“So you are Fabien.” I sighed and looked at the merchant in front of me. Black hair, beady little eyes, and gaudy clothes. The same merchant that had sold me the linen stripe and his jewelry for exorbitant prices.

“That’s what my mother called me,” he answered with a grin. “Shall we go?”

I responded with a grimace, ignored his taunting bow, and ordered my men to take their positions around the convoy. Two men each guarding both the front and back, two more patroling on both the left and right, and me at the center. The most basic formation, but there wasn’t much more I could do with only a handful of men.

And thus our journey began.

Endless walking beside seven horse-drawn carriages for hours. No break, no distraction, no incident. From sunrise to sunset, one step after another. A slow and boring trot.

To me, it made more sense to transport fewer goods to lessen the length of our journey. But my request for a ride was shot down. Their wares took priority. Or was it their pride? Either way, we continued to walk on the dirt track.

The connection between a frontier city and the wealthiest city in the area and it wasn’t even a street. Just another dirt track with holes so deep a carriage’s axle deformed. It had to be fixed on the spot, cutting our daily goal in half.

I missed tar and smooth streets. A kingdom for a modern truck.

We set our camp on a small clearing beside the road. One campfire for the group of merchants, another campfire to the side for their bodyguards and us. A clear division of both meal and sleep quality.

The recruits used a single linen sheet as bedding. No pillow, no sleeping bag, only foul-smelling armor wrapped inside an unwashed bed sheet. At least summer drew near, so nobody froze to death. But given this world’s medical care a simple cold might be enough to waste a grown man.

Silence soon enveloped the camp. The merchants had withdrawn into their carriages and only the first shift of the night watch, one bodyguard and I, stayed awake. The other recruits were fast asleep, dead beat after the first day. Only Drew had energy to spare but he was in charge of the later shifts. No way I would put my life into the others’ hands.

“You are working hard,” a quiet voice interrupted my thoughts. It was Fabien, offering a water pouch to me. “Against the cold.”

I nodded in appreciation and took a sip. Wine. Cheap wine. But the alcohol warmed my stiff muscles. In response, he took out a small bottle and joined me. Also wine. Probably much more expensive.

“We are slow,” Fabien broke the silence, disappointed with today’s progress. “It’ll take an eternity to reach Haithabu.”

I nodded. We were slow. No reason to deny it.

“If we rode inside the carriages,” I started but stopped myself after seeing his wry smile. No need to bring it up again.

“They would rather take more time.” Fabien confirmed my suspicion. “A merchant’s money is worthless without status. You can always make more money, but a stained status is hard to clear.”

“So we are mud.” I sighed. “Well, we are weak. Guess they wouldn’t behave like this in front of a hero.”

“They would.” Fabien denied. “It’s not about strength, but status. They would belittle a hero until his status was higher than theirs. Afterwards they’ll grovel and beg for his goodwill. Nothing but dogs barking at the moon.”

“Oh? And you are different?”

“Who knows?” Fabien laughed, pointing at the water pouch in my hand. “Maybe I’m different, maybe I’m the same. Just another dog fighting over scraps. Does it matter?”

“It does. How could there be trust without truth?”

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“Trust?” He mocked. “This isn’t about trust. It's about money. How could there be trust without truth? Then let me ask. How could there be trust without knowing each other’s names? See? This isn’t about trust. It’s always about money.”

“Uhm...,” I spluttered. “I’m Aki.”

“Hello Aki.” An exaggerated bow. “My name is Fabien, the most hated merchant in Gladford.”

“Most hated?” I wondered. “Shouldn’t you introduce yourself in a more flattering way?”

“Should I?” He rolled his eyes. “Wasn’t this conversation about truths? Then tell me, how did the maiden like your present?”

“She... I didn’t give it to her.” I answered, ignoring his mocking smile. “Anyway, it wasn’t meant for her from the start. I bought it for myself.”

“Did you?” He laughed. “So why won’t you wear it for me. A warrior with such a necklace should lighten this gray journey.”

“It’s not about the necklace, but...” I stopped. His smile had become even wider. He wouldn’t believe me no matter what I said.

