The Gate Traveler

At night, before I went to sleep, I opened the archive and sent Mahya a message.

Tr. JR "Clueless, Versailles, Prince" Forget buying all kinds of things to sell. Buy more coins from eBay. Many, many more coins from eBay. I’ve already used two hundred kilograms.

 

The next day, Rue and I went to visit the Arcane Bazaar. It was at the north end of the city, quite far from the hotel, but after a huge breakfast of cheese and vegetable pastry for me and eggs with sausage and cheese for him, we both wanted to walk. We strolled, admiring the spires. I did some window shopping, and Rue led us to three squares that, in his opinion, sold exciting food.

The first square sold all kinds of cheeses, some similar to those on Earth, but not all. Some were so stinky I had to hold my breath at the stand, while Rue, of course, thought the stinkiest ones were the most interesting.

“Come on, buddy, I’m going to suffocate here in a second. Let’s continue,” I urged, trying to steer him away. I talked telepathically to save my breath.

“Yummy cheese! Rue want yummy cheese!” he insisted and gave me a pleading look.

“It stinks to high heaven. I won’t put it in my Storage. I’ll never get rid of the smell.”

“No need Storage. Rue eat now,” he replied eagerly.

I wanted to sigh, but I was afraid that if I did, I’d choke on the smell. Reluctantly, I bought him the stinkiest cheese they had, and after he swallowed it in three chews, I informed him, “You’re not licking me for a week.”

He looked at me with narrowed eyes, clearly displeased.

“I’m not kidding. You and your mouth, which now stinks of that awful cheese, are not coming near me for the next week.”

He shrugged and kept walking.

Treacherous dog.

At least in the next square he led us to, they sold various smoked things—mostly poultry and beef. Rue had a crisis because they didn’t sell smoked crabs. Fortunately, his crisis helped us leave the square quickly. Otherwise, we would have been stuck there for hours—I knew him too well.

The third square sold ready-made pastries and all kinds of things for baking. After buying Rue two cheese pastries to stop his nagging, I checked out their selection of baking spices. There were some fascinating items. One spice, in powder form, tasted like rose water. It was the only thing that was even partially similar to what I knew from Earth. Everything else was a mix of tastes and smells so different from anything I recognized—I didn’t even have words to describe them. They were like nothing I’d ever encountered. I bought a large jar of each spice, seriously disappointed the spice seller, who tried to convince me to sell him jars like mine, and continued our walk.

After almost four hours, we reached the area of the Arcane Bazaar, but we ran into a problem—there was no bazaar.

A sprawling, open expanse stretched before us, its emptiness strangely unsettling. We’d reached the Arcane Bazaar—or at least, where it should have been. But instead of the vibrant chaos I’d imagined, only bare cobblestones lay underfoot, stark and silent. The place was vast, like five or even seven stadiums. Someone had divided the area into numbered lots, with numbers in red paint.

Frowning, I open my Map, expecting some clue, some redirection. But no, this was it—the one and only Arcane Bazaar. Just... not.

At the far end of the space, a single table caught my eye, lonely and out of place in the empty plaza. A figure sat beside it, head tilted as if waiting, or maybe just bored. Without another option, I headed over, my steps echoing in the eerie silence.

As I approached the table, it became clear that the man represented the Crown. The two guards behind him with weapons were a big clue. Unlike the other representative I had seen, this one was so thin that I wanted to offer him something to eat. He was all skin and bones, with taut skin stretched across his face and dark circles under his eyes. I shuddered at the sight—he looked like what an evil necromancer should look like in a fantasy book. But... he was the only person here, so I had no choice.

“Hello, sir,” I said with a smile.

“What do you want?” he snapped in an unfriendly, almost hostile voice.

“I’m looking for the bazaar that was here. Could you please tell me where it went?” I asked, still trying to keep a friendly tone.

“What do you care?” he shot back, sounding even more belligerent.

Huh?!

“Because I want to visit there...” My voice trailed off.

“What are you looking for there?” he demanded, his tone growing sharper.

What’s his problem? Is he so hungry he’s mad at the world?

