I kick the plant pot and set off, her cries coming from just behind a wall of wooden furniture. Meandering around a barrel of spears and walking sticks, I discover a horizontal column of red oak, used as the shop's counter. Reflecting the emporium's style of chaos, the counter was littered with various trinkets and garment accessories in all states of repair.

A gleaming brass till sat on one end with five glass jars containing multi-coloured frogs with glowing antennas protruding from their heads. Livingston was leaning across the counter, unfazed by the pile of junk across his workspace, holding a small scimitar with a jade handle towards Piia.

Leaping in front of my companion, I brandish my Xiphos like a Knight in shining armour that’s ready to strike down the pervert without hesitation.

“Drop the knife or…”

A shimmering orange acorn flies through the air with a long charcoal chain trailing behind that wraps around my blade several times. The metal jingles to a crack as the chain yanks tight, ripping the blade from my hand. It sails across the room and is snatched out of the air by Tranqit, the Mithril armoured Knight.

“This will be returned upon exit of the Emporium.” He squeaks from underneath his helm.

“Seth, what in Mother are you doing?” Piia lightly slaps the back of my head.

“You were calling for help and he has a knife pointed at you.” I say in my defence.

Livingston looks down at his blade with raised bushy eyebrows.

“I am merely opening my mail while conducting business, administration is an endless disease that cannot be ignored.” He claims while slicing open another letter.

“I meant, help me trade for this Inta cloak. It is amazing and perfect for me.” Piia bristles with excitement.

“Trade, as in, exchange one item for the other?”

“Yes, I will give you an example. For the exquisitely crafted Inta shroud. I would take your Daemonic pack mule and that Xiphos.” He says nodding towards his servant Tranqit who, with his giant singular eye exposed, inspects the sheen of the blade, before shaking his head with disapproval.

“Not the sword then, perhaps another weapon.” He glances towards the Imp daggers hilt sticking out of Piia’s satchel.

“Not going to happen, that mule you’re referring to is Cane and he is a fellow companion and friend. Secondly, that dagger was a gift to Piia to protect herself.” I say with anger.

“It was merely an example, old sport. Your value of this ‘Cane’ clearly reflects the value of the Inta cloak.”

“How do we know these cloaks aren’t abundant in other parts of Silva?” I say trying to rouse this upper class bastard.

“Seth, my tribe has never seen or heard of such a magical gown. You have witnessed its magical effects yourself.” Piia says.

“It is quite alright Lady Satyr, this is a fair and common question. A simple demonstration will sufficiently satisfy all parties. To begin, hand me an item you might throw away without a second thought. Could be an old charm or an ex-lovers note.” He chuckles at his joke.

Piia reaches into her leather satchel and produces the remaining bundle of boiled vegetables. Livingston’s lengthy arm reaches across the vast counter, plucking the offered produce from her hands.

“Prime example Lady Satyr. Now observe the Rarus toads above the registra. Have you come across these before in your travels?” We both shake our heads in reply.

“The Rarus toad feeds off the surrounding aura of an item's value, not in the case of a personal attachment, but in the true energy required to craft said item. Watch.”

Livingston, with the unwrapped old vegetables in his shovel sized hand, reaches across the jars of toads.

Starting with the closest, a celestial gold toad that sparkles and shines like it was polished daily. The toad is slumbering and doesn’t wake from the offering. Moving down the cue, the fiery red toad is next.

Its large docile eyes glance at the food and then towards Livingston with a nasty leer. It turns around, putting its draconic scaly back to the offering with pure spite.

Next is a slimy purple toad, that oozes residue continuously from hidden pores. It spits a phlegmy liquid against the glass jar in response to the food, making Piia giggle. Next along, the blue-green toad moves closer to the offering and smells the air with wide nostrils, before moving back to its nest of straw.

The final toad, a bland and dirty cretin, is rolling in its filth. Coating its grey-white shaded skin with a paste of faeces. As the old boiled vegetables come close it freezes mid-smear, then pounces against the glass jar, shaking the container.

