Busca, his round face set in a cold expression, stared at Anthony's Magic Store with a sense of foreboding. Just as he turned to head back inside, he spotted a familiar figure striding down the street—a strong man clad in armor, an iron sword sheathed at his side, and a traveler's pack slung over his shoulder.
"Hey, Ayton!" Busca called out, forcing a smile as the mercenary paused and nodded back.
"Going on another mission?" Busca asked, trying to gauge Ayton's readiness. "I've had a few issues at my store lately, but I can make sure you get special treatment as a friend."
Despite the recent downturn in business, the sight of a potential customer was enticing. After all, magic scrolls were essential for hunters like Ayton, and Busca's store was one of the few places that offered them.
Ayton shook his head, a hint of amusement in his expression. "No need to worry about me; I'm all set."
"All set? With magic scrolls too?" Busca raised an eyebrow, surprised.
Ayton patted his pack. "Just picked up eleven. Should last me through a few missions."
"From Morgan's Magic Store on the next street?" Busca asked, incredulous. Eleven scrolls at five silver coins each? It didn't sound right.
"Who needs to go that far?" Ayton chuckled, his eyes glinting with mischief. "Anthony's Magic Store has a steady supply now. A scroll costs only forty-eight copper coins, and if you buy ten, you get one free. I'm going to get my scrolls from there from now on."
"What?" Busca exclaimed, his voice rising in disbelief. "How can they have so many scrolls?"
"I heard that a second-order magician is working there. He's been cranking out thirty scrolls a day. How could they not sell them?" Ayton's tone dripped with sarcasm as he thought of Busca's son, Kerry, who had been overshadowed by this new talent. The buzz around the magic community had shifted, and people were flocking to Anthony's store, especially since they were running promotions on their scrolls.
Ayton threw a final glance at Busca, who was still processing the information, and walked away with a smirk.
Busca's expression darkened. The realization struck him hard: Martin had produced those hundreds of scrolls himself in just three days. The prospect was both impressive and alarming—producing thirty magic scrolls a day was no small feat, especially for someone so new to magic. The profit margins from scrolls were significant, and he knew he had to act quickly.
---
"Debbie, I'm heading out," Martin announced as he stepped into the shop from the back yard, clad in a black robe and a pointed hat—typical attire for a mage.
Debbie, busy negotiating with two local women over a bulk purchase of magic scrolls, looked up. "Martin, what are you doing?"
"I need to buy more parchment, magic ink, and some quills. I've used up everything," Martin replied. He knew he needed to stock up on supplies, and the local magic guild was the only place to get them.
Debbie frowned, concern etched on her face. "I'll come with you."
"No, it's broad daylight. I'll be fine," Martin reassured her. Although he had had run-ins with Busca in the past, he felt confident that enough time had passed without further incident.
Debbie hesitated but eventually nodded. "Just be back soon."
After she returned to her bargaining, Martin hesitated. "Actually, I might need a bit more money…"
Debbie raised an eyebrow, digging into her pocket. "How much?"
"Maybe… a bit more than twenty silver coins? I may need to buy other things too."
"Where else are you going?" Debbie's voice was filled with suspicion.
The two ladies chimed in, "Don't be so stingy with him! Maybe he's going to charm another girl!" They laughed, causing Debbie to blush.
"Just a little extra for supplies," Martin mumbled, feeling a bit embarrassed.
Debbie sighed but finally relented, pulling out a few more coins, leaving him with a total of eleven silver coins. The ladies' laughter echoed behind him as he turned to leave, shaking his head at the ridiculousness of it all.
As he stepped out into the sunlit street, Martin felt a wave of lightness wash over him. He had been deep in his studies of the intermediate and advanced magical languages, but today felt different. Maybe he was just too anxious, and he needed to take a step back and let things unfold naturally.
However, as he walked past a two-story building, he suddenly froze. It was called Nixrae, a name that struck a chord deep within him. It was a flower symbolizing romantic connections—how fitting.
Laughter spilled from the upper floor, and Martin's gaze was drawn upward. A woman was at the window, joyfully playing with a group of friends. He couldn't help but feel a pang of envy at their carefree attitude.
Just then, a carriage pulled up behind him, and the shadow fell over him, snapping him out of his reverie. Instinctively, he reached for the wand at his side, but before he could react, a figure emerged from the carriage, swiftly grabbing him and pulling him inside.
"Not so fast, Martin," a voice hissed, as the door slammed shut behind him.
Martin's heart raced as he realized he was in a precarious situation. What had he gotten himself into?