Book 1 Chapter 8: A Merchant's Integrity

The morning sun, a mere promise beyond the eastern dunes, found Alexis Thirst already at his stall. At eighty-seven, he was perhaps the oldest person in Dustfall, his lean frame a testament to decades spent under the unforgiving sun. His brown, leathery skin was held tight against his bony knuckles as he meticulously began to unpack his wares. Every movement was slow, deliberate, each cured hide unrolled, each sharpened bone tool carefully placed. His stall, a sturdy, time-weathered structure of rough-hewn timber and canvas, occupied a prime location along Dustfall's main road, a spot his family had owned for generations. For as long as Alexis could remember, they had sold the same goods: rich furs, animal teeth for specialised tools, and dried blood and specific organs for the traditional medicines and ceremonies that the younger generations increasingly disdained.

He paused, leaning against a rough-hewn post, taking a long, deep breath of the cool morning air – a fleeting calm before the city truly awoke. In the distance, he saw the familiar figure of a city guard, making his morning rounds. Alexis watched as the guard stopped at a neighbouring stall. There was a quiet exchange, a nod, and then the stall owner discreetly handed over one gold and two silver pieces. The daily payment. The unspoken cost of doing business in a prime spot like this, a routine transaction that ensured their livelihood for another day.

The guard approached Alexis’s stall, his gait steady. "Morning, Thirst," the guard said, his voice flat, a mere routine statement. "Do you have the payment?"

Alexis slowly turned and walked behind the simple, mismatched timber desk of his stall. He reached into a homemade furred pouch, pulling out a collection of coppers, silvers, and a gold coin. He began to slowly count them out, one by one, hearing a faint sigh from the guard, whose gaze had already drifted to the next stall. Almost a full minute passed before the guard, obviously irritated but holding his expression, finally received the payment. Without a word, he turned and walked off, already aware from Alexis’s deliberate counting that the correct amount was there.

Alexis took no offense. The daily ritual was as much a part of the morning as the rising sun. He took a small, hand-woven broom and meticulously swept the ground around his stall, pushing away every speck of Dustfall’s ever-present sand. He adjusted a hanging rack of dried herbs and intricate charms made from animal teeth, striving to make his area look its absolute best. The effort, despite his focused dedication, was immense. His breath hitched, and he slowly, carefully lowered his bony frame onto his favourite, worn wooden chair, tucked just behind his desk. He leaned back, resting, a soft sigh escaping his lips.

Alexis rested for a few minutes, his chair a familiar comfort against his bony frame. He then slowly pushed himself up, his gaze drifting to the ground. The shadow cast by the canvas overhead stretched long and dark, a stark line across the packed earth. He observed its position, a small smile touching his lips. Hmm, still early morning. Say, about twenty minutes to seven. Yes, I believe I’m right. He chuckled softly, a quiet delight in his own precise knowledge of the sun's slow march.

His gaze then shifted to the neighbouring stalls, the familiar faces of friends he’d known his entire life. The woman at the stall to his left caught his eye, waving. He nodded, watching her approach. She was a slim woman, perhaps fifty, with shoulder-length brown hair always neatly gathered in a bun. Her nose was a splatter of freckles, and her lashes were remarkably long. He remembered babysitting her when she was a child, a distant memory of her tiny hands fumbling with his wares while her family ran the very stall she now managed. Her stall was a vibrant riot of general goods, stocked with a constantly changing array of items shipped in from distant lands – everything from exotic spices and shimmering fabrics to peculiar tools and unfamiliar trinkets. She bought from various ships that docked in Dustfall, then sold for a tidy profit, her ever-changing selection ensuring she always had a flock of customers vying for her attention.

"Good morning, Alexis," she greeted, her voice warm, "How are you this fine morning?" 

"Good morning, Cassie, it's nice to see you this morning," Alexis said, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. He looked over at her vibrant, overflowing stall. "Anything interesting this morning?"

