“It looks so nice,” Lubrin hummed, turning the black pearl-like object in his hands. He wasn’t even touching it directly, not wanting to stain his newest acquisition in any way. Instead, a pure white cleaning cloth laid between his hands and the shining smooth core of the odd slime creature. “You always deliver, Gabrame.”

Sitting on a nearby couch, finally somewhere comfortable after the weeks of actual work he had to do to get that thing, the sharpshooter tipped his hat in a lazy, moderately tired way. “And you always pay me,” he pointed out, waiting for the massive bag of gold on the heavily decorated table to switch owners.

Lubrin was perhaps the richest person in Heralry. That was a ‘perhaps’ that only applied to raw money in his possession. If one were to combine holdings, owned structures and social capital with that, Lubrin was without a doubt the richest person in Heralry.

Himself an accomplished merchant, he was also the head of the local Trader’s Guild branch. Every piece of import or export had to go through his administration, unless they wanted to be banned from the large market square and try to sell their things somewhere else. As such, Lubrin could enrich himself not only through the advantages he gave his own company, but through bribes from all his fellow traders as well.

That money seldomly rested with the merchant himself. Instead, it was invested into houses, shops, loans and other such things that would return some interest over time. There was one thing, however, in which Lubrin didn’t quite think like a merchant.

And that was his own house.

It was packed to the brim, which was an accomplishment in its own given its size, with luxurious items. Pottery from distant leaves, cured, tropical wood of dark and light colours, little plants that looked like fully grown trees, spices in glass jars, themselves works of artistic mastery.

Those things were scattered all throughout the mansion, for everyone to see and marvel at. They were works of great value, sometimes worth more than adventurers would be able to earn in an entire year, but showed off only one thing: that he had money. Anyone with the necessary sums could get those things.

The unique stuff, he kept elsewhere.

“Let’s go to the vault, then,” Lubrin announced, wrapping up the fist-sized core in the now slightly damp cloth. “You will get your money once this rests in its rightful place.”

With an unsatisfied groan, Gabrame rose from the couch and they both walked away. Thankfully, the way wasn’t too far. The mansion laid at one of the most secure locations of the city, directly adjacent to the barracks of the city guard.

The location of the vault was just another example of Lubrin’s wide-reaching influence, being in those very same barracks. “Your hobby is really odd,” Gabrame commented when they reached the massive stone wall that surrounded the arrangement of structures. All forged from grey stone and metal, they had a menacing feel to them.

Aside from the sleeping grounds of the guards, many of which were sleeping there outside of their prolonged shifts, the training grounds and the prison, the city guard also had a number of empty buildings that could be used for numerous purposes if needed.

As unlikely as it was, Ctania could always come under siege by an expanding empire or something like that. Best to have the extra space. Right now, a good portion of that space was being rented by Lubrin. An entire warehouse, including its own shift of guards, was being paid for by the Trader Guildmaster.

They entered without much of a problem, the guards on shift asking quickly to see proof that Lubrin was himself. The merchant was paranoid enough that he even thought about potential shapeshifters stealing from him. Granted, if an Infiltrator of a high enough level were to come to Ctania, this warehouse was the only worthwhile target.

After Lubrin showed an intricate card made from multiple metals, all welded together to show the face of a trickster, and answered a series of security questions, they were guided to a massive door. All three locks were opened, each of the two guards and Lubrin himself having a key, and only then were they finally inside.

“I mean, you have all of this stuff and you show it to nobody,” the sharpshooter said and gestured at the immense treasure trove before him. Trophies upon trophies, gathered from countless worlds and originating from countless different things were arranged here, each on its own pedestal, on display, with glass cases separating them from the surrounding world.

There was the tooth of a dragon, as long as Gabrame’s arm. The preserved claw of a Tharnatos-class demon, three fingers and two thumbs on opposing sides, all ending in razor-sharp claws. A scale from a Creeper Titan. A half-rusted sword with a ruby in-laid into the handle, radiating a constant red light. Most importantly for Gabrame, there was a jar full of the eyes of a Living Graveyard. Pitch Black, with a single white dot for the pupil, the creature he had slain so long ago still seemed to stare.

Gabrame just yawned, the only thing it reminded him off was how he first got into contact in the first place.

“Seeing my trophies is an honour I do grant some people,” Lubrin waved at the sharpshooter, indicating what a great favour he did him by even letting him come along. “That aside, just possessing things that nobody else has is… just the greatest.”

“The gods don’t like the greedy,” Gabrame grinned as he cited a pretty common wisdom. “At least you aren’t cruel as well.”

“No, that’s what I pay you for,” Lubrin answered with a laugh, carefully unwrapping the slime core. “Not even a single scratch on it… really nice work.”

Gabrame was a bit surprised by that. Even though he had landed a perfect shot, the force should have etched at least the three thorns of the arrow into the sphere. However, he wasn’t about to mention that. Certainly, he was just that good. “Maybe I should get a bonus,” he suggested.

“Yes, maybe you should… what is that?” loud bells suddenly rung from outside the warehouse, along with shouts that escalated bit by bit. Something about an escaped prisoner. “…Maybe I should reconsider my security,” Lubrin mumbled, then looked at the Hunter. “Aren’t you going to check it out?”

“Why, are you going to pay me for it?” Gabrame shrugged it off, mentally in the next tavern already. “Not my damn problem what the guards fuck up.”

“Fair enough,” Lubrin searched for an empty pedestal and soon found one at a distant wall. “This one is truly unique, nobody has ever heard of a creature like this,” the merchant was tremendously excited about this. In one of the few acts the rich man still did himself, he carefully dusted off the pedestal, choose a light blue pillow, harmonizing with the almost black, midnight blue of the core, and put it down.

Only when the corners aligned perfectly with the square base of the pedestal, did the merchant put the sphere into the depression in the middle of the pillow. The fitting glass case had been left nearby and Lubrin grabbed it with gleeful anticipation. Then let out a shocked gasped. “It’s cracked!”

Just because he didn’t have anything else to look at, Gabrame checked on that statement. Indeed, the case had a large scar running through one of its sides, with a miniscule opening where some shards had fallen off. “Just get a replacement.”

“I have none of this size ready!” Lubrin grumbled. “I will need to get one done. Bah, my day is ruined!”

“I don’t really care. Can I have my money now?” Gabrame asked, wanting to finally get away from the merchant. All he cared about was the money the guy had, their relationship didn’t extend beyond that. Rich people had all these oddities to them that the Hunter disliked.

“Sure…” Lubrin rummaged within his expensive clothes and pulled out the massive sack of coins. “250 gold coins, as agreed,” he said and then, after a moment of thinking, grabbed a much smaller sack and pulled a single, silver-white coin, which he showed for a moment and then put into the gold purse. “And one platin, for the perfect condition.” Then he threw the entire thing at Gabrame.

The Hunter caught it and didn’t even bother looking inside. Lubrin had never undercut him before, so there was no reason to assume he would start now. “Pleasure having done business with you,” Gabrame said.

“You say that like it’s going to be the last time,” the merchant noted.

“It might be,” Gabrame shrugged. “All this running around got my old bones going. That aside, I don’t want to be on the same leaf as a Cardinal who I potentially pissed off, so I’m leaving for at least a few years. Maybe get some youth back, make some more bastards elsewhere, who knows.”

“Ah, how sad… I will miss your reliability,” Lubrin stated.

And that was really all he would miss.