The Mimic Becomes a Merchant King

The reception desk of the hall was manned by a gnome, perched in a large chair with a pair of tomes under her backside to give her some extra height. She was dressed in a sharp suit with an emerald waistcoat, her dark hair slicked back. The gnome was busy poring over a ledger, only glancing up as Elijah's shadow fell over her.

"Ah, the esteemed DiVenture. So good to see you safe and sound," she said, adjusting her brass spectacles.

"And you too, Altrest. Shame my bodyguard wasn't so fortunate." He sighed and shook his head. "My gut told me he was more of a novice than he let on, and I knew I should have gone with my gut."

Altrest tutted and shook her head. "Always be wary of the local yokels. Far too many farmboys with swords out there, thinking they'll be the next Lord Imbel."

"Aye, too true."

"Speaking of farmboys," she said, scanning her eyes over to Coin. "Seems you found a stray."

"More like he found me. This brave lad saved my bony backside when my bodyguard went down. And he's looking to join our order."

Coin took a stiff step forward. "I'm Coin. It's... good to meet you," he stiffly said. That was how humans greeted each other, at least he was sure that was how it was done.

Altrest looked at him, unimpressed. "Altrest Lowshroom. Charmed." Her face and her words seemed to be on a completely different page. "Ordinarily we don't take in new applicants out of the blue. But if Elijah is vouching for you, that's good enough for me."

"Hoh," Elijah chuckled and shook his head. "Nice to know I still have some pull in these parts."

Ignoring him, Altrest locked eyes with Coin. "You need two things to become a licensed vendor with the Mercantile Guild. We need your name, with which we can print your identification. And a registration fee."

"A registration fee," Coin replied. Paying with his own money... he thought he was going to break out in a nervous sweat. He felt for the coins stored inside his flesh, his torso a breathing coinpurse. Could he bring himself to part with them?

But Elijah, fortunately stepped forth. He set a stack of coins onto the varnished desk, which glittered when the light struck them. Altrest hummed, checking them coin by coin, and then set them in a drawer in her desk. She scribbled a few lines in her ledger, nodded, and then went to fetch another book.

"Very good," Altrest said. "Now, we just need your name and surname. In registering as a Guild merchant, you are expected to abide by the full charter of the Guild, and to follow all Arcadian economic laws. These things should go without saying, but we've had too many people thinking that a Guild badge gives them a blank check to run business however they see fit."

The gnome set a contract before him, covered from top to bottom with tiny little letters than nearly tripped Coin up as he read through them. Several words were written in capitals, some were bolded, yet the emphasis made nothing clearer to Coin. It didn't help that he was only barely touching the tip of the iceberg on literacy.

"These are just things related to the rules and regulations of the guild. I'll talk you through them as we go along. But, don't worry, stick with me and you won't come close to breaking any rules," Elijah explained.

That part wasn't what bothered Coin. Rather, he found himself concerned by the line at the bottom asking for his name. He needed a surname apparently, and having to come up with one on the spot nearly made his flesh prickle nervously. A name that everyone would call him by, and a second name that assigned him to a family.

He could feel Altrest watching him warily, slowly lifting her left eyebrow. It probably shouldn't have taken this long for someone to sign, even someone who was pretending to read the fine print.

Inspiration struck him rather suddenly, coming up with a name that was almost as important to him as the accrual of wealth. The same temple that had once served as his home, and was the place where he'd evolved.

The name he settled on, in full, was 'Coin Thaeka.' Then Elijah, after looking over Coin's shoulder, rewrote the name for him in a much more legible hand. He was even nice enough to fix Coin's spelling mistakes.

"Coin?" Altrest asked, looking him the eye. "Your parents named you... Coin? I suppose this was inevitable for you, then."

The mimic shrugged. "They had grand plans for me," he lied. Frankly he doubted his parents wanted him to do anything other than keep away from whatever food they wanted to eat.

Deciding not to dwell on it further, Altrest took the signed contract and replaced it with a large book fished from her desk. "This is a copy of the current charter. Has all the rules and regulations spelled out in detail. And a few other handy things, like a map of Arcadia, a directory of towns and cities with Mercantile Guild halls, and a glossary of important terms."

Coin nodded, taking the tome into his hands. It was a weighty thing, even without the sturdy leather cover. In a pinch, it would be a handy blunt weapon.

