“So, I guess my plan worked perfectly.”

There were several people on the shore of the abandoned port, some camping, and others simply wandering as they grew bored. Dollar nodded at each of them, but none spared him more than a curious glance. Thankfully, his usual abandoned hut was still free, and a few minutes later Dollar walked out of the destroyed port wearing a fresh set of clothes, his gaze sweeping over the once-empty field outside the great walls of the city.

There are a lot of new faces around. Dollar noted with interest.

Through means both magical and common, buildings had been erected over the plains, each bearing the emblems of noble houses and various adventuring parties. A few of the factions surprised Dollar. He didn’t recognize them, but they had sub emblems that denoted their presence as being from the eastern and northern continents. Clearly, the news of the symbol’s existence had spread far and wide.

The proud base of House Tiberius was now hidden behind a cacophony of tents and hordes of people and shouts and bellows smacked into Dollar’s body like a truck as he approached the chaos. Some belonged to strangers, and others to the Accensi arguing with them. The Tiberius guards were frenzied, each one forced to process huge lines of people trying to enter the city.

There was a certain beauty to the flames of madness that engulfed the City of Tiber. Dollar chuckled as he passed through a makeshift market, the smells of roasting meat wafting over him. Several people were bartering, and others tapped the air in front of them, checking their System notifications.

Dollar examined them all carefully as he walked, and his eyes lingered on any items that looked valuable.

What’s the average level here? He wondered.

His eyes fell onto a skinny man wearing a woolen coat more suitable for cold climates than the moderate temperature of the south. The man was followed by five others, each carrying thick blades, but while his followers were strong, the man himself looked weak enough that a breeze would knock him over.

Then the man bumped into someone, and the other person went flying into a stone wall. The wall broke, and someone’s shout rang out. A moment later the person that hit the wall rose up, unharmed and cranky.

Dollar shuddered. I can’t judge anyone by their physical appearance in this world.

From the way people avoided each other, it was clear that nobody knew how powerful the people next to them were. Suddenly, the mantra of keeping to oneself made more sense to Dollar. When nobody could tell how powerful you were, it was better to be cautious than to be boisterous.

Storage items are still rare even with all these households and clans mixed together. Dollar noted with interest. Maybe one in one hundred people have them. Possibly less.

As he reached the barrier wall of the city, his attention shifted toward the Accensi at the entrance gate. Each one was panicked, on the verge of tears, and he could see shadows under their eyes as deep as the lake. None of the guards had gotten much sleep over the past few months.

What a nice sight. Dollar nodded at the guards happily as he reached the wall.

The Accensi barely noticed him. Their security was already lax due to time constraints, but with all the powerful strangers present, a child hardly registered on their radar. Still, their innate caution of anyone, even children, prevented him from simply walking through the gate unexamined. Several of the Accensi were freshfaced, sitting back and scanning everyone that came through with their eyes. Dollar even spotted a couple of Ino up on the wall, each confident in their ability to stop any and all fights that broke out.

Which meant they were also constantly busy, since the number of new arrivals almost matches the number of people living within the city.

“The world responded quickly,” Dollar smiled in satisfaction. “I’d wager they brought coins with them too. Or other means of bartering.”

“Oink.” A familiar sound hit his ears, followed by a grunt.

“Exactly, it means a new flow of customers for my wares,” Dollar agreed. “Wait. What?”

Dollar whipped his head to the side, spotting a familiar grand figure bathed in peach fur, a green horn jutting out toward the sun. Bill clomped his hoof against the stone floor of the street, and Dollar stared at the grec in shock.

“Bill…How did you get out of the lake?” Dollar asked. “I saw you bounce off it.”

The grec looked at him, and then down at the street, frowning with confusion. Then he grunted, and tapped his horn against stones. When the grec came up with nothing, he shifted his limbs in the uni-pig’s equivalent of a shrug.

“You know what, never mind,” Dollar gripped the grec’s fur and led him across the street. “Mitsy probably saw you, but if not, she’ll be freaking out. You better be able to break through the lake again when we come back.”

Thankfully, the lake’s depths are invisible to the outside world. The light of the aura barrier is too bright, and even then the waters still obscure anyone floating within them. Dollar didn’t feel a flicker of worry for Mitsy. Even if the invisible creature attacked her, he knew that the monster would get the worse end of the deal.

