You struggle for a moment to pull your mind back together. Whatever enchantment is woven into those eyes is powerful and disorienting in equal measure. A slightly detached voice in your hindbrain whispers that you've been attacked and should respond with force but...

Nah. He's just a merchant, right?

You barely have to think before you lay out your wants to the man.

“Stone, in bulk. Element crystals, of poison, fire and water as a priority. Metal ores if you have them. Unique resources that you think I might be interested in.”

You blink again, another part of your mind interjecting. “Also, what do I pay in, and do you buy anything or is it only specifics?”

The man reaches into his pack, producing a large green rug with a flick of his wrist. He lays it down, before glancing up at you.

“The rug's not for sale,” he grins, settling himself down in the centre and crossing his legs, “But to answer your questions, in reverse. Yes, I'll buy anything; or at least I'll buy anything that isn't tagged as 'trash'. That is my gods given purpose. But be aware that I will pay much less for, say, bones than I would for well crafted furniture. Any my prices may change between visits based on my needs. For instance.”

He fixes you with a flat stare that sweeps over to Hammer, who fidgets.

“I find myself in need of parts to fix my cart. I had a run in with some overzealous heroes on my way here who killed my horse. When I returned with a replacement animal, it was to find that my wagon had been stripped for parts and was little more than a dusty indent in the ground.”

You cough. “We can... probably help with that, yes.”

The stare continues for a few more seconds before it breaks into a small smile.

“My own fault, in the end. I'd appreciate it if you didn't haggle too hard on those items. A fae has to make a living, after all.”

You nod. The man's request was hardly unreasonable, if you had effectively stolen his transport.

“To answer your next question, I work in gold. Coins, if possible. Heroes get them for killing monsters, and monsters get them by killing heroes. Frankly, without upstanding merchants like myself taking them away, the economy would have crashed decades ago. No need to thank me. All in a day's work.”

Before you can say anything, the man rushes on, removing several cards from his pack and putting them out on the rug.

“Finally, resources. Stone and metal I have. In abundance, in fact, as I've just come down from the kobold tribes above you. Those I can give you a good deal on. Unfortunately, for the same reason, I have very few element crystals of any kind, and non of the poison or water variety.”

More cards are placed, before the merchant hesitates. He looks around the room once more, breathes deeply through his nose and seems to consider something.

“Unique resources? I have... I may have something for you there.”

A final card is placed in the middle of the rug with a flourish and he leans back, arms wide.

You don't even look down.

His smile becomes a little fixed.

“I should probably sell first, if that's alright. Best to see how much I'm working with.”

The smiles flexes, as if attempting to drop. “But of course. How silly of me.”

The cards are swept up and placed to one side as you begin to disgorge your lair inventory, built up over attack after attack. Weapons, gems, and pieces of wagon. You keep back the claimant crystal, the spices, and all the treasure items for now including the potions.

Looking down at the pile it's... not exactly impressive. Really it's junk. A few daggers and two shortbows do not vast wealth make. You keep silent as the merchant picks through them, sparing you a glance when you beckon Hammer over and whisper in his ear.

“Can you see if Mercy is busy?”

After turning a few of them gems over in his hands, the Merchant looks up at you once more and sucks his teeth.

“Well it's... a collection. The weapons are all basic. I might be able to shift them on a starter or sell them to an orcish tribe I know in the south but there's no guarantee. The wheels and axle will help me get moving again, and the gems at least are somewhat impressive but hardly rare.”

He looks over them one more time before flashing you the smile that anyone who spends any time with merchants instinctively learns to know and fear.

“I'll give you two hundred gold for the lot. What do you say?”

“No.”

He blinks in surprise at your flat refusal.

“No? Not even a counter offer? That's not how haggling usually works.”

You shake your head. “Sorry, that's not what I mean. You won't be negotiating the price with me. So, no, you won't give me two hundred gold for them.”

He gives you a sceptical frown. “And who exactly will I be negotiating with? I was under the impression you were the boss of this lair?”

You turn your head to see Mercy enter the hall. She still looks annoyed, but she at least meets your eyes with a nod.

“You'll be negotiating with her.”

