Supposedly, there are unsolved formulas hidden away in Tidespire Keep that have driven scholars to madness. I reckon my neighbour Jim could solve a few. Plus, he’s already mad as a bat.

-Excerpt from ‘A Mathematical Analysis of the Tide’ by Prince Jera of Tyropia

“So, my tidestone is worth over a thousand gold!?” Rose exclaimed, counting on her fingers while traipsing after Trent.

He’d been trying to explain the market value of various common treasures and monster parts to her, including tidestones. The crash course was so intensive that she’d barely looked around to admire the unique architecture of Clissolt.

“Keep your voice down, girl. Don’t want the wrong people hearing you say that,” he warned, eyes darting around the street. “Something like that. You’ll be hard pressed to find a buyer who carries that amount around with them. Just keep it.”

Even if she wasn’t able to sell the tidestone—which she wasn’t convinced she wanted to—Rose had plenty of other things to flog. One particular piece of masonry she had managed to take note of was the uniform stone slabs that made up the roads of Clissolt.

They were cut with precision and all the same size. The surfaces were polished until smooth, which gave rise to an odd phenomenon. Carts which passed by made barely a sound, unless the wheels were in need of oiling.

“Let’s run through some basics again. How much is a barrel of apples?” asked Trent, spinning a copper coin between his fingers.

“7 silvers and 5 coppers,” she replied without missing a beat.

“Good. And what’s the most you could expect to pay for an ounce of gunpowder?”

“14 silvers. But if a merchant ever offers me that price, I should put a knife to his throat.”

“Fantastic. You’re a quick learner. If someone asks where you got your treasure, what do you say?”

“Found it floating on the sea,” she giggled.

“Or perhaps you inherited it from your recently departed grandmother. Who knows?” he said with a smirk. “We’re here. For now, just watch and learn. Feel free to grab anyone who looks like they’d be interested in your stuff.”

Stepping out of the street, a wall of noise and a cocktail of aromas slammed into her like a falling hammer. Cloth covered stalls stretched as far as she could see and hundreds of people were haggling over items from fruit to fabric.

From her limited experience it seemed as though standing out among the crowds of sellers shouting about their incredible wares would be a nightmare. Maybe Trent had a trick up his sleeve.

They continued to walk until they reached a spot less saturated with sellers. It was impossible to find an empty pitch as the number of people crowding the square was too great.

Trent waved his hand and a gazebo appeared, along with a carpet that he rolled along the ground. Another wave of his hand made a sign materialise above the gazebo, confirming her suspicions that her captain also possessed one of the mysterious storage artifacts.

The sign was simple; so simple that she wondered if it would draw even a single customer to their unassuming stall. It read ‘great treasures for greater prices’.

Rose giggled as she read the sign. “Is that really the best you could come up with? Who’s going to believe such an obvious scam?” she asked.

“Who knows, maybe we’ll get lucky,” replied Trent, with a knowing smirk.

There was clearly a secret at play, but one that she was not privy to. He wouldn’t reveal the trick just yet. Perhaps he was trying to teach her something.

Rose took a closer look at the sign, wondering if there was a hidden function. However, all she saw was the poorly scrawled tagline and little else.

Despite Trent drilling the basics into her, Rose hadn’t earned a skill or anything similar from the tide regarding mathematics. With nothing to do until their bait hooked an unwitting victim—customer—she sat down and took out her sketchbook.

Stolen novel; please report.

No grand inspiration had struck her, but this lively scene felt more real than copying a memory onto the page. Perhaps it would help her reach the next level in drawing.

***

A couple of hours passed by without a single customer stopping at their gazebo. A few had given the treasures laid out on the carpet a more observant glance but didn’t deem Trent’s offer worth their while.

Rose wasn’t surprised given the awful advertising method he’d employed. She was tempted to tear down the sign and write him a better one, but she wouldn’t disrespect her captain like that.

Turning back to her sketchbook, she frowned. Capturing the vivid colours of the market stalls had been simple. However, the emotions of the people seemed wrong.

She wasn’t sure why. It hit her that she’d never truly been around this many people. Her village was tiny in comparison to Clissolt and even there she’d been quite anti-social.