He trusted her ability to keep his exit safe.

Bill let out several oinks beside him, the grec’s tail thumping against the ground in excitement as more people gathered around them. Anyone who wanted to enter the City of Tiber looked like they had money and influence, and some belonged to households that even the guards had to be cautious of offending.

“Just stay quiet, and pretend to be an ordinary grec,” Dollar whispered.

Bill stared at him, and then nodded in a distinctly non-grec manner. “Oink.”

Passing through the gate was easier than last time, an anxious and frantic guard barely glancing at him as he passed through. None of them noticed his wet hair, which he could thank Bill for, since the giant grec covered most of his body and took away the attention, the animal puffing his horn up high every time a person studied him. Thankfully, Bill’s symbols didn’t cause a stir, Dollar’s [Symbol Obscurity] hiding the symbols on Bill’s body from any prying eyes.

He still didn’t know why the [skill] worked on his companion, but to the majority, Bill looked like an ordinary, slightly clean, grec, but Dollar still took him aside as they crossed into the outer ring of the city. He tapped Bill’s head to make sure he had his companion’s attention, and then he fell silent, thoughts racing across his mind.

“Okay, so, I wasn’t expecting you to be here,” Dollar frowned. “But I can make this work. I will make this work. Listen closely, this is my plan.”

Dollar’s plan was fairly simple.

Step 1. Buy materials to make artifacts.

There was no step 2.

“Oink.” Bill nodded.

“To make artifacts, I need materials. And since I’m not sure when I can come back, I want to buy as many as I can before returning to the lake,” Dollar explained to Bill as they walked in the direction of the market district. “So we’re going to set up shop again. Wait, this is your first time. Don’t worry, you’ll figure it out.”

There was a grunt of agreement and Bill’s head bobbed up and down. Dollar chuckled at the uni-pig’s almost-human antics, finding the grec’s presence oddly comforting.

Maybe it’s not so bad to do this trip alone. Dollar counted the coins in the storage ring as he moved. Mitsy had added her share of their profits for him to spend.

Once they reached the market district, Dollar breathed a sigh of relief when he saw it was unoccupied. However, unlike the other times, he didn’t set up shop straight away. He checked in with the administrators in the Veil building and bought a permit to set up his stall in the usual spot.

Then he turned around and walked toward the inner ring of the city.

Bill paused in confusion, “Oink?”

“We’re not setting up yet. We have thirty three gold coins, and we need to check how much more money we need to buy materials,” Dollar explained. He continued walking, and Bill pranced forward frantically as he was left behind. “Plus, I’m adjusting my plans a bit. Thanks to Mitsy’s new artifact creation method working, there’s a better way to make money than using the dispensary.”

Dollar brought out a list from his storage ring, and on it were the names of high end shops frequented by nobles and those with coins to spare.

[Lottie’s Fine Clothes.]

[Symbologist’s Lot.]

[Unique Fabrics.]

[Clothing Tailored For You]

[Dungeon Tailors.]

[Crystal Wears.]

Dollar took out his work mask from his storage ring, activating the swirls of darkness and letting them fold over his face, hiding his features. The artifact’s presence would give him a better impression with anyone he talked to. People didn’t want to talk shop with a kid, but a rich kid with an artifact on his face was a different matter. Then he glanced at Bill.

“First, I need to get you a mask.”

****

“We have shoes and gloves,” Dollar pursed his lips. “But that’s not enough.”

I need something that can hold the power of the gravity symbol. A full-body robe would be the best fit for me. It’ll make me look more like a magician, but it can also fit more symbols on the surface area. For Mitsy, a shirt or jacket. For Bill… Dollar glanced at Bill, who looked back at him with wide eyes. Some kind of harness?

Crystal Wears was the first store they visited, and nobody stopped Dollar from entering or questioned if he had enough money to be there because the employees were too busy scrambling to stop Bill from trying on everything he found. The grec trotted happily from one aisle to the next, clutching an ever-increasing bundle of pricey fabrics in his teeth.

Nobody from the inner ring wanted a farm animal walking inside their premises, let alone one with a taste for clothes, and Dollar took the time to look around carefully. He picked up and discarded several robes, trying to determine their value by their look and feel.

