My, a trading committee just for me?
How quaint.
I stood within a semi-circle of trolls, arms crossed and scowl on as I held my ground before the total eclipse that was hanging over me.
Perhaps anyone else would have fainted at the wall of armoured hides and varnished clubs. But I was not penned in like some fox in a snare. This wall of trolls wasn't some further blockade preventing me from crossing the bridge. Quite the opposite. I was free to leave anytime. And I made that very clear.
I tapped my foot, indicating towards the seashell displayed in the very secure hands of my loyal future handmaiden. It glimmered as spectacularly as the tiaras on the carriages, its violet hue catching the light as easily as any moonstone.
“So?” I said simply. “Will you make your offer, or shall I take this specimen elsewhere? Bear in mind that no matter what hoodlums plague the streets of Reitzlake, the true rats are the lesser nobility. And they will scurry out in droves for a new magical keepsake to claim as a family heirloom.”
The trolls looked at one another, leaning in to converse in whispered voices.
I was somewhat impressed. For all their stature, their voices could be kept fainter than the footfalls of a fawn in the snow when it came to their business dealings.
The opposite, therefore, of the shrill voice that cried out from the seashell in Coppelia's palms.
“This … This is some blunder, surely! Brave heroines, do you not see the folly of offering me as though I was some trinket to be bartered and sold?! I am a spirit of the water, an ambassador of the seas!”
I tilted my head slightly.
It was the voice of a young girl, perhaps. Her voice was pure and unfiltered, a melody ringing long after she'd spoken. Every word she sung was as if my ear was pressed against a conch, and within it, I could hear the serenity of the rolling waves as it danced to and fro against a golden shoreline.
Clearly, pearls did not speak. This was a spirit, released by my noble deed of vanquishing the curse which had inhabited its shell.
It was a jewel within a jewel. A wisp of the water. A denizen of the depths, whose journey from the bottom of the ocean must encompass more stories than even the thickest tome of fairytales.
Yet even with its shared imprisonment with a creature of pure malevolence, its pure radiance lay undiminished. The pearl sparkled and glowed, its clouds of wisdom within its light swirling with each pleading word it spoke.
Indeed … there was only one thing on my mind.
And that was blatant profiteering, of course!
“Have you come up with your offer, or shall I return after viewing bids from the royal capital first?”
“A moment, madame. We're discussing whether or not your refusal to simply hand over the seashell constitutes a breach of contract.”
“The answer to that is 'no'. I signed no contract stating I would simply hand over any seashell.”
“Indeed, madame. But what you did do was initiate a verbal contract between us wherein you requested the conditions to which we would vacate the bridge. We responded under the explicit understanding that should you act upon the information provided, it would be used solely to fulfil said conditions. At no point was selling us the seashell an accepted part of that exchange.”
“My, is that so? And yet I agreed to nothing. Your explicit understandings have no bearing in any court of law. More importantly, they have no bearing in my eyes. Or do you mean to inform me that an implied verbal contract is enough to hold weight in Troll Country these days?”
The trolls leaned towards each other. There were nods and shakes of heads, followed by much scratching of backs.
Eventually, the lead troll looked down at me and blinked.
“We've determined that we cannot hold you to an agreement you did not explicitly voice. In fact, our memories confirm that you appeared scandalised by the thought of retrieving this seashell for us. We will not be seizing it from you today.”
I smiled, expertly managing to look up while also looking down at them at the same time.
Ohhohoho! These poor 8 foot tall things. How little they knew of the danger they were in.
For this was a negotiation. And I was now in my element!
“Your memories are correct. Asking me to retrieve anything like some trained poodle is not only a blight on my character, but an insult to my time. I have precious little of it. Should you desire this rare magical talking seashell, you will have to pay an inconvenience premium, a curse removal premium, and a general service charge.”
I expected the trolls to begin haggling immediately.
To my surprise, they nodded without fuss ... almost as though they were used to dealing with the flippant demands of customers.