“I want to visit the bazaar,” I repeated, my patience wearing thin.

“Why?” he asked, glaring at me.

“Because it’s a bazaar...” I replied, bewildered.

“You have nothing to look for there. It’s all garbage and a waste of money,” he shouted angrily, waving his hand dismissively, as if flicking away a pesky fly.

Rude!

We retraced our steps toward the hotel, and after about two blocks, arrived at a street with a huge storefront. This store differed from all the others I had seen so far. It was even bigger than the bakery, and all the shop windows were covered with dark blue curtains. The sign above the store read “The Cabinet of Secrets.”

Hmmm... this should be interesting.

I stepped inside, and the sight immediately surprised me. The clothes in this world were very specific. Everyone wore colorful attire, but the styles were well-defined. Common women wore simple floor-length skirts or wide pants with a floor-length apron, paired with wide blouses laced up to the neck. Common men mostly wore pants and loose shirts. Noble women donned elaborate dresses that trailed on the floor, while noble men wore tight clothing with a lot of buckles and other decorations. I thought it was very considerate of them to code themselves according to clothing styles. That way, I always knew who I was dealing with.

But the clothes in this store were unique. The garments were much tighter, and I noticed skirts and dresses that were knee length or even shorter. The men’s clothes lacked the excessive buckles and decorations of the nobles, but they were definitely tight as well—perhaps even tighter.

A middle-aged man in makeup approached me and said, “I think you’re lost, dear wizard.”

Oops!

I forgot to change my class.

Quickly, I changed my class to merchant and replied, “No, no. I know where I am. Can you explain to me what this shop is? I might be able to offer you some interesting things.”

He looked at me with a furrowed brow and asked, “What things exactly?”

“I have special clothes that match the style of this store, as well as face paints and perfume,” I said, watching as his interest piqued.

His eyes lost focus momentarily before he asked, “Weren’t you a wizard just a second ago?”

“Yes. I am both a merchant and a wizard.”

He squinted at me like he was trying to understand something. “How exactly does that work out?”

“What do you mean?”

“How do people understand you?” he asked, clearly puzzled.

“As you understand me right now...” I replied, confused.

“Oh, right. Now that you mention it, you do sound understandable.”

I sounded understandable—he didn’t.

“You didn’t answer me. What is this store?” I asked again, trying to steer the conversation back on track.

“The Cabinet of Secrets,” he replied, as if that explained everything.

“Yes, I saw the sign. But what’s special about this store? How do you sell clothes very different from anything I’ve seen in the city?”

“This is a shop for courtesans,” he said matter-of-factly.

“But there are men’s clothes here!” I exclaimed, puzzled.

He looked at me like I was an alien and said, “Of course. Half the courtesans in the city are men.”

I rubbed my neck in embarrassment. I had always thought courtesans were only women. Learn something new every day—or almost every day.

“So...,” I said, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot, “are you interested in seeing what I have to offer?”

He led me to the back of the store, and I used the opportunity to Identify him—fair is fair, after all.

Adi Abay Retired Courtesan Level 17

 

Oops!

At least he didn’t get offended when I said courtesans were women. He just thought I was strange.

He led me to a back room with an enormous table and waved at it. “Please, show me.”

I took out the designer clothes I had swiped from Vegas. Until now, I hadn’t tried to offer them—they were too different. But here, they might work.

Judging by the glint in his eyes, he seemed interested, but also confused. After reviewing a few pieces, he asked, “Why so many black clothes? Who even wears black?”

I almost told him, “Black is the new black,” but stopped myself at the last second. There was no reason to sound like a wizard.

“Black is coming into fashion,” I tried, hoping to sound convincing.

He looked at me with narrowed eyes, then shook his head. I got the impression I sounded like a wizard, anyway.

“Black is slimming,” I attempted again.

“Why would anyone want to wear something slimming? The best courtesans are voluptuous,” he countered, clearly unimpressed.

I sighed and started putting all the black clothes back into storage. Even after returning all the black clothes—over sixty percent of what I had—there was still a gigantic pile on the table.