That grec has surprisingly expensive tastes. Dollar chuckled as he watched a panicked attendant trying to pull Bill’s snout out of a coat opening.

Dollar turned back to the person manning the front desk. “What’s this called?”

Fabrics ruffled as he placed a thick green robe onto the counter. It was woolen, though not any kind of wool he recognized, and it was strong enough that he was confident it would hold at least three symbol arrays. Maybe even four.

Knowing this place, the wool probably came from a monster sheep, Dollar thought.

“Huh?” The woman tore her eyes away from the chaos Bill was causing. When she saw what Dollar had in her hands, her eyes glimmered. “Ah, I see you have good eyes. That’s an Ashanti robe. They’re common in the eastern continent. Rarer here, but suitable for desert climates and winter chills alike.”

The saleswoman kept a straight face as Bill shot past the desk, letting out a squeal as a pink dress covering his snout.

“Some kind of nomads?” Dollar asked.

“Information brokers. Buying one of their robes gets you a discount at their taverns and other locations,” She said. Then her eyes narrowed. “It’ll cost you fifteen gold. Do you have that, kid?”

That’s not a discount. That’s just ripping people off. Dollar smiled. I love it.

“Thanks, put it on hold for me,” Dollar said.

The attendant nodded absentmindedly, but she didn’t look like she was taking his words seriously. As Dollar exited, the entire store breathed a sigh of relief when Bill stopped, looked over at him leaving, and trotted out.

From there, Dollar and Bill made their way through several stores, and at each stop Dollar noted the best quality products and their prices. If his leveling was determined by how much he believed an artifact was worth, then he needed to know exactly how much the materials cost in the first place. This time, he wouldn’t make the same mistake as his mis-priced darkness blocks.

Most of the stores didn’t want to talk to him. A child walking around purchasing expensive clothing wasn’t common, and most judged him from what he was already wearing. He left the final shop with the employees watching his every move, convinced that Dollar and his companion grec were thieves staking out the location for a future robbery.

None of them had understood the value of his mask, and at best considered it a decorative object.

“Five stores and nothing else caught my attention aside from that robe,” Dollar grumbled as he exited a store called Lottie’s Fine Clothes. The clothes had been anything but fine. “Am I just picky?”

“Oink,” Bill replied.

Dollar stepped up to join Bill, who had been caught before he could enter and forced to stay outside, and was greeted by an indignant squeal. Dollar saw a look of disappointment crossing the uni-pig’s features. None of the stores had wanted to give Bill free clothes, and the grec was pouting about coming back empty hooved.

“Oink,” Bill sniffed at them fiercely.

“Yes, I know you’re majestic.” Dollar ran his hands comfortingly through Bill’s fur. “Those people are losing out on good customers. They’ll regret this day later.”

Bill was only lightly placated by his words, the grec having suffered this same insult in several stores.

“Better luck next time, buddy,” Dollar chuckled. “We have enough coin to afford a medium-priced robe made from monster parts. It should be able to contain a few symbol arrays, but even with fistfuls of gold coins some of the better stuff is way out of my price range.”

“Oink,” Bill nodded knowingly. Over the past few minutes he’d also discovered how expensive things were.

But I’ll solve my money problems soon. Dollar thought.

“I have a good feeling about this last store.”

“Oink?” Bill looked skeptical.

To the grec’s surprise, Dollar raised his arms and closed his eyes, gently breathing in the breeze. The moment he did so, he allowed his senses to unfold, taking in the calls of the symbols around him. In a city like Tiber, those calls were ever present. They were in the buildings, and in the streets, throughout the walls and over the mountain.

Many of the symbols were coming from a store in front of him.

[Symbologist’s Lot].

Dollar strode inside, following the call of the symbols. Unlike the other clothing stores, this was a warehouse that sold materials, fabrics, tools and machines for symbologists. Several veiled symbols called out from within the warehouse, and Dollar practically skipped inside, pausing as he found himself surrounded by a thousand different objects, each created with the express intent of benefitting symbologists. None of it looked organized, but all of it was useful to him.

“This is more like it,” Dollar’s lips curled into a smile.