Cassie instantly brightened, launching into an eager rush of words. She listed off everything that had arrived with the dawn, her voice bubbling with excitement and delight. She spoke of exotic spices, shimmering silks from distant ports, curious trinkets from the Northern reaches, and peculiar tools from the Southern mines. Alexis nodded, letting her words wash over him, understanding very little of the specifics but appreciating her boundless energy. He chuckled to himself. She's always been full of too much energy for me. He sighed fondly. It's gotten her into trouble a few times. He remembered when she was just a girl, barely taller than his counter, and she'd seen a sailing merchant dock with a selection of bright blue and gold woven rugs. The merchant was holding them for a specific customer, but Cassie wouldn't let up, wouldn't take no for an answer. Her dad and he had to physically pull her away from the docks as she kept trying to negotiate, practically climbing aboard the ship.

He sighed at the fond memory, then suddenly snapped back to reality. Cassie was still talking, completely oblivious to his momentary wander. She continued to detail her recent stock, her voice a cheerful, unending stream.

"Cassie," Alexis interrupted gently, gesturing with his head towards the growing group of customers approaching her stall.

She finally stopped her excited ramble, her eyes widening as she spotted the waiting patrons. "Oh! Right! Thank you, Alexis!" she chirped, a flurry of motion as she practically launched herself back to her display of exotic goods, a whirlwind of energy.

Alexis watched her go, a fond smile on his lips. Then, slowly, with a soft sigh, he wandered back and lowered his bony frame back into his worn wooden chair behind his desk. From his vantage point, he could overhear the excited dealings already underway at Cassie's stall, the quick patter of bartering, the clink of coin. It made him smile. But then his eyes wandered to the stall directly adjacent to his own, across the main thoroughfare. They, too, had drawn a small crowd of customers. The faint knot in his stomach, which had briefly loosened, tightened again.

Finally, a few figures approached his stall, their shadows falling across his display of hides and bone daggers. Alexis's smile widened, genuine and relieved, as the nervous ball in his gut began to unravel.

Alexis greeted them, pushing himself up from his chair as a few customers approached. Some lingered, genuinely interested in the cured hides and bone tools, a few even made small purchases. Others were clearly just curious, drawn by the "old school" oddities Alexis sold, which the younger generation often found amusing. A group of teens giggled as they walked away from his display of dried blood in small glass vials, joking loudly about the strange remedies.

As their laughter faded, a man approached his stall. He stood out immediately. Alexis, with decades of watching faces in Dustfall, had never seen him before. An outsider, Alexis thought, a prickle of caution. The man wore simple, rough-spun clothes that looked locally made, but they hung on him with a disheveled air. His hair was unkempt, a wild tangle, and a scruffy, uneven beard framed a narrow face. Most unsettling were his eyes – they darted constantly, a shifty, nervous energy about them. Alexis felt a surge of apprehension, instinctively tightening his grip on the edge of his counter, a silent concern for the security of his wares.

The man approached the stall. Alexis greeted him with the practiced, "Hello and welcome. My name is Alexis, how can I help you today?" He tried for his usual formal tone, but the nervousness in his voice was undeniable.

The man didn't respond. His eyes, quick and darting, swept over Alexis's goods, not meeting his gaze. As they did, a faint, approving smile touched his lips. Alexis, sensing a flicker of understanding, hinted, "You like what you see. All my goods are locally sourced from only hunters I have approved of." The man gave a slight nod, a silent acknowledgment. He then straightened from appraising the goods, his gaze darting left, then right, then behind him, scanning the market. Alexis watched, wary of the man's furtive actions.

Suddenly, the man produced a small, stoppered vial from his pocket, its contents a viscous, shimmering grey. Alexis, his heart tightening in his chest, instantly recognised it. It was Silverback poison.