That … well, yes, they were experienced, so I suppose they had seen quite their fair share.
However!
They had not seen a princess. Of that I was sure. Clarise never left her observatory and Florella would doubtless immediately faint at the smell of these trolls.
“We'll take into account all hardships endured over the course of securing the seashell,” said the troll. “Using our own measurement index. Now, as for the value of the seashell in question—”
“Brave heroines! I beseech you! Do not allow the lustre of coin to blind you from the perils of greed! Turn back from the tides of want! Look to your inner virtue, and I will gift to you a boon far greater than any trinket!”
I pointed at the seashell.
“Look. The seashell is offering me a boon for my troubles. That significantly increases its value.”
“The boon is non-transferable. It adds no value to the item in question.”
“Oh? While it may not be worth anything to you, it's worth something to me. Have no doubt that the cost of parting with this treasure has risen. Or would you be agreeable enough to allow me to receive the boon and still sell the seashell to you?”
The troll paused. I smiled inside and out.
Indeed, did these fine merchants believe me ignorant to the obvious? Clearly, the entire worth of this seashell was the boon it could grant. It certainly wasn't for its grating voice as it pleaded for its freedom.
“I wonder, what value might be lost if a boon was spent?” I said, twirling a strand of my hair. “Such gifts of the ocean are not limitless. But if you do not intend to make me an offer that accounts for the reward I would be personally surrendering, then I'll be content to take my business elsewhere.”
“Brave heroines!” cried the seashell. “This … This is most peculiar! I offer a blessing beyond the joy of any bauble! For what reason does such noble spirits willingly forego the boon of the ocean?!”
I rolled my eyes, then leaned over the seashell with my arms on my hips.
“Ugh, very well, seashell, what is the nature of the boon?”
The pearl lit up, hope as radiant as the first dawn of spring beaming into my face and causing my eyes to wince.
“I offer three boons, one to be chosen! Strength to fight the encroaching darkness! Wisdom to walk the path through the looming maze! Knowledge to sweep aside the fogs of falsehood!”
“Not good enough.”
The pearl's swirling clouds abruptly slowed.
“Excuse me?” replied the shell. “Perhaps … Perhaps the brave heroine did not hear me? I offer three powerful boons, each as—”
“I need specifics. What strength do you offer? Will I be able to break a door with a punch? And wisdom? Irrelevant. I'm a paragon of wisdom. What of knowledge? Will I be aware of the financial disposition of everyone I speak with? Will I have magical access to their ledgers and lists of business contacts?”
“B-Brave heroine! You misunderstand! The boons I offer are not as shallow as the stream from whence you rescued me! They are as deep as the Emerald Sea!”
I crossed my arms, as supremely unimpressed as I knew I would be with the boons on offer.
Did this seashell believe itself to be the only talking inanimate object in the world? Perhaps some plucky farm boy destined to be a hero would jump at the chance to be swindled by any talking brick or seashell lying on the ground, but I was far too prudent for that.
“Is that all? You can grant strength, wisdom or knowledge, but cannot cite numbers?”
“When hope is fleeting and light is all but spent, my boon will aid you when the night is darkest!”
“The nights are already at their darkest, seashell. And it is not a boon I need. It is something far more valuable.”
That's right … I needed coins!
Heaps of it!
How could the nights get any darker? I didn't sleep a wink last night. I needed a bed with a functioning pillow, a ceiling without holes and a bathtub that I could swim in. Ambiguous offers of future help were as useful to me as a spoon with a hole in it.
The seashell didn't respond.
Naturally, it knew that its worth couldn't contend with whatever unspeakably large sum the trolls would offer for it.
And so, I turned to face the nearest troll and waited, expectation rising in my chest.
“We offer you 5 gold crowns.”
I nodded.
Yes … in terms of a valuation, that was indeed ... I had no idea!
None whatsoever!
