The clerk's eyes widened, and then crinkled at the corners as his customer-service smile morphed into something much more genuine. "Arlo! It's been a while - I haven't seen you since your first visit to our establishment."

"Yeah, it really has," Arlo said, grinning back. "Can't believe you remember me, with all the people you must see day in and day out."

Miro chuckled. "I have been told I have a good memory. Besides, it's not every day a man walks in here dressed like...well, like you." He waved a hand at Arlo's eye-catching orange tracksuit.

Arlo glanced down at himself and shrugged a bit sheepishly. ‘And here I was judging Serena and Sylvia’s outfits… I should probably buy some clothes from here soon.’

"Now, what brings you to the Myrium Trading Company today? There a product you're interested in buying?"

"Actually, I was hoping to set up a meeting with your boss," Arlo said. "I have a business proposition I think he'd be interested in.."

Miro's eyebrows shot up. "A meeting with the president? That's a little complicated. Normally there are significant fees involved in arranging such a thing, and the wait list is booked solid for the next month at least."

Arlo's heart sank, but Miro held up a hand. "Luckily for you, it just so happens that the president had a last-minute cancellation for later this afternoon."

Relief crashed through Arlo. "That’s great, thanks Miro. How much will the booking cost?"

The clerk waved off his effusive gratitude. "Ah, don’t worry about the fee, I’ll cover it for you.."

“You sure? I don’t mind paying.” He said.

“It’s fine, if you become a regular here that’ll be more than enough.”

"Haha, alright. I’ll make sure to do that." Arlo said with a smile.

Miro flashed him a grin and slid a stamped wooden token across the counter. "Appointment number forty-two. Be in the upper waiting room in..." He consulted a complicated-looking chart. "One hour's time, on the dot. Don't be late!"

Arlo started to thank him again, then hesitated. "Is it alright if I wait outside?" he asked, shooting a glance back at the entrance. "It's just, my partner is supposed to be meeting me, and I don't want her to think I've wandered off..."

"Of course, of course," Miro said easily. "Just make sure you're back with time to spare before your appointment. When your partner arrives, present that token to any of the clerks, and they'll be happy to escort you both upstairs."

“Thanks again, Miro. I owe you one."

He scooped up the token and hurried out of the building. As he stepped out into the slanting late-afternoon light, he scanned the crowded street, searching for a familiar head of silver hair.

---

Vielle stared at the butler, her crimson eyes narrowed and cold as midwinter frost. "What do you want, Clifford?"

The elderly servant inclined his head, seemingly unfazed by the open hostility radiating from the young woman before him. "The master grows concerned, my lady. You have been most remiss in your communications as of late."

"Is that so?" Vielle's lip curled. "And he felt the need to send you to reprimand me in person, is that it? As if those little spies you think I don't notice shadowing my every move couldn't pass along a message?"

Clifford raised one steel-gray eyebrow. "My lady, please. Regardless of your feelings on the matter, you are nobility. Your lord father's heir. He indulges your whims and allows you a great deal of freedom, does he not? Surely the simple courtesy of updating him on your situation is not too much to expect in return."

Vielle scoffed, tossing her head. "I want nothing to do with him, or his title. I've made my feelings on that quite clear. I'd cut all ties entirely if I could."

The butler sighed wearily. "The master will be most displeased to hear you speak so."

"I don't particularly care," Vielle snapped. "It's my life. I'll spend it as I see fit. Now, if that's all, please take your leave. I have more important matters to attend to."

"As you say, my lady. I shall take my leave." He bowed stiffly. "But if I may be so bold... Do not forget your duty to your house. The master is not a man to be crossed lightly."

He turned to go, but Vielle's voice cracked out, freezing him in place. "Clifford. One more thing."

The butler glanced back warily. Vielle's expression could have been carved from stone, but a simmering rage burned in the depths of her scarlet gaze.

"If any harm should befall Arlo as a result of your meddling, or my father's..." Her lips peeled back from her teeth, baring a hint of sharp white fangs. "There will be consequences. For you, and for him. I trust I make myself clear?"

Clifford suppressed a shiver as the temperature around them plummeted, a dark ominous aura thrumming in the air as her magic power began to leak out. There was no mistaking the threat in Vielle's words.

'She is truly her father's daughter,' he thought bleakly.