Silverback poison was a substance whispered about in hushed tones throughout Dustfall. In its diluted form, it was highly prized as a skin rub, believed to halt the relentless march of aging, keeping one's appearance youthful. But in its potent, natural undiluted state, as it was in the vial the man held, it became a dangerous drug. A single application to the skin could induce a powerful, often fatal high, sending users into euphoric delirium before frequently claiming their lives. Its trade, though not strictly outlawed, was heavily discouraged and monitored, seen as a morally murky business.

"What do you intend to do with that?" Alexis questioned, his voice strained.

The man's darting eyes finally met Alexis's, a knowing glint in their depths. "I see you don't stock any. I'll sell this to you for ten gold. We both know you can turn a massive profit selling it as is."

Alexis didn't hesitate. His spine stiffened. "No," he stated, the refusal immediate and firm, cutting off any further negotiation.

The man's eyes narrowed. He took a few steps back from the stall, his gaze still fixed on Alexis, then turned abruptly and disappeared into the growing crowd that now jostled along the main road.

Alexis watched the crowd for a bit, scanning for the strange man's distinctive, shifty movements. After a few seconds, he assumed the man was gone and the odd interaction, no more significant than any other hopeful but misguided attempt to sell him something he didn't stock, faded from his mind. As the sole purveyor of ancient practices and locally sourced animal parts in Dustfall, it was common for locals to assume his willingness to dabble in murkier trades like Silverback poison. Alexis smiled again, trying to look welcoming for the swelling crowd now beginning to fill the main road.

The man, however, did not rejoin the throng. He walked quickly down a narrow alleyway, his eyes darting, ensuring no one followed. The noise of the market quickly grew distant, replaced by the hushed echo of his own footsteps on the packed earth. He reached his meeting point: a rough stone wall, part of an ancient home, marked with a small, almost invisible cross of dried mud. He waited, utterly still.

From the window directly above, a voice, low and commanding, finally broke the silence. "Report."

"He did not buy," the man replied, his voice flat.

Silence stretched for a few tense seconds. "His reaction?" the voice asked, sharp and precise.

The man glanced back and forth, up and down the shadowed alley, his paranoia evident. "Thirst was shocked by the vial," he whispered, "but he instantly knew what it was and refused."

"Good." The voice was brief, devoid of emotion. "Continue with the plan."

"Yes, sir," the man replied, and without waiting for a response, he turned and melted back into the deeper shadows of the alleyway.

Hours bled into the afternoon, the sun climbing higher, beating down on Dustfall with an unforgiving intensity. Alexis sat slumped in his  wooden chair behind the desk, a deep line etched between his wrinkled brows. The usual market cacophony – the vibrant cries of vendors, the endless hum of bartering, the rhythmic clang of distant smiths – seemed to mock him today, each sound a reminder of the sales he wasn't making. He reached down, his bony fingers finding the familiar furred pouch tucked securely inside the desk. He pulled out its contents, a cold, silvery handful of coppers and silvers, turning them over, feeling their weight. He glanced at his meager wealth, a long sigh escaping his lips before he dropped the coins back into the pouch and returned it to its hiding spot. Only one customer since this morning, he thought, the truth, a bitter taste. At this rate, I’ll have to start spending my savings just to pay the daily fee.

He glanced left at Cassie's stall, and the vibrant line of customers jostling for her ever-changing wares. Her larger-than-life smile, usually a source of quiet amusement, today served as a painful contrast, a stark reminder of his own dwindling trade. With a weary groan, Alexis pushed himself up. He grabbed his trusty broom, its bristles worn smooth from decades of sweeping. He began to meticulously clear the fine layer of ochre dust that perpetually drifted through the air, kicked up by the thousands of sandals and boots that pounded Dustfall's main road. He swept with slow, deliberate strokes, striving to make his stall look as welcoming as possible, a desperate hope to draw in a new customer.

