Chapter 44: Maximizing Your Market Research

The children scatter as two large beast-kin men come charging up the path toward Lucien, boots kicking up dust, expressions set somewhere between suspicion and outright hostility with spears held level, gleaming in the midday sun.

Lucien throws both hands up immediately.

"Merchants!" He calls out preemptivelu, "We’re merchants, not monsters!"

Behind them, Val chuckles low as Serenith drifts up beside him, watching the scene unfold with open amusement. "I genuinely wonder how he’s going to talk his way through this."

"Please," Serenith says, smirking. "This is the same man who talked himself into your hoard and talked you to signing a blood-bound contract in the same afternoon."

"That... was different." Val groans.

"It’s all the same with Lucien Vale. Business and pleasure. Same tactics, same smirk, same commitment, and that devastating follow-through." She sighs, already drifting forward. "Come on. Someone needs to make sure he doesn’t accidentally negotiate us into a brothel instead of whoever actually runs this town."

By the time they catch up, Lucien’s hands are moving animatedly through the air, mid-sentence, the beast-kin’s spears already lowered, both of them listening with the cautious, fascinated attention of men who came expecting a fight and got a fascinating sales pitch instead.

"...and these are my associates," Lucien says cheerfully, gesturing toward Val and Serenith. "Friends, actually. This one’s Valgereth. Terrifying, very wealthy, mostly harmless. And this is—"

He turns to gesture at Serenith and catches himself almost a second too late, remembering exactly how invisible she currently is to everyone else standing in the clearing.

"...this," he continues smoothly, barely missing a beat, "is a very fascinating fact I just learned, which is that this charming little village apparently has a really good brothel."

"Too late." Serenith groans and drops her face into both hands. "I’m going to go scout ahead," she mutters, already drifting off toward the village, wings beating with the particular energy of a woman putting distance between herself and secondhand embarrassment.

Lucien gives her a cheerful wave as she goes.

Then he turns, sticks both hands out toward Val, palms up.

Val eyes it.

"What do you want?"

"Pocket money," Lucien says. "You’ve got to spend money to make money. I need to actually experience beast-kin life before I can formulate a proper plan for what to do with it. Can’t build the vision without doing the research first."

"You’re just looking to get busy with beast-kin women." Val squints at him.

"Multitasking," Lucien says, entirely unashamed. "Also, and I say this with real medical concern, it’s been three days since I’ve even been with a woman. I might spontaneously combust at any moment. You wouldn’t want that on your investment portfolio, would you?."

Val laughs, a genuine, rumbling sound. He digs into his pockets, producing handfuls of coins that he drops into Lucien’s waiting palms without further argument.

Lucien takes it eagerly, peels off two coins, and presses one each into the beast-kin guards’ hands.

"Lead the way, gentlemen. I can’t wait to learn everything about your culture."

They walk into the village proper, past mudbrick houses and crude stone walls, beast-kin of every shape and size moving through the streets. Tall, horned figures hauling crates, small, quick-footed ones darting between stalls, an elderly tortoise-kin woman moving at a pace that suggests she has never once been in a hurry in her life.

The market square opens up ahead of them in a riot of color and noise, canvas awnings strung between poles, baskets overflowing with dyed wool, dried herbs, carved wooden charms, and stacks of produce in shapes and colors that don’t exist anywhere in the Ashlands.

Somewhere a vendor is shouting prices over a chorus of haggling customers, and the whole square smells like woodsmoke, spice, and warm bread.

The market hits Lucien like a wave.

He’s practically vibrating with delight within minutes, moving from stall to stall with the unrestrained enthusiasm of a man set loose in a candy store, peppering merchants with an endless stream of questions.

Where did this come from?

How is it made?

Who supplies it?

What does it sell for?

What would it sell for somewhere else?

Val’s gold flows steadily and without complaint as Lucien buys up information faster than he buys actual goods.

"You should probably get some real food too." Val mutters, watching him purchase yet another useless trinket purely for the story attached to it. "And get those tiny balls, with the cheese and basilisk meat. Haven’t had that in centuries."

Serenith floats above the crowd, arms crossed, watching the whole spectacle with fond exasperation. "How are you possibly going to remember all of this?"

"Built for it, angelcake." Lucien taps his temple, grinning up at her without breaking stride. "My mind never forgets a detail that might lead to profit."

Eventually the crowded stalls thin out, giving way to a large, well-built structure on the edge of the village.

Red curtains fluttering from every window, soft golden light spilling out from within, faint music and laughter drifting through the open door. Two enormous minotaur bouncers flank the entrance, arms crossed, horns polished to a menacing shine, looking entirely too large for the modest doorframe between them.

Val takes one look at it and groans.

"I am not in the mood for more naked, money-hungry mortals. Ignara was enough of that." Valgereth says, looking up at the brothel with disdain, "I’m going to find an inn. One with proper food and an actual bed. With pillows."

He turns, taps Lucien hard in the chest with one finger. "Remember... this is not a pleasure trip."

Lucien clutches his chest, mock-wounded. "There is no better place to start our trade dealings than a brothel. Trust me... this is absolutely business-related!"

"I’m not even going to try to make sense of that." Val mutters as he walks away shaking his head.

"Don’t forget! You can’t—"

"I know, I know," Val calls back without turning around, waving a dismissive hand over his shoulder. "No eating the villagers."

"Your restraint is genuinely inspiring. Might make your employee of the month if you keep it up."

Lucien turns to Serenith, grinning wide, hands on his hips. "Ready to expand your knowledge, angelcake?"

She just rolls her eyes and floats on ahead of him without a word, which he decides, entirely untroubled by it, to take as an emphatic yes.