Trog hadn't believed he would ever be happy with farming magic, but as he awoke, there was a feeling of excitement and joy that battle had never given him. Smiling, he rolled out of the bed that the Thornsides had demanded he start sleeping in. Trog still slept outside of the main house and shop. The shed near the garden worked well enough for him, and he didn't have to worry if his arms dripped a little blood in the moving on the shed floor. Opening the door, he saw the green leaves from his latest work. He had been slowly growing a few vines for the past ten days. He only put 10% of his mana into nine different "plants" daily. Today would be the final day, and they would be ready to harvest. His favorite part of his magic is that the vines reacted instantly when mana was applied, so they grew within a few minutes, and the "fruit" didn't appear until the plant had 100% mana. This would make hiding what he was growing from other people easy while the "plants" grew. Trog couldn't wait to harvest this crop. It was the most plants he had grown at once, and the seed items had cost them quite a bit of coin. Without waiting for Bowen to come outside to watch, he touched each vine and put the last 10% of the mana they required into them. Then, he sat back to watch, and the final growth happened. Slowly, the vines grew thicker, and tiny green bulbs started forming, then they shifted into something more. Every second, there was a pulse, and the green bulb's shape changed, and then the color shifted. When Bowen ran out of the house with an irritated look, the process was finishing, and on the ground attached to the vines were fifty-one rabbit furs. Each was perfectly processed and rolled up, ready to be sold. Each one looked identical to the seed fur used, but with nine different seed furs, combining them and making them seem more diverse was easy. Bowen's irritation vanished, and a huge smile spread across his face.
"Today, we head to the market in Willant. These furs should sell for at least one to two gold each. That would easily be enough to get you a wagon and a mule."
Trog smiled at Bowen's words and quickly broke the vine off at the base, causing the entire vine to turn to dust. They had learned this was the simplest way to harvest the vines, a quick and efficient method that saved them time and effort compared to picking each item off the vine.
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The road to Willant was well traveled, and Torg noticed the different crops growing in the fields outside the city. One in particular caused him to stop and take a long look.
"What are they growing here?"
Bowen turned to see what his friend was asking about and saw the large orchard. "I am not sure, Trog. Why don't you touch one and identify it."
"That's a great idea." Trog walked up to one of the trees and used identification.
Skill Plant Identification
Name: Mature Peach Tree
Requires: moderate sunlight and moderate water
Needs: Nothing all requirements met
Growth: 150 days or 90% mana til harvestable
Trog couldn't help but smile. "We have not tried to use my magic on actual plants yet. I will test it on one of these trees on our way back."
"We might want to talk to the farmer before we do that." Bowen cautioned, "They may not like us harvesting one of their trees so early in the season. We can see if we can purchase a sapling from them to take home."
"That sounds like an even better idea. I had no idea peach trees had such beautiful flowers, which look amazing in the rows." Trog smiled as he started walking. He found it funny that he was excited about using his magic to grow an actual plant.
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Willant was a minor city in the north. It still had strong walls to keep out local animals or any monsters that might wander nearby, and many groups of adventurers could be seen leaving the city to go on patrol to ensure the monster populations stayed in check. The guards at the gates efficiently checked carts and collected entrance fees. After almost an hour, Trog reached the front of the line for foot traffic and placed his hand on the truth orb, glad he had found some gloves to wear that covered his injury.
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"I am Trog, and I come here today to sell rabbit furs and plan to leave before nightfall. I carry no weapons but my two hands and have no desire to cause trouble."
The orb glowed green, acknowledging that his words were not deceptive, and the guard nodded to him.
"Welcome to Willant. The entrance fee is two silver."
Trog paid the fee and made his way into the city. The streets were busy but easy to navigate, even for people as short as Bowen and himself. Bowen led Trog to one of the market stalls that had leather and fur goods. The old human man sitting behind the booth looked them up and down before speaking to them.
"Can I help you, gentlemen?"