Mercy leans back with a sigh, her spine cracking and popping as she finally breaks the deadlock. Her annoyance has shifted to satisfaction and she leans over to run a hand down your back, scratching under your spine ridge. The Merchant, ashen faced and with a slightly glazed look in his eye, nods.

“Y-yes. Three hundred and fifty gold sounds...” he gulps, a dry reflex that doesn't sound as if it shifts the lump in his throat, “Good. I'll just get that for you.”

He pulls out seven sacks of gold and places them on the rug between them. You whisper in Mercy's ear and the Merchant's eyes bug out as she turns back towards him.

“Now, about that stone?”

A whimper escapes him, and you finally take pity on him.

“It's OK Mercy. I think you've bullied, I mean, I think we've haggled enough. We'd like him to come back at some point.”

She rolls her eyes, but stands up. “Sure Red. I'll see you later.”

You turn back to the Merchant, a little colour returning to his face as he watches Mercy leave. He coughs, as she rounds the corner.

“Yes! Well! Selling things!”

He scrabbles for the cards, only to come up short. You glance around at the crowd that gathered to watch Mercy... negotiate.

“Jack.”

“Sorry boss.”

With the cards denoting available purchases returned to him, and back in more familiar territory, much of the Merchant's bravado returns to him as he begins his spiel.

“For basic resources, I only sell in bulk and the price is decided by supply. So, I have stone available in sets of ten, for five gold each.” He taps a stack of cards which bear the image of a small pile of rubble.

“Metals are, naturally, more. Scrap comes in at ten for ten. Copper ten for five. Iron at fifteen for three. You get the picture. Price tends to double per tier, at least in mountainous areas like this.”

Another fan of cards, depicting glinting piles of ore, is placed next to the stone. The merchant reaches for another, much smaller pile.

“Element crystals come in at one hundred gold per first tier elements – that's your fire, water, etcetera etcetera. two hundred for your second tiers, and three hundred up for your conceptuals like poison, weather, the like.”

You nod along, totting up prices as you go. You know you need to keep 300 gold back for the treasure room, which leaves you over 500 coins to play with.

“Then we get to the uniques. Dungeon items.”

He produces a small, metal bound chest and key. With a click, he opens it revealing a velvet interior holding three cards.

“These beauties are only used by lairs – specifically dungeons, like you've built here, and they're pretty indispensable. First, and probably least interesting to you, we have a Contzee.”

The card shows something akin to a snail's shell, but longer and festooned with spikes.

“Using a Contzee allows you to undo a single choice and get a full refund. On a single room, a waste. But championed a minion who's abandoned you? Or you created a quest that you can't handle? These babies are life savers. They drop from certain whelks on the coast of the Shimmer Sea and a hero will only see them as 'valuable curios'. I can part with them for five hundred gold a piece.”

Your heart begins to sink at the cost.

“Secondly! We have these. NPC tags.”

The card shows a man, with a sickly smile on his face.

“Interesting things, produced by certain high level, magic dungeons naturally. They're more conceptual than items, to tell you the truth, but some lich figured out how to crystallise them. Purchase one, and somewhere in the world someone will learn a fact or legend about you or your dungeon. They'll bring it up in conversation, especially to heroes. Want to bring in more loot? These babies are like quests, if less binding. I accept that they lack power on their own, so I sell them in batches of five. Two hundred and fifty gold. They make back the investment, believe me.”

You sit back. An interesting option, but not something that you can excuse right now. It's not like you don't get enough attacks already.

“Finally.”

The last card. An octagon cut gem or some sort.

“The Challenge Lock. A strange item, and very rare. Most dungeons get around their lack in other ways. This thing lets you lock a floor exit, immutably. No high strength can break through, no lockpick and open it. You designate an item, or set of items, required to open it. Those items must be available on the floor before. That's the only rule. It can be as unfair as you wish. Boss drops, rare alchemical potions that must be brewed – even a song that can't be sung by human lips. I've seen them all. Sure, you can just put the exit beyond the boss chamber. Or have a hidden passage that has a trained monkey that opens the door at a certain phrase. But no defence is perfect. No defence that is, but this.”

She looks up and meets your eyes once more.

Her lootbag falls to the floor.

“How much?”

“Oh, for one such as you?”

The merchant's smile widens, exposing teeth.

“One thousand gold.”