Chapter 2: The Currency of Opportunity
The gates of Aethelburg were a massive, intimidating archway of darkened oak and riveted iron, flanked by guard towers manned by stoic figures in leather armor. Kaelen strode through them with a confidence that felt both alien and exhilarating. Gone was the hesitation of Hiroki, the office worker; in its place was the focused resolve of a man with a new purpose.
The sheer scale of the city, even in the "weakest" realm, was staggering.
Cobblestone streets, worn smooth by centuries of traffic, stretched before him, lined with buildings of timber and rough-hewn stone that soared three and four stories high.
The air inside the city walls was a symphony of new sensations: the earthy scent of horse manure mingling with the rich aroma of baking bread, the metallic tang of a blacksmith's forge, and the sweet, cloying perfume of exotic spices. Shouts of merchants hawking their wares blended with the distant clatter of a carpenter's hammer and the lively strains of a lute from a nearby tavern.
This was a world teeming with life, energy, and, most importantly, commerce.
Kaelen pulled his hood down slightly, his unusual eyes still a novelty he wasn't ready to expose to general scrutiny. He moved with a practiced nonchalance, his senses sharp, taking everything in. People bustled past him – burly porters laden with sacks, finely dressed merchants haggling over prices, wide-eyed children darting through the crowd.
He noticed the quality of their clothing, the glint of coin purses at their belts, the general air of their prosperity, or lack thereof.
He gravitated towards the growing din of voices, following the scent of fresh produce and baked goods that indicated the main market square. As he emerged into the sprawling plaza, his eyes widened slightly. It was an explosion of color and sound. Stalls overflowing with fruits, vegetables, cured meats, and freshly caught fish lined every available space. Craftsmen displayed their wares: gleaming swords, intricately carved wooden trinkets, bolts of vibrant cloth. The sheer volume of transactions, the constant exchange of goods and coins, was mesmerizing.
This was where wealth was born, circulated, and sometimes, lost.
He stopped at a stall selling roasted nuts, the warm, inviting aroma making his stomach rumble for the first time since his awakening. "How much for a pouch of these?" he asked, his voice calm and surprisingly deep for his perceived age.
The vendor, a grizzled man with a thick beard and calloused hands, squinted at him. "Two coppers, lad. First time in the city, eh? Your eyes got that fresh look."
Kaelen suppressed a flicker of annoyance at being called 'lad,' but it confirmed his initial assessment: he looked significantly younger than his thirty-seven years. He rummaged in the small, worn pouch hanging from his belt – the only possession the original Kaelen seemed to have. Inside, he found a handful of dull, copper coins. He counted out two and handed them over.
The nuts were hot and salty, a simple pleasure that felt like a luxury after his years of convenience store food. As he munched, he began to observe more closely. He watched how transactions occurred, how trust was built (or broken), and how prices fluctuated based on supply and demand. He saw merchants accept payment in goods as well as coins, a system of barter still prevalent. This was primitive, inefficient, and rife with opportunity.
He noted the various currencies in circulation: copper, silver, and gold. Copper seemed to be the most common, silver for more substantial purchases, and gold for truly valuable transactions. There was no paper money, no digital transfers. Everything was tangible.
"Looking for work, boy?" A voice beside him made him jump slightly. He turned to see a burly man, his apron stained with grime, wiping his hands on a cloth. He stood next to a stall piled high with rough-hewn timber. "You got good shoulders. Looks like you could lift a few planks."
Kaelen's pragmatic mind immediately weighed the options. Manual labor. It wasn't his forte, but it was a means to an end. "What's the pay?" he askLooksirectly.
"Five coppers for a half-day's work. More if you're quick and don't complain," the lumber merchant grunted.
Five coppers. It was barely enough to buy a decent meal. But it was a start. "I'll take it," Kaelen said without hesitation.
The next few hours were brutal. Kaelen found himself hauling heavy planks of wood from a delivery wagon to the merchant's stall, his muscles screaming in protest. His half-dragon physiology, while granting him latent strength, wasn't accustomed to this kind of sustained exertion. Sweat plastered his hair to his forehead, and his hands, once soft from endless keyboard clicks, began to blister. Yet, he pushed through it. Every ache was a reminder of his new reality, a tangible step away from his old, stagnant life. He worked with a quiet intensity that surprised the merchant, who usually had to prod his young laborers. Kaelen just focused on the task, on the rhythm of his breathing, on the growing pile of timber.
When the half-day was done, the merchant tossed him five gleaming coppers. "Not bad, lad. You work hard for a youngster. Come back tomorrow if you need more."
Kaelen nodded, pocketing the coins. Five coppers. His first earnings in this new world. It wasn't much, but it was his. A deep, satisfying hum resonated within him, a purely draconic contentment. He felt the latent power of his heritage stirring, whispering approval at the acquisition of wealth, no matter how small.
