Iron Anvil Town: A Shrewd Deal Amidst Despair

The biting winds of early winter, even more piercing than the day before, whipped up dust and withered leaves into swirling gusts that assailed the faces of passersby.

Rachel pulled her thick, dark grey cloak tighter around her, the expansive hood once again obscuring the face she wore as ‘Gray Goose,’ leaving only the faintly strong line of her jaw visible.

A heavy, coarse cloth bundle rested on her back, filled with the fruits of her labor, forged alongside Naiya and Vera deep into the previous night—nearly a hundred crudely polished, inexpensive Heatstones.

Her destination this time was Iron Anvil Town, a place teeming with miners, making it an ideal location to market Heatstones, despite its distance from the Lockwood territory.

Before setting out, Rachel had specifically unearthed her elementary alchemy manual, recalling Miriam’s earlier advice regarding self-defense.

Following the manual’s instructions, Rachel utilized several inexpensive mineral powders and basic transmutation arrays she found at hand to craft a few fist-sized, rough-surfaced, grey-black spheres, which she called ‘Flash Spheres.’

When thrown with force against a hard object, these spheres would erupt in a brief yet intensely dazzling flash, sufficient to disorient an attacker and buy crucial time for escape.

She carefully tucked these weighty ‘dirt bombs’ into the inner pockets of her cloak, their cold touch offering a faint sense of security.

“My Lady, please be careful.”

Vera stood beneath the porch, her face etched with worry, while Naiya, positioned behind Vera, gazed at Rachel with her one good eye, a look of innocent bewilderment upon her features.

“Rest assured.”

Rachel lowered her voice, inclining her head slightly towards the shadows.

Ruby, standing concealed within them, offered a subtle nod in return before vanishing from sight, a silent confirmation of her vigilance.

“Watch over the estate until I return.”

Stepping back into Iron Anvil Town, Rachel felt her heart plummet at the sight before her.

The number of displaced people on the streets had drastically swelled, nearly overflowing every sheltered nook and cranny.

They either huddled beneath tattered blankets or leaned listlessly against frigid walls, their eyes vacant, their faces displaying only the exhaustion of arduous journeys and an ingrained despair.

The air itself was thick with a heavier, turbid stench of filth, sickness, and utter hopelessness.

The only solace was the increased presence of individuals on the streets, clad in uniform and sporting merchant guild armbands.

Armed with short staves, they patrolled the main thoroughfares with wary expressions, occasionally shouting at and driving away those who attempted to approach shops or block the path.

It appeared Siena had successfully reinstated the merchant guild’s organizational capacity in Iron Anvil Town after the previous incident, managing to barely uphold a semblance of order—an order as fragile and precarious as thin ice suspended over a volcanic crater.

Shouts, children’s cries, and the listless hawking of vendors interwove, painting a chaotic tableau.

Rachel sought out a relatively open corner at the edge of the market, avoiding the overflowing sewage, and spread out her bundle cloth.

This time, she refrained from simply calling out “Heatstones”; instead, she used a more direct cry, tailored to the immediate needs of her target customers.

“Ward off the cold, warm your hands! Two copper coins! Essential for miners this winter!”

Her voice remained hoarse, yet it now carried far more penetration.

Initially, no one paid her any mind.

Rushing passersby, whether the slightly better-dressed townspeople or the numb-faced vagrants, mostly cast a fleeting glance at the drab, unremarkable metal pieces on her stall before quickly averting their eyes.

Two copper coins were a luxury for the displaced struggling on the brink of starvation, and seemingly not an urgent necessity for the anxious town residents.

Yet Rachel remained undaunted, waiting patiently.

At last, a young miner, clad in a thin, tattered cotton jacket smeared with coal dust and mud, his lips purple with cold and hands raw and red, paused before her.

He rubbed his nearly numb hands, his gaze lingering on the Heatstones for a moment before he hesitantly spoke.

“Youngster, can these really warm your hands? And only two copper coins?”

“Try it and see for yourself.”

Rachel picked up a Heatstone, deftly touching the central Dusk Crystal with her fingertip.

