Channels (Part 1)

Romon and Yvette left the city together.

Aps City lay east of Pasterfield Bay, a place of exceptional beauty—at least, that was how Romon, once a man of Earth, saw it. To most of the city's people, however, Pasterfield Bay was too shallow for larger ships to enter. Moreover, the region saw excessive rain in summer; the moist sea winds brought abundant rainfall to Aps City, making it a vain hope to use the beach for drying salt. Thus, for the people of Aps City, Pasterfield Bay only brought the beach to mind through the fish on their tables.

Now, after Romon and Yvette followed a path through the woods and crossed a stretch of low, rolling hills, they arrived at Pasterfield Bay.

Romon loved this place. Fine white sand, pale blue skies, and deep blue seawater set each other off beautifully. Waves crashed against the reefs near shore with a rushing roar, while seagulls cried out from time to time in harmonious accompaniment. Looking into the distance, he could see scattered white sails at the edge of the horizon.

I almost feel like I've returned to Earth. Romon took a deep breath. The salty sea breeze in the air refreshed his spirit.

Yvette did not know why Romon liked this place so much. Yet after spending years working among crowds as an attendant, she truly had developed some affection for him. She liked watching him stand by the shore. She always felt that this young man before her was someone with a story and a past.

And tremendous potential as well.

"Romon," Yvette said, "I asked my father about the black market. But you have to tell me—why are you asking about this?" Her voice was somewhat tense. If Romon could not give her a reason that satisfied her, she would never reveal the information she had learned.

Most adventurers came into contact with things like black markets. Imagine two adventuring parties meeting in a dense forest and fighting fiercely for some reason. In the end, one party won. Naturally, the victors would make full use of the possessions on the defeated party—and to make use of those possessions, the black market's help was indispensable.

But for Romon, since his goods came from a certain band of thieves, ordinary black-market channels run by thieves were no longer so trustworthy.

Therefore, a Fifth-Level Warrior, a former adventurer and now a tavern owner, ought to possess some different channels. Even if he did not, Romon could still ask the mage Alec, or Feiqi from the merchant caravan. He would surely find a way. Of course, getting the information from lovely Yvette's own lips, as he was now, could not have been better.

"Yvette, you're worried about me, aren't you?" Laughter flickered in Romon's eyes.

Yvette's pretty face reddened slightly. She broke free from Romon's hand and turned away. "I'm not!"

The girl's shyness made her constantly mindful of preserving her composure, but in the next instant, she smiled and appraised Romon, noticing his age. "So who's the one feeling shy? Little brother Romon."

Seeing Yvette so delighted, Romon did not know whether to laugh or cry. The youth whose body he had taken over was only sixteen now, a year younger than her. He truly was too young.

"Yvette, let's get back to business. This is what happened..." Romon quietly told her how the tax officer of Rika Town had used thieves to frame him, along with his counterattack and the supplies he had obtained. He even told her about Priest Tennis's jealousy.

The beach was extremely open, and with the winter sea wind howling around them, Romon was not worried that his words would leak out.

"Romon..." After hearing his account, the girl fell silent.

The winter sea wind howled, churning the spray into shattered jade. The thoughts of the two people on the beach were just as tangled as silk that could neither be cut nor sorted.

"Romon..." Yvette's voice woke him from his thoughts.

"This is how the black market works..."

Through Yvette's quiet account, Romon gained a rough outline of what he needed to know. Old Vilen indeed possessed such a black-market channel. More importantly, this channel had little to do with thieves; it belonged to another, more secretive system. Naturally, Yvette did not know this herself, but Romon could infer it from the bits and pieces of her account. Still, two problems remained. First, the black market Yvette spoke of was held once a month. This month's had already passed, and he would have to wait until next month.

Second, trading at this black market required a recommendation. Old Vilen was qualified to provide one, certainly, but the goods Romon had to sell upon entering the market would probably not be impressive enough. When he had looted the Thieves' Guild, he had obtained a large sum of money, but only ten rolls of new cloth, six newly made sharp daggers, five cowhide storage bags, a basic set of thief skill manuals, a handbook for making poison, a small case filled with various toxins, and tools specifically used for picking locks.

Romon scratched his head. Fortunately, he still had nearly a month to plan. As for goods to sell at the market, he could only put some effort into himself as a transmigrator.

"Yvette, let's practice swordsmanship." Romon felt that they could think over the black market situation after returning. Right now, it would be better to have a good spar with Yvette and vent his feelings.