Crushing its hideous face against the inside surface, its white dangling antenna illuminates like a Christmas light. The toad's eyes rolled into its head like it was finally getting a fix of heroin after a long dry spell. Livingston pulls his hand away, much to the misery of the white toad, and returns the food to Piia.

He then offers the Inta cloak straight to the gooey purple toad, getting a curious sniff from the crimson toad as it passes its jar. The purple antenna illuminates, as do the thick syrup droplets coating its skin.

“I don’t fault you for questioning young Seb. Do you trust in my ability and the value of my wares now?” Livingston grins at his petty win.

“Seth.”

“Beg your pardon.” He says.

“My name is Seth.”

“My mistake. So the deal. What can you offer to even the scales?”

We look at each other, Piia is clearly desperate for the cloak. Out of our limited possessions, most only hold value to us, and most are vital for our survival.

I shrug at her.

“I don’t know what that means.” Piia says.

“It means, ‘I don’t know’.”

“Well what about all your loot?” She asks.

Good question. I look through my inventory, reading the runes of my plunders.

Four denars from ram head. I have no idea of their value, hopefully, the purple toad will be impressed by them.

I look at Livingston, he looks suspicious of my introspective expression while I search through my hidden loot. Good, I wanted to wipe that sly smile off his pointy face.

“Do you only trade possession? Or also coins?” I ask.

His smile returns. “Regretfully, No.” He answers.

“Why would you have a cash register then?”

“The registra is merely aesthetics, ties off the emporium decor.”

“Strange shop that doesn’t trade in currency.” I say.

“To be lectured on established commerce theory by a boy that doesn’t understand personal hygiene.” Piia giggles at Livingston's remark causing me to blush red.

“It’s generally standard practice where I’m from.”

“The currency you are willing to trade with, what say its current value?”

Muk, he’s caught me out. I had no clue.

“I don’t know.”

“Neither do I. Neither will the Rarus toads. Owing to the fact that coin value is a collective belief. That rusty metal in your pocket was manufactured without the use of will, magic or power.” Livingston lectured.

Great, so I will have to find a Daemon shopkeeper to spend these denars.

“Even the old food got that white Rarus’s rocks off. Where is the magic in mouldy vegetables?”

“Lady Satyr’s Goddess is an obvious indication that in life, there is power.”

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

“What else do you have, Seth?” Piia says, still keen to trade while I would rather storm out.

I look through my inventory and produce everything I am willing to part with.

I retrieve the bear claws from thin air, Livingston’s eyebrow twitches in reaction.

So he has seen an inventory ability before.

He clears space on the red counter for me to place each piece of loot.

The Opio pendant, Lux pendant, bear claws, Verox talons, Imp ears, testicles and ovaries. I place them, trying not to seem squeamish in front of him.

He scrupulously inspects each item, lifting them individually to the toads for value analysis. Pushing aside the pendants without a second glance.

To Piia’s dismay, nothing flashed higher than blue.

“Splendid, absolutely splendid. You must have come by these in quite a fashion.” Livingston says, dangling the imp ovaries centimetres from his face, without a hint of queasiness.

“Mother’s grace, so it is a deal?” She says exuberantly.

“No deal my dear. The toads never lie. Even collectively they do not sum the value of the Inta coat.” Piia turns to me with the bleakest face.

I still have my bear poncho, Xiphos, Daemon infantry manual and the Verox vambraces. But I need all of them, especially the vambraces considering my forearm has been lacerated twice.

“I’m sorry Piia.” Looking still bleak, she turns to Livingston.

“What can we afford?” She asks.

“Well what are you in the market for?”

I think for a second. We can forage substance with Piia’s survival skills. We could do with more weapons and protection, I doubt we could afford anything worth buying.

I wish I knew what lay ahead of us. Each day has been riddled with dangers, if it weren’t for Piias's talents and knowledge I would have surely perished by now.

More knowledge is never a poor choice. The military manual focuses on basic knowledge for a soldier and each section only touches on its category in vague, limited paragraphs.

My classes and abilities could have published books dedicated specifically for their users' education, which would give us a huge leg up in our next fight. I don’t even know my second class since I passed out before I could read the information. A guide on personal class identification and definition would create a solid foundation to build on.