Aloud, he merely bowed again, even more deeply than before. "Understood, my lady. I shall relay your message to the master. Now if you’ll excuse me."

Between one blink and the next, he vanished, his figure disappearing without a trace. Vielle stood alone on the cobblestones, glaring at the spot where he'd been for a long, seething moment.

"...Hopefully I didn't keep Arlo waiting too long," Vielle sighed as she hurried towards the Myrium Trading Company.

-

Arlo stood before the grand entrance, his gaze turned skyward as he waited. At the sound of approaching footsteps, he looked down to find Vielle standing before him, worry etched into her delicate features.

"Sorry about that," she began, her voice trailing off as she struggled to find the right words to explain her delay.

But Arlo just shook his head, offering her a reassuring smile. "Don't worry about it. We can talk about it later. I managed to arrange a meeting for us - we should head in before we miss our slot."

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

Vielle's eyes widened in surprise. "What? Today? How did you manage that?"

"Got lucky," Arlo said as they made their way inside, weaving through the bustling crowds. "Apparently someone who had an appointment this afternoon canceled."

"That is lucky. Must be a good omen, don't you think?"

"We've been on quite the streak lately," Arlo agreed, his mind drifting to the unclaimed rewards still waiting for him in the system.

He'd been hesitant to accept them, worried that his luck might take a turn for the worse. But with the way things were going, maybe it was time to take a chance. Who knew what kind of power-ups might be waiting?

They reached the staircase leading to the upper levels, where Arlo presented their appointment token to the clerk stationed there. The man nodded and gestured for them to proceed, leading them to one of the plush waiting rooms.

Inside, a handful of other hopeful clients milled about, some dressed in the height of extravagant fashion, others in more humble garb. Merchants, mostly, Arlo surmised. He and Vielle stood out like sore thumbs in comparison.

As they took their seats, Arlo glanced over at his partner, noting the troubled furrow still lingering between her brows. "Were you able to sort out what you needed to?" he asked quietly.

Vielle nodded, but the tightness around her eyes belied her calm facade. "For now, at least. It's...an ongoing situation, I'm afraid."

He reached out to lay a comforting hand on her arm. "If you need any help, anything at all, let me know. We're partners, aren’t we?"

Vielle's lips curved into a small, grateful smile. She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could get a word out, the door to the waiting room swung open and a sharply dressed clerk stepped through.

"Number forty-two?" the man called, scanning the room.

Arlo stood, raising their token. "That's us."

The clerk nodded crisply. "Right this way, please."

They followed him out of the waiting area and down a richly appointed hallway, their footsteps muffled by the plush carpeting. The clerk stopped before a set of heavy oak doors and knocked twice. A muffled voice called out from within, and the clerk pushed the doors open, ushering Arlo and Vielle inside.

The office beyond was just as luxurious as Arlo had imagined, all gleaming wood and leather furnishings. A massive desk dominated the far wall, situated before a bank of windows that offered a view of the city below. Two overstuffed armchairs sat opposite the desk, a low table set between them.

And there, rising from behind the desk with a genial smile, was the man himself - the president of the trading company. He was older than Arlo had expected, with neatly coiffed black hair liberally shot through with gray at the temples. His dark, impeccably tailored suit practically screamed wealth and influence.

'I’ve never met a millionaire before but this is probably what it would feel like.,' Arlo thought, fighting the sudden flutter of nerves in his gut. 'If I was still the same shut-in I used to be, I never would've had the guts to even set foot in a place like this.'

Drawing on every ounce of confidence he could muster, Arlo stepped forward and inclined his head politely. "Hello, sir. My name is Arlo - it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance." He gestured to Vielle at his side. "And this is my partner..."

"Vielle." she supplied, mirroring Arlo's bow. "The pleasure is ours, truly."

"Welcome, Arlo, Vielle," Myrium said, moving out from behind the desk to shake their hands. His grip was firm, his palm dry and cool. "I'm Myrium, as I'm sure you've surmised. I must apologize for the delay in meeting with you. I'm afraid my schedule has been quite hectic as of late."

"No apologies necessary," Arlo said smoothly as they all took their seats. "I understand completely. We're just grateful you were able to make time for us at all, especially on such short notice."