At that, Yvette slipped out of Romon's arms. Smiling, she patted the longsword at her waist. "Romon, don't cry if you lose."

Yvette had long, narrow eyes—the "phoenix eyes" spoken of by ancient Chinese. When she smiled, though she looked only seventeen or eighteen, she possessed an unusual allure.

"Yvette, when have you ever seen me cry?" Romon smiled and drew his sword. With several swishing cuts through the air, he solemnly performed a swordsman's salute.

Yvette also put away her smile and returned the salute with her sword.

Clang! Their longswords touched lightly, then separated.

Yvette sheathed her sword and stood upright, nodding to signal that Romon should attack first.

Romon took a deep breath, then slid forward with a step. Like a gust of wind, he thrust his sword straight ahead at chest level and shouted, "Ha!"

Yvette stood as firm as a mountain, while Romon's longsword shot toward her like an arrow.

"Ha!" A trace of hesitation flashed through Romon's eyes. He shouted again, flicked his wrist, and his longsword twisted like a nimble serpent turning over.

A breathtaking smile suddenly appeared on Yvette's face. At the very instant when no hair could fit between them, she stepped left to evade, then raised her sword-bearing right hand. She actually used the crossguard to lock Romon's blade. "Ha!" Yvette gave a sharp cry, twisted at the waist, and struck with a knife-hand from her raised left hand.

Romon tilted his head, but Yvette's knife-hand aimed at his throat still landed on the right side of his neck. His head spun, and he staggered back one step. His offensive immediately collapsed.

"Romon, you hesitated just now." Yvette smiled as she returned her longsword to its sheath.

Romon steadied himself and rolled his eyes. You stood there without moving. I was afraid of hurting you, wasn't I?

Yvette seemed to know what he was thinking. Giggling, she stepped up and kissed him. "I know you were worried about me. But with your level as a warrior, what could you possibly do to a Fourth-Level Warrior like me?"

"Yvette, you advanced?" Romon asked in surprise.

"I sparred with my dad yesterday, and he said I'm at the level of a Fourth-Level Warrior now. Though I haven't gone to the Warriors' Guild for an official assessment." Yvette narrowed her eyes, looking extremely pleased. "And don't focus only on me. I think you're roughly at the level of a Second-Level Warrior now too."

"Really?" Romon looked into her eyes. "Without lovely Yvette as my teacher, sparring partner, and guide, how could I have improved so quickly?"

That was the truth. Yvette had not held anything back in teaching him. Before the fourth level, physical reactions were extremely important in martial training. Even with the same straight thrust, how one stepped, how the sword should be held, what posture the sword hand should take, and how breathing should coordinate with it—such things had to be taught personally by a master. If one small detail was wrong and formed a bad habit, it would be difficult to correct later. These were not things one could learn merely from reading books.

In short, Yvette was a more conscientious teacher than Captain Richard.

"Romon, don't get cocky. About that straight thrust just now, let me tell you—first of all, your stance was still too unsteady..." Yvette said, deliberately putting on a stern face.

Romon immediately listened attentively, gesturing as he followed Yvette's explanation.

Yvette gradually became genuinely serious as well.

One taught while the other learned, and time flew by.

As she watched Romon beneath the setting sun, his body gilded in gold as he diligently practiced the straight thrust she had taught him the day before, Yvette saw that beneath the shadow cast by his nose, where the sunlight could not reach, the boy had begun to show something of a man's steadfastness.

Yvette suddenly became entranced. She lifted a hand to tuck back the hair blown loose by the wind and thought, If inviting him to the tavern back then had merely been out of curiosity, then what truly moved me was probably his meticulous dedication to martial practice, just as he is now.

She had originally agreed to practice martial arts with him merely for fun, but his earnestness made it seem as though he intended to walk the path of a warrior in the future. A Druid could only be considered half a spellcaster, yet the Druid Apprentices in the city still preferred magic.

Yvette recalled her father's evaluation of Romon: "Romon, this little fellow may perhaps become a proper Druid. You should know that a Druid's work is not merely tending medicinal herbs in the fields and animals in cages."

"Romon, let's go back. We'll stop here for today," Yvette called gently.

Romon sheathed his sword and saluted Yvette. "Thank you, Teacher."

The two smiled as they returned to Aps City beneath the golden-red sunset.

"Romon..."

"Hmm?"

"Miss Eileen... I mean, Miss Eileen from your town. She's very beautiful, and she's a good person too, isn't she?"

That question came out of nowhere. Sensing Yvette's faint yet unmistakable affection, Romon's scalp went numb.

!!