As he swept, his gaze lifted, searching the swirling eddies of the crowd. Then he saw her. In the distance, weaving through the throng, was Myra, a regular whose visits always brought a surge of relief to his ledger. Whenever she stopped by, she would almost buy half his stock of hides and tools, appreciating the traditional craft. His spirits instantly brightened, a warm flush replacing the chill of his anxiety. A genuine, excited smile spread across his face, and he raised a hand, waving, trying to catch her attention, his arm feeling strangely light with this sudden surge of hope.

Myra saw him. Her head tilted, she offered a small wave in return, her face softening into a familiar smile of greeting. Her eyes met him across the crowded thoroughfare. As soon as their gazes locked, the man she was talking to, his back to Alexis, slowly turned.

Alexis's excited happiness drained away, replaced by a cold, immediate confusion. It was the same man, the one with the shifty eyes and the scruffy beard, the one who had tried to sell him the Silverback poison this morning. The man’s lips moved, but the roar of the crowd swallowed his words. Then, clearly, terrifyingly, he pointed directly at Alexis. The gesture caught Alexis's breath, a sudden, sharp intake of air. Myra gasped, her hand instinctively rising to cover her mouth, her eyes wide with shock and sudden revulsion. She turned abruptly, her steps quick, almost a panicked scramble as she disappeared into the crowd, leaving the man still looking at Alexis.

A chilling smile, thin and triumphant, spread across the man’s face. He stepped into the swirling mass of bodies and vanished. Alexis, a merchant for a lifetime, a man who had seen every trick and every con in Dustfall, knew instantly what had happened. This wasn't a coincidence. This wasn't bad luck. His reputation, his livelihood, his family's name – all were being systematically poisoned.

As afternoon bled into dusk, the market crowd thinned. One by one, stalls around Alexis closed, their canvas flaps dropping like tired eyelids, and the sharp, dry chill of the desert night began to creep in. This was Alexis’s usual time to pack up. He’d never liked the cold, not even as a spritely teenager. Now, in his old age, his bony frame ached with a deeper hatred for it. But with the paltry income he’d made today, he was determined to stay open, just until he at least broke even. Then, he would spend the long night devising a plan to make it big tomorrow. His wife, Kim, was waiting at home, her gentle presence a constant warmth in his thoughts, but also a constant worry. She deserved comfort, not the burden of his failing business. As the family's sole income, he couldn't let her down. He knew if she found out about his new troubles, she wouldn't hesitate to help, to brave the cold herself. That was just the person she was, a quiet strength he loved about her. But she was older than him, more fragile. She wouldn't last a whole day out here.

Alexis grabbed one of the thick furs he sold, its soft weight a familiar comfort, and wrapped it around his shoulders, determined. He would not pack up shop, not yet. He then looked down at his feet, clad in his usual homemade sandals, a gift from Kim for their fiftieth anniversary. He always wore them, a small habit that brought him luck, or so he believed. But tonight, they wouldn't do; his feet would freeze. He would have to find some—

Footsteps approaching his stall pulled him out of his thoughts. He looked up. It was the man, his silhouette distinct against the fading light, a cunning smile already playing on his face. Alexis pushed himself up from his chair, a surge of vigor surprising him, a defiance he didn’t know his old body still held. Their eyes met across the counter, a silent challenge passing between them. Then, the man produced the same shimmering vial of Silverback poison.

"You've got some arrogance, coming back here after the stunt you pulled today," Alexis said, his voice flat, ignoring the tremor that ran through him.

The man's smile didn't falter, ignoring the insult. "I offered you ten gold for this earlier. Now, I'll offer you twenty. Take it. Go home."

A slight breeze, sharp with the desert's coming chill, passed through Alexis's stall, making him shiver. But Alexis, inexplicably, smiled. He knew he was being stubborn, perhaps even stupid in this situation. He could buy it from the man, dilute it into the harmless aging cream, and sell it discreetly. No one would know where it came from. But it wasn't right. "No," Alexis said, his voice stern, firm. The man stood there, his hand still outstretched, the vial glowing faintly in the dimming light.

