In the aftermath of creating the new spear, a hush falls over the marketplace, broken only by a single, enthusiastic clap.

  “That was awesome, mister!” a young boy with a shock of thick, dark hair calls out. He’s holding a stick in rough mimicry of Nicanor’s spear, and steps through a few clumsy jabs and sweeps.

  Nicanor nods to him, then strides over to correct his footwork. The sight of them interacting brings a soft smile to my face.

  The boy’s eyes shine with fervent excitement as he play fights, and I can practically see his dreams taking shape: he’ll practice dawn to dusk and one day become an accomplished [Spear Master]. He seems certain the course of his life just changed today.

  Of the lead merchant who was harassing me, there’s no sign. Faced with the undeniable power Nicanor wields, not to mention the display of dominance I demonstrated by creating a masterwork weapon out of a pile of rocks, he had no choice but to retreat. I don't think I’ve ever seen anyone run away so quickly after so much bluster and threatening.

  I'm not so cruel as to rub things in, so I simply smile and wave as his cadre follows after him. Their backs soon fade into the crowd, and I don’t care enough to track them through my Domain.

  Honestly, the antagonistic [Merchant] has done me a great service. Thanks to his antics, a much larger crowd gathered to watch me at work than before. No one is eager to approach, but I can sense longing rising off almost everyone in the crowd. Eventually, a brave soul steps up to the counter with an order, and I resume working, although this time the glass creation is much more mundane.

  Before long, I have a normal queue of customers again, and the almost fearful reverence softens into excitement and a determination to get hold of an artifact at the cheapest possible price.

  Haggling is a time-honored art form, and not even a master glass smith is immune from people seeking a good deal. I'm willing to bet most customers would buy from tyrants and thieves if it saved a few percent off the bottom line.

  Somewhere in the next half hour, the rest of my team filters in. They didn't have much luck in the market, or else I’d sense faint connections between them and some of the other vendors. It’s just as well, since we’ll find larger cities with more impressive shops that will no doubt entice us to spend our coin soon enough.

  And wherever there are high-rolling buyers, I’ll make a fortune selling imbued glassware. Maybe I can earn enough to—

  A familiar presence catches my attention at the edge of my Domain, interrupting my dreams of riches. Something about the person tugs at my memory like a cat digging its claws into the edge of a woven run, nagging at loose threads.

  Why does he feel so familiar?

  Thankfully, it doesn’t seem like a malicious intrusion, so I relax and take a moment to catalogue all of the people in the range of my mana senses. When did so many people show up? Crowding around us are a shocking amount of people compared with earlier in the day when I was here solo.

  I frown in thought, searching for a name. Do I know any of the [Merchants] out here?

  Analyzing their mana signatures and comparing them against my records soon finds a match as a bold figure cuts through the crowd. Not a [Merchant] after all. I had the initial Class wrong, though the man is still adjacent to that profession.

  I break into a grin and gesture for my teammates to follow me. With an apologetic smile I pull down the shade on my stall to signal it’s closed, and announce that business will resume the following morning. I trot toward the approaching group, excited to catch up with a friendly face.

  “Remember Yuvvan?” I say, pitching my voice to include the [Honorbound Bodyguards] shadowing Nicanor. I don’t know them well yet, but I like them more than I thought they would. I’m still not ready to fully integrate them into the team, unlike Nicanor, but I’m not so petty and immature as to exclude them even though they still haven’t shared their names.

  “Barely,” my brother admits.

  “He had the nephew you avenged,” Avelina puts in helpfully, lacing her fingers through Mikko’s and walking in step beside him. “I picked up a nice scarf from him before we left that abyssal-cursed trading town. Kept the sun off my head.”

  “This is pretty far from the Barrens,” Melina notes. She turns to look at me, chewing on her lip as she processes the implications. Her eyes narrow. “Coincidence seems unlikely.”

  Beside me, Nicanor shifts his stance. Mana coils in his legs. His hand grips his new spear in readiness, although I suspect he’s just looking for an excuse to try out his new toy. “Hostile? Scammer?”

  I shake my head. “Friendly. Opportunist, most likely, but who isn’t?"

  "[Merchants],” Nicanor’s other guard mutters, making a sour face. “Hang on to your money bags, lad.”

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  “[Caravanner],” I correct. “Chances are good that he’s charting a new route to Silaraon in expectation of our company. We’ll ride along unless anyone has objections.”

  “As long as you don’t slack in your training, I don’t mind traveling with a group,” Nicanor says. His eyes are still slitted, however, and mana surges eagerly through his powerful arms and shoulders. He’s obviously spoiling for a fight.

  I wince just thinking of the beat-down he’ll deliver to me. When we move on from running to sparring on the road, once we have wide open stretches to fight on, without fear of destroying property or killing someone accidentally, he’s going to be a menace. We've avoided unleashing our full set of moves up until now, but with his new weapon I suspect he’ll want to test the limits against a live opponent.

  Guess I better get stronger!

