"I will, it's just that kids outside town are getting harder to find—we'll have to target people in the town. But Berlin's here, so it's tricky to make a move…" Glas sighed.
"Hmph. Those damned knights were a nuisance even in the last epoch—caused no end of trouble for the grown-ups, and I suffered plenty myself. But fate's fair: those mighty big shots vanished one by one, while I, once overlooked, survived to this day." The voice sounded lost in memory.
"So what should we do?"
"Heh… Simple. Just wait. Those knights will leave eventually. That's when we strike."
"We can't be too flashy—the constables are still tough to deal with." Glas nodded, then recalled his men's earlier report and muttered, "Bayek… strange place. Should we send someone to check it out?"
"Better not stir up more trouble. That place has unknown forces—my instincts don't lie."
"Alright, I'll listen to you."
…
Central Street, Doud.
That day, Im, as usual, set up his stall, laying out pre‑cut raw meat on a square wooden board and hanging it from the awning frame.
By noon, the fruit and bread vendors were already out at sunrise—way more industrious than him.
Still, Im wasn't worried about business. As one of the few butchers in town, the townsfolk practically fought over the chance to hand him copper coins.
True to form, as soon as Im set up, several locals hovering nearby rushed over.
"I'll take two Belas of chicken, please!"
"Three Belas, please!"
A Bela was the Zern Kingdom's weight unit—about one pound.
"Quiet down, one at a time, or I won't sell to any of you!"
"Here's yours, don't stare! Two Belas is what you get, now scram!"
"And yours—don't waste time, people are waiting!"
Im's attitude was downright awful; he treated customers like anything but royalty, counting on the fact that they depended on his meat.
Naturally, the townsfolk were irritated, but none dared say more.
As time passed, Im's meat supply dwindled, and he knew he could wrap up work early again.
"How much do you want this time? Hurry up, I need a break!" Im had just sent off the last customer and was sorting the remaining cuts when he addressed the person at the front of the stall.
"Uh… I'm not here to buy meat. I'm here to sell meat," a young voice replied.
"Hmm?" Im looked up, surprised to see a lean young man with regular features, clear eyes, slightly oversized clothes (but good proportions), and a straight, confident posture.
"Sell meat?" Im thought he'd misheard.
The young man was Glen, stepping aside to reveal the black boar he'd hauled in.
"Freshly hunted," Glen explained.
Im wiped his hands on his grimy leather apron, circled the stall, and examined the boar closely, poking and feeling it here and there.
"This is a black boar?"
"Yes, sir."
Im went back to his stall and gave Glen a dismissive once‑over. "Thirty copper coins. I'll take the boar."
"What?! You charge forty coppers for a chicken, and you're only giving me thirty for this whole boar?!"
"Forty‑two coppers, kid. My chickens are forty‑two coppers each," Im added solemnly.
"Care to explain why? Black pork's rare, but it shouldn't be worth so little," Glen asked, forcing patience.
"No explanation. My price is my price, and it's final. Take it or leave it—you won't sell to anyone else." Im's tone said he had Glen cornered.
"Have you never been beaten up?" Glen folded his arms, coldly.
"You wanna hit me, kid? Don't think I can't call the town constables, size or no size." Im scoffed.
"Then I wonder if your skull's that tough." As he spoke, Glen jabbed a finger into the ten‑centimeter‑thick wooden plank in front of him. Friction flared, and faint smoke curled at the edges of the hole.
Im's eyes nearly popped out; his throat bobbed but no words came.
"You'd better not let me catch you outside," Glen said, grabbing the sled. He wasn't truly angry—guys like this he'd met plenty in his past life; give 'em a taste of reality and they'll behave. Making a scene now would just delay cashing in his haul.
"Hmph, cocky," Im muttered under his breath, adding mentally: I'll just stay inside town.
He glanced at Glen's retreating back, saw no reaction, and turned back to customers.
Glen heard it fine but didn't care.
An elderly woman with a head full of silver hair came up next, hunched, trembling as she fished out a handful of scattered coins. "I only have this much. Please give me two Belas of chicken."
Im snatched the coins, counted them roughly, and announced loudly, "No! This buys you one Bela at most!"
"It should be more than one Bela's worth. This is all I have. Please, two Belas—I'll be grateful." The old woman pleaded.
Im shoved the pre‑cut chicken into her cloth bag roughly. "Take it and don't block my business."
"Just a bit more—my grandkids are growing, they need it."
No matter how she begged, Im's attitude only grew more impatient.
Glen hadn't gone far and had been watching. He couldn't stand it—so he dropped the sled and marched back.
Im was about to snap and act, but spotting Glen approach, he instantly lowered his head, trembling.
"Ma'am, you needed meat?" Glen asked gently.
The troubled old woman looked up and saw Glen's young face.
"Are you…?"
"I sell meat too. Why not buy from me? I can guarantee it'll be much cheaper." Glen's tone was kind.
"But I don't have any more coins," she said, patting herself down with a worried frown.
Glen smiled. Under her stunned gaze, he thumped the wooden board beside him and called out to Im, "How many copper coins did this lady just give you?"