Rowan watched his mother's face, the mix of maternal love and quiet radiating from her. His heart, despite the anxiety, felt lighter than it had in maybe years.
"You're right, Mom," Rowan said, his voice dropping to a low, commanding tone that instantly drew the attention of the four awake children. He glanced pointedly at the closed, solid mahogany door, then back at the little girl sleeping peacefully in the chair.
He then fixed his gaze on a point slightly above and behind his mother, focusing on the dark corner where the wall met the ceiling. The light was dim there, perfect for shadows.
"You, the one hovering above the water dispenser. I know you're there. Come out to do your job."
The four eating children instantly stiffened, their heads snapping to the corner. Lilly tensed, her hand instinctively moving toward an imaginary sword. Darius sat bolt upright, his eyes narrowed, scanning for the man his father had called out.
Alexia peered through her spectacles, analyzing the corner with intrigue. Alex simply held his breath, waiting. Clara, however, merely sighed, a look of profound annoyance crossing her face.
A low shiver seemed to run through the corner. Rowan had only addressed one, but the message had landed on all of them. After a silence that lasted only a heartbeat, a figure detached itself from the ceiling's shadow, dropping silently to the wooden floor with a sound so faint it was barely a whisper of air.
The man who knelt was clad head to toe in a sleek, matte-black uniform that looked like reinforced silk, designed for stealth and combat. A dark cloth wrapped around his face, leaving only a pair of deep-set, intensely focused eyes visible.
His posture, however, was not aggressive or even cautious; it was one of abject, total subservience. He dropped instantly onto one knee, his head bowed, his hands resting respectfully on his thighs.
"Lord Blacksun," the vampire ninja murmured, his voice a trained, low baritone, rough and precise. "Forgive the intrusion. We are here solely to ensure the health and safety of Princess Lucia Ichor Von Bloodsworth."
Clara rolled her eyes and gestured dismissively. "Oh, honestly. Still with the dramatics, Rowan's not going to beat you, just stop being so spooky."
Rowan ignored his mother and the ninja's elaborate bow, focusing on the task. "I know why you're here, and I appreciate the dedication. However, your Princess Lucia is attempting to sleep, and the sound of my negotiating with merchants is going to be uncomfortable.
I'm not proficient in the finer arts of sound spells. You folk, on the other hand, excel at it."
He gestured to the sleeping girl. "I need a subtle sound dampening spell around her. A simple, temporary sphere of silence. Can you handle that? Or do I need to send a strongly worded note to your mistress about the competence of her protection detail?"
The ninja's head snapped up slightly, a faint flicker of professional pride and fear of his mistress in his eyes.
"It would be my honor, Lord Blacksun," he stated. His hands, clad in thin, flexible black gloves, moved in a series of swift, intricate gestures that were too quick for the untrained eye to follow. They were weaving the spell not through brute force of mana, but through the precise, delicate art of the Bloodsworth clan.
A faint, nearly invisible ripple of darkness extended from his hands, coalescing into a perfect, six radius foot sphere around Lucia's chair. The air inside the sphere became instantly deadened. A smile touched the ninja's eyes.
"Complete, Lord Blacksun. She will not hear much sound until the magic is dispelled."
"Excellent," Rowan nodded. "From now on, try not to be in the same room as the kids unless necessary. It's kind of creepy for them. I know you all are more than capable of protecting from outside the room."
Now that he had exposed the ninjas, as he didn't want the kids to accidentally freak out after discovering them one day, he had to make sure they gave them enough space. He wanted the kids to be aware that he wasnt the only one here for their protection.
Lucia didn't need to know as she was still not grown enough for that. The other 4 however, were more aware and mentally mature. They should be able to handle the knowledge just fine. He had thought about this for a while and this was the decision he made.
He could already see that the kids were very calm. They understood quickly from his words that these guards belonged to Lucia's mother's family. The 3, except for Alex, were always surrounded by people. Whether that be in the witch tower or barracks or adventurers, they always had people lurking around.
