"Hehehe." Mike Bai grinned as he looked at the heavy purse in his hands, counting his winnings from the previous day. After deducting the share for Patrick and the money he spent to shut up William, he still had a full 150 gold Nomismas, 1,000 silver Dinars, and a chest full of copper Fennies left.
(1 Gold Nomisma = 20 Silver Dinars = 200 Copper Fennies)
Recalling the previous day, when he had placed his betting receipts at the exchange, the attendant's face had gone from disbelief to ashen, and Mike Bai felt like a fox who had just stolen a chicken — a sense of triumph bubbling inside him.
The casino, seeing that Mike Bai and his companions came from distinguished backgrounds, and the unexpected turn of events that had been extremely profitable for them, hesitated but still paid out in full.
Mike Bai locked the chest and hid it under his bed, dreaming about the day he would return from the Sacred Land. With this money, he could buy several estates, live a lavish lifestyle with silk gowns discarded after one use, honey sipped only to be thrown away in a cup — a life of wealth and decadent nobility.
As Mike Bai woke from his dreams, he sighed in satisfaction.
"Greed is humanity's original sin," he muttered to himself.
"Ah, I haven't restocked on spices yet. I might as well use this money to improve the food on the road." Mike Bai got up and asked DeMol to take him out shopping. However, DeMol was busy organizing supplies and couldn't make it, so Patrick, who happened to be passing by, was tasked with accompanying Mike Bai to the commercial district.
An hour later, Mike Bai curiously observed the commercial district from the carriage. The area had been clearly planned out: relatively straight roads lined with compact stores on both sides. If you listened closely, you could hear the sounds of busy workshops from behind the storefronts.
Mike Bai's eyes were drawn to a weapon shop on the left side called "The Bear's Hammer." Seeing Patrick's stylish demeanor, he figured it was time he got a sword too. He called out to Patrick and jumped down from the carriage, heading straight for the shop.
Pushing open the iron-bound wooden door, Mike Bai found the walls inside lined with all kinds of weapons. The shopkeeper rushed over to greet him, "Welcome, my lord."
Mike Bai paid little attention to the pleasantries and looked around. He pointed to a short sword hanging on the wall and asked, "How much for this one?"
The shopkeeper smiled and took the sword down, handing it to Mike Bai. "This is the masterpiece of our master blacksmith. It's sharp and solid."
Mike Bai gripped the sword with some difficulty, estimating the blade width at four fingers, a length of 70 cm, with a thick spine, clearly a northern-style short sword ideal for hacking.
He swung it experimentally, almost losing his balance under the weight of the blade.
Noticing Mike Bai's lack of interest, the shopkeeper studied him carefully. "Perhaps this one, 'The Needle,' would suit you better," he suggested, turning and fetching a different, smaller short sword with an ornate scabbard.
Mike Bai took the sword, pulling it from its scabbard. The blade was about 2 fingers wide and 40 cm long. He swung it twice, feeling the smooth, grippy leather guard as the blade danced easily through the air, a soft whooshing sound following each movement.
"This sword was crafted by a master from Nuremberg," the shopkeeper continued, eager to make a sale. "It's slender, but with remarkable flexibility, perfect for slipping through chain links."
Mike Bai raised an eyebrow, impressed. "I'll take it. How much?"
"This sword was originally ordered by a baron for his son," the shopkeeper replied cautiously. "However, due to unforeseen circumstances, the order was never collected. For you, it's 55 silver Dinars."
"What!?" Mike Bai feigned shock. "55 silver Dinars? Are you robbing me? A pound of wheat costs just 1 copper Fenny, and you want to sell me a sword for 55 silver Dinars?"
"For a valued guest like you, I can offer a discount," the shopkeeper said reluctantly. "How about 50 silver Dinars?"
Mike Bai shot Patrick a look, and Patrick nodded in understanding, stepping forward. "Can you make it cheaper? You see, this special sword might be hard to find again, and we may never come across another seller."
"48 silver Dinars, no less! At this price, I'll even throw in a leather belt," the shopkeeper said, his face contorting with regret.
Patrick gave a small nod to Mike Bai, signaling that the deal was done.
Ten minutes later, Mike Bai walked out of the weapon shop with a new leather belt and his new toy, "The Needle," leaving behind a flustered shopkeeper.
