The Mystic Tavern gleamed under the noon sun, its now refurbished and polished wooden exterior radiating warmth and a faint golden hue.
Lennox stood at the entrance, hands on his hips, gazing up at the sign swaying gently in the breeze. Despite its welcoming appearance, the weight of his task pressed heavily on his chest. He needed funds—specifically, a magical beast core—and pawning off valuables was the only viable option left.
With a sharp exhale, Lennox turned on his heel and entered the tavern before climbing the stairs to his attic bedroom.
Sunlight filtered in through the clean glass window, casting gentle patterns across the floor. His bed was neatly made, and everything had a faint scent of lavender and polished wood. But his focus was elsewhere.
Dropping to his knees, Lennox reached under the bed and pulled out two heavy chests. The brass clasps creaked as he flicked them open.
Inside, velvet-lined compartments revealed collections of jewelry, intricate silverware, small painted portraits, and delicate glass ornaments. Each item carried the faint scent of age and a history Lennox could feel in his chest.
"These were Mom's," he whispered, his voice catching in his throat.
His mother, Kimberly Morgan, had fought tooth and nail to hold on to these treasures. They weren't just trinkets; they were pieces of her love, her sacrifices, and her life. A heavy ache settled in Lennox's chest as he picked up a delicate silver necklace inlaid with a sapphire stone. He could almost see her wearing it.
But desperate times called for desperate measures.
"Alright," Lennox said, swallowing hard. "Not all of them. Just… enough to get what I need."
With meticulous care, Lennox sorted through the items. A golden bracelet, a few silver spoons engraved with intricate designs, a painted porcelain teapot, and two small gemstone-encrusted rings made their way into a burlap sack. Each item he placed inside felt like a betrayal, but he forced himself to focus.
As if trying to disrupt his thoughts, the system suddenly chimed to life.
[System Alert: The ten silver coins required to upgrade the Mystic Tavern must be earned through tavern-related business activities.]
Lennox froze, mid-motion, his face twitching.
"You've got to be kidding me," he groaned, throwing his head back. "You mean I can't even cheat my way through this part? Come on, System, cut me some slack here!"
[System Rules Are Absolute. Funds earned from external sources do not count toward the tavern upgrade requirements.]
Lennox slapped his palm over his face. "You're really making me work for this, aren't you?"
The system remained silent, as if smugly satisfied with itself.
"Fine!" Lennox muttered. "I'll sell these for the beast core, but the ten silver coins? I'll earn them fair and square through tavern business."
With his plan set, Lennox tied the burlap sack tightly and slung it over his shoulder. It clinked faintly with every step as he made his way out of the tavern, locking the front door behind him. He tried to ignore the stares he received as he walked through the bustling streets of Greywater, the sack on his back making him stick out like a sore thumb.
"Oi, kid!" a merchant barked, leaning over his fruit stall. "Carrying treasure for someone, are ya? Need a guard, maybe?"
Lennox forced a smile and shook his head, quickening his pace.
Eventually, the Greywater Exchange came into view—a narrow building squeezed between two larger shops. Its sign was faded, but the gold lettering still glimmered faintly: Greywater Exchange – Buyers of Rare Goods.
Pushing the creaky wooden door open, Lennox stepped inside. The interior was dimly lit, the scent of old parchment and dust hanging heavy in the air. Behind the counter stood a thin, elderly man with a hunched back, round spectacles perched on his nose, and wispy gray hair sticking out in all directions.
"Welcome to Greywater Exchange," the man rasped, peering at Lennox over his spectacles. "What treasures do you bring me today, young man?"
Lennox hesitated for a moment before stepping forward and placing the burlap sack on the counter. He untied it and carefully laid out the valuables one by one. The old man's eyes gleamed behind his glasses as he inspected each piece with practiced expertise.
"Hmm… good craftsmanship… genuine sapphire… silver from Valorian smiths, if I'm not mistaken…"
The tension in Lennox's chest grew with every murmur of appraisal. Finally, the old man straightened and adjusted his spectacles.
"I'll offer you twelve gold coins for the lot."
Lennox frowned, crossing his arms. "Twelve? These are genuine heirlooms, and that sapphire necklace alone is worth at least five gold coins. I want sixteen."
The old man's eyes narrowed, and his thin lips pressed into a line. "Sixteen? Hah! Bold for a young seller. I'll give you thirteen."
"That doesn't make sense. At least, fifteen."
"Okay, young lad! Fourteen—final offer. Take it or leave it."
Lennox hesitated but eventually nodded. "Deal."
The old man counted out fourteen gleaming gold coins and placed them in a small leather pouch, which he handed over to Lennox. The weight of the coins felt impossibly heavy in his palm.
"Pleasure doing business with you, young man," the old man said with a crooked smile.
Lennox nodded and hurried out of the shop, clutching and tucking the coin pouch away as if his life depended on it.
-----
Back at the small weapons stall, the burly man with one eye and arms like tree trunks stood behind his counter, wiping a massive cleaver with a stained cloth. His single eye narrowed as Lennox approached.
"Back again, boy? Here to ask questions, or are you actually buying this time?"
Lennox swallowed, reached into his pouch, and counted out ten gold coins before placing them on the counter. "One Rank One Magical Beast Core, please."
The merchant's grin widened, showing yellowed teeth. He reached across the velvet cloth and picked up a gleaming red magical beast core, placing it carefully in Lennox's hand.
"Name's One-Eyed George. Come back if you need more cores, lad."
Lennox instinctively nodded, his mind already spinning with thoughts about the tavern upgrade. He pocketed the core, muttered a quick farewell, and hurried away.
But before he could reach the tavern, three figures stepped out of a narrow alley, blocking his path. Their faces were partially hidden by scarves, and each one carried a jagged dagger.
"Well, well," one of them said with a sneer, "looks like we've got ourselves a little merchant. Hand over the coin and whatever shiny thing you're hiding in that pocket, boy."
Lennox's stomach tightened as the realization hit him—he was being robbed.