Reincarnated as an Apocalyptic Catalyst-Chapter 48: The Art of the Deal

My next stop was the city’s most exclusive outfitter. I strolled down polished avenues where high-end merchants lined the streets. Their wares glittered under the mid-day sun—and not just the ones you would expect to glitter—, tailored winter clothing, elegant weaponry, and accessories that would likely force the old me into a life-long contract of servitude.

It wasn’t long until I found the perfect cloak. The snow-cat cloak, they called it, was fashioned from the pelts of a mystical beast native to the northern wastes. It promised not only warmth but a look that both beckoned to my more feral side, as well as my more ’polished noble’ side.

As I had hoped, it was as white as freshly fallen snow. Another week or so left until I could really put it to use. The way the air felt around me was a telling sign that we were looking at some Inclement weather. A white shadow cat, that sounded perfect to me, even if the price was a bit extreme.

I approached the counter with the cloak draped over my arm, letting its luxurious heft settle as I met the shopkeeper’s gaze. The merchant, a lanky, well-dressed man with a bushy mustache and eyes like a beartrap, smiled as if he already knew the deal was done. His voice emanated a polished confidence that made me feel like royalty just by listening to him speak.

"A fine choice, sir," he said, his voice as gilded as the value of the goods I carried. "This particular piece is crafted from the rarest pelts, collected by only the most daring of hunters from the northern wastes. As I’m sure you know, it is not merely a cloak but a piece of living legend in itself."

I raised an eyebrow, admiring the way he spun his words. "Legend, is it?" I leaned forward slightly, letting the weight of my presence press against him, taking any attempt to intimidate the vendor. I wanted a fair deal, but I wasn’t about to be fleeced.

"It certainly is exquisite. Almost too exquisite for such a hefty price. Surely there’s some room for negotiation? A cloak of this quality can’t truly be worth what you’re asking, not with such competition in the market."

He stiffened slightly, but quickly regained his composure. "Ah, I see. A man of value knows when to haggle. Very well, let us speak plainly. This cloak, sir, is the finest of its kind, woven with magic and crafted from the rarest creature in the north. The price reflects its rarity, and I’m afraid I cannot go below—"

"I’m not asking you to go below," I cut in smoothly, letting the edge of my voice sharpen. "I’m asking for a fair price. After all, we both know that the so-called rarity of this cloak doesn’t change the fact that it’s been sitting in your shop for months. A fine piece like this, yet you can’t find the right buyer at the asking price. You should consider it a gift to yourself to offload it to someone like me, someone who will treat this piece with the respect it deserves."

The shopkeeper’s eyes narrowed, the flicker of calculation dancing across his face. I could see him weighing the risks...

"I see your point, sir," he resigned, but I didn’t think for a second that he would lose anything from this exchange. "Very well. I will lower the price, but only for you, as a token of our understanding."

I didn’t immediately respond. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, I extended my hand. "I think we’re getting closer, but I’d need a little more off the price to make it truly worthwhile for me." My fingers brushed over the cloak one last time, letting my touch linger just enough for him to feel the final push.

The shopkeeper’s shoulders slumped in reluctant defeat. "Very well, sir. For you, I can give you the cloak at a reduced price of... Twenty gold coins—but that’s the absolute best I can do."

I smiled, a thin, knowing smile. "Fair enough my good man," and with that, I reached into my pouch and pulled out two platinum coins, just enough to leave both of us feeling as though we’d gotten the better end of the deal.

The shopkeep gaped at my nonchalant use of platinum coins but only for a fraction of a second. Before I could be sure of what I saw, his face had already returned to its stoic appearance. "May I introduce you to a selection of similar products? If you complete the set, you will find quite the bonus to your stats," the man appealed to my desires, producing a set of boots, gloves, tunic, and pants. The full set of snow-cat gear.

He continued, ignoring my look of indignation. This is how they always got you.

"I take it this was what you were looking for?" his grin grew sly as he shifted the equipment toward me, anticipating my acceptance.