They were used to doing this. Alex, on the other hand, didnt care much. He understood that these men were here to protect his little sister. This was alright as long as they maintained proper distance and decorum. Surely they wouldnt spy on a bathroom.
The guard of an ancient noble family must at least have that decency. They indeed did, and that's why Rowan had let them be. But he had plans to eventually kick them out.
The ninja bowed again, this time with a visible sense of relief that he had been given an actual, non-combat duty. He returned to the shadows as silently as he had arrived.
"See, children?" Rowan said, standing up and dusting off his hands. "Those are your little sisters' guards, and by relation, your guards. They will be maintaining a safe distance, so don't worry. Plus, your dad will always be watching over you."
He turned to his mother, who was already beaming. "Mom, can you get those merchants ready. Kids, you're off the leash. Go explore the store. Find something that you like, grandpa and grandma will gift it to you."
The Blacksun Brigade exploded into action.
Lilly and Darius, the two most kinetic of the group, immediately ran toward the wood carving section. Lilly, her emerald eyes shining, was drawn to the carving of an ancient swordsman, tapping its wooden sword. Darius, however, found his interest captured by a set of beautifully crafted dragons.
Alexia, with a serious air, wandered off toward the soap displays, running a small, appreciative finger over a bar of deep indigo lavender soap, undoubtedly analyzing its chemical composition and mana infusion.
Alex headed straight for the display of wooden utensils, meticulously examining the price tags and quality of the serving platters, already creating a mental inventory.
Rowan watched them scatter, a deep sense of contentment washing over him. He spent a few minutes hovering over Lucia, ensuring the sound-dampening spell was holding.
Clara clapped her hands once, a sharp, clear sound that somehow cut through the shop's hum. "Nytra, darling, wrap up your sale. I need you to politely escort these three gentlemen to the back room. Tell them Rowan Blacksun has returned and is ready for a private consultation on a new line of goods."
Nytra, having just secured a final, profitable agreement from the fanning merchant, executed the request with flawless grace.
Moments later, Clara ushered three merchants into the private back room, the mahogany door closing once more. These men were clearly a cut above the general clientele. They were older, impeccably dressed in thick velvet robes, and carried themselves with the practiced, weary authority of men who spent decades in their trade.
They entered the room, and their eyes instantly went to Rowan. They saw the famed, retired Magic Knight. They saw his imposing height, his easy, unwavering posture, and the clear, dangerous quality in his eyes.
The first merchant, a man with a neatly trimmed gray beard and an emerald signet ring, was the first to speak. He executed a flawless, deep bow.
"Commander Blacksun," he stated, his voice a respectful murmur. "It is an honor. I am Lord Hemlock of the Capital's Guild of Buyers. We had heard this shop belongs to your parents, but to see you in person is a privilege."
The second, a younger man with an intense gaze, bowed lower. "Master Rowan. My name is Taran. I represent the Central Consortium's procurement division. We understand your time is valuable."
The third, a nervous, portly man, simply nodded repeatedly. "A great honor, Commander. We...we are at your service."
Rowan gave a brief, but his smile was genuine and non-threatening. "Gentlemen, please, call me Rowan. The commander title is retired, along with the sword. I'm simply a farmer now, but I appreciate the respect. Now, down to business. I have five children to feed and their hobbies to fund. That requires coin."
He gestured to the two comfortable velvet chairs. "Please, sit. As my mother mentioned, I have a surplus of goods that are currently in extremely high demand due to the drought…the kind of goods money simply cannot buy in the capital right now.
I'm talking about produce grown with high-grade mana, specifically designed for peak flavor, nutritional content, and medicinal effect."
Rowan paused, allowing the weight of the statement to settle. They knew what he was offering. Samples of Rowan's goods circulated among the privileged due to his gifting a few to his close friends and acquaintances.
Lord Hemlock steepled his fingers, his eyes alight with calculated interest. "Sir Rowan, your reputation alone speaks volumes. Any goods that carry the Blacksun name are instantly worth three times the market rate. The quality of your land is legendary, even before the magic. We would be absolutely delighted to open negotiations for a full, long term, exclusive procurement contract right now."
