The Stella Merchant Guild
Clang!
Bran deflected the massive podao with nothing but a dagger barely the size of his palm. Even so, his expression remained utterly composed. The bandits, having glimpsed his lightning-quick movements, instinctively sensed the danger.
This one's no ordinary fighter!
"Hit him all at once!"
They charged as one—but these were mere rabble, not a single one of them close to the realm of a knight. They never stood a chance against Bran.
Clang! The mantis-faced bandit's head snapped clean off and hit the floor.
Hyaah! Bran swept through them like a gale. Shhk! Wherever he passed, a red line was drawn—sharp wounds carved into carotid arteries, hearts, and every vital point.
"Gahk!" A bandit mid-charge froze, pleading with terror-filled eyes. "S-spare me…"
But Bran's answer was ice cold. "No. You're already too late."
Shhk! Shhk! Fountains of blood erupted from their bodies.
At that moment, the hulking one hoisted a club like an iron pestle high above his head.
"Hyaap! Die!"
CRUNCH!
But where the club came crashing down and cratered the floor, Bran was already gone. The brute's eyes went wide.
"Huh? Where'd he go?"
"Right here."
A cold, low voice. Shk! He felt something hot burrow into his back.
"Guhk!" The brute staggered and twisted around. Bran had his dagger buried hilt-deep between his shoulder blades.
"A m-master…!"
Bran gave a grim smile. "Don't gamble on a fight unless you're sure you can win. Didn't they ever teach you that?"
The brute's eyes trembled faintly.
"Well, think of it as a cheap education. The lives of a few pieces of trash isn't exactly steep tuition, now is it?"
Thud. Bran yanked his dagger free and dumped the bandit's corpse onto the floor, then gave the blade a careless wipe. The edge of the standard-issue weapon was chipped all over.
"Looks like I'll need to get my hands on some proper weapons."
Bran finally arrived at his destination: a four-story building, a rare sight in the Black Market. The Stella Merchant Guild.
But "guild" was a loose word for it—this was no mere shop. Commerce, banking, even assassination contracts, all handled under one roof. And this was where he would dispose of a hundred elixirs.
Big operation, and famous for relatively clean dealings by Black Market standards.
He stepped inside. Two guards, each radiating an aura of at least 2-Star, flanked the entrance, and the interior was already bustling with customers. Staff hurried about, tending to patrons in their assigned zones—an orderly atmosphere unlike anything else in the Black Market.
"Please head to the open counter over there, sir."
The system was as methodical as a modern bank. Bran followed the clerk's directions and took a seat. The girl across from him was young—younger than twenty, by the look of her—yet her expression and bearing bore the unmistakable polish of professional training.
She flashed a bright smile. "Welcome. How may I help you?" Then she added in a silken tone, "Our guild handles deposits, withdrawals, and loans, as well as the buying and selling of goods. Is there something in particular you're looking for today?"
Bran kept his reply short. "I'm here to sell elixirs." He had deliberately pitched his voice into that of a middle-aged man to conceal his identity.
"Ah, you've come to sell elixirs." The girl opened her ledger. "What type and quantity would you be selling?"
"A hundred intermediate elixirs."
A beat of silence. The clerk, smooth and composed until that very moment, visibly faltered. "I… beg your pardon? A hundred intermediate elixirs?"
"That's right."
For a moment, the girl couldn't find her words. "Please wait just a moment, sir."
She hurried over to a man who appeared to be her superior and reported something in a low voice. A brief exchange passed between the two, and shortly after, the girl returned.
"Thank you for your patience, sir." Her tone was now markedly more careful. "Given the considerable volume you're offering, our internal manager will attend to you personally. I'll show you the way shortly."
The moment she finished, one of the guards from the entrance approached. "Sir, please follow me," he rumbled in a thick, low voice.
Bran followed him into an annex wing. An artificial stream burbled along the path, spanned by an exquisitely carved stone bridge, and inside, the walls were lined with refined décor while chandeliers cast a soft, luxurious glow.
So this is the VIP room?
As Bran entered, a young woman with a calm expression approached. "I'll bring you some tea. Earl Grey or chamomile—which would you prefer?"
"Chamomile."
Bran looked around. Priceless artworks hung on the walls, and at the center of the room stood a grand desk and a chair trimmed in ornate gold.
While the tea was being prepared, another figure entered the room.
Graceful steps. A woman in sophisticated attire, a languid smile playing on her lips. She settled naturally into her seat and introduced herself in a honeyed voice.
"Stella Nova, guild master of the Stella Merchant Guild."
Beneath the mask, Bran allowed himself a faint smile. The guild master came in person after all.
Stella studied him with keen interest. "I hear you've come to sell elixirs." Behind her stood a powerfully built bodyguard radiating an unspoken warning—try anything funny, and you won't be leaving in one piece.
Bran, unruffled, produced a small gourd from his coat and set it on the table. "Intermediate elixir."
Stella lowered her gaze to examine it. "Would you mind if I verified it?"
Bran gave a light nod, and she carefully drew the stopper. A subtle fragrance drifted out, and a soft smile rose to her face.
"The color… and the scent. Both absolutely luminous."
With practiced hands, she took out a tasting tool—a tiny instrument shaped like a teaspoon—scraped a sliver from the surface of the pill, and brought it to her tongue.
In that instant, Stella's eyes went wide. This is…!
A warm, mellow energy spread through her as though wrapping her entire body. Her mind sharpened, and her blood began to surge all the way to her fingertips. The effects take hold this fast… and there isn't a trace of impurity. This is the work of a high-grade elixir master at the very least. And more than that—
It's fresh. Barely any time has passed since it was made! Even the storage conditions were flawless.
Stella returned the pill and sealed the gourd. "I hear you're selling a hundred in total?" Her voice was sweet, but an unmistakable probe ran beneath it.
Instead of answering, Bran drew ten more gourds from his coat and lined them up on the table one by one. Stella lifted each in turn and examined it personally. All identical in quality.
Soon, a question took root in her eyes. A hundred intermediate elixirs… this isn't a volume any mere herb peddler could handle. Who on earth is this man?
Her gaze drifted to the fox mask. If any faction could flood the Black Market with elixirs on this scale… only one name came to mind: the Greyjoy family, the famed house of elixirs. Her mind spun at a furious pace.
Could it be… is this man tied to the Greyjoys?
A merchant's sharp eye swept over Bran once more. The skin visible beneath the mask was young and firm; his back was straight, his movements fluid. Early thirties at the outside? No—even younger… mid-to-late twenties, at most?
Bran's voice cut through her speculation. "Have you finished inspecting the quality?" His tone brimmed with confidence. "Then let's talk price."
Stella studied the elixir's color and consistency once more before speaking. "The condition is superb. This isn't merely intermediate—it's 5-Star intermediate quality, bordering on high-grade."
Beneath the mask, Bran's chin twitched almost imperceptibly—a movement that might have been a smile. "You have a discerning eye."
Stella arched a delicate brow. Just as I thought—he knows exactly what these elixirs are worth. A dozen hypotheses flashed through her head in an instant.
Could the Greyjoy family be liquidating elixirs through an anonymous channel?If so… this might be a move to raise war funds.Goodness—should I be diverting investment capital into war stocks? How much spare cash does the guild even have?
Having swiftly ordered her thoughts, she finally spoke. "The price I have in mind for your hundred intermediate elixirs is…"