A faint, greyish-white glow emanated, accompanied by a distinct warmth.

She offered the Heatstone to him.

The young miner hesitated briefly before taking the Heatstone.

Feeling the gentle heat emanating into his palm, an expression of incredible surprise bloomed on his frozen face.

“Hey! It’s truly warm!”

He immediately clutched the Heatstone tightly to his chest, while his other hand fumbled in a hidden pocket, pulling out two sweat-darkened copper coins which he carefully placed on Rachel’s bundle cloth.

“I’ll take it! Thanks, youngster!”

With the first brave soul to try it, the effect was immediate and profound.

Several other miners, shivering just as badly, saw this and instantly converged.

“Give me one too!”

“I want one as well!”

“Two copper coins, right? Here!”

Soon, seven or eight miners gathered around the small stall.

Rachel deftly activated Heatstones for them, collected payments, and gave change (though it was rarely needed).

The warmth from the stones dispelled some of the biting cold from their bodies and ignited a spark of hope in their eyes.

As word spread, more miners flocked to her stall.

Most were young, robust, but thinly clad lower-tier miners; for them, the price of two copper coins was ‘life money,’ a sum they could grit their teeth and afford for a fleeting moment of warmth.

Business unexpectedly boomed.

In less than a single morning, half of the Heatstones on her bundle cloth were gone.

Rachel was so busy that a fine sheen of sweat appeared on her forehead, yet a smile she could not suppress curved her lips beneath the hood.

‘My idea was correct! As long as I target the right customers and price it appropriately, even with a crude appearance, the demand is undeniably there!’

Just as Rachel paused to catch her breath, a burly, middle-aged man, clad in a leather vest and sporting a shrewd expression, pushed through the crowd and approached her.

He was accompanied by two retinues, similarly dressed in leather vests.

“Hey, youngster!”

The middle-aged man’s voice was booming, his gaze sweeping over Rachel’s stall.

“These Heatstones of yours, two copper coins each?”

“Yes.”

Rachel maintained her steady voice.

“How effective are they? Are they really as good as they say?”

The man picked up a Heatstone, weighing it in his hand.

His rough finger pressed against the Dusk Crystal, and as he felt the warmth, a sharp glint flashed in his eyes.

“Honest dealings for all.”

Rachel replied succinctly.

“What about the duration? How long do they last?”

“Under normal use, they will last two to three days without issue.

After that, their effectiveness will gradually diminish,” Rachel admitted candidly, “After all, these are inexpensive goods; they can’t compare to the Heatstones used by noble lords.”

“Hmm…”

The man mused for a moment, seemingly calculating something, then waved his hand expansively.

“Youngster, I’ll take all your remaining Heatstones! How about one and a half copper coins each?”

“One and a half copper coins? That’s a bit…”

Rachel hesitated for a moment, as two copper coins was already her perceived minimum price; going any lower would significantly reduce her profit margin.

Noticing Rachel’s hesitation, the man quickly explained.

“I won’t just buy them this one time.

I have many people working for me, and when you return, I’ll buy them all again.”

“What do you say, lad?”

‘One and a half copper coins per stone means half a copper less profit than retail, but it clears the entire stock at once, saving time and effort.

More importantly, it secures a long-term business partner.

It’s definitely not a loss.’

“Agreed.” Rachel nodded decisively. “There are thirty pieces left here.”

“Excellent!”

The man grinned, gesturing to his retinue behind him to count the money.

As he watched his subordinate count out forty-five copper coins, he spoke.

“The merchant guild has been pressing hard lately, demanding ore urgently.

My men have been working day and night, and many have suffered from the cold.

Your little gadgets have arrived at just the right time; distributing them will at least spare everyone some hardship and help them dig a few more baskets of ore.”

Rachel took the small, heavy pouch of copper coins, her heart stirring.

Feigning nonchalance, she inquired.

“Why does the merchant guild suddenly need so much ore? Have they opened a new mine?”

“Who knows?”

The man shrugged, taking the Heatstones wrapped in tattered cloth that his retinue handed him.

“How would ordinary folk like us know about the affairs of the big shots up top?

