Chapter 3: The Merchant's Challenge
By the time morning sunlight spilled across the cobbled roads of Ylmare, Farhan was already up and prepping his modest stall. Compared to the ragtag blankets and chipped wooden tables of other vendors, his setup — while still basic — had a clean and deliberate look. A folded cloth covered the top, neatly arranged with colorful soap bars, instant noodle cups, coffee sachets in shiny wrappers, toothbrushes in plastic casing, and even a glowing LED torch resting like a magical artifact.
Children gathered, eyes sparkling at the tiny flashlight that lit up with the push of a button. A few adults whispered, curious but hesitant.
He smiled warmly. "No tricks. All real. All useful."
Business picked up quickly. By midday, Farhan had sold two LED torches, four cups of noodles, and more than half his soap stock. A few adventurers were particularly impressed with the toothbrushes, laughing at the bristles as if they were a wizard's tool.
But success rarely goes unnoticed.
From across the marketplace, a heavyset man in a blue robe and gold-trimmed vest watched Farhan with narrowed eyes. He wasn't alone. Behind him stood two lanky men, dressed in merchant livery, and a third wearing guard armor — hand resting on the hilt of a short blade.
"Who is he?" the man asked his assistant.
The assistant bowed slightly. "Name's unknown. He calls himself a traveling merchant. Sells unfamiliar goods. Soap, flavored rations, light-producing tools."
The merchant frowned. "Those things are cutting into our business. Half the soap market is already thinning out. And the people are calling his items *noble-quality.*"
The assistant hesitated. "Sir Bron, should we… confront him?"
Sir Bron of the Ylmare Merchant Guild stroked his bearded chin. "Not yet. But let's offer a little welcome."
---
Farhan's sales had slowed in the afternoon — not due to lack of interest, but because word was spreading faster than coin. Still, the attention was a net positive.
That is, until he heard a clatter in front of his stall.
A booted foot had knocked over one of his crates.
Farhan looked up to see three men in matching blue-trimmed uniforms. One leaned forward with a sneer.
"You got a permit for this stall, outsider?"
Farhan stood, brushing off his hands. "I asked around. I was told vendors can operate freely as long as they're not blocking roads or disturbing others."
"Not good enough," the guard said. "In Ylmare, the Merchant Guild oversees all trade. You want to sell something, you need Guild permission."
Farhan kept his voice calm. "And who grants that?"
The heavyset man stepped forward now. Sir Bron himself. He crossed his arms, radiating authority.
"I do."
A few nearby vendors stopped their chatter. Everyone knew Bron — and his reputation for squashing competition like insects.
Farhan raised a brow. "Alright. What's the process?"
Bron gestured vaguely. "Guild tax, registration fee, inspection, and daily dues. Standard procedure."
"How much?"
The assistant behind him quickly answered, "Initial fee: 30 silver. Daily operating tax: 5 silver. Inspection deposit: 10 silver."
It was extortion.
Farhan kept his cool. "You charge that from every new merchant?"
Bron grinned, leaning closer. "Only the ones we don't like."
That was the moment Farhan understood: this wasn't about rules. It was about control. Bron had power over the local trade, and he didn't like competition.
"Tell you what," Bron said smoothly. "Give me your stall. I'll buy your wares, double price. Then take the coin and leave."
Farhan glanced around. The villagers were pretending not to listen — but their ears were clearly trained on him. If he folded now, he'd lose face forever.
"No deal," Farhan replied with a smile. "But I'll tell you what I *will* do — I'll give you a discount on soap. Three for two."
A ripple of laughter passed through the crowd.
Bron's face darkened.
"You think this is funny?"
Farhan's smile didn't falter. "No. I think extortion is funny. And desperate."
Bron slammed his hand on the table. "You've got one day. If you're not gone by then, we'll shut you down."
He turned and stormed off, his entourage in tow.
Farhan exhaled slowly.
That night, as he packed his remaining goods, Harl visited him in the small inn where he now lodged.
"You made a mistake, boy," the old man said. "Bron's not just a guild leader. He has ties with barons. Even the city watch bends knee to his coin."
Farhan rubbed his temples. "Then I'll find someone who doesn't."
"You're not in Dhaka anymore, son. This world doesn't play fair."
Farhan looked out the window, where stars blinked cold and distant.
"Then I won't play fair either."
---
That night, he made an unorthodox move.
Using his phone, Farhan ordered:
* 1x Foldable Table with Locking Legs
* 20x Toothbrushes
* 10x LED Torches
* 15x Instant Noodle Packs
* 10x Soap Bars (Mixed Herbal)
* 3x First Aid Kits
* 2x Battery Packs
Delivery completed. The items shimmered into his inventory.
But the real power move wasn't what he bought.
It was **where** he planned to set up shop next.
---
The next morning, the townspeople gathered at the village square as usual.
But Farhan wasn't there.
Instead, a large group of commoners gathered near the temple courtyard — a sacred space not under guild jurisdiction. There, under the shade of a large tree, stood a neat new stall.
Farhan stood behind it, his wares beautifully displayed.
"Welcome, everyone," he called. "Today's sale comes with a gift. A free toothbrush for any child under ten!"
A roar of interest. Children ran forward. Mothers followed. Even a few elderly people came, curious about the glowing torches and the herbal soap that smelled of jasmine and mint.
By noon, he'd sold out of several items.
Bron arrived shortly after, red-faced and fuming.
"You're violating Guild law!"
Farhan held up a paper scroll, stamped with the seal of the temple.
"I'm operating under the protection of the Church of Orina. I've pledged 10% of proceeds to the orphan fund. It's divine-sanctioned trade."
The priestess beside him nodded politely. "The boy is generous. We approve his presence here."
Bron looked like he might explode.
Farhan leaned forward. "Now, if you'd like to donate to the orphan fund, I can offer you a toothbrush too."
A beat of silence.
Then laughter erupted from the crowd.
Bron stormed off once more, seething.
And Farhan?
He just smiled and began tallying his profits.