The Mimic Becomes a Merchant King

The gate to Sentinel was a hive of activity, an abundance of wagons moving too and from the gatehouse. It was a slow process for Coin and the others to draw nearer, with a security checkpoint halting every person ahead of them. Elijah was undaunted, sporting a carefree smile as their turn came about.

"Something the matter?" he asked as a guard, adorned in a traditional Arcadian red and silver surcoat, approached. "Didn't have this much scrutiny the last time I came to Sentinel."

"Archchancellor Velasco has called for more stringent security checks around the gates. Smuggling has become more of a problem for us," he said, regarding the back of the wagon dispassionately. "What are you carrying?"

"Spices, provisions, and a few pieces of pottery. Sold off most of my wares on the way up here," Elijah replied.

The guard nodded, his attention focused on Essine. The young woman shrank under his gaze. "You're bringing a kobold into the city?" he asked, in a tone that sounded like 'you're really going to walk into my house with shit on your boot?'

"No law against it, last I checked," Elijah said, fishing out his Mercantile Guild badge.

"Here and now, the law is what I say it is," the guard said, gruffly snatching the badge. He checked the name, then paled and seemed to almost deflate. "Of course, er, there are no issues for a man of your status Ser DiVenture. Please, go on through!"

Elijah took his badge back and nodded firmly. "Too right there are no issues."

They boarded Dancer and the wagon at the stables, and pressed on into the city. Almost at once Coin found himself nearly overwhelmed by the tides of people moving too and fro, dotted all around a sea of dirty wooden or red brick buildings. Many of the structures were squat, others had been haphazardly slapped together on top of sturdier buildings.

The majority of people Coin spotted were humans and gnomes. And many tiny, youthful humans that he initially mistook for gnomes. Occasionally he would spy a kobold, usually and ironically distinguished by the hoods they wore to try and blend in.

"This district here is often called Lowtown by Sentinel locals. An unflattering name, but it's not undeserved. I suppose you could see it as a spot where most of the citizens live. Bit of a slum, but the alehouses are usually decent," Elijah explained as the trio walked along. "Head far enough leftward and you'll eventually reach a district called the Spokes. That's where all the factories, forges, and foundries are found."

He gestured with his left hand as he spoke, to where the sky was blackened with smog. Coin winced. Lowtown already smelled rather poor. He had to imagine the smell in the Spokes was downright horrific.

"Head far enough rightward, and you end up in the Merchant's Quarter. We'll head there in a spell but as the name implies, it's the commercial hub of the city. And, by extension, Arcadia as a whole. Lastly, toward the Obelisk, is Hightown. You can probably assume who lives there by the name." Elijah hesitated, turning toward Essine. "My lass, it would be prudent of you to avoid that area entirely, I'm sorry to say."

The kobold seemed undaunted. "Of course," she replied.

They continued deeper into Lowtown, passing by the whorehouses and dancer halls. The women outside beckoned to Coin, intrigued and excited, but the mimic seemed not to notice. It was only by pure chance that Coin ended up as handsome as he was, his face a neatly balanced blend of many adventurer faces. Those hot-blooded hard-headed young men had all been handsome devils, the kind of lads who could have been protagonists in their own YA adventure novels.

If only they had been slightly more cautious when opening treasure chests.

The group pressed on toward the Merchant's Quarter, and the closer to the edge of Lowtown they got, the nicer their surroundings seemed to become. Tidier, less crowded, fewer rats reclining lazily in the shadows. The smell was consistent, however, and everyone around Coin seemed indifferent toward it. Even the ruined temple hadn't been quite so filthy.

Elijah led the way to a boarding house near the border between the districts (cheerfully named 'The Drunken Tramp's Roost'), and paid for their lodgings. The owner had been wary about renting a room for a kobold, but his wariness had suspiciously died as soon as Elijah set a fat stack of ducats on his counter.

It was an important lesson for Coin. The right amount of gold could grease the wheels for just about anyone.

Essine decided to stay back in Lowtown, first to rest a bit in their rented rooms, and then to do some ingredient shopping at the few stalls they had passed on their way through. Elijah, in turn, led Coin deeper into the Merchant's Quarter.

"This place really is massive," Coin said as they strode down the central street. He kept a comfortable grip on his bag, as Elijah did. Thieves and cutpurses were apparently not uncommon in the capital. "How do people not get lost in all this?" His eyes roamed down various side streets and thoroughfares. Some of them, at a glance, made his fight or flight response do a few preliminary stretches.

"As with a lot of things, you simply get used to it. Walking these streets, committing them to memory, you do that enough times and the scale seems insignificant," Elijah explained. "Think of it like your penmanship lessons. Your writing has gotten much better from repeated practice."

Coin frowned. "Not too sure about that," he replied.

The Merchant's Quarter was much tidier and cleaner than Lowtown had been, marked by cobblestone streets that were being regularly groomed by custodians. The buildings were larger, sturdier, constructed from large grey bricks and topped by sloping red-tiled roofs.

