Business

The sharp blade and a loud roar jolted Fizzle from his fantasies. Realizing what he had done, the Goblin merchant broke into a cold sweat as he looked at the boy before him, who wore a half-smile. He quickly plastered a fawning grin back onto his face, not daring to make any rash moves.

Although the glimmer of gold coins was maddeningly tempting, Fizzle valued his own life far more than those shiny little darlings.

Years ago, when he had taken a merchant ship from the continent of Kalimdor to the Eastern Kingdoms, he had survived a horrific shipwreck; he was one of the few passengers, himself included, to make it out alive. The powerful and unpredictable forces of nature had taught him the fragility of life, making him cherish his own all the more.

Feeling the cold edge of the blade pressed close to his neck, the Goblin merchant no longer thought about how to dump this cargo on the brat before him to drain his coin purse dry, but rather hoped he could survive this trouble unscathed.

Although Andorhal was a small town, its public security was ranked among the best in the entire Kingdom of Lordaeron to ensure the safety of trade and commerce. Whenever a violent conflict broke out, the garrison would arrive on the scene within ten minutes to invite the parties involved to have a "chat" at the security station.

Therefore, in a town with such good order, anyone daring to draw a sword in the street was either a reckless fool with a death wish or a truly powerful figure with something to rely on.

Looking at the boy before him, who showed no nervousness despite his young age in the face of a sudden crisis, and seeing the guard behind him who had drawn his sword with such an air of entitlement, the Goblin merchant would have been blind to his years of traveling and reading people if he couldn't tell which category they fell into.

"Th-this, this guest, no, m-my lord, I was merely startled by the unique aura you exude. I... I did not mean to offend you!"

The suddenly awakened Goblin merchant scrambled to organize his words, stammering his explanation. Though he was babbling, one thing was clear to him: this boy with the childish face was the one in charge. As long as this child spoke, the tall guard behind him would naturally stop pestering him.

The three-finger-wide longsword pressed heavily against his shoulder, keeping him from daring to move. After his hasty explanation, Fizzle could only try to put on a pitiful expression, hoping to gain the other's forgiveness.

"Abberton, don't be so tense. Let him go."

Alvin turned his head to look at his guard. "I believe this honest merchant has already learned his lesson."

Fizzle keenly noticed that the boy had emphasized the word "honest," and he knew the other was warning him not to play any tricks. At that moment, the Goblin merchant felt incredulous; a child who stood barely taller than him possessed such cunning!

"Of course, my dear lord, I, Fizzle, have always been an honest, law-abiding, and well-behaved merchant." Despite his surprise at the boy's extraordinary intellect, the situation dictated his response, and the constrained Goblin dared not show any dissatisfaction.

The Goblin merchant struggled to maintain a smile that looked worse than crying, using all his effort to give the man holding the sword a simple, honest look, signaling that he was a harmless, decent businessman.

For Abberton, a member of the Royal Guard, obeying the Prince's orders was his duty. The young knight suppressed his disgust for the greedy, filthy green-skin before him, let out a cold snort at the Goblin by his feet as a warning, and slowly sheathed his longsword.

Having spent years in human society, Fizzle could clearly see the contempt and wariness in the young knight's eyes. That sharp, disgusted gaze was as if to say: "Watch yourself, you scum!"

Hmph, a muscle-bound idiot! The Goblin merchant cursed inwardly at Abberton's reaction, but having just escaped a threat to his life, Fizzle dared not show any dissatisfaction. He could only pretend not to see the knight's hateful glare and turned his attention back to the boy observing his goods.

In the Eastern Kingdoms, besides the settlements of humans, High Elves, Dwarves, and Trolls, the wilderness and forests were occupied by a large number of humanoid creatures—Kobolds, Gnolls, and Murlocs. They had their own languages, simple cultures, and unique customs.

Because their forms differed so greatly from the dominant races of the continent, the living space of these three humanoid species had gradually shrunk with the expansion and development of humanity, forcing them to retreat into remote areas. Their isolation from the outside world had led to the barbaric civilizations and unique languages of these three major races.

In Alvin's memory, to cope with potential natural disasters and the crazed expansion of humans, these races had formed communal habits over thousands of years, usually acting collectively in the form of loose tribes.

However, the group of Gnolls being sold as slaves by the Goblin merchant was clearly different from what he had imagined. Among that fierce-looking group, there were almost no old, weak, sick, or disabled individuals; ninety percent were in their prime. Although they looked thin and weak, with enough effort, they should be able to regain their robust physiques.

In the center of the yard behind the Goblin merchant, a group of healthier-looking Gnolls stood in a vague circle, surrounding a few elderly ones. It appeared that the aged Gnolls held a higher status, an abnormal behavior that the boy found very strange.

According to historical records, Gnoll tribes followed the most barbaric principles, where strength was the best passport. The strongest and deadliest Gnolls usually became the leaders of a tribe, while the weakest old ones were generally just reserve food.

After carefully observing the two groups of distinct humanoids, a thought faintly emerged in the boy's mind. He looked at the green-skinned Goblin standing to the side, who dared not make any unnecessary moves, and asked, "Boss, do any of the creatures in this batch of yours speak Common?"

Business is here! The moment Alvin spoke, the Goblin merchant, who had been carefully observing the master and servant, knew the other had taken an interest in his goods.

Make a killing off him! This was the first thought born from Fizzle's Goblin instincts, but the moment the thought appeared, the tall, armored warrior behind the boy made him dismiss it—having just escaped the man's blade, he didn't feel like he had lived long enough yet!