While he walked through the crowded market, a sidewalk merchant caught his attention. The man sat on a filthy, ragged blanket spread over the uneven cobblestones. He was selling magic artifacts. A few pedestrians walked past him, but no one seemed to buy anything from his display.
Kian stopped and came closer to inspect the goods. He looked down at the items scattered on the blanket. The magic artifacts had visible cracks or heavy damages.
A wooden wand was splintered straight down the middle. A glowing blue magic crystal looked completely dull and chipped on the sides. It was obviously bad quality or just defective junk.
But Kian asked anyway. The universe owed him a debt; he needed a stroke of fortune to balance the scales after a string of disasters that would have broken a lesser man.
"Do you have a magic artifact that gives good luck?" Kian asked.
The merchant's head snapped up. A huge, predatory smile spread across his greasy face. He jumped to his feet immediately and rubbed his hands together with hyperactive energy.
"Ah, young master!" the merchant cheered loudly, pitching his voice like a carnival barker. "You have come to the right place! You have an excellent eye for quality. Most people just walk past my legendary wares, but you can clearly see the hidden power resting on this blanket."
The merchant reached down frantically and grabbed a red pendant from the edge of the rug. It looked like a piece of cheap, cracked glass tied to a highly rusted iron chain. He held it up to the morning sunlight like it was a priceless crown jewel.
"This beauty right here is named Vorathyn's Hunger," the merchant announced proudly. "It came from the scorching deserts of Xylar, a very far away country from the other continent across the deadly ocean. It was found in a hidden volcano. Anyone who wears this pendant gets incredible luck. You'll find gold coins dropped on the street, or you will win every single bet you make. Your enemies will trip over their own boots before they can even draw a sword against you."
Kian stared blankly at the cheap red glass. "If it gives incredible luck, then why do you want to sell it instead of using it yourself?"
The merchant completely froze. The wide, fake smile slid right off his face.
Damn it, the merchant cursed in his head. I messed up. That's the most obvious flaw in my pitch. He won't buy it now. I have to think of a good excuse fast, or this kid is going to walk away.
The merchant cleared his throat awkwardly. He quickly forced a sad, dramatic look onto his face and offered a funny, dubious response.
"Well, you see, young master," the merchant stammered and waved his hands defensively. "I actually used it for a week. But it gave me way too much luck. I went to the local tavern to play cards, and I won fifty silver coins in just one hour. But the other players got highly suspicious. They thought I was cheating, so they chased me out of town with pitchforks. Then I found a beautiful woman, but my luck made three other women fall in love with me at the exact same time. They fought over me in the street, and they ended up burning my house down in a fit of rage. I just want to live a peaceful, boring life now. The luck is simply too strong for a simple man like me."
Kian blinked. He did not care about the ridiculous story at all.
"How much is it?" Kian asked.
The merchant was totally surprised by the question. He fully expected the kid to laugh and walk away.
"One gold coin," the merchant stated firmly, puffing his chest out.
To make the artifact look genuine, I have to make the price high, the merchant thought to himself while he watched the kid's reaction. Buyers always judge the hidden value of an item based on the initial price tag. If I sell a legendary pendant for five coppers, the customer will instantly know it is fake garbage. But if I ask for a huge pile of money, it tricks their brain into believing the item has real worth. They will hesitate, and then they will bargain to feel like they won a battle. That's how a sale works. If he bargains, then I win.
The merchant kept his face completely serious, though his mind raced with backup plans.
If he asks for a discount, I am prepared to sell it down to 30 silver coins, the merchant planned internally. I cannot go lower than that because I was scammed by the previous seller of this junk. A sneaky Adventurer sold it to me, and I lost my savings on it. I need to at least recover my losses.
Kian reached into his coat pocket. "I'll buy it."
The merchant expected his customer to bargain hard, but to his complete surprise, the boy did not argue at all.
Kian pulled out one gold coin and dropped it directly into the man's dirty hand. He paid him without asking for any discount.
What? the merchant thought. His jaw dropped wide open.
Kian took the red pendant from the man's frozen fingers. He slipped the rusted chain over his neck, turned around, and casually walked away down the busy street to set up his fortune-telling business.
That was a surprise, the merchant thought while he stared at the shiny gold metal resting in his palm. That buyer is a dumb. I just sold him trash.
The merchant slowly sat back down on his ragged blanket and let out a quiet, wicked laugh.
That magic artifact is a mysterious one, the merchant reasoned silently as he watched the crowd. Whenever an Adventurer wears it, their Mana instantly vanishes. The pendant is called Vorathyn's Hunger for a reason: it eats the wearer's Mana. It sucks the energy out of their Mana Core until the person is dry and collapses.
He remembered the angry Adventurers who had chased him last week.
That's why that artifact is useless. Instead of using it for a battle, it just becomes a deadly liability. A fighter would drop on the ground before they could even swing a sword. It's a cursed rock.
The merchant looked down at his own rough, callused hands.
I have no Mana, so that's why I'm fine. The curse only hurts strong people. It never bothered me at all.
He looked at the direction where the black-haired boy went. Kian had already disappeared completely into the thick crowd of morning shoppers.
Thanks for your business, the merchant thought. He smirked out of joy of selling garbage for one gold coin. He slipped the heavy money safely into his leather pouch and patted his pocket. I can't believe I sold that for a very high price. That kid is kind of strange though.
---
For a couple of days, Kian continued his new job as a fraud fortune teller on the noisy streets of Kaldorath. The routine was completely simple, so he just sat on his wobbly wooden stool to let the desperate townsfolk throw silver coins at him.
The border town was always packed with traveling merchants and nervous locals, and they were all too eager to part with their money. Kian rested his elbows on the cheap wooden table under the shade of a large canvas awning.
He spouted random garbage about the stars or vague shadows, and the customers happily connected the dots themselves. It was an easy way to earn money for his warm bed and hot meals.
He wore a dark cloak pulled low over his forehead to hide his young face and keept his voice deep and monotonous to project a false aura of wisdom.
To the ignorant crowd, he looked like a mysterious oracle, though to himself, he was just a bored kid waiting for his next lunch break. He occasionally popped a sweet candy into his mouth while the customers cried out their life stories.
The fake, scratched glass ball sat uselessly in front of him, but the people stared at it like it held the secrets of the universe.
Meanwhile, heavy boots dragged across the dusty cobblestones just a few streets away from Kian's table.
A young man walked slowly through the busy market, and his shoulders slumped from pure exhaustion.
He was a rookie merchant.
He had traveled for four grueling days in the back of a smelly trader's cart just to reach this specific border town. The journey was terribly bumpy, so the wooden wheels hit every single pothole on the long dirt road to make his ride a complete misery.
He spent his nights sleeping on moldy hay, shivering in the freezing wind, and drinking stale water from a cracked wooden canteen. His legs ached with a dull, persistent pain, while his cheap linen shirt was completely soaked in cold sweat. He had barely slept during the trip because he was terrified of highway bandits stealing his carriage.
Many of his old acquaintances back in the northern provinces had told him to consult a great sage in the border town. They swore that a mysterious figure with a glass ball possessed the true ability to read the future. He desperately needed that guidance to save his ruined life.