In the Renolva kingdom, specifically in Cerulea city, Joe remarked, "Finally, it took us five days to reach this city."

Yory agreed, saying, "Yes, some wrong turns and bad weather cost us two days."

Joe, clutching his small purse, replied, "This kind of weather is tough for most people. But we're lucky. A merchant on a tight schedule would have a hard time getting through."

Yory remarked, "By 'limited time,' you mean a merchant has responsibilities, places to be, and little time to accomplish everything?"

Joe nodded, "Exactly. Picture hurrying here to buy a dozen high-quality furs at a great price—a rare chance. But with the weather we faced, you'd arrive too late, missing out on those furs and the business opportunities that come with them."

Yory inquired, "So, what can a merchant do in that situation?"

Joe advised, "Always have a backup plan. Problems will inevitably arise, so stay vigilant at all times."

Yory nodded, "Thanks for the advice, Joe. But it's late, and I'm exhausted. I'll turn in for the night."

Joe told him, "Yory, I’ve got some business to take care of. Stay here in the city and wait for me for three days."

Yory nodded and went to the inn to rest after the long five days. Meanwhile, Joe made his way to the city centre, searching for something or someone. Even after nightfall, the centre was bustling with activity—merchants, guards, and customers contributing to the city's lively nighttime atmosphere.

After a few minutes, Joe arrived at an alley's end. He navigated through the alley, turning left multiple times until he faced a dead end. Undeterred, he continued walking towards the wall, and in almost a whisper, he said, "Oğrular Gildiyası: Qızıl Swan."

Suddenly, the wall transformed into a large wooden door, reminiscent of those found in taverns. Joe pushed it open and entered a spacious room with two levels connected by a staircase and a charming balcony. Various beings populated the room, from Demi-Human Beastwomen with cat ears who greeted Joe with smiles, to a dragonborn perusing documents while sipping a drink. Amidst them were humans, including the two who kept their gaze on Joe.

Joe scanned the room but didn’t find what he was looking for. He then made his way up the stairs to the second floor. Upon reaching it, he approached a grand door at the end of the hallway, guarded by two formidable individuals.

Joe faced the guards and stated firmly, "I have business with your boss. Step aside."

One of the guards, in a deep voice, responded, "YOU CAN'T ENTER, JOE GOSTAVE."

Meanwhile, at the inn where Yory rested, he perused his documents. Suddenly, he recalled a statement made by Akibrus on the day they parted ways, before Joe's arrival.

Akibrus commented, "He's taking quite a while. I'm running short on time to reach my destination. Come on, HONEST ONE."

Yory caught onto this phrase and queried, "Who is this 'honest one' you mentioned earlier?"

Akibrus, a bit puzzled, replied, "Honest one? That's Joe. It's his well-known nickname."

Yory remarked, "I wasn't aware of that. He never mentioned it before."

Akibrus, smiling, explained, "Well, you're a foreigner after all. It's perfectly fine not to know all the local stories. In short, Joe is renowned for being an honest man. You can entrust him with your belongings and even your money, and rest assured, Joe will return it to you, no matter what."

Yory, his face reflecting surprise, commented, "It's rare to find a man with such a high level of honesty."

Akibrus agreed, "Yes, and even at his young age, he's made a name for himself in this region."

Just as Joe was rushing over, waving his hand, Akibrus remarked, "Finally, he made it. I didn't realize saying goodbyes could take so long."

Both Yory and Joe laughed with Akibrus, and then he headed home.

In the present moment, Yory thought to himself, "Everyone knows and respects him. Well done, Joe. You've really made a name for yourself."

Back at the guild where Joe was, he found himself with the two guards who had initially stopped him. After wiping his face with his hands, Joe addressed them sternly, "Igor and Laird, MOVE IT! YOU USELESS IDIOTS!"

Igor tried to explain, "Why are you shouting? We were just having some fun with you, Joe."

Joe responded, raising an eyebrow, "I don't have time for your antics, now move."

Upon entering the room, Joe called out, "Tamsin! Where are you?"

Tamsin, an elderly man with average height and white hair, looked up from his desk. "Joe! What brings you to my guild?"

With a stern look, Joe said, "Listen, old man. I joined your thieves guild to get protection from other damn thieves. Am I wrong?"

Tamsin's smile faded as he raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Joe, I understand your anger. But let's be real here. We couldn't do anything because the White Fang sent us evidence that you broke the law. So, we cancelled your protection. By the time we realized the evidence was fake, he had already left the guild for another one."

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Joe, looking directly at Tamsin, stated, "THE BLACK CLOUD GUILD."

Tamsin nodded gravely. "Yes, that dangerous guild. Joe, if we went after him, the Black Cloud would strike back. It would lead to a full-blown war between guilds, with even the fighters and mages joining to protect their interests."

Joe began pacing, deep in thought. After a moment, he stopped and said, "Tamsin, take my name off your guild's roster."

Tamsin looked surprised. "You're leaving the guild, Joe? We considered you a friend."

Joe cut him off, his tone stern. "First of all, Tamsin, you're a thief. Your main concerns are money and power, not friendship. And second, I won't pay your guild for protection that doesn't exist."

Without further ado, Tamsin removed Joe's name and membership from the guild. As Joe walked away, he muttered to himself, "Now, to find that bastard."

A short while later, as Joe strolled down the alley, a couple approached him. The woman's smile seemed to barely conceal her malicious intent. "You're Joe Gostave, aren't you?"

Joe met her gaze steadily. "So, that bastard sent you. I was wondering when he'd make his move."

The female thief burst into laughter before saying, "I don't see anyone from your guild. Did we intimidate them that much?"

Joe's expression remained serious. "I've left my membership. What happens between me and the White Fang is my business."