How much was a talking seashell? How does one even put a price on that? Who would be the market for such a useless object? Rather, was it even worth 5 gold crowns? That was enough to pay for several nights in an inn without holes in the ceiling. Should I take it?
No, wait! I was supposed to make them bleed crowns!
I held back the instinct to instantly agree just to be rid of the grating voice. A distinct challenge. My bearing as a princess demanded I should accept without lowering myself to quibbling like a destitute adventurer. But I had an audience. And I intended to display the full scope of my mercantile capabilities.
Now, behold, trolls and clockwork dolls alike! This is the power of a princess without reservations!
“Very well. A promising offer. But given the dire circumstances both myself and my future handmaiden suffered to attain this seashell, as well as the useless boon being made available, I believe it would only be fair if we proposed an alternative price that accurately reflects the severe danger we'd placed ourselves in.”
The troll smiled amicably.
“Of course. What sum would you propose, madame?”
“5 gold crowns, was it? I believe it should be raised to, say … 1,000,000,0002 of that.”
“Madame. That is an equation, not a price.”
“I'm willing to negotiate.”
“5 gold crowns.”
I pursed my lips.
These merchants … they were indeed formidable!!
“Juliette, I'd like to make a proposal,” said Coppelia, her smile hardening as she eyed each and every troll. “It would be wise, I believe, to offer this seashell to the Adventurer's Guild instead. As a member, they would offer you an acceptable price without the need to haggle over a mere 1,000,000,0002 worth of coins.”
“The Adventurer's Guild?” scoffed the troll at once. “They would sell it in turn. The amount they offer you would be a pittance.”
“A pittance, and also an important tool for raising one's guild rank.”
I looked aghast at Coppelia.
“Why would I ever want to—mufghhgh?!”
Coppelia smiled sweetly as she planted her hand around my mouth, still gripping the seashell with the other. I immediately attempted to bat her away.
“The Adventurer's Guild offers a host of rewards and services to those who donate their treasure to rise in the ranks, including increasingly generous returns as one's standing rises.”
“Muhfhhghhhgh!!!!”
“Exactly. Often, the guild may even be the only place with enough crowns on hand to purchase rare items of magic … such as a seashell containing a bound water spirit.”
“... Mf? Muufhhgh?”
“It's as you say. It would be prudent to use this opportunity to climb the echelons of the guild. One of few organisations with enough funds to rival that of a travelling troll caravan.”
Coppelia relinquished her hand around my mouth.
I frowned in thought. Her act of high treason, common assault and battery aside, she raised a point I'd never considered—mostly since I tried thinking as little about the Adventurer's Guild as I could.
Naturally, the revelation that they must possess significant raw capital didn't surprise me. They were professional vultures. And while that changed nothing regarding my wish not to climb its ranks, it did offer a potentially lucrative source of crowns when our tax inspectors just so happened to notice some accounting irregularities in the future … ohhohohoho!!
Nothing but my name and a vow to serve the people? Please. If that was the case, they wouldn't charge their own members for merchant services. And all this time I wondered how such a publicly altruistic organisation had stayed afloat all these centuries.
Why, it's because they gnawed on the purse strings of their own adventurers!
It was … well, it was a wonderfully astute way of ensuring financial security with little overhead. The adventurers fended for themselves, and the guild merely reaped the benefits. It was worth my acknowledgement, if nothing else.
“Indeed, perhaps the Adventurer's Guild may be more amenable,” I said, blowing out a strand of hair that'd been stuffed in my mouth. “They may lack in clean floors, but not in coin. And while I'm there, I should perhaps see what bids the Mage's Guild and the Merchant's Guild may offer.”
The trolls leaned towards each other once again, whispering in low, hushed voices.
I smiled. Even if I didn't hear their panic, I saw it.
Why, not a single troll stopped to scratch their back.
“Thank you for waiting,” said the lead troll, no longer slouching as he stood at full height. “We've determined that in consideration of your personal endangerment, that an offer of 500 gold crowns can be made.”