Alexis's face slowly dropped, the determined strength leaving his body. He bowed his head, a heavy sigh escaping him. It’s going to be a very long night, he thought to himself. "Please," he said aloud, his voice weary, "just leave me alone now."

He slowly raised his head. The man was gone, melted back into the gathering shadows of Dustfall.

As the last sliver of the sun dipped below the desert horizon, painting the sky in fading hues of orange and bruised purple, the cold began to seep into Alexis’s bones. He huddled deeper into the fur wrapped around him, his mind still replaying the man's offer. Twenty gold. It was a king's ransom for a small vial, enough to buy him a good week or two away from the biting chill of the market, a brief reprieve from the constant worry of quotas and family upkeep. He had no grand reputation to uphold beyond Dustfall’s dusty borders, no fragile alliances to consider. The Thirst name, while respected, was largely confined to these streets, passed down through generations of merchants selling ancient remedies and animal parts. He could do it. He could buy the poison, dilute it into the harmless cream, and no one would be the wiser about its murky origins.

But a cold unease settled in his gut. He didn't know where it came from, how it was sourced, or what suffering lay behind its potent form. And he didn't trust the man who offered it, the shifty stranger whose eyes held too much cunning. Alexis was certain the man had subtly diverted his customers, orchestrating his desperate situation as a cruel tactic to force his hand. It was a clever move, undeniably, but it left a bitter taste. He trusted his gut, honed by decades of dealing with Dustfall's myriad characters. What the man did, how he operated, it simply didn't feel right. A final, quiet resolve settled within him. He was happy with his decision to refuse the poison.

He looked up. The main road, once teeming with life, was now dead quiet, swallowed by the encroaching night. Not a single person. Then, a figure appeared in the distance, walking towards his stall. Alexis’s breath hitched. It was not the same man. This figure was shorter, slighter – a boy? A teenager? As the distance closed, the moonlit sky began to illuminate details. Alexis instantly recognised him, not on a personal basis, but by name and formidable reputation alone. He had only seen him in person a handful of times, always from a distance, surrounded by an entourage. It was Hugo, the merchant guild leader. Even from this far, Alexis could discern the silky, combed-back brown hair, the neatly trimmed beard, and the unmistakable glint of large, round glasses with a wire-thin gold band perched on his nose. He carried himself with an undeniable air of quiet confidence, even in the deserted night.

Hugo approached Alexis’s stall, his steps confident, his ever-present smirk a familiar sight. Seeing him there, a figure of such quiet power illuminated by the moonlight, didn't make Alexis nervous or cause his gaze to falter. Alexis knew Hugo was a fair man. The only emotion Alexis felt at Hugo's sudden appearance, at his stall, in the dark of night, was confusion. But his questions would soon be answered. Hugo pulled out a vial from his shirt pocket—the same shimmering, grey vial. Alexis sighed at the sight of it.

"Good evening, Alexis. I see you recognise this vial?" Hugo said, his voice even.

"Yes, I do, Mr. Hugo," Alexis confirmed, already confident that Hugo knew all about the man who had offered it earlier. "A man tried to sell it to me today." He decided to still add.

Hugo looked over Alexis, appraising the old merchant shivering in the cold, wrapped in his own stock for meagre shelter. After a few seconds, Hugo asked, "How much do you know about The Inner Circle?"

The question stunned Alexis. His eyes darted around, searching for any eavesdroppers, though of course, at this hour, the streets were utterly empty. "Umm, well," Alexis stammered, a little bit of nerves now entering his voice, "If you live long enough as I do, you hear whispers from time to time, you pick up on conversations." He chuckled softly. "From passing conversations, I’ve pieced together that the Merchant Guild has a—" Alexis paused, trying to find the right words. "A group of people who would share information with you. As merchants, we meet all sorts of people on the daily." Alexis noted that Hugo's smile widened ever so slightly, and he started to nod along. "We are able to pick up on new happenings more than anyone else in Dustfall."