Myrium waved a dismissive hand. "Nonsense. When I heard that a most peculiarly dressed individual had visited our offices some time ago, I was intrigued. Even more so when I learned you were neither nobility nor an established merchant. I've been quite looking forward to making your acquaintance."

He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers beneath his chin as he studied Arlo with keen, assessing eyes. Arlo resisted the urge to fidget under that piercing gaze.

‘He knows about me so Miro must’ve told him...’ Arlo concluded.

"I must say," Myrium continued, "now that I see you in person, my curiosity is more piqued than ever. Tell me, Arlo - where exactly are you from, if you don't mind my asking? Your manner of dress is quite unlike anything I've seen before."

Arlo smiled, relaxing a fraction. He and Vielle had prepared for this line of questioning, carefully crafting a plausible backstory. "Not at all, sir. I hail from the continent west of here, originally. I came here as a traveler, eager to experience new cultures and lands."

Myrium's eyebrows rose. "The continent west of here? You mean the Aphir Continent?"

"That’s right." Arlo confirmed with a nod.

"I see, so you’re from that continent… " Myrium leaned forward, interest sparking in his dark eyes. "I’ve heard that magic is very prominent there even amongst the commoners and many have access to different kinds of magical devices. Is that true?"

"It is," Arlo said, allowing a note of pride to enter his voice. "In fact, that's part of the reason I requested this meeting. I'd like to discuss the possibility of a trade between your esteemed company and myself."

Myrium sat up straighter, his expression sharpening. "A trade involving magical items, I assume?"

"Something like that," Arlo said. He glanced at Vielle, giving her a subtle nod. "The products I'm interested in supplying aren't enchanted objects in the traditional sense. Rather, they're something of my own design, that my team and I have been developing."

At his signal, Vielle produced a sleek, palm-sized device from the folds of her robes. It gleamed under the office's bright lamps.

Myrium's eyes widened as Vielle placed the device on the low table between them. "What in the world...?"

"We call it a flashlight," Arlo said, picking up the object and turning it over in his hands. "Allow me to demonstrate its function. Would it be possible to dim the lamps for a moment?"

The president hesitated, then nodded to the clerk still standing unobtrusively by the door. The man hastened to comply, adjusting the brass key set into the wall until the oil lamps sputtered and died, plunging the room into shadow.

Arlo flicked a switch on the side of the flashlight, and instantly, a powerful beam of light blazed forth, banishing the darkness and illuminating every corner of the office. Myrium leaned forward, astonishment writ large across his face.

"Impressive…" he breathed.

"Precisely," Arlo said, satisfaction thrumming through him at the man's obvious fascination. "The flashlight provides concentrated, directional light, far superior to lamps or torches. It can illuminate even the darkest of spaces with ease."

He swept the beam around the room, watching as Myrium and the clerk tracked its movement with avid eyes. "But that's not even the best part. Vielle?"

Vielle straightened, taking her cue. "The flashlight is solar powered," she explained. "It draws its energy from the sun itself. One needs only to leave it in the light for a time each day, and it will stay charged and ready for use indefinitely. The buyer will never never worry about purchasing fuel or paying to recharge it."

Myrium shook his head slowly, wonder and calculation mingling in his gaze. "Remarkable. Absolutely remarkable. May I...?" He held out a hand, and Arlo passed him the flashlight.

The president turned the device over and over, running reverent fingers over its casing, testing the various buttons and switches. The bright beam danced erratically around the room as he did so, flashing in everyone's eyes, but Myrium hardly seemed to notice. He was fully engrossed, marveling at the foreign material and ingenious design.

"What is it made of?" he asked distractedly, still fiddling with the flashlight. "I've never encountered a substance like this."

Arlo spread his hands in an apologetic gesture. "Ah, I'm afraid I can't divulge the exact composition. Production secrets, you understand."

Myrium chuckled ruefully. "Yes, yes, of course. My apologies, I got a bit carried away." He set the flashlight back on the table with obvious reluctance, folding his hands atop his crossed knee.

"It’s truly incredible," he said, regarding Arlo with open respect. "I must commend you on your innovation, young man. I take it you've not shown this device to any other trading companies as of yet?"

Arlo shook his head. "No, sir. You're the first."

A slow smile spread across Myrium's face. "I see. Well then, let me be equally direct: name your price. I want exclusive rights to the flashlight's distribution."