Even the people seemed different, sharply-dressed and carrying themselves with a bit more pride in their posture. It was only here that he started to notice elves among the crowds.

Elijah led the way to a building that loomed far larger than those that surrounded it: A massive white-bricked structure with gold-hued doors, and a domed roof that looked sturdy enough to shrug off cannon fire. Coin lingered to read the sign posted just outside the entrance: The Bank of Arcadia.

"We need to make a bit of a withdrawal from my account," Elijah said as he made for the entrance, using words he wrongly assumed held any meaning to Coin. "You do, after all, need a bit more money if you want to do real business in the capital."

Coin smiled. "So I get to see how much money you have? Guess I'm pretty excited," he said, his mind's eye flooded with rivers of golden coins.

They pressed on, venturing into a marble-floored foyer with tall gilded walls. An image had been elegantly painted onto the floor, depicting a woman in a flowing dress, sporting a tower shield. She stood guard before a mountain of golden coins, warding off shadowy figures that looked vaguely like goblins.

Elijah approached one clerk, a rotund and pale man in an expensive suit. He looked up at the two, managing a grin. "Ah, Ser DiVenture! It's been so long, truly."

"Hello Lunse. How's the family?" Elijah's smile was friendly, but Coin knew the man well enough by now to know he didn't really care about the answer either way. This was merely, as they said in the mercantile world, 'small talk.'

"Ah, well, my daughter got that apprenticeship under Crane Hoster. And she's making the most of the opportunity. The old boar is as crass as they come, but at least he treats his workers well. You know how it is, sometimes the best you can hope for is an employer who won't spit in your eye and tell you that it's raining."

"Why, that's wonderful!" Elijah forced a smile. "She's earned it. Talent like hers? Only a matter of time before she was recognised for it."

"Quite right. So, who is your friend?"

"I'm Coin," he replied, stepping forward. "I'm his... apprentice. Learning all about the merchant life from him."

Lunse looked between the two men, and a strange sadness briefly flickered in his eyes. "Ah," he said. "Well, a delight to meet you Mister Coin. I assume this is your first visit to our fine institution?"

Coin nodded. "First time in Sentinel too." In the past, a mimic would only get into Sentinel as a finely taxidermized specimen.

Lunse's eyes widened, swivelling toward Elijah. "Grace of the Goddess. Where did you find this one? Growing out of a cabbage patch?"

Chuckling, Elijah leaned toward the counter. "He saved me from a jam, and he's got a good head on his shoulders. More than enough for me," he said. "Would you be so kind as to lead us to my vault?"

"Ahh," Lunse grinned, flashing his own golden tooth. "Looking to make a withdrawal? Come along then." He turned and set off at a comfortable pace, deeper into the confines of the bank. Elijah and Coin followed after him.

"I get the feeling you don't actually like that man too much," Coin murmured to his mentor.

Elijah shrugged. "It's good business to be friendly to those who are tied to money. Especially if it is your money. Always greet a prospective business partner with a smile and a handshake, even if you hate their guts. And besides Lunse is nice enough, just..." he stared at the man's distant back as he hurried along, and seemed to grow more annoyed the longer he stared. "A bit much, at times."

The trio moved downstairs, to an underground corridor that stretched on for a considerable distance. Oil lanterns hung equidistant from each other, providing a hazy orange light to cut through the blackness. They were flanked on both sides by tows and rows of steel vault doors, standing tall above the men and engraved in strange runes. Even in passing, Coin could sense lingering traces of magic in the metal, creating a tingle in the back of his brain.

"I'm sure this is quite a lot for you to take in, young man," Lunse called, looking back at the mimic. "We're the largest bank on the entire continent. Few institutions across Vyndrel come close to our scale. All the wealthiest folks of Arcadia bank with us, from merchants through to our own chancellors!"

That quickly caught Coin's attention. "Chancellors like Fiodor?" he asked. Elijah gave him a wary side-eye.

Lunse gave him a strained smile. "Indeed we do." He hardly seemed thrilled about it, and Coin couldn't blame him.

"Interesting." An idea planted itself in Coin's head, which he set aside for later. He'd get what he was owed from the elf, one way or another.

"Ah, here we are! Vault thirteen, of our dear Ser DiVenture! You have your key, I trust?"

Elijah fished under the collar of his shirt, producing a necklace that had a rather large silver key dangling from the end. It was a four-sided key, each face cut into a strange shape. "Always. Wouldn't ever dare lose it."

Lunse fished a great keyring from his belt, weighted with an abundance of similarly shaped keys. He sorted through them one by one, until he found the one numbered as thirteen. Both men slotted their keys into opposite ends of the vault door, which released an echoing clunking sound that nearly made Coin jump out of his skin.

"Been a while since we last popped this one open," Lunse mused. "But thank goodness our people are so meticulous when it comes to maintenance."

The great wheel in the middle of the door spun and shifted, mechanisms inside the metal clicking and clacking. Steam puffed from the seams of the door before it opened and began to push inward, gradually revealing the innards of the vault.

Coin's jaw nearly dropped.

A sea of glittering gold greeted him.