The Symbologist’s Lot hadn’t existed a month ago in this size. It had been far smaller, and less stocked. Now, it was filled with dozens of customers, most of whom were outsiders, and all of whom were symbologists. Half the warehouse was dedicated to core materials and casting materials, and one section contained finished clothing, but Dollar was stopped by an attendant before he’d walked two feet.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

Dollar eyed the man warily, then blinked in shock. The attendant wore a silver symbologist badge on his chest, and had deep calluses on his hands that could only be cultivated by carving symbols for years.

Silver-ranked symbologists don’t typically man stores.

“Are you an employee here?” Dollar asked.

“Something like that,” the man replied with a smile. “I’m authorized to oversee sales.”

He gestured toward the gathered employees, all denoted clearly by their uniforms, and they bowed their heads toward him. None of them moved to interfere, and Dollar sensed more than respect in their eyes. There was a hint of fear there.

There’s no emblem of House Tiberius, which means he’s an employee of the symbologist guild, Dollar deduced. I didn’t know they could own stores in this city. Let alone ones this big. Parelius’ influence must have fallen further than I thought over the last month.

At the same time as he examined the man, the man examined him, and Dollar saw a nod of satisfaction as the man saw his callused hands. The man’s eyes twinkled as he laid eyes on the bronze mask, and he peered at it curiously. Then, he closed his eyes and the symbol array in the mask twinged as the man bathed in the call of the symbols within.

“A wonderful artifact,” the man said. “I know you. Grisham’s apprentice, right? I’m Earl.”

“Esteemed master Grisham, hallowed be his name,” Dollar replied immediately. “My master wants— wait, did you say your name is Earl?”

Earl’s eyebrow rose, “I did. Why?”

“No, no reason,” Dollar replied.

Dollar smiled. His name is Earl and he works at a warehouse that looks like a junkyard. That’s nostalgic.

He’d known a similar man back on Earth, though that had been during his younger years. The coincidence immediately gave him a good impression of the man in front of him, and he saw the symbologist smiling back at him.

Grisham’s reputation precedes him, Dollar thought. Maybe I’ll finally get taken seriously around here.

“My master is looking for some clothing and fabrics to create artifacts from,” Dollar said. “One will be an immediate purchase, the others I’ll likely come back for after consulting with him.”

“Then you’ve come to the right place,” Earl jutted out his pinky finger, which was the Ioan equivalent of a thumbs up. “We’ve got wares for days thanks to the new visitors. Every symbologist household for miles is hawking their wares, and we pick out the best of the lot.”

The visitors are selling their wares too? Dollar paused. I should have expected that. Of course a high-ranked symbol would attract households dedicated to symbology.

There was a clatter as something fell to the floor, and Dollar spotted a sheepish Bill holding his head down in shame. The grec had walked back to give Dollar space and bumped into an item that looked like a walking cane, except it was made out of metal.

“What is that?” Dollar stared at it.

Several employees moved forward with the intention of kicking Bill out, but they stopped as Earl chuckled, the sharp sound smacking against the air. Earl walked past Bill, giving the grec a comforting pat as he did so, and he picked up the object.

“This is a spider-fang.” Earl held the walking cane up with reverence. “The best tool a symbologist can have.”

“Oh?” Dollar leaned forward, not hiding his interest. “Tell me more.”

“Ah, master Grisham’s not from the north then, I take it?” Earl nodded. “Here, observe.”

The walking cane looked ordinary to him, but as Earl explained its mechanisms his eyes grew wider and wider, and Bill squealed with surprise.

“And it’ll only cost you five gold,” Earl said.

Dollar took out his coin purse, intending to negotiate every penny, but Earl held up his hand to stop him.

“That’s what I’d normally say, but your master’s practice has helped the guild out a lot.” He gestured at the other warehouse customers, and Dollar saw several staring at him in recognition. “Owning artifacts is a bit of a sacred thing in this city because House Tiberius kept the supply in a chokehold. By selling so many, master Grisham created a market for it, and that paved the way for us to grow and secure more supplies. Two gold coins. I won’t accept any more than that.”

“We’ll take it,” Dollar said immediately. “Master Grisham will remember this. I’ll make sure of it.”

That leaves me with thirty to spend, Dollar thought.

“I look forward to his continued patronage,” Earl said. “Now then, let’s look at the clothes.”