"One more thing." The gnome slid from her seat and hastened to a strange machine at the far end of her office. She moved up a step stool, fiddling with a few iron clamps and wheels that steadily positioned a large red machine hanging from the ceiling. She slid a length of metal underneath the looming machine, which was soon lit up by a pale blue light shining from its prongs.

The light was intense, forcing Coin to wince and recoil. Altrest seemed not to notice the glare at all.

She returned soon after, offering him a length of iron that could fit into the palm of his hand. His name was hewn into the metal, the letters glowing with a faint blue light akin to the glow of the machine. The symbol of the Mercantile Guild was etched into the back.

"Your guild badge, my lad. Your symbol of status. Of course, at Rank 1 there's not much status to it," Elijah said, chortling. "Forgot how... bland the Rank 1 badge is."

"You want a good looking badge," Altrest hopped into her seat, "you work for it."

"Mm. True enough." Elijah, as if sensing Coin's curiosity, reached into his coat to produce his own badge. They were about even in size, but Elijah's had been forged from gold so pure that it made Coin's mouth water just to look upon it. His name was hewn with glittering ruby light. "It may be a while before you reach Rank 10. But I'm sure you'll appreciate the hard work when you get there."

Coin shook himself to attention, trying to think of anything but the golden gleam of that badge. "Well, I have every intention of reaching Rank 10. Just you watch."

"You sound much like I did at your age, dear lad," Elijah replied, little realising they were likely far closer in age than either of them were aware. "Keep hold of that passion, never lose sight of it, and it'll take you far."

Altrest sighed, resting her cheek on her right fist. "You and your lofty speeches. Guess you've earned the right, given all you've accomplished, but it's still a pain."

"Why thank you, Altrest. I pride myself on being a pain." He pressed a hand to Coin's back, motioning for the mimic to follow after him.

Coin peered at the tome again. "There's going to be a lot of reading involved in being a merchant, huh?" he asked.

"Comes with the territory. But once you do it enough, the reading and mathematics will be second nature to you."

"I hope so." He couldn't help but wince a bit at the term 'mathematics.' Whatever that strange, misshapen word translated into, Coin had decided he already disliked it. "What do we do now?"

"Now... I really ought to get those goods I brought offloaded sooner rather than later. But I can put it off for a little while longer," Elijah said, leading him deeper into the hall.

Coin scratched at the back of his head. "I was hoping to maybe speak to someone who knows about magic and such. Illyana told me there's a witch in Wheat Valley who can handle things like that."

"Ah. Scylla. Yes, she does handle magical issues, for a price. I won't pry, a man has his reasons, but I should warn you that a witch won't do things cheaply. I'll point you in the right direction all the same," Elijah nodded as he spoke, his mouth pulling into a thin frown.

Coin grimaced. Was he just going to have to get use to the idea of throwing his money at things?

"Though, by now, she's probably closed up shop for the night. And likely wouldn't appreciate being disturbed. Take this lesson to heart, my lad, witches and wizards are quick to take offence, and their retribution can be quite brutal. They're an... intense people," Elijah explained.

While Coin had never fought a wizard in his more primal days, he had still been able to sense danger whenever he had been in the presence of one. Like a dog sensing danger from a wicked man, mimics instinctively understood the danger posed by magic. Humans with weapons could be risky at times, but generally a mimic could overwhelm them in strength and speed. Wizards and their ilk had a much greater bag of tricks on their side.

"Ah. Let's leave business to the morrow, yes?" Elijah said, meeting Coin's eyes. "Too late to deal with paperwork and similar nonsense. What's say we grab some food, and then lodge here for the night?"

Coin sniffed the air. The smell of fried meat hit his nose, tinged with spices that tickled the insides of his nostrils. The mimic swallowed hard. "Is that the... fried chicken you spoke of?"

Elijah offered him a wan smile. "It is indeed, my lad. Something of an Arcadian specialty."

The mess hall of the lodge was a modest chamber, lined with tables and benches, and was thoroughly dominated with the thick scent of fried meat. He was drawn in, near lifted off his feet by his nostrils as the smell invaded his mind. Even if cooked food didn't benefit him like raw meat did... there was a lot to be said about the taste.

Dinner, for both men, consisted of a plate of chicken pieces in a golden batter, steaming from a freshly cooked heat. Coin ate his with relish, and could have cried with joy from the delicious taste that coated his mouth from every bite.

Elijah just laughed, amused by how easily pleased the mimic was. "If you think this is good, my lad," he said, gripping a half-eaten thigh in his gnarled fingers, "you haven't seen anything yet."