Hmm.
500 gold crowns. Perhaps more than any peasant would see in their lifetimes. But to me, that was merely two volumes of A Court Lady's Indiscretion. Hardly worth the hassle of stabbing a groggy frozen revenant in the eye.
“My, is that it? 500 gold crowns as the price of defeating a frozen revenant? A monster that famously surpasses even a B-rank adventurer?”
“Please note that in consideration of our initial erroneous evaluation, we have provided our maximum offer as a courtesy. We will not consider purchasing the item at a higher price point.”
I hummed, my face performing the rounds of appearing rife with dissatisfaction as I considered which of the royal capital's inns … no, estates that I could claim as my new abode. There were so many to choose. A lakeside resort famously frequented by the Crown Princess of Antiqua, perhaps? Or maybe a private manor rented out to foreign dignitaries during the Midsummer Festival?
“Accepted,” I said, motioning for Coppelia to release the iron clamps that was her hand strength. “This will be an immediate transaction, I take it?”
“Yes.”
“Excellent. Where shall we begin?”
“By having you inform us of which item you'd like in exchange.”
I hurriedly waved Coppelia back again.
“Excuse me?”
“You may choose any item worth 500 gold crowns or less.”
“Will you not simply pay in crowns?”
“We cannot part with 500 gold crowns. It will hurt our profit margins for the day. We can, however, trade an item of equivalent value.”
“That makes no sense. Will parting with an item worth 500 gold crowns not have the exact same effect on your profit margins? You are still trading at a deficit.”
The troll blinked at me.
“Would madame like for me to detail the accounting practices in Troll Country?”
“No.”
“Very well, then.”
The troll gestured towards the carriages.
“Should this be acceptable, I'm certain we can find something to your liking,” he said simply, knowing he was speaking the truth.
I looked at the carriages blocking the bridge. Once again, the moonstone tiaras called out to me, glimmering in the sunlight.
And not just the tiaras.
No, this time, it was more than that.
It was everything.
My, a trading committee just for me?
How quaint.
I stood within a semi-circle of trolls, arms crossed and scowl on as I held my ground before the total eclipse that was hanging over me.
Perhaps anyone else would have fainted at the wall of armoured hides and varnished clubs. But I was not penned in like some fox in a snare. This wall of trolls wasn't some further blockade preventing me from crossing the bridge. Quite the opposite. I was free to leave anytime. And I made that very clear.
I tapped my foot, indicating towards the seashell displayed in the very secure hands of my loyal future handmaiden. It glimmered as spectacularly as the tiaras on the carriages, its violet hue catching the light as easily as any moonstone.
“So?” I said simply. “Will you make your offer, or shall I take this specimen elsewhere? Bear in mind that no matter what hoodlums plague the streets of Reitzlake, the true rats are the lesser nobility. And they will scurry out in droves for a new magical keepsake to claim as a family heirloom.”
The trolls looked at one another, leaning in to converse in whispered voices.
I was somewhat impressed. For all their stature, their voices could be kept fainter than the footfalls of a fawn in the snow when it came to their business dealings.
The opposite, therefore, of the shrill voice that cried out from the seashell in Coppelia's palms.
“This … This is some blunder, surely! Brave heroines, do you not see the folly of offering me as though I was some trinket to be bartered and sold?! I am a spirit of the water, an ambassador of the seas!”
I tilted my head slightly.
It was the voice of a young girl, perhaps. Her voice was pure and unfiltered, a melody ringing long after she'd spoken. Every word she sung was as if my ear was pressed against a conch, and within it, I could hear the serenity of the rolling waves as it danced to and fro against a golden shoreline.
Clearly, pearls did not speak. This was a spirit, released by my noble deed of vanquishing the curse which had inhabited its shell.
It was a jewel within a jewel. A wisp of the water. A denizen of the depths, whose journey from the bottom of the ocean must encompass more stories than even the thickest tome of fairytales.