“You said you have face paint, too?” he asked.

I took out samples of makeup and showed him. He loved them so much that his body vibrated excitedly, and his eyes widened in admiration.

“Wow!” he exclaimed, “That’s exceptional!”

I quickly realized that he pushed everything he wanted to the left side of the table, and what didn’t interest him went to the right. I continued to take out more and more makeup, which he pushed to the left side of the table. After about three or four units of everything, he looked at the immense pile he was moving to the buy side, sighed, and said, “I think we’ll stop here. Otherwise, I won’t have enough to pay you.”

“Are you interested in perfume?” I asked, testing the waters.

His eyes lit up again. His reactions were so easy to read—like those of a little child—everything was immediate and open.

I showed him some perfumes, and they also made their way to the left side of the table. After about twenty bottles, he raised his hand in a ‘stop’ gesture and said, “I won’t be able to pay you. Don’t show me anymore, or my heart will break.”

After fifteen minutes of haggling, we reached an agreement on thirty-eight gold. While I haggled to maintain the appearance of a merchant, my heart wasn’t really in it. The clothes cost nothing, and I bought the makeup in China at Chinese prices. Ultimately, we were both satisfied—me because I got rid of more junk from Vegas, and he got unique merchandise at half the Appraisal price. At least Bargain gained a level. That was the only reason I even bothered to do it.

After we finished the transaction, I asked him, “I came to the area looking for the Arcane Bazaar, but it’s gone. Do you know where it went?”

“Of course. It’s moved to The Old Empire Road.”

“Where is that? And what exactly is it?”

“You’re not from here,” he said, more as a statement than a question.

No shit, Sherlock.

“What gave me away?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

He laughed. “The Old Empire Road is the widest road out of Crystalspire, but no one uses it anymore. The new laws don’t apply there since it’s outside the city limits. So, all the merchants in the city who don’t have a plaza writ and those who used to be in the Arcane Bazaar moved there. Because of this, the name has changed to Free Bazaar instead of Arcane Bazaar.”

“I’m not from here, as you guessed. I have no idea what you’re talking about. Can you give me some background? What new laws? Why don’t they apply? What is a plaza writ?”

“Trading in the plazas has always cost money—either a toll for a trading day or a 12% tribute,” he began, his tone matter-of-fact, though there was a hint of frustration beneath it. “Seventy or eighty years ago—I’m not exactly sure of the exact number—when the royal family renovated and expanded the palace, they sold writs for trading in the plazas. The writs were very expensive, but they promised 100 years of free trading for a stall in a plaza without tribute or daily payment. When the new king came to power, he passed a law that now everyone has to pay both for a trading day and tribute, and he raised the tribute from 12% to 20%,” he added, shaking his head in disapproval.

“When this law was passed, many merchants moved to the Arcane Bazaar,” he explained, his voice growing more animated as he recounted the merchants’ rebellion. “There’s an ancient tradition in Crystalspire that a stall in the Arcane Bazaar is free of charge and without tribute because the bazaar is one of the most important attractions in Crystalspire, bringing merchants and buyers from all over Lumisor and even from other islands and continents,” he said, with a touch of pride in his voice.

“In response, the king passed a law that the sale in Arcane Bazaar now also costs a daily fee for a stand and a tribute,” he continued, his tone turning sour as he spoke of the king’s greed. “When this happened, the Arcane Bazaar moved outside the city limits. And now it’s called the Free Bazaar,” he finished with a small, satisfied smile.

“But why is the new law only valid inside the city?”

“Because the normal tribute is for the entire kingdom and remains 12%,” he explained, his expression growing more thoughtful. “The king is greedy, but not stupid. If he raised the tribute for the entire kingdom, he would lose half of his subjects, who would move to Azureas or Solaria,” he said, a smirk playing on his lips as he imagined the king’s predicament. “He raised it only in Crystalspire, thinking the city residents wouldn’t leave so quickly. I’m guessing he didn’t expect them to move to another location,” he added with a knowing nod, amused by the king’s miscalculation.

“Interesting,” I said, mulling it over.