The woman's smile widened. "That works in our favour. He paid us to eliminate you. So, if your guildmates don't intervene, our job will be easy."

Joe smirked. "Shall we begin?"

The female thief lunged at Joe with her dagger, but he was prepared. In an instant, the male thief, Saros, was beside him, brandishing a massive warhammer. Joe swiftly dodged, causing the hammer to collide with the wall. He retaliated by delivering a swift kick to Saros's left knee, forcing him to bend. Meanwhile, Joe held a rock, ready to strike Rosalie.

Rosalie yelped in pain as the rock struck her hand, quickly retreating a few meters. Saros, shaking off the pain in his knee, landed a punch to Joe's face, causing him to stagger back. However, he remained on his feet.

Rosalie shouted, "Saros, this isn't what the White Fang told us!"

Saros, his face bloody from Joe's attack, grunted, "Rosalie, the job is—"

He didn't finish his sentence. In a flash, Joe closed the distance and delivered a powerful knee strike to Saros's face, causing him to collapse to the ground, bloodied and unconscious.

Seizing the opportunity, Rosalie reached for her dagger, but Joe was quicker. He grabbed her long hair and forcefully slammed her face into the wall. Rosalie crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

Saros, regaining consciousness, cried out, "Rosalie! Are you—"

Before he could finish, Joe launched a powerful kick to Saros's face. His head slammed into the wall, and he crumpled to the ground once more.

Taking a moment to catch his breath, Joe retrieved Rosalie's dagger. He positioned it at Saros's throat and warned, "I could end your life right here."

Saros, wincing in pain, protested, "You won't kill us. Without a guild to protect you, no one will overlook your crimes."

In one swift motion, Joe drove the dagger into Saros's thigh, drawing a pained cry. Leaning closer, he muttered, "Death isn't the worst fate, kid. I can make this slow and agonizing."

In that instant, Saros realized that Joe Gostave, the famed merchant, was not just honest and kind but also ruthlessly brutal when necessary. Faced with this, Saros knew he had no choice but to spill everything to Joe in a desperate bid to save himself and Rosalie.

The following morning, merchants bustled about, preparing their wares for the day's customers in the market. Among them was Yory, ready for a hectic day ahead.

Meanwhile, Joe made his way towards a jewellery store located in the left part of the city. As he entered, the owner greeted him with a smile. "Welcome, my dear... Joe?"

Joe's expression remained serious. "Richtevar, I'm pleased you still remember me."

Richtevar's face clouded with concern. "What do you want, Joe?"

Joe's gaze bore into him, cold and unyielding. "Information on that scoundrel, the white fang."

Richtevar declared, "I am an honest businessman, and I will never associate with the likes of that criminal. You know me, Joe."

To which Joe responded, "I'm not concerned with your business ethics. Just give me his location."

Richtevar's grin darkened. "What are you going to do, Joe? Beat me? Torture me? You're powerless—I have friends in the royal guards. They'll make your life a living hell if you so much as touch me."

A chilling smile played across Joe's lips. "Your business ethics seem to have disappeared, Richtevar."

Richtevar retorted, "Out the window, and you'll follow suit if you don't leave my store."

Joe turned to leave, stopping at the door to deliver a parting message. "Inform the white fang that I will track him down and reclaim what's rightfully mine."

With that, Joe departed, leaving Richtevar to secretly observe him. Seizing a piece of paper, Richtevar penned a letter. Once finished, he addressed an owl, but then thought better of it. "No, not you. I require the magical crow, swift and unnoticed in its mission to reach the white fang."

Richtevar handed the letter to the magical crow, which promptly devoured it. "Employ your magic to evade detection and deliver this to the white fang."

The crow cried out, "COK to the white fang, COK to the white fang!" before taking flight toward its destination.

An hour later, in one of the decrepit inns in the southern part of the city, the crow approached a window on the third floor. The window swung open, allowing the disoriented crow to enter. The white fang, a tall man with short white hair, black eyes, and gleaming white teeth, stood within. He was clad in a sleek black suit of armour and gripped a small dagger firmly in his hand.

The White Fang read the letter aloud: "Theoden, we have a problem. Do you remember that young trader you stole those golden bars from? His name is Joe Gostave, and he's back. He told me to tell you that he's coming for you."

Theoden, also known as the White Fang, burst into laughter. He tossed the letter into the fire, chuckling to himself. "Robert, you need to understand that a weakling like him will never best someone like me. Especially those who fancy themselves heroes in their deluded minds. He trusted me, and I took full advantage of it. Simple and swift."

An hour later, there came a knock at the door. Theoden, dagger in hand, approached cautiously. He opened the door slowly, as it swung inward.

In an unexpected turn of events, someone kicked the door back, striking Theoden in the face. He tumbled to the ground, his dagger skittering beneath the bed.

As Theoden regained his footing, he grasped a wooden chair as an improvised weapon. He was taken aback when he saw Joe enter the room, brandishing a wooden club and glaring at Theoden with steely determination.

Theoden spoke up, his voice laced with surprise, "Joe Gostave, the trader of gold, magic weapons, and scrolls. Orchard City in the north, during the winter season. A cold, rainy day when I pilfered from you, correct?"

Joe remained silent, his gaze fixed on Theoden, who continued to speak, "I remember you vividly, for you were the finest fool I ever conducted business with."

Despite the intensity of Joe's stare, he pointed the wooden club at Theoden's face, his intent clear.

Theoden asked, "Just answer this question, Joe. How in Fytro's hell did you track me down? It's been eating at me, to be honest."

Breaking the silence, Joe asserted, "I've always had a knack..."

Theoden's curiosity was piqued, evident in the raise of his eyebrow.

Joe finished the sentence, "A knack for uncovering filthy rats like YOU!"