Avon wasn't quick to anger. He had his mood under control almost always. He didn't care about the insults they threw about him and his family. However, two things would always break his great mood.
One, when his few friends are angered, and two, when he remembers that bastard he's sadly related to. His 'Father'.
But not today. Today, Avon was eager to beat all his competitors at the sparring matches. He shadow punched while smiling eagerly. To anyone else looking on, they would think the boy is insane.
Despite the fact that the sun just rose up, Avon was already sprinting towards the town plaza. He met several merchants already, selling wares to any person they find on the streets.
"Hey! Hey! You there!" An energetic voice called out, "Why not browse my wares? I have some strengthening potions and an imported Third-Grade Curate Chalk."
Avon found a sweet-looking jewel carrying some makeshift stall. He paused for a moment. 'It isn't much work and it's early anyway. Why not?'
"Sure!" Avon replied. The girl beamed at this response and laid her stall in front of him.
"I have two Second-Grade Strengthening Potions." She pointed some sparkling red flasks.
"Then, one Third-Grade Healing Potion, the Third-Grade Curate Chalk, and a sack of First-Grade Yellow Beans. What would you like?" Her pale finger strolled over the items, starting from the burgundy flask, to a small box of golden chalk, and finally landing on the sack of yellow beans.
"Ah." Avon nodded. "How much is the potion?"
"Three Mirs, please," the girl stated. Avon raised an eyebrow at this.
"Are you from the Republics? We don't use Mirs here," he chuckled. The girl's face, flabbergasted and shocked, was reddening in embarrassment.
"I am so sorry. Please do still buy them," her voice was laced in what could be assumed to be fear.
'Of course. Unauthorized merchants from the Republics were severely punished here. That tyrant duke was too strict on tariffs and what not.'
Avon smiled. "Just get me the price in Ren, why don't you?" The girl nodded and swiftly browsed a list of what seemed like conversion rates.
"1 Mir is ...," the girl, mumbling, scrolled the paper with her fingers, "5 Rens."
Her head shot up with a curt smile, "That would be 15 Rens, please."
Avon, since he was getting bored, teased the girl, "15 Rens? Isn't that too much?"
The girl's eyes widened, but immediately narrowed. "Do not dare to fool me mister." Her aura surrounding the area with contempt.
"I was just joking with you," he chuckled, "Here's the 15 Ren."
He dropped the 15 coins on the wooden stall and took the flask. He gave it an experimental swirl and was happy to find it dazzle further.
He nodded at the girl and smiled.
Avon decided that was enough fooling around and walked away. Though, not before leaving the Republican girl blushing madly at her stall.
'Maybe I'll see her at the competition,' he thought happily.
With the vision of the competition in mind, Avon walked down the now busy plaza with a flask in hand. His sessions were coming.