“How about books?” I say.

“Books. Are you referring to texts of scripture?” Livingston asks.

“Yes, anything on magic or classes to be exact.”

“Parchments, testaments, scrolls, tomes, grimoires?”

“Yes, any of them, all of them.” I say with the excitement of discovery clear on my face.

“Well browse my collection amongst the rows of bookshelves and slipcases.” Livingston gestures sardonically. I look around a little puzzled.

“I don’t see any.”

“Very astute company you keep Lady Satyr.” He says with a charismatic smile to Piia.

“So you offer clothes made of living bushes for sale, but not one single written page of information on anything.” I say with irritation.

“Another lecture is it. How to explain the complexities of mercantile economics in simple words.”- he mockingly ponders for a moment. - “Ah, do you comprehend the words supply and demand?” Livingston asks patronisingly.

“Yes, you condescending fu-”

“Excellent, not quite the barbarian you first appear. Now, tell me educated vagabond of the wilds. Do you know how many people in the world are illiterate?” He waits for my answer with the demeanour of a sadistic teacher.

“I don’t know.” I grumble.

“The vast majority. Not quite the demand required for a profitable enterprise.” He finishes with a triumphant Cheshire cat smile.

I imagine that smile falling away as I smear my blood on my sword and chop his lanky frame into pieces.

“This is a waste of time Piia, we’ve been here for ages and haven’t been able to buy one bloody thing.” My anger was overflowing at this stage. I would rather be crawling through Silva’s underbrush than spend another second in this knobhead's presence.

“Livingston, could you show us any items that we can afford?” Piia says, reading my emotions and understanding we should leave soon.

“My vast collection is predominantly out of your price range. You could browse through the basket of lesser charms or purchase a weak tonic. They are located on those shelves behind you. Another option would be a throwaway item. I believe Seth was perusing the correct display case earlier.” Livingston explains while pointing in various directions around his shop.

Having read the plaque already, I wanted to be certain of the item's limitations.

“These ‘throwaway’ items, can they only be used one time?” I ask, not wanting to waste loot in the trade and buy something rubbish.

“Correct.” Livingston says without being condescending to me. The merchant is now concerned that no sale will go ahead.

“I can look through the charms and tonics, if you would care to describe their effects to me, Livingston.” Piia wore a flirtatious smile, playing him at his own game.

“I know what throwaway I want.” Shouting to her as I began clambering back down the tight avenue.

Upon reaching the display case, I quickly scan the items and their descriptions to see if I have missed anything useful. I wasn’t sure how much we could afford so I took three, then headed back to the counter.

Piia and Livingston were still discussing the trinkets when I arrived back.

“What have you found?” I asked my friend, who was currently handling a pile of rusty jewellery.

“I have found a few pieces you might find helpful. This necklace is called the ‘Moon’s Open Eye’, it allows the wearer to see through the surface of murky water at midnight during a full moon.” Piia dangles the corroded chain with a poorly crafted wooden half-moon pendant. Why is it a crescent moon when the effects only take place during a full moon?

“Sounds rather specific, what’s next?” I say trying not to sound disheartened.

“This ring will change colour depending on the individual's emotions.” We are scraping the bottom of this hoarder's barrel.

“No thanks, anything useful?”

“These bands are woven from the heart of a Ferrum tree and slightly improve vitality and strength.” She holds half a dozen braided bands that shine a dark red in the light. No knot can be found, giving the pattern an infinite loop.

“This is promising, how slight is this vitality and strength enhancement?” I asked the merchant.

“Extremely.” Livingston abruptly states.

“Any small improvement could make a difference out there Seth.” Piia smiles with the delight of finally finding anything worthwhile.

“Okay, we will buy three. There looks like size options, so we can probably find one to fit around Cane’s thick legs.” Neither of them commented on buying a magical accessory for a hippo.

“This tonic will improve confidence in social situations and restore energy. It does severely dehydrate you though, often leading to mindstrains.” Piia held out a stoppered bottle of clear liquid.