“Yes,” he agreed, leaning in slightly as if sharing a secret. “It’s a moral lesson not to be greedy. He tried to make more money and lost all the merchants selling in the plazas,” he said, shaking his head again. “You’re not from here, so you might not have noticed the change, but five years ago, every plaza had a small market of some sort. Now, more than half of the plazas are empty, or there are shows in them. Once, the bards and jugglers only performed in the main square in front of the palace or inns; now they perform in the plazas,” he finished, a trace of sadness in his voice.

“So now a stall in the Free Bazaar doesn’t cost money?” I asked, wanting to be sure.

“No,” he confirmed, shaking his head. “The law regarding the stall cost only applies to the plazas in the city. The old road is not a plaza.”

“When I sold at Ram-Son, I had to prove that I wasn’t a resident of Crystalholm and didn’t have to pay tribute. Is it like that in the Free Bazaar, too, or must I pay tribute?”

“No,” he replied, his tone firm. “Traveling merchants from outside the kingdom do not pay tribute in any kingdom. The kings are not stupid. If they asked for tribute from traveling merchants, they would stop coming to their kingdom,” he explained, a hint of a smirk on his lips. “You just have to swear to a Truth Mage that you’re not from Crystalholm, and you’re exempt,” he added, nodding as if this was common knowledge.

“I saw that the old bazaar area was divided into numbered lots, with a very angry Crown representative sitting in the plaza. What are they doing with it now?” I asked, curious about the situation.

“That’s Michus—just ignore him,” he replied with a dismissive wave. “He’s one of the king’s treasurers, and he’s the one who came up with the brilliant idea of taxing the Arcane Bazaar. As punishment, he now has to sell all the lots in the old bazaar plaza. I think he’ll end his life there. In five years, he’s managed to sell only two plots. The residents don’t buy out of spite for the new taxes, and the nobles have all moved to the new nobles’ quarter,” he added with a chuckle, clearly finding some satisfaction in Michus’s predicament.

“How do I get to the bazaar? I don’t know the old road,” I admitted, hoping for precise directions.

“Get to the city’s northern border and follow the carts,” he instructed, sounding amused. “They will lead you there.”

“Thank you very much for the explanation,” I said, genuinely appreciative.

“It was my pleasure,” he replied with a slight nod. “Next time you’re in the city, come to visit me. I’ll have more money to buy interesting things,” he added with a grin.

When I returned to the store area, I found Rue lying on his back with his tongue lolling out and tail wagging, while two young women and a young man fussed over him, stroking his belly and scratching his ears. Their laughter filled the air as they engaged in a conversation that focused entirely on Rue. I stood back, watching and listening, a chuckle escaping me now and then.

“Where did you eat crabs?” one of the young women asked, her fingers delicately tracing patterns on Rue’s fur as she leaned closer.

“Sailing the sea! Wasn’t that scary?” the young man asked, his tone teasing as he ran his fingers behind Rue’s ears, clearly enjoying the dog’s blissful reaction. “You are courageous,” he continued, his smile warm and full of admiration.

“I don’t like snake steak,” the other young woman said, her nose wrinkling slightly in distaste as she stroked Rue’s belly. “True, it’s delicious, but the thought of eating a snake turns me off,” she added with a dramatic shudder, as if the mere idea of it was too much to bear.

“What level of chef is he?” the first woman asked, raising an eyebrow playfully as she glanced down at Rue, clearly entertained by the conversation.

“How can he be a superb chef without class?” the young man quipped, his voice carrying a hint of teasing disbelief as he gave Rue an affectionate pat on the side.

“I’ve never tasted smoked snake,” the second woman mused, her fingers stilling for a moment as she pondered the thought, before resuming her gentle stroking. “Yes, raak is delicious. I’ll have my cook find some smoked crabs and make it. Did you say with sweet cream?” she asked, her tone brightening with interest as she looked at Rue with a wide grin.

Of course, my walking stomach was talking about food. “Buddy, are you ready to leave?” I asked him.

He rolled back on his feet and included me in the conversation. “Rue is going now. Bye!”