  “Carvaan, huh? I wouldn’t mind sitting down the rest of the way home. All this walking makes my feet hurt,” Melina says.

  I nod along in emphatic agreement and jog over to greet the man. “Let’s do it!”

  Half a heartbeat later, I skid to a halt. What’s the market administrator doing with Yuvaan? And why do I sense a connection between the two?

  “—right this way, sir! I kept a close eye out for your friend, just as you requested,” the administrator says as they round the corner.

  Yuvaan smiles and claps the administrator on the shoulder. “Your vigilance will be well rewarded, never fear.”

  The man has the temerity to meet my gaze and wink. He rubs his thumb and fingers together in a gesture universally recognized to mean money.

  That scammer!

  The entire time I was in his office, he knew exactly who I was. He set me up on the outskirts of the market so that no one else could find me easily, all so he had time to bring over Yuvaan himself and personally collect a bounty for “finding” me in the crowd.

  I almost admire the hustle.

  “Young Master of Glass! You are ahead of schedule! We barely got here in time to greet you,” [Caravanner] Yuvaan booms as he breaks into view. His face is even more weathered than I recall, like leather that’s lined, cracked, and darkened from years in the sun, but there’s a liveliness to him that is brighter than before, and it warms my heart to see him with a light step.

  He’s flanked by two of the stronger signatures in the market—likely his own guards—but they’re short of the Second Threshold, so not remotely a threat to me.

  I wince internally at falling back into categorizing the world into threats and allies. I’m not in a war zone. Not yet.

  Yuvaan spreads his arms wide. “Nuri! You must dine with me in my tent. Your friends will join us, too.”

  Time to enjoy good company and see what Yuvaan wants. “We’d be honored. Hope all is well with you, friend.”

  Nicanor falls into line, and he and his guards escort me to Yuvaan’s tent. Suspicion wafts off the [Spear Commander]. I don’t blame him; the timing seems odd.

  He still has a firm grip on his spear, which makes me wonder if I’ve misread the situation. I suspect he’s just being paranoid, since I don’t detect any threats as we wander through the lively market toward his caravan. I’m not worried about the company in the slightest.

  We pass beyond the east side of the marketplace, soon finding ourselves in a maze of tents and wagons where travelers must set up for the night if they don’t want to pay for an inn. We probably would have slept here if Nicanor were in charge, but I don’t think the Linas are up for a single day more of roughing it.

  Yuvaan’s deep blue tent, edged in silver, soon comes into view, towering over the rest of the campgrounds. Is that a full-blown second storey on a tent, complete with windows and a chimney? Never seen that before. It’s as large as a house, extending past the pathway winding through the camp. He must be doing well to afford such extravagant travel accommodations.

  The tent flaps curl up and out of the way on their own as we approach. Faint glowing sigils light up in my mind when I examine the enchantments stitched alongside the seams of the tent. They’re clever in application, with a much lower power draw than I would have expected, and I spy linked control runes on Yuvaan’s arm bands. Showy, but it sets the stage for visitors when he’s entertaining guests. I approve of the theatrics.

  Inside the tent, a carved mahogany table dominates the center of the tent. Covered with silver platters piled high with fragrant cuts of meat and sauteed onions and vegetables, the generous spread elicits a satisfied grunt from the soldiers. Gone are the bitter complaints about leaving the pop-up food wagon behind.

  My mouth is salivating for the second time today. This sure beats food on the road!

  Seconds later, crystal goblets find their ways into our hands as the serving staff expertly attend to our needs. Some sort of plum-gold liquid swirls in the cups, and though it’s sweeter than I usually prefer, I enjoy the soothing chill on my throat.

  We’re guided into our seats and left alone with our host as the staff slips away, although not before each plate is overflowing with delicacies.

  Yuvaan may have missed his calling as the manager of a fine-dining establishment.

  If this is how we eat every day on our trip home, then I’ll show up in Silaraon with quite the belly, a far cry from my lean frame at the moment. At least mom won’t be worried about my health.

  “You have a knack for acquiring friends with exquisite taste,” Nicanor sighs in approval after his first sip of the sweet wine.

  “Civvies always know how to eat well. We don’t get food like this in the Army,” a guard pipes up. I still don’t know his name, but I suppose we’ll have to become real acquaintances if we share meals on the regular.

  Yuvaan chuckles and gestures for him to continue. “Please, eat as much as your heart desires! I count myself fortunate to share my table with so many wonderful guests. Eating alone is a sign of poor character, no?”

  “Or prudence,” Nicanor ventures.

  Yuvaan clicks his tongue at the imposing [Spear Commander]. Despite the difference in height, bulk, and advancement between them, he seems utterly unintimidated. “Ah, I feel sorry for you, young man. Cruel indeed is the Royal Army to beat such cynicism into your head. Only old men like me should be so suspicious and cagey.”

  “I’m older than I look,” Nicanor replies.

  “Yet still you posture and strut like a young man!” Yuvaan shoots back, chuckling. “Relax, Commander! Enjoy yourself. You are among friends.”