Chapter 16: Business

Ethan awoke before dawn, the air crisp and tinged with the faint scent of dew-covered grass. The village lay quiet around him, the only sounds being the gentle rustling of leaves and the occasional snort from restless horses. He sat by the dying embers of last night's fire, deep in thought. The unsettling words of the villagers lingered in his mind—creatures that didn't belong in this world, prowling the forests and attacking travelers.

But right now, survival wasn't just about fending off beasts or bandits. He needed a way to carve out a life in this world, and for that, he needed coin—a lot of it.

Bjorn emerged from his tent, stretching his muscular frame with a loud yawn. "You always up this early?" he grumbled, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Ethan shrugged. "Old habit," he lied. In truth, sleep had become elusive ever since his transformation.

"Well," Bjorn said, "if you're thinking of getting a head start on the day, there's a merchant down by the river. Supposed to be a fair dealer. Might be worth talking to him if you're planning something."

Ethan nodded thoughtfully. "Thanks, Bjorn."

As the first rays of sunlight broke over the horizon, Ethan made his way to the riverbank. The water gleamed like molten silver, and the merchant's stall was already bustling with activity. Wooden crates filled with textiles, dried goods, and strange trinkets lined the area. The merchant himself was a wiry man with sharp eyes that seemed to miss nothing.

"Looking to trade, stranger?" the merchant asked, his voice smooth but guarded.

"Maybe," Ethan said. "Depends on what you've got and what you're willing to pay."

The merchant's lips curved into a sly smile. "I like a man who gets to the point. What's your trade?"

"Information and ideas," Ethan replied cryptically. "But today, I'm interested in textiles. Quality fabrics."

The merchant raised an eyebrow. "A bold choice. Most men come looking for weapons or provisions. You planning to dress fancy or make some coin?"

"Coin," Ethan said firmly. "And plenty of it."

The merchant chuckled. "Ambitious. I respect that. Name's Marlen. And you are?"

"Ethan," he said, offering a firm handshake. "Show me what you have."

Marlen led him to a crate filled with bolts of fabric—linen, wool, and even a few pieces of finely woven silk. Ethan ran his fingers over the materials, assessing their quality with a critical eye. Memories of high-stakes business deals in his past life surfaced, guiding his thoughts.

"Not bad," Ethan admitted. "But the market's flooded with this kind of stuff. You'll barely break even selling these."

Marlen crossed his arms. "And what do you suggest, oh wise trader?"

"Innovation," Ethan said confidently. "People pay a premium for something new—something better. With the right dyes and techniques, you could create fabrics that rival anything coming out of the major cities."

Marlen's eyes narrowed. "Dyes and techniques? Sounds like fancy talk. Got anything real to back it up?"

Ethan leaned in, lowering his voice. "Give me a small investment—enough fabric and resources to test my idea. If it works, we split the profits. If it doesn't, you're out a few bolts of cloth."

The merchant stroked his chin thoughtfully. "You're either a genius or a madman. Maybe both."

"Those are usually the ones who change the game," Ethan said with a smirk.

Marlen laughed heartily. "All right, Ethan. You've got yourself a deal. But if you swindle me, I'll make sure you regret it."

"Fair enough," Ethan agreed.

They shook hands, sealing the partnership. Marlen instructed his workers to load a small cart with the agreed-upon materials—enough for Ethan's initial experiment.

As they secured the goods, Bjorn appeared, his expression curious. "What're you up to now?"

"Starting a business," Ethan said casually.

Bjorn blinked. "You? A merchant?"

"Why not?" Ethan grinned. "Someone's got to make the coin around here."

Bjorn shook his head in disbelief. "Well, good luck with that. You'll need it."

As the cart rumbled back toward their camp, Ethan's mind raced with possibilities. He would introduce concepts from his old world—advanced dyes, more efficient weaving techniques, and perhaps even unique patterns that could become a trend in this medieval society. It was risky, but every great venture started with a leap of faith.

Kieran met them at the camp, his eyes shadowed but alert. "What's all this?" he asked, eyeing the cart.

"Our future," Ethan said simply.

Kieran arched an eyebrow. "You planning to fight off bandits with fabric?"

"No," Ethan said with a chuckle. "But I might just buy out the whole market if this works."

Kieran shook his head but smiled faintly. "You're a strange one, Ethan. But I'll give you this—you've got guts."

"Guts and a plan," Ethan corrected.

The day stretched on as they set up a makeshift workshop near the edge of the camp. Ethan carefully explained his ideas to Kieran and a few curious caravan members, sketching patterns in the dirt and outlining the steps for creating vibrant, high-quality fabrics.

"This might actually work," Kieran admitted grudgingly.

"It will," Ethan promised. "We just need time."

The first step was gathering the necessary natural dyes. Ethan led a small group to the surrounding forest, searching for plants, berries, and roots that could be used to create vivid colors. He explained the process to his companions as they gathered materials, their skepticism gradually giving way to curiosity.

"You sure these weeds are gonna make anything worth selling?" one caravan member asked.

"Trust me," Ethan said confidently. "The right combinations can create colors you've never seen before."

Back at the camp, they began the painstaking process of extracting pigments from their haul. Boiling pots over open flames released pungent aromas into the air as Ethan demonstrated the techniques he'd learned in his previous life.

"Stir slowly," he instructed Kieran, who was carefully mixing a batch of red dye. "Too fast and it'll clump."

Kieran scowled but followed the instructions. "This better be worth it."

"It will be," Ethan assured him.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the first test fabrics were hung to dry. Deep reds, vibrant blues, and rich greens shimmered in the fading light, drawing awed whispers from the onlookers.

"I've never seen colors like that," Bjorn admitted grudgingly.

"Told you," Ethan said with a grin. "This is just the beginning."

The buzz of excitement around the camp was palpable. Even the normally stoic Kieran seemed intrigued by the possibilities.

"What's next?" Kieran asked.

"Scaling up," Ethan said. "We need more materials, more workers, and a way to get these goods to market."

Bjorn clapped him on the back. "You're a madman, Ethan. But I'll be damned if I don't want to see where this goes."

That night, as the camp settled into a restless sleep, Ethan sat by the fire, the weight of his ambitions heavy on his shoulders. He knew the road ahead would be fraught with challenges—both in business and survival. But for the first time since arriving in this world, he felt a spark of hope.

They were no longer just surviving. They were building a future.