Leo was startled by the question for a moment, before smirking. He gave Chimente a somewhat playful look, “What if I were? What are your intentions?”

Seeing as the man was straightforward by nature, there was no need for wordplay. He watched his aura for it would not lie. The man’s curiosity shifted into streaks of gentleness. He seemed empathetic for a moment, then resolute in the next.

“I can take you home to my place. Fino could use a friend, too.”

“Oh?” for a moment, Leonardo was truly taken by surprise. “I’m honored.”

Still watching the shift in the man’s aura, he paused for a while then continued. “But, I decline.”

The man froze in disbelief. His aura expressed brief disappointment, then shifted back to earnest curiosity. Not once did Leonardo sense ill-will from the man. Even when rejected so bluntly, he didn’t seem offended. Seeing as he was a rare ‘good man’, Leonardo decided to explain.

“I have a little sister here, and many others that I decided to care for. Hence, your good intentions I must respectfully turn down.”

“However,” he paused again as if viewing the man through another lens. “I think you may be able to support us through other means.”

The man shook his head, explaining calmly, “Boy, I may be a salt merchant but even I can’t take care for a dozen kids.”

“I naturally would not dare rely on your benevolence alone. Enjoy your juice, I will be back shortly.”

Standing up and gracefully walking away without impatience, Leonardo fetched the box from his atelier, placed the flute inside and then brought it back to Chimente.

“This may not be a bag of salt, but I’d like to rely on your acumen to assess this.”

Pushing the box in the middle of the table, Leonardo slid it open, emphasized the inside and retrieved the flute gently. He then brought it to his lips and played a short tune, displaying the full capabilities of the instrument. The sound spectrum was rich, and each note came out crisp and untainted. If this were a game, the item might would surely sparkle with an “epic” violet sheen.

“An inherited method proprietary to the Daedalus artisan of old, the one from the Greek myths. A master craftsman recently surfaced in Athens. Having studied the inheritance passed down through generations, he managed to resurrect the exquisite works of the ancients. After a full ten years in seclusion, he unveiled this flute as his masterwork. Wishing to make his ancestors proud, he rather unwillingly sold this piece to finance his passion…”

Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

As he spun the mouthful of bullshit that neither he nor the merchant took as factual, he then gave Chimente a knowing smirk, “How much do you think the story will sell it for?”

“Not bad,” commented the merchant, his eyes gleaming along, “Is this a heirloom from your family or something?”

“I trust you, so I will be straightforward and tell you that it was crafted here in the monastery.”

Startled, the merchant froze and stared at Leo’s confident grin like a bedazzled fool.

“You mean… you made it?”

“That’s right. This is only the first.”

A pause ensued between them, with the merchant running calculations, while Leo merely observed him.

“700 tari… no, I’ll give you 1,000 for it.”

Leonardo watched him with a smile that wasn’t a smile, not commenting on the offer.

“1,200. Final offer, brat,” Chimente grunted, his generous attitude towards an orphan gone completely.

“Hehe. You misunderstand. I am not trying to sell this to you. I merely need a ship. You happen to have one.”

“Oh?”

“Might I ask where you sail usually for your salt trade?”

The man stared at him curiously, before assenting, “Venice, Constantinople, Athens, and a few smaller ports in the middle.”

‘Oh? Truly a good reward for good karma.’ Leo thought to himself. ‘Seems like saving that thieving runt was well worth it in retrospect.’

“Well, my idea was for you to sell it at an auction in Venice. You can spin the story I just told you. Say you acquired it in Athens from a bankrupt family for 10 gold. Thus, set the minimum bid at 1000 tari and let the noble merchants decide the final price for themselves.”

“For your troubles, you can retain a 10 percent commission. That is to say that if it sells for 1250 tari, you will earn 125 for transporting and seeing the sale through. After the auction house deducts their share, of course.”

“One tenth is not that much, kiddo,” Chimente voiced out a grunting complaint.

Leonardo smirked, nonplussed by his attitude, “One tenth of this flute is naturally not a lot, but… what if over the years you sell a few dozen such objects? Royal jewel boxes from an old dynasty, the violin queen Alexandra played as a princess, and many other trinkets of such weight.”

“You will be my exclusive channel for these exquisite goods, and all you have to do is spin their tale and bring back the gold. To get similar profits you need whereabouts of 5 tons of salt, whereas my products can neatly fit in your cabin and weigh nothing.”

“Heh,” the man sneered, “I’ll only make a profit if your trinkets actually sell… Who knows how much time I’ll have to waste on these errands. Hmph.”

“Oh? Meaning I should find someone else?” Leo squinted.

“Pah! I never said that brat. Give it over. I guess I’ll reluctantly give it a try.”

The man reached for the box as if afraid Leonardo would change his mind. Despite his attitude of unwillingness, he wasn’t dumb and knew just how profitable this could be if done right. Alas, just as he was about to reach it, Leonardo snapped the box shut and pulled the meat out of the tiger’s mouth.

“Sure, as soon as we sign the contract and iron out the details.”

“Contract? Damn, brat. Looks like you mean business.”

Exchanging a grin and downing the bitter glass of juice, he left the box there and went to fetch his quill and a few papers. All the while, he hummed along, rather pleased with how things were going.

Passing the yard, he paused to watch the boisterous crowd go about exploring the gifts brought by Chimente. Christmas came early for them this year, and it all was a result of a passing request by Yuki, pleading that he save a stranger.

‘Fate sure is strange.’