The Guide and the Chest

However, upon entering the city, Muse suddenly encountered a significant problem: he had no idea where the shops catering to adventurers and professionals were located in Della City.

After all, before this, Muse had been a thorough wastrel. If it were a matter of locating every brothel and pleasure den in Della City, his mind held crystal-clear memories…

At that moment, perhaps because Muse had lingered too long by the gate, a few men eager for work approached him enthusiastically.

"Sir, is this your first time in Della City? I reckon you could use a guide. I'm Old Bundy—I've been in this city for over twenty years. There's not a nook or cranny I don't know. Wherever you need to go, I can get you there fast. And it's just one gold coin to hire me for the whole day," said a slightly older, wiry man.

"Don't listen to him, sir. I'm Jack, the one who really knows Della City inside out. Plus, I've got connections with plenty of shopkeepers. If you're looking to buy something, I'll take you to places where they'll give you a good discount," chimed in another man, his face full of shrewdness.

"Sir, I—"

Muse watched silently as these self-proclaimed guides swarmed around him, each vying to pitch their services. Most weren't full-time guides; they often worked for shops, steering wealthy clients to their employers' stores for a commission.

"But hiring a guide might not be a bad idea," Muse thought.

Just as he was about to speak, a youthful voice cut through the chatter: "Sir, you're a respected Mage, aren't you?"

"Hm?" Muse turned toward the sound.

A small boy standing under a nearby eaves caught his eye. Seeing Muse's attention shift to him, the boy smiled and continued, "If you're a Mage, your first stop in a new city would be to replenish your spellcasting materials, alchemical potions, and spell items. I happen to know a great shop that buys and sells spellcasting materials—perfect for someone like you."

Muse grinned and stepped toward the boy. The crowd of would-be guides, wary of a Mage's reputation, parted instinctively to let him through.

Reaching into his coin pouch—courtesy of the gang's "generous donation"—Muse pulled out a gold coin and flicked it lightly. The gleaming coin landed in the boy's hand.

"Sharp analysis. That shows keen observation and decent knowledge—knowing what a Mage needs. This gold coin is your advance payment. I'm hiring you now. Once I've finished my business, your reward will be even greater," Muse said, nodding approvingly.

"Very well, sir. Please follow me," the boy replied with a slight bow, his tone neither servile nor arrogant. He pocketed the coin and turned to lead the way.

The boy set off at a steady pace—neither too fast nor too slow—with Muse close behind.

Though they took narrow alleys, the boy clearly knew his way. Soon, they left the gate behind and approached the commercial district.

As they walked, Muse discreetly observed the boy. Few could so quickly peg him as a spellcaster; he was adept at masking his magical aura. Even with his current weakened state, it shouldn't have been so easily noticed. How else could he have survived years of exile in the astral plane after the Arcane Empire's fall?

The boy's clothes, though faded from washing, still bore traces of fine fabric under Muse's scrutiny. A corner of intricate embroidery hinted at once-elegant adornments…

Moreover, Muse's potent mental energy faintly detected a subtle magical fluctuation emanating from the boy…

"Well, another person with a story. But what's that to me?" Muse thought, retracting his gaze and silently following the boy's lead.

Moments later, the boy stopped on a quieter street in the commercial district. The foot traffic here was sparse, mostly consisting of various adventurers and professionals.

Catching his breath, the boy turned to Muse. "Sir Mage, this area is near several guild halls for professionals, so it's become a hub for them. Many shops catering to adventurers are set up around here."

"The shop I mentioned is a bit deeper in. Please follow me."

With that, he turned and resumed leading. Soon, he brought Muse to a shop called "Huck's Treasure Chest."

"Sir, this is the place I told you about. Its prices are about twenty percent higher than the market average, but the goods are the most complete and of the highest quality. I'm confident you'll find what you're looking for inside," the boy said, still panting slightly.

"Alright. If it's as you say, you'll be well rewarded," Muse replied in a deep tone.

"You won't be disappointed," the boy assured him, pushing open the shop door. Muse followed him inside.

No sooner had they entered than a loud shout rang out: "What? Fifty gold coins for these few alchemical potions? Why don't you just rob me?"

Focusing his gaze, Muse saw a dwarf—barely four feet tall but nearly as wide—arguing with the shopkeeper, an older man.

"Calm down, good sir. Yes, my prices are a bit steep, but they're worth every coin. Take this strength potion, for example," the shopkeeper said, picking up a vial from the counter. "Other shops might sell a strength potion that boosts your power by ten percent, but mine gives a fifteen percent increase—and it lasts longer too."

"Talk is cheap. Of course you'd say whatever suits you," the dwarf retorted, clearly not the gullible sort legends often painted his kind to be.

"Sir, everything in my shop is genuine. Whether you buy or not is up to you. If you're not interested, you're free to leave," the shopkeeper replied smoothly, evidently accustomed to such exchanges and well-versed in his spiel.