Chapter 9: Fair Trade

“Well, first of all, I was looking for a bit of information on money,” I admitted, pulling out my five gild for his perusal.

Truth be told, I could have hidden this bit and tried to learn by osmosis, but generally speaking, bluffing only tended to work with a decent understanding of the cards in hand. Also, the Blacksmith could likely see my status, and I was sure he’d seen many children come and go in his time, looking for their first blade. He could still rip me off, but so could anyone else I asked, and it was better to learn the value of my money sooner rather than later. Besides, there weren’t any price tags in the shop: trust me, I checked.

“First time, lad?” The smith grunted, settling into a seat behind the shop counter, his eyes raised to look slightly above my head, presumably at my own name and level.

“First time,” I agreed, not wanting to give too much away. “My Class day is six days from now, but I thought I’d get a bit of a head start on shopping.”

“Smart,” at this, his lips twitched just a little. “Too many children only bother thinking about practicalities afterwards, only to discover that commissions take time, and shops can’t just magick up their shopping list overnight.”

Foolish, but not surprising, I thought at that tidbit: teenagers were not generally known for their forward planning, and that held true, even if they matured a bit sooner in this world.

“Now, that coin you’re holding,” the smith changed topics abruptly. “That’s one gilt, the basic unit of currency in Frontier, against which all others are measured. Any shop in the nation that’s registered with the treasury will accept it as good; any shop that doesn’t, you should avoid. There’s a few reasons why a shop might choose not to register, but none of them bode well for a customer willing to take the black. Better stick to official businesses, your coin and life are both safer that way.”

“Official businesses?” I questioned, my eyes flitting to a small bronze plaque on the counter.

It declared, with great pomp and circumstance, that Little Richard’s Stickers was ‘Recognised in the Name of His Majesty the King, Defender of the Realm’, alongside over two dozen more titles, growing steadily smaller on the plaque as its maker ran out of room to write.

“Official businesses,” the smith grinned, nodding to the plaque. “Means we pay our taxes, and are subject to routine and surprise inspections by the auditors. In return, we’re guaranteed certain protections against theft and loss of goods, or damage to the shopfront by unnatural means. More importantly for you, as a shopper, it means our goods are fit for purpose, haven’t been tampered with, and are unlikely to fail at the wrong time and get you killed.”

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I replied, completely honestly.

Truly, I was both surprised and reassured to hear of what seemed like the beginnings of a state backed regulator, paired with an underwritten insurance policy. While there was plenty to say about the benefits of unrestrained capitalism in the interest of accruing wealth, as a consumer, I was also happy to hear that my odds of dying from food poisoning or similar would be reduced greatly. I still intended to take advantage of what black markets existed, of course, just not for my own consumption. Don’t get high on your own supply, as the old adage goes.

“Moving back to your original question, one gild can get you a good meal in most inns or public houses. Three gilt will include that plus a room to stay for the night. For my goods, specifically?”

The smith pointed towards the rack of knives on the back, the shortest of them comparable to a Swiss Army Knife back home, the longest a machete the size of my forearm.

“Those are made with regular iron for the body, and cost between ten gilt for the smallest to forty gilt for the largest. The cutting edge has a thin line of steel, but not to the point where they can impart too much force. Those won’t do you any good against a soldier in armour, but they’re enough to deal with the local wildlife, and the occasional low level monster that sneaks past the walls.”

Turning away from the knives, then turned to face the heavier armaments, that I had earlier noted as poor targets for larceny.

“Axes, halberds, maces, polearms, even lances for those who can afford a horse and barding. Much larger, and labour intensive to make, not to mention that I need to import the right kind of wood. All of that adds up, so you won’t get any of these for less than fifty gilt, and most run closer to a hundred. Of course, these are just what I have ready made, for someone willing to buy a weapon off the shelf and isn’t too particular about the design. Now, if you want to commission something custom made?

That takes anywhere from two weeks to two months, depending on the complexity. You’ll need to either supply the materials, or pay me the going rate plus a markup, so that I can pay my broker to get me what I need. Then, add on the costs of actually making the thing? We’re talking three to five hundred gilt for something simple but stylised, like a sword with the family crest making up the guard; or upwards of a thousand for a lance featuring a golden filligree of a hippogryph, covering most of the weapon.”

“A bit out of my price range, that,” I joked, trying and failing to imagine what such a gaudy weapon could be used for.

Eventually, I decided that it told me nothing useful, besides the fact that conspicuous consumption was alive and well in Frontier.

“Mine too,” the smith laughed. “Anyway, that’s the top end of what I’m willing to make. There’s enchanted items, of course, but those require Class abilities that I’m nowhere near acquiring, otherwise I wouldn’t be working in a shop in a small town like this. Armour can cost a bit more, but I’ve nothing to do with that, weapons keep me busy enough already, so you can visit the shop down the road if you need that kind of protection.”

His eyes refocused on me, winding down from his spiel on the craft, as if remembering that he was a merchant and still needed to make a sale.

“So, now that I’ve given you the nuts and bolts of the trade, what are you in the market for?”