They all said goodbye to him, and we walked toward the door. As we left, I heard Adi say, “You won’t believe what merchandise I just received. You’re lucky to be here now—it will be gone by tomorrow.”

It took Rue and me almost an hour to reach the city’s northern end, and I immediately understood what Adi meant. Carts were moving back and forth in a steady stream, all heading in the same direction, so I followed them. We passed a single road leading out of the city, and when I checked the Map, I saw it was the only road that led north from the city. The carts weren’t precisely traveling on a proper road but on a dirt path, clearly worn down by the sheer amount of traffic. After half an hour, we arrived at the bazaar—and it was something else.

Along the Old Empire Road, the Free Bazaar was like a busy, crazy patchwork of stalls and people. Stalls lined both sides of the broad, worn-down road, creating a busy route full of sights, sounds, and smells. People selling things called out, and their voices mixed to make a steady hum of activity.

The things sold were as different as the people walking around. Fresh fruits and veggies stood in woven baskets or on carts. Their bright colors caught the light. Food stands nearby gave off the smell of cooking meats. Seasoned poultry skewers and cuts of smoked meat sizzled over open flames.

Tables in one area held high piles of spices, some familiar like hot pepper, and others completely new. I could smell the sharp, earthy, sweet smells of dried herbs and ground powders around the stalls.

There were stalls and carts with clothes and furniture. Most furniture was relatively small, like chairs, dressers, or tables. But further down, some big carts sold more oversized furniture, like beds, couches, and closets. Beside them was a line of empty carts offering a delivery service.

The most exciting part of the bazaar was the area with magical items. I saw a lot of interesting things there. Everything was simple, not exciting in terms of magic. But the execution and method of work were fascinating. They used the two methods I knew. Some things were with runes—mainly dishes and weapons. The rest had an embedded spell using the technique I had already learned in Shimoor. When I examined them with my mana sense, I could feel the spell inside and the mesh that locked it in so it wouldn’t dissipate. You could light a room, warm your hands, or lock a door with these simple spells, but the skill was apparent. It looked like every item had some promise, even if only a tiny one.

The area dedicated to magical items also had a large section with merchants selling spell scrolls. As I browsed through the spells, I noticed they fell into three distinct groups. One group sold the same spells I had seen in the mage guild in the city. Another group specialized in spells related to fabrics—things like weaving, dyeing, preventing wrinkles, and a few basic enchantments with very simplistic names, like Keep Warm, Keep Cool, Stay Dry, Stay Clean. The third group had a more intriguing selection of spells. They all offered telepathy at a relatively cheap price—only seven gold—but what caught my eye was the enormous selection of single-use scrolls, ranging in price from one to three gold. Among them were scrolls for healing, anti-venom, Flame Wave, Ice Wall, Blade Storm, Stone Prison, Mirror Image, and a few other less interesting ones.

“Excuse me, sir,” I asked one trader. “Why is there such a clear difference between the sellers of the scrolls?”

“The spells come from three different guilds,” he explained. “The local guild specializes in repair and construction. The guild in Azureas focuses on clothes and clothing-related spells, and the guild in Solaria specializes in single-use spells and telepathy.”

“Thanks,” I said, nodding as I continued on. At least now I realized why so many people could use telepathy—a price of seven gold didn’t sound very high.

The Free Bazaar had a chaotic arrangement of everything in a fun way. There wasn’t a rational plan, which made the place more interesting. A bunch of fresh herbs might be next to a stack of magical glasses that functioned like a jeweler’s loupe, or a rack of intricately woven shawls might be next to a bunch of fruit and vegetable boxes on a rickety cart.

It took us almost two hours to get from the beginning to the end of the bazaar. I didn’t stop to talk or buy, except with the scroll’s seller—I just looked. It was exciting and interesting, but I saw nothing I wanted to purchase. When we finally reached the end, I noticed someone opening the cover of his cart and arranging a display of jugs similar to the one in my hotel bathroom, each with a bowl beside it.

“Excuse me, sir,” I addressed him. “If I want to sell here, do I need to do anything?”