His next stop was a small, bustling eatery offering a stew that smelled rich and savory. For three coppers, he bought a generous bowl and a hunk of fresh bread. The taste was heavenly, far superior to any instant noodles. He ate slowly, savoring each mouthful, already planning his next move.
He needed more than just daily wages. He needed to understand the true flow of wealth. He needed to find the money lenders, the traders, the large-scale merchants. His mother had mentioned the Merchant's Guildhall in the High Quarter. That was his next target.
Navigating the city was an education in itself. The streets became cleaner, the buildings grander, as he moved towards the higher elevations. The common folk thinned out, replaced by individuals dressed in finer silks and well-maintained leather, often accompanied by armed guards.
He spotted a few women who caught his eye – mature figures with elegant gowns, their forms hinting at generous curves and full bosoms, their faces hinting at wisdom and experience. He quickly averted his gaze. Focus, Kaelen. Focus on the money. The women could wait.
Finally, he reached the High Quarter. The buildings here were made of solid, polished stone, adorned with intricate carvings and banners bearing noble crests. The air was cleaner, the noise of the market a distant hum. And there it was, a majestic edifice of white marble and dark wood, its entrance guarded by two armored figures: the Merchant's Guildhall.
Its doors were imposing, grand, seemingly designed to intimidate. Kaelen approached, feeling a faint tremor of excitement. This wasn't just a building; it was a nexus of power, a vault of information, a key to the economic heart of Aethelburg.
One of the guards, a burly man with a scarred face, stepped forward, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "State your business, boy. The Guildhall is not for loitering."
Kaelen met his gaze, his amber eye calm, his red eye holding a spark of something the guard couldn't quite place. His youthful appearance made the guard's tone dismissive, but Kaelen's mature bearing gave him pause. "I wish to learn about the city's economy," Kaelen stated simply, directly. "Specifically, its financial practices. And to understand how one might enter the world of large-scale trade."
The guard raised a thick eyebrow, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. "Financial practices? Trade? You're a bit young for such grand ambitions, aren't you, lad?" He laughed, a deep, rumbling sound. "This ain't the marketplace for street urchins, boy. Guild membership costs coins, and a lot of them. Go back to your mother's skirts."
Kaelen didn't flinch. He understood their skepticism; a mere sixteen-year-old wouldn't typically come asking such questions. But he wasn't a mere sixteen-year-old. And he wouldn't be deterred.
"I am serious," Kaelen said, his voice low, firm, with an undeniable undercurrent of authority that surprised even himself. It was the voice he'd used in his old life to command respect in tense board meetings, a voice honed by years of cutting through corporate nonsense. "I am Kaelen. And I am here to understand the flow of wealth in Aerthos. I may be young in years, but my ambitions are… significant."
The guard's smile faltered slightly. There was something in the boy's eyes, a wisdom and determination that contradicted his appearance. The way he carried himself, the unyielding directness of his gaze… it was unsettling.
"Look, boy," the second guard, who had remained silent, finally spoke. His voice was less amused, more wary. "The Guild doesn't just open its doors to any curious… youth. You need a sponsor or substantial capital. Now, run along before you cause trouble."
Kaelen knew force wouldn't work. He needed to be subtle. He needed information. "Perhaps," he said, his voice softening just enough to imply a touch of naive curiosity, "you could direct me to someone who deals with… less significant amounts of capital? Someone who could explain the city's various coin lenders, for instance?"
The first guard snorted. "Coin lenders? Ah, you mean the moneylenders. Old Borin the Usurer is down in the Coppersmith's Alley. He'll explain it to you, alright. Probably with a very high interest rate. Don't say I didn't warn you, lad." He gestured dismissively down a narrow side street.
Kaelen nodded, a slight, almost imperceptible smirk playing on his lips. Borin the Usurer. Excellent. He was starting to map out the financial landscape. He bowed his head slightly. "Thank you for your… guidance."
He turned and strode away from the imposing Guildhall, his steps purposeful. The guards watched him go, exchanging confused glances.
"Odd one, that," the first guard muttered.
"Aye," the second replied, "too much fire in his eyes for a simple lad."
Kaelen, oblivious to their comments, descended into the labyrinthine alleys of Aethelburg, heading towards the Coppersmith's Alley. His mind was alight with possibilities. He had started with nothing, but already, he had earned coin, gained valuable information, and identified a key player in the city's nascent financial system. The path ahead was long, fraught with challenges, but the thrill of the chase, the intoxicating allure of wealth and power, pulsed through his half-dragon veins.
He was Kaelen. And he was coming for Aethelburg's gold.