Struck It Rich

"Let's go, we have business to attend to." Anse called out, turning back toward the guild hall. Strengthening himself was the priority now.

"The Flaming Fist... they won't be able to hold it, will they?" Brat caught up to Anse in a few strides.

"Hard to say." Anse's face was as calm as still water. "What level of professional do you think a gate and a high wall can actually stop?"

As levels increased, many professionals no longer feared human-wave tactics; they could jump, fly, and turn invisible. They were terrifyingly strong.

The guild hall was more than half empty. Being a gossip-monger was the nature of sentient beings, regardless of race.

"Where are we going?" Brat looked at Anse. "The third floor is the trading hall. It's all official shops or big merchants. The goods are good, but they're a bit pricey.

The backyard is the trading market. You pay a fee to set up a stall. There are a lot of people, but whether things are real or fake depends entirely on your own eye."

Anse considered for a few seconds. "The third floor. Primarily to handle that war hammer; ordinary people might not know its true value."

"Right."

They climbed the stairs from the hall to the third floor, passed through a bronze door, and entered an enclosed trading hall bustling with people coming and going.

More than twenty small, square shops were distributed throughout the hall, connected by corridors.

Most shops had no doors; a few shelves and counters were arranged in a circle. One could see the goods and the shopkeeper just by walking past, a layout somewhat similar to the malls of his past life.

"Valuable items are generally traded here. Those with guild insignias on their signs are official, while the others are outside merchants..." Brat explained.

"Hmm."

The three of them walked a circle. Anse noticed that although there were many shops, there were at most two selling the same type of goods, clearly an attempt to avoid competition.

"Follow me."

Brat led them to a weapon shop with a sign that read: Soradin's Fine Goods.

The shopkeeper was a dwarf with a face full of red whiskers, standing nearly 1.5 meters tall. He likely belonged to the Mountain Dwarf subrace.

Do not assume that a shop run by a dwarf is necessarily good, for not all dwarves are smiths.

Dwarves were hot-tempered, stubborn, and greedy, but not necessarily upright or honest! They had long lifespans, usually reaching 400 years. After living with humans for a long time, they inevitably became mercenary, and they could lie without batting an eye.

Therefore, regardless of a merchant's race, one could not be blindly trusting.

Anse focused his gaze on the dwarf, and the dice quietly detected his information.

[Soradin, Dwarf, Level 4 Warrior (Champion)]

Level 4 again. It seems advancing to level 5 is a bit difficult.

With a clatter, Brat placed the bundle on the counter and opened it, revealing a pile of weapons and miscellaneous items.

The surrounding adventurers heard the commotion and gathered around. These items still had bloodstains on them, and their designs were different from human weapons; their origin was self-evident.

The red-whiskered dwarf walked over, stretched out a thick finger, and poked through them, showing little interest.

"...All crudely made, inferior goods. They need to be recast. I'll give you... 85 gold coins."

Brat was not a man skilled at haggling, but he knew it was a seller's market. With the Natural Disaster descending, the most valuable things were food and weapons that could be used to seize food or protect oneself.

Regardless of whether one knew how to use them, having a weapon in hand at least provided a deterrent and peace of mind.

"Don't be so quick. Take a look at this." Brat said, pulling out the Duergar Warlord's Black War Hammer and slamming it onto the counter.

"Eh?" The dwarf's eyes widened. He reached out to lift it, swung it casually, and a look of joy appeared on his face. "This craftsmanship, this material... a Duergar magic weapon?"

Brat crossed his arms, tilted his head back slightly, and deliberately looked down his nose at the dwarf. "Know the Duergar Warlord? It took two elite paladins and a genius sorcerer working together to barely defeat him."

The Duergar was startled. He scanned the area and fixed his gaze on Anse behind Brat, his tone surprised:

"Are you the adventurer who helped Land intercept the Duergar at the Flying Dragon Bridge?"

"You know us?"

Brat couldn't keep up the act. He looked down at the dwarf, only to find the dwarf wasn't paying him any mind at all, his eyes burning as he stared at Anse.

The surrounding adventurers looked confused; the vast majority of people had no idea what had happened on the Flying Dragon Bridge.

Being stared at by the dwarf's bell-sized eyes, Anse couldn't take it anymore and replied, "It's us. You're quite well-informed."

"The upper echelons of every faction are watching the movements of the Underdark Creatures. How could I not know?" The dwarf laughed, his voice deep and resonant. "You lot have guts, unlike those cowards who only know how to run..."

The dwarf cursed and swore, clearly firing a broadside at everyone. The expressions of the surrounding adventurers were somewhat unnatural.

There was no helping it. No matter how prosperous Baldur's Gate was, it was the private property of the upper-city nobles. What did it have to do with adventurers and commoners?

After a long while, the dwarf finally finished venting and looked at Anse with admiration.

Little did he know, Anse had simply run late and fallen into the Giant Pit; he had no choice. Otherwise, he would have run faster than anyone.

"You're special. Those old-school spellcasters are still fumbling around, yet you've adapted so well. Any secrets?" The dwarf changed the subject, asking about the spell bombardment at the bridgehead.

"Uh..." Anse paused for a few seconds. "Me? I... mostly rely on talent."

The dwarf's expression froze. That wasn't wrong; if a sorcerer didn't rely on talent, what would they rely on?

"That's damn well true." He nodded solemnly, stopped asking, and looked down at the war hammer, examining it closely, feeling it, and occasionally sensing it with focus.

The surrounding adventurers immediately quieted down, curiosity flickering in their eyes, eager to know what kind of weapon the Duergar Warlord had used.

Anse remained calm; he had already viewed the Duergar Warhammer's attributes through his Character Sheet.

After a long silence, the dwarf slowly spoke, "Duergar Warhammer, fine quality, requires attunement, comes with Mind Attack."

A chorus of sighs erupted around them, and even in Brat's eyes, disappointment was hard to conceal.

Common and fine quality magic items were relatively frequent; common magic items were worth over 100 gold coins, while fine magic items generally ranged between 300 and 1,000 gold coins, something an ordinary professional could reach with some effort.

Magic items of rare quality or higher were things many had never even seen, with prices that were unfixed but started at at least several thousand gold coins—unattainable and out of reach.

"However," the dwarf paused, "the material of this warhammer is quite special. It should be an alloy unique to the Duergar, with excellent properties. The smith did not bring out its full potential..."

Anse's eyelids twitched, but he feigned composure. "Then how much can you offer?"

"For Land's sake, I'll offer 1,500 gold coins. Add that pile of junk, and I'll give you 1,600," the dwarf pondered, then added, "You can go ask around; it's impossible for anyone to offer you more than that."

Brat nodded slightly at Anse; he personally believed this price was indeed very fair, perhaps even carrying a premium.

"Deal." Anse revealed a smile; this price had far exceeded his expectations.

"Wait." The dwarf didn't waste words, turning to walk behind the shelves. After rummaging for a while, he returned and handed Anse a money pouch.

Anse opened it to find it filled with platinum coins. The currency featured Roldan, the sun, and the Unicorn, totaling 160 pieces—it was quite heavy in his hand.

"The color is truly beautiful." He squinted as he counted the money, the clinking of the coins sounding like musical notes, and his mood was quite wonderful.

"The amount is exact." He counted twice, and not a single coin was missing.

He casually handed a few platinum coins each to Brat and Finn, as they had a share in that pile of "junk," while the rest of the money was all his.

"If you want to buy anything, go quickly, or you won't be able to get it later. Mention the name Soradin, and they'll give you some face," the dwarf shouted loudly, enough for most of the trading hall to hear.

"Many thanks."