Not on purpose, it was simply that the majority of the village kids weren’t that interesting to her—plenty of them were even cruel. Bored of waiting around, she decided to go for a stroll.

“I’ll be back in a bit. Maybe I’m a bad luck charm and you’ll get some customers while I’m not here,” she joked, stretching her arms and pocketing her sketchbook.

“Sure, don’t get lost. I’m too busy to come and save you.”

“Oh I can tell. You’re drowning in customers,” she answered dryly.

Without waiting for his next witty response, she made her way into the throng of the market. Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, Rose let the cacophony of aromas rush to her head.

It was intoxicating and overwhelming, but underneath the cocktail of sounds and scents, there was one that drew her in far more than the rest. Following her nose, she opened her eyes and started to walk.

She wound through the stalls, avoiding the raised voices of intense haggling. Most transactions were amicable, but there were some shrewd customers or copper-pinching sellers who were unrelenting on their targets.

Her nose took her away from the main bustle of the square and towards the edges, eventually bringing her to a stop in front of a two-storey wooden building. The bottom floor had a large window with colourful flowers in pots along the sill.

The top floor looked like someone’s house. A sign hung over the open door—Artist’s Escape—Rose loved the name. There was a reason she had been drawn to this shop while experiencing artist’s block.

Walking in, there was a gentle tinkle of a bell above the door. How did it know I entered? The door didn’t even move.

Confused, she continued walking until she reached the counter. After a few seconds a woman with rich olive skin and bright green eyes stepped out of the back.

“Hello dear, what brings you to Artist’s Escape?” she asked. Her tone was warm and comforting, almost motherly.

“I’m not sure. My nose brought me here from the market,” she answered, furrowing her brow. Looking around, she saw the shelves filled with magnificent drawings and paintings.

There were also little tables covered in various art supplies like pencils, paintbrushes, and even some strange tools she’d never seen before. To Rose, it was a treasure trove.

“Your nose? That’s a new one,” she laughed. “What kind of art do you like to make?”

“I draw. Landscapes mostly. I’m a little stifled at the moment. Hard to be creative,” she answered.

“Landscapes… Let me see, I might have a little something for you,” said the woman, going into the back.

Banging noises came through the door and at one point something flew past her head, whizzing out of the door faster than a bullet. Rose was considering leaving before the woman came back out.

Unfortunately, before she could make a decision the lady returned, holding a little yellow crystal in her hand. It glittered in the light but didn’t seem to have power of its own, the way tidestones did.

“Here, this should be perfect for you, dear,” she said, holding out the crystal.

Rose hesitated to take it from her. She wasn’t sure how much it would cost and since she hadn’t sold any of her treasures yet, she only had a few silver coins that Trent had loaned her.

“What does it cost? I’m not sure I can afford anything too complex,” she asked with a soft voice.

The woman’s eyes hardened and her kind face twisted into one of fury. She seemed to remember Rose’s presence and controlled her outburst, but the simmering rage was difficult to hide.

Her smile no longer seemed so warm, but her eyes were looking beyond Rose, to the doorway. Turning, she saw Trent standing there with a smirk on his face.

Why did I have to follow a captain who pisses off everyone he meets? He’s never met this shopkeeper before but she already hates his guts.

“I thought I told you to never disclose your weaknesses when you’re haggling, Rose. Did you forget my lessons already?” he chided, shaking his head.

“Not everyone is a cold hearted bastard like you, Blackheart. Get out of my shop and never come back. You have one chance. I warned you what would happen if I ever saw you again,” said the shopkeeper, her controlled tone slipping towards the end into a half-shout.

“You did, Yasmin. And yet here I am. As always, I’m terrible at listening to orders and I do whatever I please. That’s why you fell in love with me in the first place,” he said, stepping towards the counter in a reckless move.

Rose was frozen still, unsure how to act as the tension in the air grew palpable. The invisible energy in the shop crackled, giving her goosebumps.

“You never learn your lesson. Here you are, on your deathbed and still leading naive young girls astray,” she hissed. Turning to Rose, she said in a sickly sweet voice, “Whatever he’s told you, it’s probably a lie. Leave before you see something you don’t want to, dear.”