Shoes (2)

While Grylls was busy bickering back and forth with the Fast Tree Sloth, a massive uproar erupted across the Gallery over the post he had made.

Ordinarily, Grylls maintained a strict policy of only trading when he personally needed something. Living a wild, self-sufficient life in the depths of untamed nature, he had no use for worldly gold, let alone noble titles. Extortion or imperial pressure was entirely useless against a man whom nobody could physically reach.

Because of this, regular users—especially the prominent fixed-handle users who were desperate to forge a personal connection with him—agonized over the challenge. How could they provide something that would thoroughly satisfy Grylls? How could they leverage that very item to secure an Adult Mandrake Root?

Establishing an ongoing trade relationship was virtually impossible given Grylls's unstable living conditions. Yet a single transaction was more than enough. In fact, pulling off even one successful exchange promised staggering, life-altering rewards.

Above all else, Grylls possessed an insurmountable advantage: absolute exclusivity. An Adult Mandrake Root was an alchemical treasure that could not be bought even with mountains of gold. That sheer rarity alone proved its astronomical worth ten times over.

Trust was no longer an issue either. Ever since the Inner Core incident, his reputation across the forum had soared to pristine heights. As long as a fair and legitimate deal was struck, one could secure an irreplaceable mythical ingredient. And if that trade blossomed into a lasting acquaintanceship?

Grylls would gain vital material backing, and the other party would reap incomprehensible profits. It was the epitome of a win-win arrangement.

Crucially, money loaded into the Gallery could never be converted back into physical cash. Had withdrawal been allowed, catastrophic criminal activities like interdimensional money laundering would have run rampant. It was precisely ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠this structural design that imbued physical commodities with unparalleled value.

The near-mythical rarity of an item one might never lay eyes upon in an entire lifetime. The immense advantage of direct barter over arbitrary currency. And finally, unimpeachable credibility.

These three conditions fused together, conjuring a peculiar atmosphere across the forum. Prominent fixed-handle users who regularly flaunted their personal wealth and treasures, as well as high-ranking dignitaries plotting to establish ties with Grylls, all mobilized at once.

"I trust you have seen the Gallery as well."

"Yes, Your Highness. Does that mean...?"

"Had it been a request for continuous supply, I would ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠have dismissed it. However, the man named Grylls has posted a commission. One offering an Adult Mandrake Root as the bounty."

The blond-haired, blue-eyed Crown Prince, Arnold, explained the situation in a grave, authoritative tone.

At those words, the graying middle-aged nobleman standing before him—Count Gorgon—broke into a radiant smile. His burning desire was so thoroughly transparent that Arnold inwardly scoffed, though he kept his composure and showed no outward sign of amusement. After all, Arnold himself could not afford to overlook this matter. The stakes were far too high.

"A long-term contract with this Grylls is inherently unstable," Arnold remarked smoothly. "Yet a one-time transaction like this is of paramount importance. Especially when he took the initiative to post the commission himself."

"Indeed, Your Highness! I shall immediately summon our finest artisans—"

"Hear me out before you rush off. One must never act in haste."

Arnold reined in Count Gorgon's overzealous display of loyalty. The count was exceptionally capable and dependable in most regards, but his excess was his fatal flaw.

It merely proves how brimming with ambition he is.

From the perspective of a ruler like Arnold, the easiest people to handle and trust were never the impeccably righteous or incorruptible. Rather, an ambitious man who was moderately corrupt and moderately pragmatic struck the ideal balance. Fulfill his specific ambitions, and he would offer unwavering loyalty in return. Such men were wonderfully predictable.

Should he ever step out of line, I can simply have his head severed...

Yet things had not come close to that point. Count Gorgon harbored boundless ambition, but little petty greed.

"Applying excessive pressure will only incite resentment among the artisans," Arnold cautioned. "Do you truly believe a masterpiece could ever emerge beneath the blunt heel of imperial authority?"

"Would that not constitute treason on their part?"

"Our task is to ensure they have no cause to commit such a crime. We are the ones desperate for the goods, and every other faction across the realms will be vying for them as well."

Anyone who met the minimum criteria could access the Gallery. There was no telling when a pair of shoes matching Grylls's exacting demands might suddenly appear. That was why Arnold pondered deeply: how could they outmaneuver the ferocious competition?

"Furthermore, should our completion be delayed, the trade may already be concluded. In that event, every ounce of our labor would dissolve into foam."

"In that case, if we expedite the work—"

"No, we shall take a different approach. We will ensure that even if he already wears another pair of shoes, he will have no choice but to accept our transaction."

"Pardon?" Count Gorgon's eyes widened in bewilderment. He struggled to decipher the prince's intent.

Yet Arnold was far from finished. He willingly laid bare his calculations.

"Wild Grylls. What he seeks is a pair of boots bordering on all-purpose versatility. He placed particular emphasis on rugged durability."