"Yes, that is all well and good, but I would need enchantments as well. In my line of business only the best of the best will do," I shifted the equipment back to him, looking uninterested.

The shopkeeper looked as though I had shot his family in front of him as he felt me pulling away. "Listen here my good man. I offered you twenty gold for the cloak, but the boots are easily 10 gold, the gloves 10 gold, the tunic, 30 gold, the pants 20 gold. You would be looking at spending at least..." he calculated the price, trying to take into account the fact that I paid in platinum, "With enchantments–I know a wizard of high repute who could do it at a discount, you know!--

7 more platinum for the gear on its own for a total of 9--including the cloak--, the enchantments, even at a discount are going to increase the cost by 12 for a total of 21 platinum, and let me tell you before you question my enchanter, he will do things for this gear that you will not find anywhere else on the planet. For someone of your caliber, this price will simply not do. I can offer you the entire set, enchantments included for a mere 18 platinum, but if you walk away, I can’t promise such a deal next time.

He was full of shit, but I had nearly a hundred platinum at my disposal, and many more in my vault, only spending a pittance in my last exchange. This was never about the money, but I couldn’t be seen as weak, I couldn’t be seen as prey to be taken advantage of.

"21 platinum and you give me the oils needed to maintain my gear on top of everything you offered, and we can call it a deal," I demanded, the salesman only too willing to submit to my request. I knew it wasn’t often that he was allowed to get away with this sort of thing when it came to his typical customer, and for goods that were too expensive for the average buyer, he must have been in a heaven of his own design.

"Of course my lord, let me gather your gear and give you a brief explanation on how to maintain this gear," he bowed deep, scrambling to bring me my new gear, offering only the most exquisite oils to maintain the furs. After a short explanation, I was on my way, and the shopkeeper was counting his platinum coins, counting me as one of his best customers. I would be back in the spring, but for now, this was all I needed.

"One more thing!" The merchant reached for my hand as I turned to walk away, but stopped just before touching me, pulling his hand back instinctively. He lost his train of thought for a moment but then recovered.

"Please, take the gear with you, just try not to get it dirty. You can bring it back tomorrow, I can make sure that my enchanter is here in the morning and he will have it back to you before the sun sets. Oh, and part of the enchanting process will maintain the cleanliness of your outfit." I nodded to the man, thanked him, and donned my cloak, putting the rest of it nearly into my bag of holding.

[Total Wealth: 79 Platinum 1,000 Gold Coins, 10,000 Silver Coins.]

Next, I needed new blades, and off to the blacksmith I went. Not just any blacksmith, but the premier blacksmith of the capital. I would be willing to fork over a small fortune if the man could provide me with what I needed.

As I entered the next establishment, I found that it was a female dwarf and not a man at all who headed this shop. She stood proud, dismissing me at first glance, but then taking in the snow-cat fur that I had donned only a moment before entering her shop. There was little she could do against such a big spender as myself. When I finally found my way to her counter, she was all pleasantries and compliments before I even made my first request.

I walked through the heavy iron door of the premier blacksmith’s shop, the rich scent of metal and fire immediately greeting me. The air was thick with smoke and the sounds of hammers on anvils nearly deafened me. At the far end of the shop, a dwarf woman stood, her back to me as she worked on a set of ornate armor. Her short, fiery hair framed a face that could’ve been carved from stone itself. She was nothing if not stubborn, proud, and unyielding. She wore a thick leather apron, likely ten times the thickness of my strongest set of gear. The edges worn from years of craftsmanship, and her overwhelmingly muscular arms showed the strength of a woman who dedicated her life to the forge.

As I approached, she didn’t even look up at me, focused on her work. I let her have her moment. I had no intention of rushing this.