“So alcohol, more of a toxin than tonic. I think we should consider daily challenges or worst case scenario situations rather than partying.” On that note, Livingston reaches to the top shelf and removes two identical rings, made from completely transparent glass.

“I believe these will cover a particularly bad day. The ‘Lover’s rings’. The Will used to mould these were channelled through a powerful emotion-”

“Love!” Piia interrupts, she awkwardly looks at us, a little embarrassed by her outcry.

“Exactly Lady Satyr. Love. If bearers are separated by whatever foul circumstance. The rings will guide them back together.” Livingston says, finishing his sales pitch.

“And will the rings still work if the wearers aren’t in love?” I sense a trick. The other items have terrible uses, while the rings seem practical in the dense woodland of Silva.

“They were created by love, ergo it shall not be required thereafter. They will be perfectly suited to a travelling couple, such as yourselves.” Myself and Piia took a ring each from Livingston. We both exchanged glances and nodded in agreement.

“So we have the Ferrum bands and the rings. How much will that cost?” Piia inquires.

“For Three Ferrum bands and matching ‘Lover’s rings’, I would say all the imp parts and half the Verox talons is a fair price.” Livingston proclaims. His demeanour and tone shut down any rebuttal for bartering.

Before I can attempt to haggle, Piia squeals with excitement.

“Excellent, we will take them all. Seth, we own magic items now.” Her Satyr's ears twitch with joy. I wasn’t about to ruin this moment for her by being stingy on a few talons. Though I did pay for them in blood.

“Okay, with the remaining loot, I would like to purchase these as well.” I reveal the throwaways I had taken from the display cabinet. The bag of screams, dice of multiplication and instant repair kit. Let the haggling begin.

“My my, those are extraordinarily useful for countless situations, I have no doubt you will end up in. In fact, with the bear claws and remaining talons, you can’t afford any.” Livingston announces. He draws a short breath and points his elongated finger up in a fake moment of consideration.

I was waiting for this.

“Seeing as you are new customers to my Emporium, I will cut a very generous deal as a token of our blossoming friendships and many future sales to come. The remainder of your loot for the bag of screams.” His sly mouth has spoken those exact words hundreds, if not thousands, of times over the years.

I gesture to Piia before she can accept this ludicrous exchange.

“The bag of screams is a gimmick, I only wanted it to rouse Cane when he’s in one of his charmful slumbers and doesn’t wake when he’s needed.” I riposte his crap offer, lifting a questioning eyebrow at the mention of our companion's charmed state.

Not wanting to lose face at the discovery of his scheming enchantments, Livingston folds.

“Fine, the instant repair kit and the bag of screams it is.” He says, the only show of irritation being his twitching eyebrow.

“Piia, I just remembered that I already have a thread and needle. Silly me, I will take the dice and the bag thanks. Shall we shake on it?” I pressure him by offering my hand.

“Ah Seth my good friend, the instant repair is spe-”

“No thanks, I am quite the seamster with my own needle, I will most likely forget I even have the repair thingy. The dice and bag, with everything else.” I confidently hinder any further opportunity to haggle.

Livingston snatches the instant repair kit away, then shakes my right hand. The feeling of my barky healing salve causes him to grimace at the contact. My numb hand, barely flexible, holds onto his slender hands to further cause discomfort.

Petty of me, however, he deserves far more for his intolerable rudeness.

“Deal. Now, as delightful as this exchange has been, I will have to hurry you along for the Emporium will be closing shortly.” He sulks, having come out of the deal with far less profit than he had been hoping for.

“We should also break our fast and start the day. There are still many trees between us and the tribe.” Piia states.

We don our new bands, feeling no difference in vigour or strength, I hope we weren’t just conned.

The merchant hastily ushers us down the avenue, under the poorly placed table, passed the servant Tranqit who returns my sword, and through the canvas entrance.

Fastening the flaps behind us, Livingston bellows out through a small remaining slit. "As I said before, don't forget to activate the 'lovers rings' by confessing your deepest secrets to each other. Too da loo." The final gap was yanked shut and secured.