Hugo waited, letting the silence stretch, to see if Alexis would add anything else. Seeing that Alexis was finished, Hugo simply handed the vial to Alexis. "You will sell this for me, as is," he stated. "We'll split the profits: forty, sixty. Sixty for you, of course." Hugo smiled.

Alexis was stunned silent, not by the offer of such great riches, but by the fact that Hugo, of all people, would present it. What was going on? Alexis thought to himself, his mind reeling. Surely the shifty man hadn't convinced Hugo to help him sell the vial. No one could convince Hugo to do anything he didn't want to. But did Hugo want to? Was this Hugo's plan all along?

"I would take your silence as you considering my offer, Alexis?" Hugo asked, a cheeky tone in his voice.

"What? No, of course not!" Alexis stated, his voice louder than he intended, the words leaving him without thought. "No," Alexis added, softer this time. "Sorry, Hugo, but... no."

Hugo did not react. His expression remained unchanged as he simply stated, "We will make it 90% then."

Alexis's eyes widened at the absurdity of the proposal. "You keep 90% of the profits from this vial and retire," Hugo clarified, his look growing a bit more serious, though the playful smirk still touched his lips. "I am sure Kim would be happy to see you home."

The statement hit home for Alexis. Hugo was right. With the shifting tides of generations, his traditional goods were becoming obsolete. The old cultural rituals and customs were slowly being forgotten with time, and he was earning less and less each year. Perhaps it was time, he thought, to finally give up the stall. But even the thought was a bitter one.

"I am sorry, Hugo," Alexis said softly, a hint of sadness in his voice. "I appreciate your offer, but... I just can't. I will not allow such a drug to be present in Dustfall again, especially not at the hands of my own."

A moment of silence stretched between the men, heavy with the weight of Alexis's refusal. Then, Alexis felt a delicate hand on his shoulder. He lifted his head, startled, to find Hugo mere inches from his own face. The expression on Hugo's face was one Alexis would never forget. The usual knowing smirk, the calculations, the playful glint—all were gone, replaced by a profound sorrow that softened the edges of his lips into a faint, heartbreaking smile. But most of all, Alexis saw the tears. Subtle, slight wetness glistening at the edges of Hugo's intelligent eyes. Alexis was breathless at the sight.

"Are you..." Alexis barely croaked out, his own voice failing him.

"Thank you," Hugo said, so softly Alexis could barely hear the words. Then, Hugo embraced him, a gentle, considerate hug, mindful of the older man's frail body. Alexis was too stunned to hug back, standing stiffly as Hugo held him.

Then Alexis didn't just hear the next words; he felt them resonate through his very bones, a shock that made him shiver, entirely unrelated to the biting desert cold. "I am sorry," Hugo whispered, his voice thick with emotion, "oh so very sorry, Alexis."

Hugo separated from Alexis, the sorrowful expression still etched on his face. Their gazes remained locked for a few silent seconds before Alexis suddenly saw a tall figure emerge from the deeper shadows of the alley, approaching Hugo from behind. The man then stepped to stand beside Hugo, his face finally illuminated by the moonlight. Alexis instantly recognised him—the same man who had haunted his day, the one with the shifty eyes and the scruffy beard. But his usual cunning smirk, his nervous, darting gaze, was gone. Instead, his features mirrored Hugo's own sorrow-filled expression, a gentle, subtle raise at the very edges of his lips. Alexis was utterly stunned by his appearance; his mind raced, struggling to comprehend what was happening.

The man produced a vial from his pocket. It was different from the last. Larger, filled with a clear liquid.

"You know about Silverback poison," Hugo said, his voice quiet. He passed the vial of grey poison to the man. "But, do you know about Chrono-Antitoxin?" Hugo asked.