Yet even with its shared imprisonment with a creature of pure malevolence, its pure radiance lay undiminished. The pearl sparkled and glowed, its clouds of wisdom within its light swirling with each pleading word it spoke.
Indeed … there was only one thing on my mind.
And that was blatant profiteering, of course!
“Have you come up with your offer, or shall I return after viewing bids from the royal capital first?”
“A moment, madame. We're discussing whether or not your refusal to simply hand over the seashell constitutes a breach of contract.”
“The answer to that is 'no'. I signed no contract stating I would simply hand over any seashell.”
“Indeed, madame. But what you did do was initiate a verbal contract between us wherein you requested the conditions to which we would vacate the bridge. We responded under the explicit understanding that should you act upon the information provided, it would be used solely to fulfil said conditions. At no point was selling us the seashell an accepted part of that exchange.”
“My, is that so? And yet I agreed to nothing. Your explicit understandings have no bearing in any court of law. More importantly, they have no bearing in my eyes. Or do you mean to inform me that an implied verbal contract is enough to hold weight in Troll Country these days?”
The trolls leaned towards each other. There were nods and shakes of heads, followed by much scratching of backs.
Eventually, the lead troll looked down at me and blinked.
“We've determined that we cannot hold you to an agreement you did not explicitly voice. In fact, our memories confirm that you appeared scandalised by the thought of retrieving this seashell for us. We will not be seizing it from you today.”
I smiled, expertly managing to look up while also looking down at them at the same time.
Ohhohoho! These poor 8 foot tall things. How little they knew of the danger they were in.
For this was a negotiation. And I was now in my element!
“Your memories are correct. Asking me to retrieve anything like some trained poodle is not only a blight on my character, but an insult to my time. I have precious little of it. Should you desire this rare magical talking seashell, you will have to pay an inconvenience premium, a curse removal premium, and a general service charge.”
I expected the trolls to begin haggling immediately.
To my surprise, they nodded without fuss ... almost as though they were used to dealing with the flippant demands of customers.
That … well, yes, they were experienced, so I suppose they had seen quite their fair share.
However!
They had not seen a princess. Of that I was sure. Clarise never left her observatory and Florella would doubtless immediately faint at the smell of these trolls.
“We'll take into account all hardships endured over the course of securing the seashell,” said the troll. “Using our own measurement index. Now, as for the value of the seashell in question—”
“Brave heroines! I beseech you! Do not allow the lustre of coin to blind you from the perils of greed! Turn back from the tides of want! Look to your inner virtue, and I will gift to you a boon far greater than any trinket!”
I pointed at the seashell.
“Look. The seashell is offering me a boon for my troubles. That significantly increases its value.”
“The boon is non-transferable. It adds no value to the item in question.”
“Oh? While it may not be worth anything to you, it's worth something to me. Have no doubt that the cost of parting with this treasure has risen. Or would you be agreeable enough to allow me to receive the boon and still sell the seashell to you?”
The troll paused. I smiled inside and out.
Indeed, did these fine merchants believe me ignorant to the obvious? Clearly, the entire worth of this seashell was the boon it could grant. It certainly wasn't for its grating voice as it pleaded for its freedom.
“I wonder, what value might be lost if a boon was spent?” I said, twirling a strand of my hair. “Such gifts of the ocean are not limitless. But if you do not intend to make me an offer that accounts for the reward I would be personally surrendering, then I'll be content to take my business elsewhere.”
“Brave heroines!” cried the seashell. “This … This is most peculiar! I offer a blessing beyond the joy of any bauble! For what reason does such noble spirits willingly forego the boon of the ocean?!”
I rolled my eyes, then leaned over the seashell with my arms on my hips.
“Ugh, very well, seashell, what is the nature of the boon?”
The pearl lit up, hope as radiant as the first dawn of spring beaming into my face and causing my eyes to wince.
“I offer three boons, one to be chosen! Strength to fight the encroaching darkness! Wisdom to walk the path through the looming maze! Knowledge to sweep aside the fogs of falsehood!”