"Yes, yes, precisely. Should his feet suffer injury in such an unforgiving wilderness, he would be completely stranded."

"Above all else, what matters most to such a survivor is trust. In an affair of this nature, he will become exceedingly cautious."

"Come to think of it, there have been rumors circulating recently that someone attempted to swindle him."

I am well ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠aware, Arnold answered silently.

It was less that he had been successfully defrauded, and more that he had narrowly avoided a scam. That very incident had caused Grylls's public reliability to soar even higher. Following that ordeal, Grylls had grown far more guarded, declaring that any items of substantial value would only be traded on the public auction block after verification by recognized fixed handles.

Would such a cautious survivor enter a trade blindly? Arnold was certain he would not. Unlike the fixed nicks who had aided Grylls purely out of goodwill, a business transaction of this magnitude required absolute, ironclad trust.

"First, commission the craftsmen—preferably those contracted directly under the military. Should we prove too late to conclude the trade, the footwear can simply be repurposed as elite officers' combat boots."

"Understood, Your Highness."

"I expect splendid results. Once the boots are crafted, do not contact him directly; report to me first."

"I shall live up to Your Highness's expectations!" With a resounding shout of devotion, Count Gorgon bowed deeply and took his leave.

Arnold watched the count depart, lingering his gaze on the vacant doorway for a brief moment before turning his eyes upward. Suspended in the air before him was the translucent Gallery interface—a sight he was steadily growing accustomed to.

Grylls will unquestionably scrutinize the posting history of any fixed handle who reaches out to him. If an account is completely devoid of past activity, he will undoubtedly harbor suspicion.

Throughout his time observing the forum, Arnold had pieced together Grylls's character. His disposition could be summarized in a simple principle: he was the type of man who felt an absolute compulsion to repay whatever he received. Favor was returned with favor; malice was countered with malice.

Perhaps owing to that remarkably balanced, unpretentious nature, quite a few prominent fixed handles had grown fond of him. Even if he occasionally bickered with Passing Dwarf, their relationship resembled that of cantankerous old friends rather than genuine rivals.

At the very least, this man is no swindler. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Provided he receives the exact footwear he desires, he will without question hand over the mature Mandrake root.

The problem lay elsewhere. Even if someone possessed a registered fixed handle, there was always the risk that they might hand Grylls inferior goods and vanish into the shadows. An established nickname did not make one immune to depravity; the sheer malice of sentient beings was a terrifying thing.

If it were up to me, I would step forward personally, but...

Arnold glanced at his own profile name once more.

AbsoluteLordArnoldTheGreat

Every single time he laid eyes upon that handle, he felt an agonizing urge to cough up blood. Arnold squeezed his eyes shut in visceral mortification. Rather than openly carrying out imperial diplomatic affairs under such a humiliation of a moniker, he would rather leap headfirst off the palace parapet. It was a blessing that the relentlessly ambitious Count Gorgon existed to bear the front lines.

If we extend trust first, he will naturally reciprocate with trust.

Arnold's plan was simple: rather than demanding an instantaneous simultaneous trade, their side would send the boots over first. By allowing Grylls to inspect the craftsmanship and deliver the Adult Mandrake Root on the following day, they would secure both his profound favor and his complete trust.

To set the stage for that...

Arnold glanced around the grand study. While the Gallery interface was completely invisible to ordinary eyes, the habit was hard to shake. After all, within the realm of personal privacy, participating in the Gallery was by far the most covert, unspeakable secret of his life.

Confirming that no attendants lingered nearby, he began drafting a post. Though he had sworn mere moments ago that he would rather leap from a tower than be caught active under this name, life occasionally demanded the courage to jump.

Seeing Grylls's direct response, Arnold wore a thoroughly satisfied grin. As anticipated, extending goodwill first was the right path forward.

That dwarven fixed handle will likely craft a pair as well, so there are probably only one or two mature Mandrake roots remaining to claim.

Securing even one was the best outcome he could hope for. While human craftsmanship possessed great heights, outpacing a true master dwarven smith was an arduous feat. Arnold sincerely hoped Count Gorgon would bring back stellar results. Only then would life become considerably easier—both for the count and for himself.

As Arnold continued leisurely browsing through the active board, a particular post caught his eye. The title alone was eye-catching, but more importantly, the author was none other than Grylls. Judging by the phrasing, it seemed someone had attempted to cheat him.

Curious to see what manner of fool had managed to incur Grylls's wrath, Arnold tapped on the post.

"Heh... kuku..."

Arnold chuckled under his breath.

Indeed, the world was vast and fools were legion. It was a profound truth he was reminded of every single time he browsed the Gallery.

I'll look around for just a few moments longer before returning to state affairs.

Arnold leisurely scrolled further down the forum threads.

And then—

"Aaaaagh!"

Just as Grylls had done before him, Crown Prince Arnold stared straight into an unholy abyss he never should have seen.