There was a crash as Bill bumped into another object, and Dollar shook his head. The grec grinned at him, and then trotted toward the clothing section. Dollar walked alongside him, holding the walking cane in his hand.

As they perused, he outlined exactly what ‘master Grisham’ wanted to buy.

“Hmm, your master has terrifying tastes,” Earl said, a bead of sweat dripping down his forehead. The more Dollar had talked, the more the man trembled. “I must admit, I was expecting you to request items compatible with a darkness or silence symbol. Master Grisham’s capabilities are far more varied than I suspected.”

Ah, so there is a silence symbol. Dollar thought. I’d wondered that, since mine is a sound symbol.

“Is that going to be a problem?” Dollar asked.

“No, no,” Earl stepped back. “But what we have on display here may not suit his needs. Please, come with me.”

Earl led them down the aisle until they reached a door made of solid metal. Dollar examined it curiously. It lacked a handle, and any distinct features.

“Sorry, this door is for employees and owners only,” Earl said. “I’ll be right back.”

Earl looked around, making sure that nobody was watching, and placed his hands against the door where the handle would normally be. The material lit up with symbols that reacted to his touch, and he disappeared behind it.

“Oink?” Bill stumbled back in surprise.

An illusion? Dollar stared. No. It’s like the dome wall, but made from symbols. Fascinating.

Dollar peered at the metal, activating [Symbol Array Deconstruction], but Earl returned a moment later, popping out head-first and almost knocking Dollar over.

“Sorry, sorry,” Earl chuckled. “These were created using the scales shed by an absinth hound.”

In his hands Earl held up a pair of pants, and Dollar took in a sharp breath. The pants were onyx black in color, with a faint red flame-like pattern flickering in and out of existence within each scale. At first, Dollar thought it was a trick of the light, but then he realized that the flames really were there, contained within the scales through an unknown evolutionary trait.

As he gripped the scales between his fingers, his eyes widened, and he smiled.

Yes. This is exactly what we need.

“Can it hold the power of multiple middle-ranked symbol arrays?” Dollar asked.

A hush fell over the warehouse, and Dollar looked around in confusion. He hadn’t noticed in his excitement, but the absinth hound clothing had drawn a lot of eyes upon its appearance. The gathered symbologists had already been listening in, intent on discovering more about master Grisham, but Dollar’s question was too much for them to stay silent.

This feels familiar. Dollar’s eyes swept over the gathered symbologists, and his lips curled into a smile. They were watching him with wary eyes, and some clearly wanted to approach him for the benefits they thought he could bring them.

Several symbologists rose and began to approach Dollar with eager eyes, but Earl held his hand up, and they stopped. Their eyes fell onto Earl’s silver-ranked symbologist badge, and his employee uniform, and they paused.

“It will,” Earl said, ignoring the symbologists he’d stopped. “Should I hold them in reserve for your master’s purchase?”

“Yes, thank you,” Dollar replied. “I have a couple more items, but those do not need to be of a higher quality. I’ll be purchasing them before I leave, and you’ll be happy to know that master Grisham intends to put them to good use today. I’d say if you go to the market you’re in for a treat.”

Dollar leaned in but kept his voice loud enough for the gathered symbologists to hear.

“Master Grisham is about to put on one heck of a show.”

“Oh?” Earl’s serious expression grew serious. “Tell me more.”

****

Bystanders watched curiously as Dollar set up his stall, several foreign strangers eyeing his bronze mask with interest. The lack of Mitsy was a tough blow to potential sales, but with the brand new prices of eight bronze per pull, and seven silver coins per ten pulls, Grisham’s Artifact Dispensary was back open for business.

I took out some of the bronze masks to make it harder to get them, but all I really need is some side coins.

On day one Dollar had made 10 gold, on day two he’d made 9 gold. Days three and four had both yielded 4 gold. He’d also received 56 gold from selling his silencing artifact at the Fisherman’s guild auction, though he’d also spent fifty gold in total when buying the information to save Bill and the Greil Petals.

He’d also spent ten gold at the Symbologist’s Lot.

That meant he had a total of 23 gold coins to spend, and he wasn’t satisfied with that amount. He wanted more. Much more.