“Not good enough.”
The pearl's swirling clouds abruptly slowed.
“Excuse me?” replied the shell. “Perhaps … Perhaps the brave heroine did not hear me? I offer three powerful boons, each as—”
“I need specifics. What strength do you offer? Will I be able to break a door with a punch? And wisdom? Irrelevant. I'm a paragon of wisdom. What of knowledge? Will I be aware of the financial disposition of everyone I speak with? Will I have magical access to their ledgers and lists of business contacts?”
“B-Brave heroine! You misunderstand! The boons I offer are not as shallow as the stream from whence you rescued me! They are as deep as the Emerald Sea!”
I crossed my arms, as supremely unimpressed as I knew I would be with the boons on offer.
Did this seashell believe itself to be the only talking inanimate object in the world? Perhaps some plucky farm boy destined to be a hero would jump at the chance to be swindled by any talking brick or seashell lying on the ground, but I was far too prudent for that.
“Is that all? You can grant strength, wisdom or knowledge, but cannot cite numbers?”
“When hope is fleeting and light is all but spent, my boon will aid you when the night is darkest!”
“The nights are already at their darkest, seashell. And it is not a boon I need. It is something far more valuable.”
That's right … I needed coins!
Heaps of it!
How could the nights get any darker? I didn't sleep a wink last night. I needed a bed with a functioning pillow, a ceiling without holes and a bathtub that I could swim in. Ambiguous offers of future help were as useful to me as a spoon with a hole in it.
The seashell didn't respond.
Naturally, it knew that its worth couldn't contend with whatever unspeakably large sum the trolls would offer for it.
And so, I turned to face the nearest troll and waited, expectation rising in my chest.
“We offer you 5 gold crowns.”
I nodded.
Yes … in terms of a valuation, that was indeed ... I had no idea!
None whatsoever!
How much was a talking seashell? How does one even put a price on that? Who would be the market for such a useless object? Rather, was it even worth 5 gold crowns? That was enough to pay for several nights in an inn without holes in the ceiling. Should I take it?
No, wait! I was supposed to make them bleed crowns!
I held back the instinct to instantly agree just to be rid of the grating voice. A distinct challenge. My bearing as a princess demanded I should accept without lowering myself to quibbling like a destitute adventurer. But I had an audience. And I intended to display the full scope of my mercantile capabilities.
Now, behold, trolls and clockwork dolls alike! This is the power of a princess without reservations!
“Very well. A promising offer. But given the dire circumstances both myself and my future handmaiden suffered to attain this seashell, as well as the useless boon being made available, I believe it would only be fair if we proposed an alternative price that accurately reflects the severe danger we'd placed ourselves in.”
The troll smiled amicably.
“Of course. What sum would you propose, madame?”
“5 gold crowns, was it? I believe it should be raised to, say … 1,000,000,0002 of that.”
“Madame. That is an equation, not a price.”
“I'm willing to negotiate.”
“5 gold crowns.”
I pursed my lips.
These merchants … they were indeed formidable!!
“Juliette, I'd like to make a proposal,” said Coppelia, her smile hardening as she eyed each and every troll. “It would be wise, I believe, to offer this seashell to the Adventurer's Guild instead. As a member, they would offer you an acceptable price without the need to haggle over a mere 1,000,000,0002 worth of coins.”
“The Adventurer's Guild?” scoffed the troll at once. “They would sell it in turn. The amount they offer you would be a pittance.”
“A pittance, and also an important tool for raising one's guild rank.”
I looked aghast at Coppelia.
“Why would I ever want to—mufghhgh?!”
Coppelia smiled sweetly as she planted her hand around my mouth, still gripping the seashell with the other. I immediately attempted to bat her away.
“The Adventurer's Guild offers a host of rewards and services to those who donate their treasure to rise in the ranks, including increasingly generous returns as one's standing rises.”