For the rest of the day, Mike Bai wandered through the commercial district, eavesdropping on price discussions and becoming increasingly alarmed. Thanks to the fertile plains of the southern empire, the prices of basic agricultural products remained relatively stable: one pound of coarse flour cost 3 Fennies, and a milk-producing cow could be had for 30 silver Dinars. However, imported goods were outrageously priced. A barrel of wine from the Kingdom of France cost 25 gold Nomismas, a masterwork suit of Milanese chainmail cost 20 gold Nomismas, and a finely crafted long sword was priced at 10 gold Nomismas.
The most painful discovery, however, was that one pound of Eastern spices cost 10 gold Nomismas, and a pound of slightly yellowed white sugar wasn't much cheaper at 8 Nomismas.
No matter how much Mike Bai tried to negotiate, the shopkeeper wore a smile that seemed to say, "I hear you, but I'm not listening." In the end, Mike Bai reluctantly spent 18 gold Nomismas on a small bag of spices and sugar.
"This money doesn't seem like it's enough to fulfill my dreams," Mike Bai groaned inwardly.
Suddenly, a realization hit him, and he looked at Patrick, remembering how he often took out his finely crafted long sword, masterwork chainmail, and warhorse — not to mention his helmet, armguards, leg guards, lance, longbow, and more.
"Wait... judging by this, his entire setup..." Mike Bai gasped. "It must cost close to 100 gold Nomismas!"
He then thought about how not only Patrick, but also DeMol and even William, that rough man, seemed to have similar equipment. His cheap uncle, too, had multiple sets, not to mention the land they controlled, which provided a steady income.
"Turns out, I'm the poorest one here!" Mike Bai lamented.
After a few days of rest, the convoy finally resumed its journey.
Mike Bai sat in his newly acquired cargo cart, staring at his now-empty purse. Sighing deeply, he glanced at the assortment of goods around him, his spirits lifted by the sight.
Thinking back to when these rough men didn't understand, and in William's words: "Kids playing house shouldn't bother — you'll end up with no money to buy even your toys!"
"Once I have enough money, I'll slap William's face with a pile of gold coins," Mike Bai swore to himself.
Days passed, and the convoy passed through the southern empire, where the population dwindled, and the roads were lined with thick forests.
One night, like usual, the caravan gathered around the campfire, and Mike Bai, exhausted from the long journey, fell asleep early.
But then, a harsh shake woke him up. "Wake up! There are wolves!" Mike Bai blinked as he saw the others pulling out weapons, forming a defensive circle around the fire.
A low growl echoed in the distance, and several dark shadows darted past. Mike Bai stiffened, scrambling to hide behind the others.
The darkness ahead seemed like a beast with a gaping maw, swallowing the light and spitting out fear. Horses nervously pawed at the ground, and one soldier hurriedly calmed them.
Dozens of green eyes glowed ominously, fixed on the group.
William grabbed a torch and hurled it at the wolves. The flickering flames briefly illuminated the darkness, allowing Mike Bai to see a few yellowish wolves shy away, retreating back into the night.
Mike Bai drew "The Needle" to steady himself, but his trembling hand gave away his fear.
"Howl!" A wolf's cry echoed louder in the moonlit night.
The group stood on alert as the wolves shifted in the dark, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
Finally, one wolf broke from the pack, charging toward Mike Bai, the youngest and smallest.
Mike Bai scrambled backward, but Otto stepped forward with a mighty stride, his shield slamming into the ravenous wolf.
The wolf yelped in pain, sent flying against a tree, and fell silent.
The death of one of their own seemed to enrage the remaining wolves, whose growls grew fiercer.
The group tightened their defense, eyes scanning the shadows.
Suddenly, two wolves leapt from the bushes, one after the other, while the rest of the pack attacked from all sides.
Patrick and DeMol raised their shields, fending off the wolves, but the cunning beasts jumped back as soon as they missed, evading their swords.
William let out a furious roar and swung his axe at the wolves, his face splattered with blood as he cleaved through them.
The other soldiers fought furiously, but Otto remained at Mike Bai's side, guarding him.
But then, out of nowhere, a wolf launched itself at Mike Bai's feet, sinking its teeth into his leg, dragging him backward.
"Mike Bai!" Otto shouted, trying to reach him, but more wolves closed in on him, forcing him to use his left hand to block them. One wolf latched onto his arm, hanging from him as it writhed.
Mike Bai, meanwhile, struggled to break free from the wolf's grip. Time seemed to freeze.
The beast's gaping mouth grew larger in his vision, and for a moment, Mike Bai thought, Am I going to die here?
But then he remembered the many things he still wanted to do.
"No! I won't die here!"
His hands fumbled around desperately and found a stone. With a cry, he hurled it straight at the wolf's head.