Everything I bought from the Symbologist’s Lot is going to help me today. Dollar smiled. I’ll have to repay them somehow.

With his preparations complete, Dollar was going all out for day five.

“Come one, come all, to Grisham’s Artifact Dispensary!” Dollar called out to the passing crowds. “Try your luck and you might earn an artifact worth five silver for a measly eight bronze coins!”

As his voice echoed out across the marketplace, it was accompanied by an oink. Bill had settled beside Dollar, and several people giggled as they watched the grec hopping playfully from side to side.

On Bill’s face was a bronze mask.

The mask was slightly too small for the uni-pig’s face, but the end effect was adorable. Dollar could see his companion’s earnest eyes through the holes in the mask, and Bill was acting as though he were entirely hidden. The tiny tendrils of darkness tried to encompass the uni-pig and failed, though either way it would have been obvious that the wearer was a grec.

Dollar watched the grec’s movements with a smile. With Mitsy gone, Bill was his marketing draw for the day.

“Is that a grec?” A passerby whispered.

“Why is it wearing a mask?” Someone else asked.

“Who cares, it's cute!”

Several people were drawn to Bill, and the uni-pig graciously allowed them to pat his fur. When children approached, Dollar watched as the grec rolled over, displaying his stomach and oinking mirthfully as the kids climbed onto him and jumped up and down, crying with joy as they bounced on jiggling fat. Some even hung off of his horn, clinging to it like it was a tree branch. Their parents all bought a chance to draw an artifact, and most were surprised to see that something actually came out of the dispensary.

“This is a real artifact,” one whispered to her spouse. “More. Get more. I don’t care how much they cost.”

Interesting. These people know the value of an artifact.

Dollar watched the newcomers with calculating eyes. Tiber City was the home base of a symbologist household, but that didn’t mean its citizens were symbologists. It was a rare and trying profession, with many barriers to entry, and House Tiberius kept a stranglehold on the city that prevented non-related symbologists from entering it easily. Ength’s aura had changed that, and now people who knew the value of what Dollar was selling had broken through the gates.

As the crowd grew more than a few people watched him back. Some were curious. Others were greedy. Most glanced at the name attached to the dispensary, listening intently as Dollar described the mysterious owner, a skilled symbologist who was passing by and simply wished to make a few coins while practicing his craft in private.

Soon, Grisham’s name would spread across the world.

“What are your upcoming products?” A person asked.

Dollar sighed dramatically as he heard the question, letting out a long and exhausted breath. A new sign had been put down on top of the box, standing tall right next to Dollar.

[Don’t ask about our upcoming products.]

Of course, he had put it there so that people would ask about the products, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t act annoyed. Answering the question had to be done at the right time.

Soon, the questioner gave up, and Dollar went back to his vigil.

I have them right where I want them. Dollar thought, his eyes gleaming.

And yet, there was something bothering him.

The smells of the marketplace grew dimmer, and his gut told him that the bustling crowds held a glint of malice to them. Dollar surveyed his surroundings carefully, paying attention to his instincts. Last time he’d ignored them, bandits had held a knife to his throat as he slept.

What’s the issue here? Dollar frowned.

His features were hidden behind his mask, but Bill stirred as the grec sensed his caution. Several children shrieked with glee as the grec rose to his full height, and then they jumped off his back and began running around him in circles.

With a blink of his eyes, Dollar allowed his [Aura Sense] to take over, revealing the world through his bloodline [skill]. Auras of all colors assaulted his eyes, the gathered people being a mix of red, silver, brown, blue, green, and even one rose-colored, but he only focused on the ones that mattered.

Five auras were distinct from the rest. Sharper, and more refined. Just like the image he held of himself in his body, he could see that their auras had molded into their features clearly.

Accensi. The guards of House Tiberius are watching me.

Dollar knew that he was right the moment the thought hit his mind. Panic swept over him, but it was quickly clamped down by cold, calculating logic. The dispensary was causing a commotion among the newcomers to the city, and it was obvious that the people who had gathered around him weren’t just customers.

It was a given that the Accensi would investigate.

I’ll have to keep an eye on them. Dollar swept his eyes across the rest of the crowd. But they’re not the only ones here with ill intentions.