“See. And the others are the same. They bought expensive jewelry for an unattainable flower and now they hate me. As if I forced them to buy it. At least half the men in Gladford hate me with passion. So yes, I’m the most hated merchant.”

“Then why didn’t you warn them?”

“Do you think they would listen? To me?” He chuckled. “They are fools. All of us are fools. There is this beautiful maiden in a city full of farmers, still alone. So why would anyone believe she is interested in another farmer? Because this time the farmer is special? The first to buy her jewelry? The one with the best looks? You think those fools would listen?” He snorted. “It’s always about status. And a farmer will never catch her eyes.”

“It’s not like that.” I disagreed, remembering her story in the game. “She wouldn’t value such things.”

“Oh? Is that so? Then tell me about the other girl. The farmer girl. What did you buy her?”

“A hair-band.”

“A hair-band. And what did you buy to impress the beautiful maiden? A necklace. Worth twenty hair-bands. And for what? A castle made of clouds? A dream you chased after? Everything is bound by status. Our future, our feelings, even the presents we pick for others.”

“But Thea isn’t...”

“I know, I know. She isn’t your girl. Then let me rephrase my introduction. My name is Fabien, the most loved merchant in Gladford.”

“The most loved?” I burst into laughter.

“Yes, the most loved one. Though they never learned my name.”

“That makes no sense.”

“Oh, but it does. What will those farmers do with the jewelry after their failure? Sell it back to me? No way. They would only lose money. So they keep it until their heads have cooled down. And when they follow the call of their status and marry a farmer girl, they’ll remember that piece of jewelry. A present they would never buy otherwise.”

He laughed aloud, proud and provoking.

“And you’ll sell merchandise you wouldn’t otherwise,” I pointed out. “You aren’t some saint, only a greedy merchant.”

“Of course! I’m a greedy merchant. Didn’t I tell you? Everything is about money,” he responded in jest. “But what is wrong with that? Those fools would waste their coins on cheap wine and whores, anyway. I get their money, they learn a life lesson, and their wives marvel at the unexpected present. Everyone is delighted. Everyone wins.” Maniac laughter. “After all, everyone is a fool.”

I sat there and watched him without retort. What to say against such madness?

“So,” Fabien continued after he had calmed down. “I’m the most hated merchant in Gladford. But the men can’t talk about it in fear their wives overhear them. And I’m the most loved merchant in Gladford. But all the wives don’t know I was the reason for their presents. Without me, they would never feel like a treasured woman but receive some cheap linen. One moment of wonder made possible by yours truly.” He bowed in front of me. “So in the end, I’m just another merchant in Gladford. Money and status are everything.”

He fell silent.

And I couldn’t get an accurate read on him.

Was he a maniac? Or a talented performer, greedy for money? Or someone broken by his own status? I didn’t see the truth behind this barrage. But I still wanted to deny it. People didn’t achieve success above their status? A farmer wouldn’t marry the sword maiden? At least that I wanted to deny.

“There are farmer girls who enjoy a linen hair-band as a present,” I retorted, thinking of all the stripes in Thea’s room. “Price and value are different. And there are people rising as well. So why should someone bury his dreams just because of status or money? The maiden herself rose from the rank of peasants, so a farmer would be more fitting for her. It’s easy to judge if you are aloof.”

“Aloof?” Fabien laughed once more. Restrained. Self-conscious. “Didn’t I say it? Everyone is a fool. Whether we buy linen, jewelry, or a stupid bird. Status and money are things we will never overcome. We can struggle, we can bite, we can scream. But the result is the same. Everyone is a fool.”

He stood up, his gaze one of... pain? Mourning?

“Anyway,” he tossed me his small bottle. “I shouldn’t have taken their money and stayed in Gladford. But now I have to sit through this. What a waste of time.” He sighed, bowed, and told me his parting words. “Dear commander, please keep me alive during this journey.”

Left behind in the silence, I examined the small bottle in my hand. Cheap pottery, chipped and cracked from its usage. The campfire crackled, a bird screamed in the distance, one of the recruits turned in his sleep. My shift had just begun.

So I took a sip against the cold of the night.

Cheap wine. The same.