about profit. It was about dominance.
Reputation in the merchant circle was as fragile as glass.
One failed showing, one unimpressive offering, and whispers would spread.
He would have no connection, his trade routes would dry up, and he would have dealt only in common goods then.
From whispers came hesitation and from hesitation came loss.
Rembrant's fingers tightened over the parchment. He had sacrificed too much to let his standing crumble yet, he lacked a centerpiece.
Unique items required rare channels, rare channels required favors, and favors required leverage. 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 prestige was a fool. He as the merchant surely could not be foolish.
A knock came again, waking him back into sense.
"Master, one hour has passed."
Rembrant exhaled slowly, "Let him in."
Panto entered with surprising composure. 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."
That caught Rembrant's attention, "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.
He then froze after looking at the item.
A translucent sphere rested upon the polished wood.
Mist coiled faintly around its surface like breath on winter glass. 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.
Rembrant's 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.
"Where did this come from?" he asked quietly, "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 attention."
Rembrant leaned back.
Regarding his identity as a fallen noble, that explained the quality of the item. His behavior also explained 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. The ice bead was a gift. Since 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. That place did not distribute gifts lightly.
If the source could be traced back there, legitimacy would be unquestionable.
Rembrant did not rise immediately.
He looked again at the ice bead resting on his desk.
Cold mist curled faintly across the wood surface then dissolved without leaving moisture behind.
The containment was precise.
Whoever crafted this did not merely compress mana. They refined it beautifully.
He had handled similar items before which were lesser items forged by traveling wizards seeking quick money.
Those were unstable. They sweated frost uncontrollably. Their internal structure cracked under prolonged storage. This one did not.
He reached into a drawer and withdrew a thin silver rod etched with detection runes.
Casually as if adjusting the bead's position, he brushed the rod against it. The rune glowed softly. It was stable and pure with high density.
Rembrant's eyes narrowed.
A gift from Zeverius Academy?
That was plausible but such a gift implied recognition.
Why would an academy give something of this grade to a fallen noble bastard?
He studied Panto carefully. His son avoided his gaze, not from guilt, but from anticipation.
"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."
That answer unsettled Rembrant more than greed would have.
A desperate man clung to assets, a foolish man flaunted them, and a confident man discarded them strategically.
Which one was Baston?
Rembrant finally stood.
"Take me to him..."
In his mind, the auction had already shifted from opportunity to examination. He was really curious toward his son's friend. He really wanted to see and assessed the boy.
*****
The inn was modest, too modest for Panto's friend to stay. At least, this came from noble's standard. Rembrant frowned as they approached.
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 anonymity, perhaps that was wise. They climbed the stairs and Panto knocked the door.
"Baston, my father is here."
"Come in..."
The door opened and Rembrant stopped.
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. They instilled controlled pressure.
Rembrant had conducted business with nobles before.
He had seen real knights and actual court wizards.
He understood the difference between hired muscle and trained professionals.
These two were not ordinary guards.
There was magic in the air. It was contained and restrained but it was watching him. Rembrant adjusted his posture instinctively.
The pressure was subtle but deliberate. Not the crude intimidation of mercenaries but it was disciplined.
Rembrant allowed his gaze to drift naturally across the room. The guards did not flinch. Their breathing was slow and their stance was balanced.
One of them shifted slightly, not out of discomfort, but to improve angle. That came from training, the expensive one.
A fallen noble with guards of this caliber?
Either the boy had hidden backing or he was not as fallen as rumors suggested.
Rembrant smiled politely, but inside, calculations multiplied.
If Baston truly possessed protection of this level, then selling the ice bead was not an act of necessity. It was positioning.
Perhaps, he was testing the merchant class.
Perhaps, he was converting liquid assets.
Or perhaps, he was probing for 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. Rembrant liked that.
"I wish to confirm the origin of the ice bead," Rembrant said carefully, "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."
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 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."
Silence stretched between them.
Rembrant did not rush. He wanted to see if Baston would press for 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 Rembrant more than aggressive negotiation would have.
Most sellers spoke first when profit was mentioned. They revealed eagerness.
This one unfortunately revealed nothing. Rembrant decided to escalate.
"Of course," he continued evenly, "Placing it in the auction carries risk. After all, visibility invites attention."
It was a test. Would Baston hesitate? Would he withdraw?
Instead, Baston replied calmly, "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. He gave a strategic one.
This boy understood 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 confirmation. Not of the bead's value that he already understood.
He wanted confirmation from the seller.
"Regarding the ice bead…" Rembrant 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 price and competition. It was about interest. Baston's gaze remained steady.
"The wrong kind of interest only becomes troublesome when one lacks preparation."
The answer had been given. It was not a bravado nor threat. It was just certainty from him.
Rembrant's eyes flicked, almost involuntarily, toward the two hooded figures.
They had not moved once since he entered. Their stillness was not passive. It was controlled restraint.
A merchant survived by reading rooms and this room did not belong to him. He understood something then. He was small but significant.
This transaction was not merely about profit. It was about alignment.
If he placed the bead in the auction, the message would not only be Rembrant possessed rare goods.
It would also be Rembrant would also have access to uncommon channels.
If he wished to stand taller at the auction, he would do so openly without flinching.
Rembrant reached into his inner coat. The motion was slow and deliberate. He withdrew a slim black card etched with faint silver veins of mana circuitry.
It was not flashy and not decorative but those who understood finance recognized its weight.
He placed it gently on the table between them. He was not sliding it forward. 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. Only for a fraction of a second then they resumed.
It contained surprise with controlled reaction. Rembrant smiled inwardly. The boy was disciplined but not numb.
This was real money to him and that made the alliance meaningful.
"This is not the full price," Rembrant continued calmly, "It's merely a proof that I do not engage lightly."
Now, the posture was complete. He had shown strength and money. He had shown willingness to bind himself to the outcome. The next move belonged to Baston.
"Very well. I will accept this card 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 seriousness. It also bound both parties together. This was no longer casual interest. This was commitment.
After final courtesies, Rembrant and Panto departed. To his surprise, Baston insisted on escorting them.
"It would be improper not to…" Baston said lightly. "You have placed 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," 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.
Shelves lined with daily necessities, smaller counters for magic trinkets, and enchanted lamps illuminating display cases.
Baston entered quietly. And then, a faint tremor happened.
Hidden within his robe, the old book stirred by himself. He kept his expression neutral but inside, anticipation surged.
The old book did not react without reason. He wandered as if browsing aisle by aisle.
Rembrant watched discreetly from a distance.
The young man was not admiring expensive pieces. He was observing structure, supply lines, customer flow, and security placement.
To him, Baston's behavior was truly interesting.
Behind a shelf of dried herbs, Baston finally allowed himself to slip the old book partially free.
The last page shimmered. The ink formed slowly.
Inside his mind, he wondered what the words were.
"Let's see what kind of quest this time…"