As the crowd grew so did the number of spies. Symbologists had entered the marketplace, each eyeing each other warily. They snuck in quietly at first, but a quick look showed him several iron and bronze symbologist badges overtly displayed for all to see.

They were the symbologists from the Symbologist’s Lot, but Earl was nowhere to be seen, and most of the symbologists that had arrived were poorer. Their clothes were tattered, and they held purses in their hands instead of storing them inside storage items.

Dollar waved at them happily.

Earl’s probably gone to inform the symbologist guild about my words. Dollar examined the symbologists carefully, taking note of who was missing. And several likely went to tell their households. Good. That means more customers for me.

After a moment, he again turned his attention to the Accensi in the crowd.

The guards could be here to stop any fights breaking out. But then they wouldn’t be so hidden.

The guards weren’t infallible to emotions, and curiosity guided every human the bronze masks probably interested them. They might even be staying to catch a glimpse of the symbologist in charge of the operation.

That’s logical, but it doesn’t explain the unease I feel. Dollar acted calm, the gears of his mind churning out plans and counterplans for all the possible situations.

Time passed, and sales were made.

A dozen.

Four dozen.

A hundred turned into two hundred.

Several people appeared throughout the proceedings, each of whom garnered respect and attention from the crowd, and in turn gained Dollar’s attention.

The first was a woman draped in a fine green and blue sundress. She wore a silver symbologist’s badge on her chest, and Dollar paused as he spotted her aura. It was a swathe of silver with a rosy-tint added to it. He couldn’t make heads or tails or it, but a glowing ax strapped to her back betrayed her status as more than a humble symbologist.

The second person to gather his attention was Earl. The man appeared after the second hour, accompanied by half a dozen bronze-ranked symbologists. He waved at Dollar, but the others around him were stoic, and the crowd parted to let them through, glimmers of recognition within each of their gazes.

The third was a woman with a rapier by her side and a bronze cloth wrapped around her forehead. She was accompanied by an old man, and Dollar’s lips parted into a smile. It was the same people from the auction he’d attended at the fisherman’s guild. The old man had made a personal commission for a copy of the item Dollar had sold, and today, Dollar intended to fulfill that order.

He nodded at the old man, and the man nodded back with a smile.

Finally, three new factions arrived. Dollar saw that each was composed of varying entourages of men and women with emblems on their chests belonging to external households. All three glared at each other, and Dollar spotted several symbologists that had been inside the Symbologist’s Lot within the groups.

Nobles. Guilds. Households. Accensi. This is quite the gathering. Dollar held back a smile as he examined the gathered participants. Now, it’s time to begin the true sale.

The first person to step up to the dispensary was the ax-wielding symbologist. Some of the crowd snickered as they spotted her sundress, but then they paused when they saw her weapon and silver badge. Her pride was clear for all to see, but there was a glimmer of caution and intelligence behind her gaze that told Dollar that she was more than she seemed. There was also another trait about her that he noticed.

She was the only person whose entourage was avoiding the Accensi hidden in the crowd.

The woman propped her elbows onto the dispensary and twirled her finger in the air playfully. “May I know what these upcoming products are?”

“So, another person wants to know?” Dollar asked, his voice mirthful. “And who are you to ask?”

The woman blinked in surprise, and then she laughed. Her dress shimmered as she did, and Dollar saw several symbol arrays appear and disappear.

“They call me Lady Nestin, but my name is Alphead,” Alphead said. “Symbologist, and noblewoman by trade.”

“Lady Nestin?” Dollar tilted his head. “That’s not what your ax tells me.”

His voice echoed over the crowd, and a hush fell wherever they touched. Dollar’s words caused Alphead to hesitate, her jovial expression stiffening for a moment. His statement wasn’t without merit. He could feel the call of several powerful symbols from within her ax, and he eyed the weapon warily.

Finally, Alphead smiled, and she waved her hand upward.

A stone box appeared in her palm, and Dollar recognized it as one of his products.

I kept an eye on her the entire time, so she couldn’t have bought it today, Dollar thought. She must have gotten one earlier. Or bought it off an existing customer.

“You’re good, apprentice. But I can sense the quality of these artifacts that master Grisham is better.”

Her words caused several in the crowd to shift, including Earl and the Accensi.