The others nodded in agreement, their eyes shining with greed and opportunity.
Rowan smiled. "Exclusive is exactly what I was hoping to hear. However," he conceded, allowing a thoughtful frown to cross his face, "I am a master farmer and a retired soldier, not a master of trade. I am looking for a buyer who understands the nuances of the high end, rare goods market. I want someone who appreciates the art of my product, not just its monetary value."
Rowan is proud of his work and all the care that goes into his things. If it wasn't for his expenses, he wouldn't be selling them. He would like at least the initial buyer to see his work for what it is, even if the end buyer didn't.
Taran, the younger man from the Consortium, leaned forward, seizing the opening. "Sir Rowan, I can assure you, the Central Consortium employs the finest, most discreet brokers in the entire region. We can offer you a guaranteed, premium rate. You would be dealing directly with us, cutting out any unnecessary middle-"
Lord Hemlock cut him off with a subtle, sharp look. "With all due respect, Taran, Rowan is correct. This is not a simple bulk trade. This is a very special procurement. For goods of this caliber, you need flair. You need someone with an immediate cash reserve, and someone who moves with discretion."
He turned back to Rowan, a respectful suggestion in his eyes. "Rowan, if I may, I suggest you speak with Lyra Thorne. She is the principal buyer for the Phoenix Trading Group. They are a new, rapidly thriving entity in the capital. She moves only in the most exclusive circles.
She's famous for her deep, almost spiritual appreciation of rare goods, gems, art, and now, specially grown produce. She sees the poetry in a perfectly grown tomato."
He paused, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "More importantly, she is an outsider, not directly affiliated with any of the major houses, which might be preferable for someone seeking discretion. She is currently on a route through the region. Her carriage arrived in town just this morning."
Rowan's mind went instantly alert. Lyra Thorne. Phoenix Trading Group. An 'outsider' who just happens to show up when he decides to do business? It smelled exactly like the kind of calculated setup an intelligence agency would orchestrate. The man had to have been an asset of theirs.
Just because he only used his muscles on the battlefield doesn't mean he doesn't have a brain. He just doesn't like to think too much. He had done plenty of that in his last life.
Did they really think I would fall for that? Well, even if she isnt a agent, never wrong to be safe.
He smiled, allowing the suggestion to appear completely reasonable. "Lyra Thorne. The Phoenix Trading Group. It has a ring to it. Do you happen to have a way to contact her? I assume a woman of such caliber does not simply wait around."
Lord Hemlock smiled. "She is almost certainly currently in the store. She came in just after you did sir. She heard your father and mother's crafts are the best in the kingdom. She was appreciating the phoenix carving when we came into the room."
Rowan glanced at the quiet corner where the ninja had vanished, then back at the beautiful, quiet sphere of silence around his daughter. He had five good reasons to play along. The lady coming in soon after he did, obviously they were keeping an eye on the store.
"Gentlemen, your suggestion is much appreciated," Rowan said, standing up and ending the meeting. "I will seek out this Lyra Thorne. My mother will be in touch regarding your offers for the rest of my father's commissions."
He left the three merchants discussing with his mother in the back room and walked out into the main store, his eyes scanning the elaborate Phoenix carving at the far end of the store.
His eyes fell upon her immediately. She stood by the magnificent wooden Phoenix, her back to him, completely absorbed in the artwork.
She was undeniably striking. Tall and slender, she wore an expensive, tailored dress suit of soft ivory linen that managed to look both utterly professional and casually elegant. Her hair, a cascade of deep black was pulled back, allowing the full impact of her presence to focus on her silhouette.
Lyra Thorne. Phoenix Trading Group. A beautiful lady…typical of the agencies, Rowan thought, a faint, internal smile touching his lips. He walked toward her, his footsteps intentionally soft on the wooden floor, careful not to disrupt her.
He stopped a few feet away, close enough to engage, but respectful of her absorption. The scent of her expensive and clean perfume reached him.
