Chapter 189 – Going Out of Business.

Rusty let the silence hang in the room, as though he were weighing the director’s words carefully. Inside his helmet, however, Alexander’s voice rang out.

“They’re threatening you. Standard guild politics. They want you under their thumb.”

Aburdon chuckled as his voice was dripping with mockery.

“Balance, he says. What he means is extortion. Pay their prices, lick their boots, or they’ll make sure your shop burns before the week is over.”

Rusty’s hand tightened slightly on his cane. He had already learned enough of these people to know that if he defied them outright, they would move against him. Yet if he bowed too deeply, he risked being exploited. After tilting his head, he tried to appear composed and responded.

“I see. Then perhaps you can explain the price you consider acceptable. I am still learning the ways of this circle.”

Drexel scoffed, but the guild director’s smile widened.

“Wise words. Very adaptable. That is good.”

He leaned back, folding his hands.

“Let us say this. Your wares are impressive, perhaps too impressive for a newcomer. But this is fine, just an opportunity to earn more coin!”

He said while licking his lips.

“How about this? You will match Master Drexel’s rates, no less. Anything lower, and the guild will reconsider your position…”

At first, the words sounded like a suggestion, but the threat was unmistakable. These merchants had no intention of letting him encroach on their business. Regretfully, he had no easy way to refuse. His standing in the city was fragile. His only allies were a handful of street urchins under his roof, and even his guides agreed with the danger.

“I don’t like this, Rusty, but you’d better accept their terms; if we go against the merchant guild, it will only worsen the situation.”

Alexander said, and Aburdon chimed in shortly after.

“Not like we have a choice. They have plenty of ways to shut us down.”

Rusty nodded slowly, buying himself time to think. The merchants of this city were clearly under the guild’s boot, but that did not mean he had to surrender. Still, what would refusal bring? Sabotage while he was in the dungeon? A boycott by every shopkeeper in town? He knew how these people thought. If this man commanded it, the rare metals he needed would never reach his forge.

For a moment, he glanced at the so-called director. Beyond combat-focused classes, others emphasized management or crafting. It was difficult to determine whether he was in his third or fourth class, but he felt no immediate danger.

The man had no battle class and would likely be unable to withstand even a weak strike from his weapon. Although the frame he was using was not designed for combat, it could still deliver a fatal blow from this distance. Yet if he chose to kill or even injure the man, a crowd of adventurers and guards stood ready to be paid to deal with him, and that was a force he could not afford to face right now.

“I understand.”

The guild director rose smoothly and looked at Rusty with a smile, though smugness lingered beneath it.

“Good. Then we shall have no trouble between us. But remember, Mister Edmund, in this city, prosperity is not earned by the quality of your products alone. It is earned by cooperation. Now…”

He glanced at Drexel, who rose and approached Rusty with deliberate steps. Drexel handed him something resembling a notebook.

“In there, you will find the usual rates for Master Drexel’s wares.”

Rusty accepted the notebook with both hands. The leather binding was sturdy, and the cover bore an embossed sigil of a hammer resting on an anvil. It seemed to carry some significance, as many humanoid symbols did.

“Study it well and don’t forget. Price your work higher if you must, but never lower. Do you understand?”

The old blacksmith’s presence was domineering, and he carried most of the hostility in the room. It seemed likely he had arranged this meeting and forced its tone. There was no mistaking the threat; if Rusty failed to obey, punishment would surely follow.

“I will.”

Rusty replied in a flat voice, his eyes fixed on the prices listed inside. The notebook was meticulous, detailing even items his shop did not carry.

“Pitiful parasites, leeching from the strong. If you asked me, I’d spill their blood on this fine rug …”

Aburdon began to complain, but Rusty ignored him. His strength was not yet enough, and he remained within a human settlement. His main goal was to secure materials from the humanoids to grow stronger. There was no need to rush, though this setback could delay his search for greater power.

“That will be all for tonight. We look forward to seeing how you adjust, Mister Edmund. Do not disappoint us.”

Vinric, the guild director, gestured lazily toward the door. Rusty turned to leave, but just as he reached for the handle, the man spoke again.

“Ah, one last thing.”

“Yes?”

“It’s only a formality, but we will send one of our associates to ensure the prices are correct.”

Rusty nodded. He wasn’t sure how else to respond, and the message was clear: they would be watching him closely now. At last, he opened the door and stepped out.

“How much will I lose on this deal?”

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

He muttered.

“We can’t be sure.”

Alexander answered as Rusty walked away from the building. Once outside, he took one last glance at it before heading home. With the notebook in hand, he could easily adjust the prices, and he was not entirely opposed to the increase. If things cost a little more, he could sell fewer items and still earn the same amount of money.

Rusty returned to his workshop late that day, the notebook tucked beneath his arm. Gleam raised her head from her corner when the door creaked open. She leapt onto his head so suddenly that his helmet nearly fell off. She was not alone, as the children had not gone to bed yet. When they saw his unusual outfit, they could not help tilting their heads in curiosity.

“Welcome back, Mr. Edmund.”

Said Ria, almost at the same time as Isan. Natia, on the other hand, rushed forward to touch the fluffy cape he was wearing, only to be pulled back by Rolo. The room was noisy with their greetings, yet for some reason, he did not dislike it. His once quiet lair was now filled with light and the sound of children’s laughter.

“I’m back. Here, I brought something.”