Maple City's Sinful Treasure

At auction, the out-of-print Black Pearl Wine could fetch twenty times its value—typically around 550 gold coins. Yet auction houses took a 10% commission, plus noble commodity taxes, leaving at most 400 gold coins. By selling directly to nobles in bulk, Feeld avoided all taxes. Five hundred gold per cask was exceptionally generous.

"Friend, might I purchase that rat-demon skull? Twenty gold coins. I wish to display this valiant trophy in my collection room."

"Certainly." Feeld feigned reluctance, suppressing a laugh. His tale had clearly captivated Simon, though the wretched creature hadn't lasted three minutes against Athéna. Raising a thumb, he added, "A noble stature deserves distinguished trophies. I imagine it still carries the divine authority of that miracle."

The trade route yielded 5,020 gold coins—a staggering profit.

But Feeld wasn't foolish enough to carry all the gold. Paying 30 gold, he deposited 3,000 in the imperial vault of Maple City. This demonstrated cooperation while preventing "bandit" ambushes. Feeld knew Simon's lavish facade masked inner agony—likely already plotting to reclaim his coins. *Earn in Maple City, spend in Maple City—not a coin leaves this pit.*

"Baron Feeld, our transaction delights me. My maids have prepared warm baths and beds—time to indulge masculine pursuits. And not with common servants." As Feeld predicted, Simon's composure cracked after spending vast sums. His belly wobbling, he clasped Feeld's arm. "I wager you've never touched a lofty Divine Champion."

*Hah. Mine lets me tousle her hair whenever—utterly adorable,* Feeld mused.

"Ahem, truly not. Divine Champions are rare treasures indeed," Feeld played along.

Simon boasted: "Maple Dominion possesses a peerless jewel. Come, I'll let you savor it—unlike anything you've witnessed."

*If the Kingdom of Women treasures its queen... By the gods, Maple City's "treasure" can't be that dancer whose bedpost notches rival a stable's tally!* Feeld's cheek twitched. Simon's desperation to recoup losses was transparent.

"Another time," Feeld demurred, wiping cold sweat. "Baron Simon, does Maple City sell direwolves? I require a large batch."

Simon tugged him upstairs. "Direwolves? Those rare beasts appear only in nomadic khanates—exceedingly scarce."

Feeld—far fitter than the debauched noble—easily broke free. "The Northern Province teems with corrupted flora and writhing tentacles. Horses trap their hooves. I need mounts for treacherous terrain. Plus," he added, stepping back, "direwolves are imposing—perfect symbols of valor."

Knowing Feeld wouldn't stay, Simon jiggled his belly. "My caravans will watch for direwolves. None refuse gold."

"Even pups are acceptable. I'll pay handsomely."

*Who else would buy in bulk?* Feeld thought. *I'll haggle when they arrive.* His lordly skill could enlist 50 Tier-1 Wolf Riders—if he secured direwolves. They'd become his formidable vanguard. Moreover, preserving the Lupine Drake's lineage was paramount—a priceless legacy. Like the royal griffins descended from the founding emperor's "Sacred Griffon," Divine Champions bequeathed more than artifacts: creatures, techniques, and magic were all exploitable treasures.

"Northward I return—fortune and glory beckon." With a curt farewell, Feeld departed.

Moments later, Simon clutched his chest, groaning as he shuffled toward the guest chamber. "Oh, my sweet gold~ Tiny, pitiable, tantalizing coins. Heavens! All gone! Has worse ever befallen me? Except that time my 'long loaf' snapped..."

Inside, a figure draped in sheer silk lounged seductively, legs artfully crossed. "I expected the dashing Baron of Nightfall," she remarked coolly, her eyes sharp despite the provocative attire. "Also, that thing of yours isn't a 'long loaf'—at best, a measly grub."

"Failed. Baron Feeld spurns women—prefers adventures and stealing my gold." Unfazed by the insult, Simon sighed. "Should've sent you directly instead of those lowborn maids. He thinks I lack quality. Five thousand gold! Damnation! How do treasures linger in that putrid north? All corpses and tentacles! Perhaps I should have him assassinated."

"Tsk. Your pettiness surfaces again. Lasting ventures yield greater profit. He deposited funds as goodwill—too soon for killing. Besides," she stretched languidly, "not within Maple City."

Simon pouted like an oversized child. "Fine. You're right."

"Your avarice scared him off. Such an intriguing boy—I must have him." She licked her lips, reclining against cushions as she fastened a manacle around her wrist. "Or perhaps his tastes are... singular. Nobles harbor peculiar appetites: some crave pretty boys, others infants, even bloodsport spectators." A sly glance. "Send word: the masked underground ball on the 15th, three moons hence. Assure him every desire will be... accommodated."

"I did mention it," Simon shrugged.

"Then dispatch formal invitations. Maple City's ball welcomes all worthy souls."

"Very well. Though I doubt he'll live that long. Fortune won't favor him forever." Simon's voice turned grim. "The corrupted horrors of the Northern Province are no jest—even Divine Champions have met their end there."