“You’re not local?” he asked, eyeing me curiously.

“No.”

“Just start selling, and a Truth Mage will come by to check where you’re from.”

“Thanks,” I said, nodding in appreciation.

I still wanted to get rid of all the Vegas stuff, so I pulled out the list and went through it. The sun was blazing, so I decided to sell sunglasses. I had two pallets of designer sunglasses, twenty boxes on each pallet. The intense sun making everyone squint was the best sales promotion I could have hoped for. I pulled out one of my sales stands, set up a sunglasses display, and then took a step back to assess it. Each pair of sunglasses came in its own case, so I took out some to showcase the lenses and adjusted the display until it looked perfect.

Satisfied with the setup, I took out ten more booths, lined them up, and hung a sign:

Sales Booth: 60 Gold Sun-Glasses: 1 Gold

The appraisal said the glasses were worth three gold, but I had a lot and just wanted to get rid of them.

“Rue go look market,” Rue informed me.

“Sure, buddy. Here, take some money if you want to buy something, and have fun,” I said, handing him a big batch of coins from Earth.

He eagerly took the coins and went off to explore. I suspected he’d return stuffed with food, with all the coins still intact in his Storage. After all, he was an expert moocher, and with so many people having telepathy here, he could mooch even more effectively.

I was right about the sunglasses. It took me half an hour to sell the first pair, but five minutes later, I sold two more to friends of the girl who bought the first one. After another ten minutes, a line formed in front of my stand. It amused me that many men were buying sunglasses clearly designed for women—styles with crystals, butterflies, star or heart shapes, or in colors like pink, purple, speckled, or striped yellow. But I kept my laughter to myself, chuckling inwardly instead. There was no reason to drive customers away.

After a few hours, the mage arrived, took one look at the sunglasses, and said, “I don’t even have to ask. You’re obviously not from here.” And then, to my surprise, he even bought a pair!

By the end of the day, I had sold all the glasses from the first pallet and was working on selling the second, with a total profit of over 700 gold. There’s nothing like mass production from a technological world to make money. Unfortunately, I didn’t sell a single booth, which was depressing. I hoped I wouldn’t be stuck with a Storage full of stalls no one wanted.

As the sun began to set and the day was coming to a close, I was about to pack up the display when a merchant approached me. “I’m interested in buying a Sales Booth,” he said.

At last!

He didn’t even haggle over the price. He just paid and waved for one of the delivery carts to come and take the stand. As they finished loading it, another merchant approached me and also bought one with no fuss.

I wanted to facepalm. Of course! Merchants are busy selling during the day—they come to buy stalls at the end of the day. In less than an hour, I sold all ten stands I had taken out, plus five more—another 900 gold in profit. Selling in a big city was a lot of fun.

I grumbled a little about the system for not granting me a level, but it was half-hearted. To be honest, I didn’t expect a level. I’ve already noticed that it gets more challenging with each additional level. Apparently, the system knew I didn’t truly mean my grumbling because it didn’t even send me a rebuke.

Rue hadn’t returned yet, so I had to “tug” at our connection to let him know we were leaving. A few minutes later, he appeared, looking like he was dragging himself along. For a moment, I got worried, but I didn’t feel any distress from him. Quite the opposite—he was in heaven. As he got closer, the issue became apparent. He looked nine months pregnant.

“How much did you eat?!” I asked in shock, my eyes widening at his bloated appearance.

“Lots lots of lots,” Rue replied with a tired tail wag, his eyes half-closed in contentment.

“I can see that,” I said, unable to hide my amusement as I took in his round belly.

“John take carriage to room. Rue too tired,” he mumbled, his tail barely managing another wag as he awkwardly tried to lie on his side. His belly was so distended that he couldn’t even lie down the way he usually did.

“Too tired or too stuffed?” I asked, smirking as I watched him struggle to get comfortable.

“Too stuffed not exist. Rue too tired,” he insisted, letting out a small huff as he tried to settle down, clearly not admitting defeat.

“Yeah, right,” I muttered, shaking my head. I didn’t believe him for a second.