The Verdant Merchant

The moment the bag disappeared, he felt it the heavy, constant strain of carrying the bag was gone. No strap digging into his shoulder, no shifting weight at his side. For the first time in days, he walked freely, almost as if he had been carrying nothing at all.

A small smile tugged at his lips.

After the purchase, he counted in his mind. With the storage ring secured, he now had around seventy-seven low-grade mana stones remaining outside the ring. Enough for small experiments or purchases.

Shade padded beside him, tail flicking as if sharing in his quiet triumph. Rowen let out a small chuckle. Today had been a good day.

With a small, satisfied smile, he stepped out of Arcane Craft. The bustle of the upper district surrounded him again, with merchants calling out, students hurrying by, and the occasional shimmer of enchantment from nearby shops.

After walking a short distance, Rowen paused and thought for a moment. He didn't want to handle payments offline anymore too risky, too cumbersome. An online transaction system for his shop would make everything simpler.

He knew that in the border town, most people hadn't even heard of the Federal Bank. Some had, but didn't have enough low-grade mana stones to open an account. His own shop, tucked away in the border town, had started small, but word of his magical vegetables and fruits had spread.

Now, with the shop growing more popular, especially with customers coming from the upper district, he realized something. If his produce could help border town residents earn more income, eventually they too might be able to open accounts.

After thinking it through, Rowen made up his mind. He would open an account as a merchant. It was a practical step, and one that would make his business smoother while helping him stay ahead.

Rowen glanced around, spotting a few well-dressed passersby. "Excuse me," he asked, "which way is the Federal Bank?"

A young man pointed to the street. "Just near the Cornerstone building."

"Thanks," Rowen said, nodding.

With the directions clear, he set off again, Shade trotting faithfully at his side. The street narrowed slightly as they approached the upper district's administrative area, the hum of the busy marketplace fading into the more official, orderly atmosphere. Soon, the familiar spire of the Cornerstone building came into view, and just beyond it, the Federal Bank's six- to seven-story building façade gleamed in the afternoon sun.

As Rowen approached, he slowed his pace. The Federal Bank stood in sharp contrast to the rough-cut stone and timber of the border town. Its walls were smooth, pale marble, with gold inlays forming the federal crest above the wide entrance. Two guards in polished armor flanked the doors, their stances relaxed but authoritative.

Rowen tilted his head back slightly, taking it all in. Compared to the crooked rooftops and worn cobbles of his own district, this place radiated wealth and order. Even Shade gave a soft "mrrp," tail swishing as if sensing the difference.

For a moment, Rowen felt the distance between his small shop and this grand façade, but then he straightened. He had a reason to be here now.

Rowen stepped toward the tall doors, but before he could pass through, a guard shifted his spear across the entrance.

"Hold it."

Rowen blinked, glancing up.

The guard's eyes narrowed as he looked him over from head to toe the plain clothes, the faint dust from travel, and the lack of refinement that marked most who came from the lower town. His mouth twisted in faint disdain.

"This is the Federal Bank," the guard said flatly. "It's not a place for loitering. Opening an account here requires a considerable sum; you don't look like someone who can afford it."

Shade let out a soft growl at the man's tone, puffing slightly.

Rowen's steps halted. He met the guard's eyes and glared, saying nothing.

He thought back to his VR training. Defensive skills had been available there too, but he had chosen offense first. Fire gave him a way to fight back. Now he needed something to keep him standing when things struck back.

Rowen weighed the prices carefully, his thumb brushing against the edge of his sleeve. Fire Spark had its use—he'd already proven he could light a dummy with it. But defense was what he lacked, and in the wilds, being able to block even once could mean more than a flashy strike.

He pointed to the tag beneath the scroll. "Stone Skin. I'll take that one."

The clerk's smile widened, professional but warm. "An excellent choice for apprentices. Reliable and efficient. Please wait a moment."

He unlocked the glass case with a rune-carved key, retrieved the scroll, and laid it on the counter. The faint brown glow along its sealed edges looked like packed earth, waiting to be stirred awake.

"Thirty low-grade mana stones," the clerk said smoothly.

"Payment can be made through the Federal app," the clerk said smoothly, turning a small crystal device toward him.

Rowen pulled out his phone, tapped it against the receiver, and confirmed the charge of 30 low-grade mana stones deducted instantly. A soft chime rang out as the transfer cleared.

As the clerk handed him the scroll, his eyes flicked over Rowen's clothes the plain shirt, worn belt, and patched boots. After a pause, he leaned in.

"Forgive me if this is too forward, but… You seem like someone from the lower district, yes?"

Rowen stiffened slightly. "…Yes. Why?"

The clerk sighed, straightening a stack of tags. "Our branch down there has been struggling for months. People stopped coming, and day-to-day costs are draining the shop. Management finally decided to close it. A shame, really; it served the district for years. Do you know why folk suddenly stopped buying?"

The question caught Rowen off guard. His hand tightened around the scroll. He did know the reason. It was him. His little shop had been selling vegetables with natural restorative effects, cheaper alternatives to the very potions displayed in these polished cabinets.

Before Rowen could think of a reply, the back door opened. A sturdily built man stepped in, his presence commanding the room without effort. He wore layered robes of deep brown trimmed with silver, not flashy, but unmistakably expensive. The faint crest stitched near his collar, a mountain split by a sword, gave him away before the clerk even spoke.

The clerk straightened instantly. "Master Darius Stoneveil."

Rowen's breath caught. He knew that name. The Stoneveil family wasn't just wealthy; they were one of the established merchant families with deep ties to both the Federal Guild and the noble councils. Their influence spread across supply chains, especially in magical goods like scrolls and potions.

Darius Stoneveil was the third son of the Stoneveil patriarch and the one tasked with overseeing the family's commercial branches in the lower district region. Rumor said he had trained as a knight before stepping into management, and even without armor, he radiated the steadiness of a man who could command both battlefield and boardroom.

Darius's eyes, sharp and probing, swept across Rowen. "So. This is the apprentice who just made a purchase?" His voice carried a quiet authority, the kind that pressed down without needing to raise its tone.

The clerk bowed quickly. "Yes, sir. He purchased the Stone Skin scroll. I also mentioned the matter of the lower district branch…"

Darius's gaze locked onto Rowen. "You're from the lower district, aren't you? Then perhaps you can explain something to me. Why has my branch down there been bleeding low-grade mana stone? Customers who once bought scrolls and potions in droves have vanished. Surely you've noticed it."

And now, standing before a man backed by the Stoneveil name, he realized the danger of being noticed.

Rowen's pulse quickened. Standing in this polished shop, scroll in hand, he realized the truth of it: his small business and his cheap, practical goods were enough to shake even established merchants.

Rowen swallowed, clutching the scroll a little tighter. He knew the Stoneveil name carried weight, but standing here under Darius's gaze reminded him just how much.

The Stoneveils were not just merchants; they were one of the two pillars of Everset City. Their family operated shops across both the upper and lower districts, dominating trade in scrolls, potions, and enchanted goods. When one thought of commerce, one thought of Stoneveil.

The other family, the Valestras, held equal sway but in a different arena. They controlled the city's guild.

Together, the two families ruled Everset like twin blades, each cutting in its own way. The city's government and commoners alike lived under their shadow.

Shade let out a low meow, sensing danger.

"I don't know anything about it," Rowen said quickly.

Darius's brows furrowed at the reply. He didn't say another word, but the frown lingered on his face.

After that, Rowen left the shop. He had no intention of returning. In business, he knew well enough crossing a family like Stoneveil without strength or backing could end his life.