Jack ducked into a quiet alley and changed into the valet costume. Tucking away his dagger under his uniform, he patted his stomach. “I really should lose a few pounds,” he grumbled, noting that he’d had to leave his trouser button undone. The waistcoat and jacket concealed the slight gap.

  He then stashed everything except the spell scrolls in an extra bag, hiding it in the alley before preparing to exit.

  “Damn. My hair.” Jack remembered his messy, curly locks. A valet of a noble couldn’t afford to have unkempt hair. He shoved his hair under the hat and sighed, “I’m glad Polly made a hat… even if I do look ridiculous.” Chuckling at the idea of bumping into his sister and her friends while in the costume she made, he resolved to keep an eye out for them, uncertain where in the city they might rehearse their play.

  Jack pushed open the heavy oak door, triggering the soft chime of a bell overhead. The Barker and Harker Spell Scroll Shop stood before him. Situated just a short walk from a dungeon often visited by novice adventurers, it attracted many seeking their first purchase of spell scrolls. As the shop was located farthest from his home and the Royal Library, it offered him a welcome degree of anonymity.

  The shop’s interior consisted of rich, dark wood panel-lined walls and sturdy glass display cases, each one arranged to highlight a popular spell scroll. Stepping inside, he allowed himself a deep breath to enjoy the pleasant aromas of new and old parchment, fresh ink, and a hint of polished wood. The smells stirred happy memories of countless hours spent translating ancient texts with his father at the Royal Library.

  A few customers browsed among the scrolls, and Jack caught a snippet of conversation at the counter.

  “…frost breath and two fireball scrolls.” A middle-aged adventurer clad in high-quality leather armour was buying spell scrolls at the counter.

  The old shopkeeper smiled. “That will be 37 silvers and 50 coppers for three frost breath and two fireball scrolls… Will that be all, or may I suggest a stable ground spell for the swamp area?”

  The adventurer shook his head, handed over his payment, and left with his purchase.

  Jack grinned as he calculated, That’s 7 silvers and 50 coppers per scroll. Maybe I can get more than 2 silvers each. Approaching the counter, he greeted the shopkeeper with a smile.

  The old shopkeeper returned the smile. “What can I do for you today, young man?”

  Placing his pack on the dark wood counter, Jack said in his most formal tone, “My master has tasked me with selling a sample of his unimbued spell scrolls.” He then revealed ten scrolls from his pack. Four frost breath, four fireball, and two solid ground scrolls. He was hoping to sell these for at least 20 silvers.

  Adjusting his silver-framed glasses as he examined the scrolls, the old shopkeeper nodded. “These are fine work.” He looked at Jack with a discerning eye. “May I ask who inscribed them?”

  Jack had anticipated the question. “My master is a new Apprentice Scribe who plans to create spell scrolls to level his skills.” He smiled while hoping the shopkeeper wouldn’t press for his master’s name. “My master is looking to supply spell scrolls to the city’s best spell shop.” A new Apprentice Scribe could spend a decade just inscribing spell scrolls to level up.

  The old man nodded, accepting the story. “Usually, we don’t buy spell scrolls this way.” He spread his right arm to indicate inside the shop. “If your… master is planning to sell regularly and in reasonable quantities, we might be able to come to an agreement. There are a shortage of scribes creating spell scrolls in the city.” The merchant frowned. “We lost some good people to the army recently, and many of the more… experienced scribes feel it’s beneath them to perform such work,” he shook his head in disappointment.

  Jack understood the problem. As an Expert Scribe, his father would be overqualified to create apprentice-level scrolls. “My master informed me that he plans to produce at least twenty-five and possibly over fifty spell scrolls per week… Depending upon other commitments, of course.”

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  At forty-five minutes per scroll, twenty-five scrolls would take him a little under nineteen hours to craft. If he put ten hours per day into just creating spell scrolls, he could produce over ninety scrolls per week. In his previous life, he’d worked this way to afford the drow blade.

  The old man scratched his chin in thought. “We pay 2 silvers and 50 coppers for frost breath and fireball scrolls.” He smiled. “We’ll purchase as many as your… young master can create.” He tapped one of the solid ground spell scrolls with his arthritic index finger, a subtle sign of the many years he’d spent in trade. “As for these, our need isn’t as urgent, but we’d take up to ten per week for the same price per scroll.”