"It is quite something, isn't it?" Rowan said, his voice a low, warm rumble that managed to be perfectly audible without carrying across the room.
The woman didn't startle. She turned her head slowly, her expression a mask of polite, reserved contemplation. Her eyes, a startling, deep sapphire blue, met his. She held a small, carved notepad with elegant writing in her hand, on which she was clearly taking notes.
"It is, indeed," she confirmed, her voice a calm, measured alto. "The technical skill is sublime. Look at the transition from the base of the wood to the tip of the wing. The grain itself is used to imply the motion of the flame...it's not merely painted on. The artist understands that the wood itself must be allowed to contribute to the visual energy."
She gestured with her notepad toward the wingtip. "And the proportions...massive, but perfectly balanced. It doesn't dominate the space. It feels like a sacred idol. This is more than just a carving. It is a captured myth. The artist is a master."
Rowan leaned slightly against a nearby pillar, his arms crossed, his gaze still fixed on the carving. "I agree completely. You have a keen eye. Most people just see the pretty colors, the big wings and the myth."
She offered a small, appreciative smile. "The best merchants, like the best curators, must see past the superficial to the core value. In art, the core value is the intent. The control displayed here, the sheer discipline required to carve this much life into a solid piece of cedar suggests a lifetime of dedication. He is no simple carpenter."
"He's not," Rowan confirmed, allowing a hint of pride into his voice. He extended a hand. "I'm Rowan Blacksun. The artist is my father, Bjorn Blacksun."
Her sapphire eyes widened fractionally, a flicker of genuine interest in the carefully constructed facade of Lyra Thorne. She accepted his hand, her grip firm and brief.
"Lyra Thorne," she replied, her voice steady. "It is an honor to meet the son of such a craftsman. I had heard Blacksun's Hearty Handcrafts was the best in the region, but this piece... it exceeds all expectations. He should be displaying this in the capital, not a small town like Mivvy."
"He prefers the simple life," Rowan explained. "Just like his son.
He only creates a few masterpieces a year, mostly on commission, and spends the rest of his time on simple, durable work. It's about the joy of the craft, not the size of the gallery."
"The joy of the craft," she repeated softly, her gaze drifting back to the Phoenix. "That, Mr. Blacksun, is something that is in desperately short supply in the capital. Everything there is about transaction, not creation. This piece... it makes me feel quite soothed."
"It has that effect on people," Rowan said, a genuine smile replacing his earlier scrutiny. "It's nice to meet someone who truly appreciates the work. Are you in the region for long, Lyra Thorne of the Phoenix Trading Group?"
She met his gaze, the conversation having smoothly transitioned from art appreciation to professional inquiry. "Only for a few days, Mr. Blacksun. I am here to scout for unique, high-quality goods that possess that very same 'joy of creation' we just discussed.
Things that defy the current drought market. Food is in demand everywhere, I hope to find something that can stave that need."
"Then you've come to the right man," Rowan declared, a subtle, serious shift in his tone. "The artist's son also happens to be a farmer, and I have some very unique produce I'm looking to sell.
Why don't we step to the back room, where we can discuss both the art of trade and the art of my harvest? I promise you, the quality of my tomatoes alone could write a sonnet."
"A sonnet-worthy tomato," she mused, a faint, genuine curve to her lips. "I would very much like to hear that poem, Mr. Blacksun."
She gave the Phoenix one last, lingering look before turning to follow him, her posture that of a poised woman of business and culture.
Rowan watched Lyra Thorne turn from the magnificent carving, her composure flawless, and led the way toward the back room. As they approached the door, it swung open, and Clara Blacksun emerged, flanked by the three slightly sheepish merchants.
Clara gave Rowan a quick, meaningful look.
"Gentlemen, thank you for your generous offers," Clara said, her voice warm but final. "Have a pleasant afternoon."
She then turned her gaze to Lyra Thorne. The look Clara gave the principal buyer of the Phoenix Trading Group was a complex, slow assessment, a look of pure, unadorned maternal scrutiny.
