“Well then. To your promotion!”

The cheerful figure in front of me laughed, raised his cup to the sky, and downed its content in one go. A short tremble, another laugh, and he waved his hand to order another round from a waitress. The fifth one. The third since my moronic choice of words.

“I didn’t think we were close enough to foot each other’s bills,” Fabien laughed, accepting a full cup from a young girl. “But I won’t dishonor your name and hold back. To your promotion!”

Things one shouldn’t say to a greedy merchant during a negotiation: It’s on me. I wanted to get angry, but his gaudy clothes and over the top antics brought a smile to my face. Whatever. He probably deserved it after all the advice he gave me for free.

Jeers and laughter broke out at the other tables. No bard tonight. No songs of heroes and glory. Instead, a few poles formed a ring for fistfights between the young farmers. Flirtatious girls, braggy boys, and an exasperated adult caring for the loser. Not the location for a business meeting. Which made it the perfect place for our discussion.

Two more fighters met their defeat before I finished my re-narration of the recent events. My desertion, my fight in the village, and today’s promotion. Although I left out everything linked to my skills or game knowledge. Ignoring the next fighter’s introduction, I wet my dry throat and waited for his decision.

“So that’s it.” Fabien appeared crestfallen. “It’s only about money with you. I thought you saw me as a friend, ready to share your joy and woman with me. But it’s only about money and business. Why then, do I ask you, would people call me the greedy merchant? Shouldn’t they call you a miser instead?”

“They call you greedy, because you sell them linen for the price of gold.”

“Fair enough.” Fabien shrugged, displaying a perfect smile. “How may I be of service to our new commander?”

“I want to buy food. Flour, smoked meat, anything that is durable.”

“Food? Shouldn’t they deliver your share to the fort? Are they short of supplies? No, no, that’s not it. They’ll deliver your rations to the fort. There is no reason not to. Then the reason you came to me is…”

“Is to give you money,” I interrupted him, changing the fake smile on Fabien’s face into a real one. “Let’s say I want to raise my men’s morale through sumptuous meals.”

“Sure, let’s go with that. Because nothing raises the morale better than tough meat and hard bread.” He chuckled at his own joke. “And taking today’s… establishment… into account, you fear their retaliation.”

“I fear they are intelligent enough to be distrustful.”

“Let’s leave it at that.” Fabien shrugged. “So how many rations do you need?”

“As much as you can get for cheap. Best case, enough to get one or two thousand men through the winter.”

“A few thousand through the winter?” He sighed. “That much is impossible for Gladford’s storehouses. I would have to purchase the villages’ surplus when the caravans return to Gladford. But the northern villages won’t be able to lift that weight on their own.”

“So another five or six circles.” I felt the increasing weight on my shoulders. “That’s a tall order.”

“That bad?”

“I don’t know. But the leprechauns ran from a few defending farmers.” I pointed towards the fighters. “It’s like an adult bullying a child. But they ran away. The adult fled from the child for no reason at all. So why would someone disregard a piece of cake right in front of them?”

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“You mean…” He stopped himself, weighing his options he observed the bubbles in his cup. “Maybe I should return to Haithabu.”

“It’s only a hunch. And this is your chance to earn easy money.”

“I understand.” Fabien emptied his cup, took a deep breath, and continued. “Everything has its price. I can also talk with the other merchants, but you would have to pay upfront.”

“Fine with me.” I nodded. “I already talked with Master Ansgot. He agreed to melt our weapons and forge them into spearheads. With one sword turning into multiple spears, we should have enough spares to pay for the food.”

“As you wish.” He implied a bow. “I pray that you’ll drown in rotten food.”

“Fine with me.” I laughed, shaking his hand to seal our deal.

“Anything else?”

“Hmm. Let’s see. Do you remember the scroll you lent me?”

“The hero and the farmer girl? I didn’t expect you to be the romantic type.” Fabien laughed. “So do you want more of these? Which kind of girl should it be? A hero pushing down the princess? I also have one where-”

“None of these.” I stopped him with a sigh. “I want blank ones. And something to write on them as well.”

“Blank ones?” Fabien sent an inquiring gaze to me, but I only nodded without further explanations. I couldn’t tell him I wanted to record knowledge from another world. Another life.

I remembered those trending videos of adults failing to answer middle school questions. Something to laugh at if there weren’t enough news available. But also an important reminder.

People forget things they don’t use regularly, and the same was true for me. Hence I wanted to record as many things as possible while I could still remember the details. Common knowledge, anecdotes, stuff I learned in school or watched on TV. Anything might help me in the future.

No matter how imperfect, a single legend had saved both the village and my own life. And who knew what would be helpful.

But even more important was my game knowledge. Not only skills or monsters, but the lore itself.

Granted, I didn’t memorize the entire setting and world-building, but I could still remember some key events and characters. Like the sword maiden’s last stand and her eventual death. How the sword maiden freed a group of dwarves from their slavery and received her magic sword as a reward. The conflict between the moon alliance and the sword maiden over a burned village. Or how the sword maiden…

Okay, I hadn’t cared for the lore at all. Who would memorize all those useless walls of text, anyway? I had only collected stories about the sword maiden, and those were few in numbers as they took place long before the start of the game.

But even without detailed knowledge about all future events, there was still a lot to write. The names of important characters like the maniac who introduced card magic to humanity. Or the position and content of the low-level dungeons I had visited. Monster types, their territory, their attack patterns.

Any information, no matter how useless on its own, might help me in the future.

“Oh, I also need a map.” One more item added to the list. “As detailed as possible.”

“A map?” Fabien thought for a moment. “I don’t think anybody cared enough to make a map of the surroundings.”

“Not Gladford,” I corrected. “But Haithabu and its surroundings. The entire area to the east.”

“A map of the entire alliance… That’s a hefty sum. One can find detailed maps in Haithabu, but a single piece costs more than all the rations you ordered. Are you sure? It won’t help with your task.”

I thought for a moment, but still decided to buy a map. I needed one as soon as possible.

All my knowledge was based on the assumption that both this world and the game shared the same rules and history.

The leprechauns used the same attack patterns, higher levels increased my strength, and both passive and active skills followed the same set of restrictions. But even though that assumption didn’t fail me so far, there were still inconsistencies.

Gladford didn’t exist in the game’s lore, the sword maiden had never fought against the leprechauns, and her background story changed from farmer to mercenary. Stuff that wasn’t mentioned in the game? Lore I simply didn’t find? Or a sign that my next gamble might fail me?

Right now, I still missed critical information.

Therefore, I used a sizeable chunk of the budget to purchase a map displaying faraway lands. Less equipment and food for a bit of knowledge. Another gamble that might lead to unnecessary loss.

Was I doing the right thing?

Cheers pulled me out of my thoughts.

The fights had ended during our negotiations. Instead, a fire-breather had taken the stage and blew massive balls of fire into the sky. The heat still palpable where we sat. An intimidating view. The closest most of the patrons would ever come to real magic.

But those giant balls shrank to the size of a balloon, an egg, a pebble, before they fizzled out as little sparks. A swarm of sparks danced in the wind, far above the fire-breather. Like the fireflies we saw that night.

Foy’s messengers? The patron saint for lovers and homes? Did she see my gamble? If so, I wouldn’t refuse her blessing for those defending their homes.

I chuckled and raised my cup towards the sky.