  Jack nodded with satisfaction. “I believe my master will be pleased with this agreement.” Instinctively, he extended his hand to the shopkeeper to seal the deal. It was something his dad had taught him as a child. Although not required, his father had always maintained that a handshake signified honour and mutual respect between those who do business together.

  The old man returned the handshake with a warm smile, creasing his weathered face as he acknowledged the polite courtesy of a young man.

  “My master knows these three spells. Are there other spells you’d be interested in?” Although Jack wouldn’t level his Inscribe Spell skill rapidly by crafting easy spell scrolls, he’d eke out more experience if he could vary the type of scrolls created.

  The old shopkeeper chuckled. “Of course, of course. Your young master would benefit from variety.” Still chuckling, he reached under the counter and pulled out a piece of paper with a price list of spell scrolls. “These are the scrolls we stock and the prices we sell at.”

  Jack scanned the list. Most of the spells sold for 7 silvers and 50 coppers, but a handful went for over 20 silvers and a couple for over a gold. He nodded in understanding.

  The old man continued. “We pay approximately one-third of the sale price to the scribe,” the shopkeeper explained, pointing out items underlined in red, indicating high demand or limited supply. “We’ll buy as many as you can supply.”

  Jack nodded while taking the price list.

  The old shopkeeper placed the ten scrolls Jack had sold him beneath the counter and passed him 25 silvers. “That’s 25 silvers for four fireball, four frost breath, and two solid ground unimbued scrolls,” he explained while adjusting his glasses. “As a supplier to Barker and Harker, your master enjoys a ten per cent discount on all purchases.” He then gestured towards the display of scribe supplies and handed Jack a card adorned with a small image of a spell scroll and the embossed name Barker and Harker. “Just present the card to receive the discount,” he added.

  Tempted to spend his earnings, Jack reminded himself he was playing the role of a noble’s valet, and, more importantly, he needed to save up for a bow. “I’ll let my master know,” he said with a slight bow. “Thank you on his behalf.”

  Before leaving the shop, he took a look at the scribe supplies prices. Their prices aren’t too bad. With the discount, I should at least buy blank scrolls and ink here.

  Jack left the shop with a bounce in his step while the old shopkeeper shook his head and chuckled.

  He made his way back to the alley where he’d hidden his clothes. I wonder if I could get a bow today for 25 silvers, he thought, eager to begin his archery training.

  As he changed into his usual clothes, he recalled that he was supposed to be doing strength exercises. Damn it, I forgot to work out this morning. I did wake up with a bad back, though… stupid sister, he grumbled, cursing Polly for derailing his plans, which in truth he was glad to forget.

  Since he was near the novice dungeon, he examined the nearby stalls and shops to see what they offered. Being close to a dungeon, these establishments tended to provide items suitable for adventurers, including bows.

  A bronze clockwork automaton assistant stood outside a shop, repeating the same offer in a cheerful monotone voice, “Small aether capsules on sale… 4 silvers each! Buy three, just 10 silvers! Guaranteed charge retention… one full year!”

  “Hmm… good price,” Jack muttered, glancing at the gleaming blue aether capsules in a rotating display. “Prices skyrocket whenever there’s a mine incident.” He rubbed his chin, recalling a dungeon breakout in the main aether crystal mine that served the city most of its power. “Was it spiders? Big ones?”

  His memory flashed, recalling the past event where an undiscovered dungeon within the main aether crystal mine had a massive monster breakout. Whatever the creatures, it had delayed mining for months. Prices had surged. 15 silvers per small aether capsule at one point. The prices never quite fell back.

  I could earn a small fortune if I had coin to invest. He shrugged. “Yeah, if.”

  When a dungeon wasn’t cleared on a regular basis, the monsters within would flood out. This particular event resulted in the mine being closed for months until the monsters were cleared. This resulted in a shortage of aether crystals and a large price hike for aether capsules.

  After half an hour of browsing, he came to the conclusion he wouldn’t be getting a bow worth buying for under 60 silvers, so he went home disappointed. “I’ll spend today exercising and making more scrolls. I’ll get a bow tomorrow or the day after,” he muttered.