Clara's amber eyes took in the expensive ivory linen suit, the careful elegance, and the deep sapphire eyes that held a hint of guarded intelligence.
"It was a pleasure seeing the artistry of this establishment, Madam Blacksun," Lyra said smoothly.
Clara offered a tight, polite smile in return, then stepped aside, gesturing toward the back room. "Do carry on. Your little one is still sleeping soundly in her little sphere of silence, Rowan. I'll make sure the others stay out of your hair."
Rowan ushered Lyra into the room and closed the mahogany door, leaving the faint, comforting sounds of the busy shop behind. The scent of warm shortbread and the faint, residual mana of the sound dampening spell hung in the air. Lucia remained perfectly still in the velvet chair, cocooned in her silence.
"Please, have a seat, Ms. Thorne," Rowan offered, gesturing to the chair opposite Lucia.
Lyra took the seat, her sapphire eyes glancing briefly at the sleeping girl and the faintly shimmering outline of the sound barrier before refocusing entirely on Rowan.
"Thank you, Mr. Blacksun. I am intrigued by your mention of 'unique produce,'" Lyra began, setting her notepad on the table. "The market is currently being flooded with drought-resistant crops from the southern deserts. To be truly unique, as you suggest, implies a quality beyond that."
Rowan leaned back, his posture easy and confident. "My farm's existence is a defiance of the drought, Ms. Thorne. The land is magically charged, and my methods are… unconventional.
What I offer is not wholesale goods; it is a luxurious product of limited supply. I offer goods that not only feed the stomach, but fuel the mana core too."
He began to list his inventory, keeping his tone measured and professional, observing her reaction to each item.
"First, I have my Mana Infused Mountain Ginseng. It is to be a perfect base for high-tier physical enhancement or restorative potions. I currently have a grove of mature roots, ready for harvest. It is a premium, Mandrake substitute, with all the effects but no deadly screams."
Lyra's pen immediately scribbled a note on her pad. "The medicinal market will pay a phenomenal price for that, Mr. Blacksun. Ginseng that doesn't attempt to flee or shriek itself to death is a seller's dream."
"Next, I have my Magic Berries and Grapes," Rowan continued. "They are magically accelerated, bursting with flavor and high-grade elemental mana. The berries, especially, are a clean source of arcane energy. A handful is worth a week's worth of a low-grade wizard's mana consumption. They make exquisite, stable concentrates and wines."
"A sweet mana boost… an excellent investment for magic academies and wizard towers," Lyra commented, her eyes gleaming with mercantile interest. "The applications are vast."
Rowan nodded. "Beyond the magical, I also offer produce of simply unparalleled quality. I can provide Imperial Wheat that has been magically enhanced to reach peak nutrition and flavor, yielding flour that makes bread with an almost unnatural lightness and flavor.
This is the kind of quality that would sell for an obscene amount to the Royal Bakeries. I also have Heirloom Tomatoes, perfectly red, bursting with juice, defying the drought entirely. The finest food money can buy right now."
He let the options hang in the air. "So, Ms. Thorne. Are you interested in the magical? The medicinal? Or simply the highest quality gourmet food available on the continent? I have an array of crops to choose from."
Lyra lowered her pen, her expression one of focused contemplation. "Mr. Blacksun, your descriptions are compelling. Truly. A sonnet-worthy tomato, ginseng without the shrieks, and berries that are an arcane feast.
These are claims that could revolutionize the high-end market, but for an investment of this scale, descriptions are insufficient."
She met his gaze, her sapphire eyes unwavering. "I am a curator of quality, Mr. Blacksun. I need to see the art of the product in its native environment. I need to appreciate the discipline required to maintain a flourishing farm in a severe drought. I need to feel the mana signature of the soil that creates these wonders."
She leaned forward, letting out a smooth request. "I cannot make a proper offer or appreciate the full value of the Blacksun harvest until I have seen the farm with my own eyes.
I request a visit, sir. I wish to confirm the quality and, more importantly, to appreciate its true form and the dedication that created it."