Mastery Is Earned

After Raymond and Henk paid for their meal, they returned to the warehouse where their goods were stored. In exchange for a few copper coins, one of the warehouse clerks soon prepared a detailed inventory for them.

Raymond could not read the script used in the Kingdom of Goldvale, but he still took a scrap of paper and copied down the full inventory in the writing from his previous life. With both lists in hand, Raymond and Henk visited shops large and small throughout Brightwater.

As a major port city, Brightwater handled an astonishing volume of goods, far beyond anything Blackstone could compare with. There were plenty of large smithies and merchant houses.

Selling the goods was easy. Getting a satisfactory price was not. Fortunately, Bob and the others planned to remain in Brightwater for a week, so Raymond was in no hurry.

Raymond and Henk spent three full days dividing the weapons and equipment into two lots and selling them to shops specializing in secondhand gear. A leatherworking shop bought all the animal hides. The process took considerable time, but the final prices were nearly thirty percent higher than the offers made by merchants who wanted to buy everything in bulk.

In the end, the spoils sold for a total of one hundred and twelve silver coins.

The round-trip wages, food, and lodging for the three drivers came to ten silver coins. Raymond had paid those expenses in advance, so he was reimbursed from their joint proceeds. They also repaid Bob the six silver coins for the entry duties.

Once those shared expenses were settled, exactly ninety-six silver coins remained for the two of them to divide, not counting the unsold ore.

Dealing with the ore, however, proved far more difficult than Raymond had expected. Smithies generally bought only iron ingots, iron bars, and steel billets that had already undergone initial smelting. They had no interest in completely unprocessed ore like this.

Brightwater had only one smelting facility, and it stood outside the city. Fortunately, one of its managers could be found at a shop inside the walls. With an introduction from one of the dealers who had bought Raymond's weapons, he and Henk soon arrived at the inconspicuous storefront.

The person in charge was a young man in a short linen tunic, standing behind the counter and leafing through a ledger. When Raymond and Henk entered, his gaze went first to the towering Henk before settling on Raymond.

Raymond walked straight to the counter. “I hear you buy ore.”

The young man closed the ledger. “That depends on its quality. If it's merely ordinary iron ore with a low iron content, we won't be able to offer much even if we do take it. You know, transporting ore to the smelting works alone costs quite a bit...”

Before he could finish, Raymond took out the small pouch containing the black ore and placed it on the counter.

The young man fell silent. He carefully opened the pouch, removed the black ore, and cradled it in his palm as he examined it. He murmured in surprise several times, then took a small hammer from a cabinet and tapped at the ore to inspect it more closely.

“Huh? This doesn't seem to be ordinary iron ore.” Only after quite some time did the young man reach a conclusion. Still uncertain, he looked it over several more times before addressing Raymond and Henk. “Please wait here a moment.”

With that, he hurried through the rear door. Before long, he returned with a middle-aged man behind him. Their features bore a faint resemblance, suggesting they might be father and son.

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The middle-aged man also looked surprised when he saw the black ore. Yet after only a brief examination, he sighed and shook his head. “It's good material, but unfortunately, we don't buy this sort of thing.”

“What? We don't?” Before Raymond could speak, the young man protested.

“Foolish boy. Some things aren't for people like us to touch.” The middle-aged man sighed, then looked at Raymond. “Take it back. I'll pretend you were never here.”

The man's words made Raymond's heart skip a beat. There was clearly far more to the ore than he had imagined. He simply did not know whether the problem lay with T or with the ore itself.

“You must know somewhere that could handle a shipment of this ore,” Raymond said after considering his words.

The middle-aged man paused, his expression complicated as he studied Raymond. “Are you saying you have a large quantity? Where did you get it?”

Raymond did not answer immediately. The man had needed only a few glances to recognize that the ore was unusual. He clearly knew more than any of the smiths Raymond had previously approached.

Marcus had asked him not only to investigate who might buy the ore, but also to discover the origin of the black scale. This man was worth probing. Of course, Raymond had no intention of revealing the truth about the bandit camp or the smuggling operation.

He hesitated briefly, as though finally making up his mind, then took an ordinary wooden box from inside his clothes. When he opened it, a scale with a chipped edge and dried black blood on its surface lay on a piece of linen.

“What's this?” the middle-aged man asked as he picked up the scale between two fingers and examined it carefully.

“It fell from a monster I encountered, and I found the ore in its lair.” Raymond delivered the lie without the slightest change in expression. “Do you recognize the scale?”

“No. I've never seen anything like it.” The man set the scale down and shook his head. “But you could try your luck at the black market. Someone there might dare buy this ore. You might also find someone who knows where the scale came from.”

“Thank you.” Raymond put away the scale and ore. As he turned to leave, he could still hear the father and son arguing quietly behind him.

Outside the shop, Raymond glanced at Henk, who had followed him throughout the visit. “The black market. Should we take a look?”

Henk shrugged indifferently. “Yes. Better to turn the goods into money.”

On that point, Raymond and Henk were remarkably alike. But a black market would hardly deserve the name if two newcomers could find it on their own. They needed someone familiar with local channels to lead the way. As luck would have it, Raymond and Henk knew exactly such a person.

“So no one will buy those two wagonloads of ore, and you plan to try your luck at the black market?” Bob asked from his chair at the inn. “It must be unusual stuff after all. No wonder Sheriff Marcus told me to pay special attention to it.”

Raymond betrayed no reaction, but silently committed Bob's remark to memory.

Marcus had evidently realized that the ore was unusual, though he did not know its true value or purpose. Asking Bob to keep a close eye on it served two purposes: Marcus wanted to know who would buy the ore, and he wanted to learn what Raymond managed to uncover.

Henk, sitting nearby, showed no reaction whatsoever. He simply kept his head lowered and ate the stewed beans and fried fish strips before him.

“Ah, the black market. Normally, I'd give you a serious warning. It's no place for respectable people.” Bob glanced at Henk. “But with him around, I suspect everyone else is the one who ought to worry.”

“Go to the Old Harbor District and find a skinny young man called Black Snake. He usually operates near the old docks. Ten copper coins per person, and he'll take you to the black market,” Bob told them in a low voice.

“Old Harbor District. Black Snake.” Raymond silently committed both names to memory.

Raymond then beckoned to a server and paid for Bob's meal. Once he and Henk had finished lunch, the two prepared to leave for the Old Harbor District.

Before setting out, Raymond initially planned to wear his coat of plates for protection. After careful consideration, however, he decided it would be better to leave the armor behind.

For one thing, it was the height of summer, and Brightwater was both humid and stifling. A coat of plates was ill-suited to the weather.

For another, trying to sell this strange ore might bring them into contact with T or members of the group behind T, which had once dealt with the bandit camp.

Henk already carried the hand-and-a-half sword. If Raymond also wore the coat of plates, a perceptive observer could easily recognize both pieces of equipment as having been taken from the bandit leader. That would needlessly expose their identities.

After weighing the matter, Raymond left the coat of plates behind. To be safe, however, he still put on his lightly padded arming coat.

Once they were ready, the two left the inn and headed toward the Old Harbor District.