Trog pulled one of the rabbit furs from his pack and placed it on the table for the man to examine. "We have furs for sale. Would you be interested in purchasing any?"
The man made a show of looking closely at the fur and shaking his head disappointedly. "These furs are of poor quality and would only be good for making cheap pouches. I will give you five silver for this fur and any others of this quality."
Trog felt his jaw drop. Only five silver! The tanner in the village had charged them one gold for each fur. He gladly spent the nine gold because the man assured him they would fetch two gold in the city. He was about to protest when he saw Bowen smile.
Bowen stepped forward and picked up one of the fur pouches from the table. "These pouches are of superior quality. Forgive us for bringing you low-quality furs. We will head to one of the smaller shops. Perhaps an apprentice leather crafter will take our whole lot to practice with. Thank you, sir, for letting us know about the poor quality of our goods. We will trouble you no more, master……."
"Micha, my name is Micha."
"Master Micha, we thank you for your time. Please forgive us for taking up so much of your time." Bowen took the fur from Micha, handed it back to Trog, and then started walking away. Trog was a little stunned but followed quickly. As they put distance between them and Micha's booth, Bowen smiled at Trog.
"He was trying to trick us. Mr. Harris has been a tanner for his entire life. All of his hides and furs are top quality. He could tell we were not in the leather trade and wanted to take advantage. It might happen again, but I have a plan. Wait here. I will be right back."
Trog waited as Bowen approached a dwarf sitting at a booth selling ale and returned with two cups. Handing one to Trog, he motioned for them to keep walking.
It wasn't long before they found another booth selling leather crafts, this time a young dwarf woman. She smiled wide as they approached.
"Welcome to Morgan Leather Works. I am Morgan. If you need fine dwarven-crafted leather, you have come to the right place."
Bowen approached the booth and placed one of the furs on the table. "Master Micha told me that my fur was of such low quality that he wouldn't pay more than one gold and five silver. When I protested and told him I would find another leather crafter to sell to, he pointed me this way, saying that your goods were of such low quality that you wouldn't even be able to offer me five silver."
Morgan's face instantly went from pale to red, and she picked up the fur to look closer. "That sleazy old man wouldn't know quality goods if you shoved them up his……this is amazing. Where did you get it?"
Bowen smiled, "From a tanner in my village. He is too old to make the trip to the city, so we offered to take it for him. I understand if you can't pay more than one and five, but I would prefer to sell them even at that price to someone who wouldn't insult the old tanners' work."
"I have tier 3 leathercrafting. I can easily produce items of rare quality, even with common-quality leather and fur. With fine fur like this, I might even be able to get an epic item made so I can easily afford to pay a fair price for quality goods. I will gladly pay two gold for such fine quality fur."
Bowen motioned to Trog, and they each opened their packs. "We have fifty to sell," Bowen said.
"Fifty!" Morgan's eyes almost popped out as she saw the rolled-up furs packed tightly into their packs. She turned to a small boy playing on the ground behind the booth. "Mos, run and get your father and your uncle. Tell them I need them at the booth now. Hurry." the young boy nodded and took off, running as fast as possible. ""There is a tavern that serves good food just around the corner if you are hungry. If not, tell them I sent you and that you will meet me there in an hour, and they will let you wait without forcing you to buy anything."
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"I am telling you they have fifty, and all of them were of such great quality that we might get enough epic items crafted to make it worth hiring an enchanter for a day."
Morgan's husband, Luke, turned to his brother. "how much more do you think we could charge if we got five items enchanted?"
His brother Lore stroked his beard as he thought. "Easily one thousand gold, depending on the enchantment. At epic quality, the enchantments would hold better and probably last a year, maybe two."
Luke turned to his wife, "So if we pay one hundred gold for the furs, then pay the enchanter another five hundred gold." A huge smile spread across his face. "If you get even two epic items from this, it will be profitable. Let's do it."