"Umm… yes, of course," Alexis managed, finally breaking his gaze from the man and turning back to Hugo, his brow furrowed in confusion.

Hugo nodded, a faint smile reappearing on his face, though his eyes remained tinged with sadness. "The solution here breaks down the proteins found in Silverback venom, which, as we know, is the main ingredient for this poison." As Hugo said this, the man uncorked the vial containing the Silverback poison, the very act making Alexis instinctively take a slight step backward. Stories of the drug's agonising effects, the visions, the eventual collapse, flashed through his mind. Then, the man gently poured the grey contents into the large vial. The liquids effortlessly mixed, remaining perfectly clear as the ominous grey colour of the poison simply faded away.

"The poison now," the man said, swirling the contents of the vial. Without hesitation, he then dropped it to the ground. The vial smashed on impact, the clear liquid seeping into the packed earth. "Utterly harmless."

The man stepped forward, over the smashed vial, and approached Alexis. He came eye to eye with the old merchant, then knelt, softly pressing his forehead to Alexis's feet. Alexis recognised the traditional, submissive action, a gesture of profound respect and, in this context, an almost unbearable weight. Alexis instinctively pulled his feet away, uncomfortable with such an extreme display. "Please get up," Alexis said, his voice strained.

The man rose. Alexis looked from him to Hugo, utter confusion clouding his face. "What is going on?"

The man looked back at Hugo, who gave a subtle nod. He then stepped back, allowing Hugo to come forward.

"We wanted to test your virtue, Alexis," Hugo stated, his voice devoid of its usual playfulness. He gestured towards the man, who stood silently. "I tasked Wilhelm to sell you this vial." Hugo paused, inviting Alexis to speak.

Hugo continued, "When you refused again, I wanted to see for myself. I wanted to see what you would say to a deal no sane merchant would refuse." Hugo smiled, a genuine, appreciative warmth in his eyes. He let the explanation hang in the air before continuing, his voice gaining a solemnity that touched Alexis deeply. "Dustfall is very grateful to have a man like you. The majority of our fellow merchants would leap on the deal I offered you without hesitation, taking riches above anything else. You showed loyalty, integrity to yourself, your name, and the people of Dustfall."

The words touched Alexis, drawing a slow, heartfelt smile to his face. But his mind still lingered on his stall, his work, the struggles of the day.

"Alexis," Hugo said, catching his attention, his voice firm. "I will do everything in my power to fix things here. Everyone will know what happened, and I will personally recommend your shop for anyone looking for the unique goods you sell."

This brightened Alexis's mood more than any gold. Such a recommendation from Hugo, the leader of the Merchant Guild, would bring flocks and flocks of people to his stall. Alexis already began planning, his mind racing with the possibilities. I might have to hire an assistant, he thought, a genuine lightness entering his heart.

"I have one final offer," Hugo continued, his gaze unwavering.

Alexis waited, wondering what else Hugo could possibly offer him.

"I want you to become a new member of my Inner Circle." Hugo's eyes held a deep sincerity. "Sure, you possess knowledge that could be helpful for us, but I can get that from anyone along the main road, right?" Hugo then continued, his usual playful smirk reappearing. "I wanted someone I could trust, someone like you, Alexis. This position will come with many other perks, of course." Hugo produced a small bag from his inner pocket and handed it to Alexis. Alexis accepted it and, upon unknotting the string that held the bag closed, his eyes widened in shock. Gold, dozens of gold coins filled the bag. Alexis was utterly stunned. All the stress of recent days, of his failing business, of his age and waning strength, seemed to melt away. With trembling hands, he placed them on Hugo's shoulders. "Thank you, thank you, Hugo," Alexis said, his voice thick with emotion.

A slight tear broke from Hugo's eye, escaping his usual professional mask. "Of course, Alexis, anything for you..." he added, under his breath, "...anything for the Thirst family."