As long as there’s work to do and money to earn, it’s better than starving to death.

I’m off, youngster.

Next time you come to Iron Anvil Town, just look for me directly at the ‘Blackrock’ mine!”

He gave Rachel a satisfied pat on the shoulder, then turned and, with his retinues, pushed his way out of the crowd.

The business concluded successfully, far more smoothly than anticipated, and she had even unexpectedly secured a major client.

Rachel weighed the money pouch, feeling the substantial heft of the copper coins within, her mood considerably lightened.

She began to pack up her stall, intending to return to her territory while it was still early.

Just then, Rachel’s gaze unintentionally swept over a small group of displaced people huddled in a nearby corner.

She saw several ragged children, their small faces frozen a ghastly blue-purple, their lips black.

Their bodies trembled incessantly in the cold wind, yet their eyes stared vacantly ahead, like puppets devoid of souls.

Rachel’s heart felt as though it had been pierced by something sharp.

Only three Heatstones remained in her bundle cloth, reserved for her own use.

After a moment of hesitation, she picked up one, approached the little girl who appeared to be five or six years old and was shivering the most violently, then knelt down and gently placed the activated Heatstone into her cold, stiff little hands.

“Here, warm your hands.”

Rachel softened her voice as much as possible.

As the little girl’s hands touched the warm metal, her body instinctively flinched.

Slowly, she lowered her head, her lifeless eyes shifting to the Heatstone radiating heat in her grasp, then just as slowly, she lifted her gaze to the shadows beneath Rachel’s hood.

Within those murky eyes, there was no gratitude, no joy, not even a flicker of curiosity—only a desolate grayness and numbness, like a stagnant pool of water.

She merely stared blankly at Rachel, as if the life-saving warmth in her hands were nothing more than a meaningless stone.

Rachel’s heart sank abruptly.

She stood up and surveyed her surroundings.

It was then that she realized, with a jolt, that the streets and corners of Iron Anvil Town were riddled with countless displaced people whose eyes were hollow and expressions vacant, just like this child.

They sat or lay, utterly unresponsive to the surrounding clamor, the biting cold, or even the charity of others, like soulless automatons.

Rachel suddenly recalled Miriam’s warning from two days prior before she departed.

She glanced once more at these displaced people, who moved like living corpses, and a profound sense of unease abruptly surged within her.

‘I can’t shake the feeling… that something isn’t right.’

Rachel dared not linger any longer.

She swiftly packed her bundle, clutched the two remaining Heatstones tightly in her hand, then turned and quickly departed the market, heading out of town.

As dusk approached, leaden-grey clouds hung low, and the cold wind grew even more piercing.

Rachel hurried along the gravel path she had taken, her sole desire to return to the relative safety of her territory as quickly as possible.

Ruby emerged silently from the shadows by the roadside, falling into step beside her.

Her crimson hair stirred faintly in the cold wind, and her stark, unyielding face remained impassive, yet the amber eyes, as they swept over Rachel, seemed to hold a little less of their former coldness and detachment.

“Business… went well?”

Ruby’s voice remained even, betraying little emotion.

“Yes, quite well.

All sold out.”

Rachel’s reply was brief, her thoughts still absorbed by the unsettling impact of the vacant-faced displaced people.

Ruby fell silent for a moment, her gaze resting on Rachel.

After a brief hesitation, she finally spoke.

“You just… gave one to that child?”

Her tone was questioning, as if asking Rachel to explain her actions.

Rachel’s steps faltered slightly.

She turned to look at Ruby, and after a moment of silence, she nodded.

“Well, it wasn’t anything valuable.

I saw she was almost frozen, so I gave it to her.”

“Hmm…”

Ruby said nothing more, simply continuing forward in silence.

Rachel found Ruby’s earlier question peculiar, yet she couldn’t immediately pinpoint why.

Instinctively, she felt the atmosphere between them had become subtly strained.

However, this subtle tension did not last long.

As they rounded a mountain pass, not far from the border of the Lockwood territory, a sudden, fierce clash of metal erupted from the woods beside the road ahead!