Channels (Part 1)

Romon left the city with Yvette.

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 residents, however, Pasterfield Bay was too shallow for larger ships to enter. The local climate also brought excessive summer rain, and the damp sea winds bestowed Aps City with abundant rainfall, making salt-drying on the beach little more than a fantasy. Thus, to the people of Aps City, the bay only brought the beach to mind through the fish on their tables.

Now, after following a woodland path and crossing a stretch of low, rolling hills, Romon and Yvette arrived at Pasterfield Bay.

Romon liked this place very much. Fine white sand, pale blue skies, and deep blue waters complemented one another. Waves crashed against the nearshore reefs with a rushing roar, while seagulls cried out from time to time in perfect harmony. Looking into the distance, he could see specks of white fishing sails on the horizon.

I almost feel as if I've returned to Earth, Romon thought, drawing in a deep breath. The salty sea breeze invigorated him.

Yvette did not know why Romon liked this place so much. Yet after working among crowds as an attendant for years, she had genuinely come to feel fond of 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 you're asking about it." Her voice was somewhat tense. If Romon could not give her a reason that satisfied her, she would never reveal the information she had obtained.

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 side won. Naturally, the victors would make full use of the defeated party's belongings, and the black market was indispensable for making use of such goods.

But for Romon, since his possessions had come from a band of thieves, the usual black-market channels run by thieves were no longer trustworthy.

Therefore, a Fifth-Level Warrior who had once been an adventurer and was now a tavern owner should have access to different channels. Even if he did not, Romon could ask the mage Alec or Feiqi from the caravan. He would always find a way. Of course, getting the information from lovely Yvette's lips like this would be best of all.

"Yvette, are you worried about me?" A smile rose in Romon's eyes.

Yvette's pretty face flushed slightly. She pulled free of Romon's hand and turned away. "I'm not."

The girl's shyness made her constantly mindful of preserving her modesty, but in the next instant, she turned back and smiled as she looked Romon over, noticing his age. "So who's the one blushing? 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 really was too young.

"Yvette, let's talk business. This is what happened..." Romon quietly told her how the tax officer of Rika Town had used thieves to frame him, how he had struck back, and how he had acquired a batch of goods. He even told her about Priest Tennis's jealousy.

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

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

The winter wind howled, churning the spray into shattered jade. On the beach, the thoughts of the two were just as tangled and impossible to sort out.

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

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

As Yvette spoke softly, Romon gained a rough outline of what he wanted to know. Old Vilen indeed had a black-market channel. More importantly, it had little to do with thieves and belonged to another, more secretive system. Naturally, Yvette did not know that, but Romon could infer it from the fragments of her account. Still, two issues remained. First, the black market was held only once a month, and this month's gathering had already passed. He would have to wait until next month.

Second, trading at this black market required a recommendation. Old Vilen was qualified to provide one, but Romon's goods for sale would likely be unimpressive. When he had raided the Thieves' Guild, he had taken 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 books, a manual on making poison, a small box full of various toxins, and tools specifically used for picking locks.

Romon scratched his head. Fortunately, he still had nearly a month to prepare. For goods worth selling at the market, he could only put some effort into his identity as a transmigrator.

"Yvette, let's practice swordsmanship." Romon felt that they could discuss the black market more after returning. For now, it would be better to have a proper spar with Yvette and vent their feelings.

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

Yvette had long, narrow eyes, what ancient Chinese people called phoenix eyes. When she smiled, although she looked only seventeen or eighteen, she possessed an unusual charm.

"Yvette, when have you ever seen me cry?" Romon said with a smile, drawing his sword. He slashed through the air a few times with a swish, then solemnly performed a swordsman's salute.

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

Clang! Their blades touched lightly, then separated.

Yvette lowered her sword and stood straight, nodding for Romon to attack first.

Romon took a deep breath. His feet slid forward, and like a gale, he thrust his sword straight ahead at chest level. At the same time, he shouted, "Ha!"

Yvette remained unmoving as Romon's sword shot toward her like an arrow.

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

A breathtaking smile suddenly appeared on Yvette's face. At the critical instant, she stepped left, then raised her sword-holding right hand and actually used the guard of her sword to lock Romon's blade. "Ha!" Yvette cried sharply, twisting at the waist as her left hand chopped toward him.

Romon tilted his head, but Yvette's throat-strike still landed on the right side of his neck. His head spun, and he retreated a step. His offensive immediately collapsed.

"Romon, you hesitated just now." Yvette smiled and sheathed her sword.

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

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

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

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

"Really?" Romon looked into her eyes. "Without lovely Yvette teaching and sparring with me, 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 learning martial skills. Even with the same straight thrust, how should one move one's feet? How should one hold the sword? What should the grip be like? How should breathing coordinate with the movement? All these things required a teacher's personal instruction. If even one part was wrong and formed a bad habit, it would be difficult to correct later. These were not things one could learn simply by 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 footing was still too unsteady..." Yvette said, deliberately putting on a stern face.

Romon immediately listened attentively, practicing the movements according to Yvette's explanation.

Yvette gradually became genuinely serious as well.

One taught while the other learned, and time passed in the blink of an eye.

Under the setting sun, Romon's body was dyed with a layer of gold as he diligently practiced the straight thrust she had taught him the day before. In the shadows beneath his nose, beyond the reach of the sunlight, the boy had already begun to show a man's resolute air.

Yvette suddenly became entranced. She lifted a hand to tuck back strands of hair scattered by the wind. If inviting him to the tavern back then had only been out of curiosity, then what truly moved me was probably the way he practiced martial arts so meticulously, just like this.

She had agreed to train with him as if it were merely a game, but his earnestness made it seem as though he intended to follow 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 spells.

Yvette recalled her father's assessment of Romon. "Romon, this little fellow might become a decent Druid. You should know that Druids do more than tend 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 and 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?"

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