It was only when I was a few paces away, my snow-cat cloak now fully draped over my shoulders, that her gaze flicked up to meet mine. Her eyes—a sharp, piercing gray—immediately assessed me, and for a moment, I saw the slight narrowing of her eyes as she took in my attire, the unmistakable gleam of recognition in her gaze. She had noticed the fur, the quality of the cloak—her stance softened. But still, there was no welcoming smile, no easy conversation.

"You have business here?" Her voice was deep, rough like the forge itself. It wasn’t unfriendly, just... guarded. She was no fan of bullshit and haggling. She was a woman of her word, a woman who expected a fair price for her work.

"Indeed," I said, my voice smooth and nearly audible over the noise. I let the faintest hint of challenge settle in, as I continued, "I’ve heard of your reputation, and I’ve come to test it. I need a set of blades that will serve me well in the coming winter—a pair of daggers. Not just any blades, mind you. They need to be of the highest quality. I expect nothing less."

She studied me carefully, her hands steady as she finished hammering out the final touches on the armor she had been working on. When she spoke again, there was no hesitation, no indication that I had impressed her.

"Daggers?" she scoffed, "I suppose I could whip up a pair of hole punchers, but I’ll tell you now, you’re paying for more than just metal here." Her tone was blunt, but there was something in her eyes, daring me to challenge her, daring me to tell her that what she made wasn’t anything short of utter perfection.

"I can forge them to your specifications, but you’ll be paying for my time and skill, which is not cheap. These blades won’t just cut through skin and bone, they’ll cut through the very air, the shadows, and light itself, they’ll feel like an extension of your arm." Her words spoke to me--especially the part about shadows--and I knew I needed what she could provide.

I raised an eyebrow. "Top dollar, I assume?" This was becoming a trend, but why else collect all of this loot if I didn’t spend it.

The dwarf smirked, her lips curling at the edge, revealing a hint of pride. "Only because I know what my work is worth. What I can do with steel, and any other ore is a gift. You want quality? I’ll give you something that’ll outlast even your ambitions, gear that you will carry on for the rest of your life and pass on to countless generations." She walked over to an array of weapons hanging on the wall, running her fingers over the hilt of a perfectly balanced sword. "The price will be steep, yes. For the right blades, I’m asking for fifteen platinum each. You won’t find finer craftsmanship anywhere in the capital."

I didn’t flinch. I wasn’t worried about the money. It wasn’t the price—it was the principle. "Fifteen platinum each is... ambitious," I said carefully, though the corners of my mouth lifted slightly in amusement. "What makes these blades so special that they’re worth that much? After all, that’s enough for a peasant to live a lifetime in true luxury, so you can understand my hesitance."

She returned to the anvil, a fire lighting in her eyes. "Every blade I forge is infused with a unique power. Not just for cutting, but for precision. These won’t just be tools, sir—these will be an extension of your will. The steel itself will sing when you wield it. But, if you think it’s too much, I’ve got plenty of lesser blades on the shelf. They’d still do the job, just not with the same... finesse." She tossed a dagger lightly in her hand, testing the weight as she casually offered me the lesser options.

I was silent for a moment before I responded with a devious smile. "If you’re truly confident in your work, then we’ve no issue. I’ll take two of your finest daggers, but you’ll ensure they’re balanced, sharpened, and fitted with proper enchantments for use in the harshest of winters. I want the best, nothing less."

She spat on the ground and went back to work. "I’ll argue with you no more, pay the price or leave. If something’s wrong with blades, you bring ’em back, show me, and I’ll eat the damn things in front of you and refund the full price," she said with a chuckle. "30 platinum for the pair. You’ll have them ready in two weeks."

I considered it, before refusing. "40 platinum and you have it to me in three days. They better be everything you’re hyping them up on, or I’ll be back to collect more than just my coins."

"Boy, don’t deign to threaten me. If you want something else, go to another smith. I can get you your gear in three days, but it will be 50 platinum. You don’t screw me with, and I won’t screw with you. I have a list of customers ten pages long, and I will have to compensate them for my tardiness, so don’t you think this is about greed? You need to front that cost while I try to keep my regulars happy. Fifty platinum or no deal." Her voice was firm and I could tell that she wasn’t just fucking with me. She legitimately planned to compensate her other customers with my coin, and that was something I could respect.