“Even among people with the same ranked badges there is a wide variation in skill and ability,” Alphead continued. “Some symbols are terribly drawn, or only loosely represent their concepts. Grisham’s are neither. Some only see the darkness of the artifacts with their eyes, but I can sense the difference. These symbols are stronger than their normal counterparts. Only a creator more skilled than they let on can accomplish this. How has he done it?”

“Master Grisham does it by being the best,” Dollar replied instantly. “And he’ll be pleased to hear your compliments.”

As he spoke, he examined the woman known as Alphead Nestin. Brash. Bold. But calculating. She’s discovered the nature of [Ength’s Touch] just by examining one of my artifacts. I need to be careful around her.

This woman was someone who had pierced through the veil of mediocrity and spotted the hidden depths of the artifact’s creation.

“Fine, I suppose I can tell you about master Grisham’s plans.” Dollar said.

Alphead stepped back, and the eyes of the crowd fell on Dollar.

“Grisham’s curiosity has been piqued by the flood of skilled people into the city. He has decided that if this day goes well enough, he will allow me to sell other wares. Ones far better than what you see here. If I recall correctly, his exact words were as follows.”

Dollar took a deep breath and lowered his voice, donning his best Grisham impersonation.

“‘These pissant yokel symbologists from other continents think they’re big shots, but they’re only here because they couldn’t make it in the Tournament of Kings. If they have good eyes and see the value of my artifacts, then I’ll show them something better, but not for long, or else they might despair at how little they know. These kinds of people can’t handle the crushing realization of how little talent they have compared to a real symbologist’.”

Silence bloomed across the area, broken only by the thumping of Bill’s tail as he oinked merrily beside Dollar’s ear.

Then, protests broke out.

“I was too old to enter this year, or I would have!” A symbologist protested.

“Pissant? I own a thousand grecs. He only has one!”

“I’ve made better masks in my sleep!”

Yes, yes, blame it all on Grisham. Imagine how cocky he is, looking down on you all. Become angry. Become curious. Whatever gets you to stay here.

Dollar was glad that the mask hid his smile, but his eyes stayed glued onto the woman. Alphead was pensive, her eyes flickering with curiosity, but there was no surprise within them.

With a gesture two gold coins appeared in her palm.

“I’ll take as many pulls as this will give me,” She said. “Will that get us much closer to Grisham’s goal?”

“Certainly,” Dollar smiled, his finger tapping the top of the dispensary.

Within minutes he had sold more artifacts than in the last hour. Several symbologists were purchasing them out of spite just so they could criticize them publicly. Dollar didn’t care about their hurt pride, they had still bought the product, which meant he was richer. Thinking that they were superior while giving money to the very person they criticized only made them look more foolish.

Besides, they’re only insulting Grisham, Dollar thought.

The buying frenzy was short lived, but one of the symbologists obtained the highest prize, a unique bronze mask, spawning another wave of purchases. Dollar watched as that symbologist took the mask directly to Earl, passing it to him with a reverent whisper. The man eyed the mask curiously, a faint smile on his lips.

You’re definitely not just a shop employee.

“I believe this is enough.” Dollar said.

Groans followed his announcement. The last pull had netted a bronze mask and people were once again eager to try their luck.

Then Bill stood up, allowing his enormous size and deadly horn to silence any protestors.

Three hundred and twenty pulls. Dollar counted them in his mind.

That was the number he stopped at.

200 had been normal pulls, netting 16 gold. 120 had been discounted due to bulk purchasing, netting 8 gold and 4 silver.

Twenty four gold and four silver in total. Not bad for half a day’s work. Which means I have forty seven gold in total.

“What happens now, sir Ength?” A familiar voice asked.

It was the butler from the fisherman’s guild auction. The old man and the noblewoman beside him hadn’t purchased a single item, but both of them were eyeing the dispensary intently.

Dollar raised his hand and his storage ring glimmered in the light of the sun, drawing all eyes to it. A twitch here and a jolt there told him all he needed to know about the shock his movements elicited. He raked a hand through his hair and smiled. There had been two hours between the purchasing of his materials and the opening of the dispensary, and he had put that time to good use.

It was time to unveil his artifacts.

“Now,” Dollar said. “We begin master Grisham’s first auction.”