“Muhfhhghhhgh!!!!”
“Exactly. Often, the guild may even be the only place with enough crowns on hand to purchase rare items of magic … such as a seashell containing a bound water spirit.”
“... Mf? Muufhhgh?”
“It's as you say. It would be prudent to use this opportunity to climb the echelons of the guild. One of few organisations with enough funds to rival that of a travelling troll caravan.”
Coppelia relinquished her hand around my mouth.
I frowned in thought. Her act of high treason, common assault and battery aside, she raised a point I'd never considered—mostly since I tried thinking as little about the Adventurer's Guild as I could.
Naturally, the revelation that they must possess significant raw capital didn't surprise me. They were professional vultures. And while that changed nothing regarding my wish not to climb its ranks, it did offer a potentially lucrative source of crowns when our tax inspectors just so happened to notice some accounting irregularities in the future … ohhohohoho!!
Nothing but my name and a vow to serve the people? Please. If that was the case, they wouldn't charge their own members for merchant services. And all this time I wondered how such a publicly altruistic organisation had stayed afloat all these centuries.
Why, it's because they gnawed on the purse strings of their own adventurers!
It was … well, it was a wonderfully astute way of ensuring financial security with little overhead. The adventurers fended for themselves, and the guild merely reaped the benefits. It was worth my acknowledgement, if nothing else.
“Indeed, perhaps the Adventurer's Guild may be more amenable,” I said, blowing out a strand of hair that'd been stuffed in my mouth. “They may lack in clean floors, but not in coin. And while I'm there, I should perhaps see what bids the Mage's Guild and the Merchant's Guild may offer.”
The trolls leaned towards each other once again, whispering in low, hushed voices.
I smiled. Even if I didn't hear their panic, I saw it.
Why, not a single troll stopped to scratch their back.
“Thank you for waiting,” said the lead troll, no longer slouching as he stood at full height. “We've determined that in consideration of your personal endangerment, that an offer of 500 gold crowns can be made.”
Hmm.
500 gold crowns. Perhaps more than any peasant would see in their lifetimes. But to me, that was merely two volumes of A Court Lady's Indiscretion. Hardly worth the hassle of stabbing a groggy frozen revenant in the eye.
“My, is that it? 500 gold crowns as the price of defeating a frozen revenant? A monster that famously surpasses even a B-rank adventurer?”
“Please note that in consideration of our initial erroneous evaluation, we have provided our maximum offer as a courtesy. We will not consider purchasing the item at a higher price point.”
I hummed, my face performing the rounds of appearing rife with dissatisfaction as I considered which of the royal capital's inns … no, estates that I could claim as my new abode. There were so many to choose. A lakeside resort famously frequented by the Crown Princess of Antiqua, perhaps? Or maybe a private manor rented out to foreign dignitaries during the Midsummer Festival?
“Accepted,” I said, motioning for Coppelia to release the iron clamps that was her hand strength. “This will be an immediate transaction, I take it?”
“Yes.”
“Excellent. Where shall we begin?”
“By having you inform us of which item you'd like in exchange.”
I hurriedly waved Coppelia back again.
“Excuse me?”
“You may choose any item worth 500 gold crowns or less.”
“Will you not simply pay in crowns?”
“We cannot part with 500 gold crowns. It will hurt our profit margins for the day. We can, however, trade an item of equivalent value.”
“That makes no sense. Will parting with an item worth 500 gold crowns not have the exact same effect on your profit margins? You are still trading at a deficit.”
The troll blinked at me.
“Would madame like for me to detail the accounting practices in Troll Country?”
“No.”
“Very well, then.”
The troll gestured towards the carriages.
“Should this be acceptable, I'm certain we can find something to your liking,” he said simply, knowing he was speaking the truth.
I looked at the carriages blocking the bridge. Once again, the moonstone tiaras called out to me, glimmering in the sunlight.
And not just the tiaras.
No, this time, it was more than that.
It was everything.