"Fifty platinum?" I wanted to keep pushing her buttons, but she truly did scare me. "Yes ma’am, 50 will do just fine," I responded as politely as I could as I withdrew a massive amount of funds that brought me down to 29 platinum. At this rate, I would have to go back to stock up on more coins, but most of my more exotic purchases were done. So, setting the coins down on the counter, I left the shop, my purse felt no difference despite what was in it, still felt hauntingly lighter.

The dwarf’s smile grew wider. "You’ll have yourself a fine pair of daggers, my lord. You won’t regret this." She turned toward her forge, already preparing the tools for the task ahead.

While I was busy haggling--or failing to--over equipment that hadn’t even been crafted yet, a commotion near the market stall caught my attention. A young woman, clearly not from the upper echelons of society but with an attitude far beyond her means, was strutting past. Her dark hair was pulled back into a haphazard braid that framed her high cheekbones and piercing eyes—a deep, provocative green that seemed to challenge anyone who dared meet them. Her lips, full and daring, curled into a smirk as she deliberately bumped into a well-dressed merchant, her tone teasing as she mocked his attempt to sell overpriced furs.

I couldn’t help but watch her as she moved through the market. There was a wildness in her step and a playful glint in her eye, as though she took perverse delight in testing the limits of those around her. It wasn’t long before our eyes met. Her gaze flickered to me, a mix of amusement and challenge, and she sauntered over with a confident stride.

"Well, if it isn’t Mister Brooding-No-Name," she said, her tone light but edged with sarcasm. "Spending all your coins on winter gear? I suppose even a miser like you need to dress the part of a king in exile." Her laughter was teasing, a sound that cut through the marketplace din and made my pulse quicken.

I raised an eyebrow, not used to being addressed so casually by someone in her position. "And what would you have me wear, miss?" I replied coolly. "A jester’s motley, perhaps? Or do you have something more refined in mind?" I let my voice trail off, a challenge hanging between us.

She smirked and tilted her head. "Maybe I do. But you wouldn’t know the quality if it hit you in the face. I could teach you a thing or two about style if you’re willing to learn." Her eyes sparkled with mischief, and I couldn’t help but feel both irritated and strangely amused.

We bantered back and forth as I continued my shopping, her presence unexpectedly disruptive yet oddly invigorating. With every barb and witty retort, I felt a spark of competitiveness—one that reminded me that despite the vast wealth at my fingertips, I was still human, still prone to the thrill of a challenge. Yet, beneath the playful exchange, there was a nagging tension. I couldn’t shake the feeling of guilt, a memory of Mara lurking at the edges of my mind. Every smile, every clever comeback from her made me remember what I had lost—and what I might one day lose again.

After finalizing my purchases—my new cloak, basic provisions, some food to take home, and of course that collection of combat-ready winter accessories—I retreated to my private chambers. There, I spread out my spoils and allowed myself a brief moment of satisfaction. It would be time before I held the daggers in my hands, but still, I sat in a leather chair, a goblet of fine whiskey in hand, and admired the fruits of my labor. But even as I reveled in my fortune, the playful woman continued to haunt my thoughts. Something she said triggered a memory, the way she referred to me was painfully familiar.

The day wore on, and I finally allowed myself a short nap to prepare for the night ahead. I lay back on a plush divan, the cool air from an open window--don’t worry, it was warded--mingling with the warmth of my room, and closed my eyes. My mind raced with plans, with warnings I’d given Garrett, with the reminder that my children—the replicated parasites—were not yet strong enough to be left to their own devices, despite what they thought. Yet, they were strong enough to seriously throw a wrench in my plans.

I drifted off, comforted by the thought that tonight I would once again take control. Tonight, I would visit Garrett’s operation and make sure that the cocky slaver parasite understood who truly ran the show.

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