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Chapter 43: The Underground Trade of Braggs Part 1
In July, the air in Braggs seemed to bristle with an unsettling heat that made everyone restless.
Beneath the calm surface, currents churned. Over the past fortnight, nobles large and small had been running themselves ragged—within their circles, signs of the war’s end were becoming unmistakable. While life for the common folk carried on as usual, those looking to profit from the chaos grew increasingly agitated.
Messengers rode into the city one after another, their horses galloping through the gates. To the uninformed, it might have seemed like the war was intensifying, but these letters carried updates on the negotiations within Winterrose Keep.
As a result, the commoners lived in constant unease, and so too did the nobility.
But none of this concerned Brandon. The young man continued to follow his own schedule with steady precision. He had spent three days greasing palms to obtain a certificate of a Frontier Knight—a document outlining the mutual duties of loyalty between a knight and their sovereign, stamped with an official seal.
Once worth its weight in gold, this thin sheet of parchment had depreciated over time as Eruin declined. The knightly class had devolved into stubborn local factions, and adventurers turned to illicit pursuits, leaving few interested in expanding the ancient kingdom’s borders. The title of “Frontier Knight” had fallen into obscurity.
Since the current king ascended the throne, noble families who had risen to prominence through frontier knighthood began openly pricing and selling the title. From then on, the certificate became increasingly worthless.
For Brandon, securing this identity cost him little more than having Barthom purchase a fine gown for the wife of a minor municipal official—a tactic he’d used countless times before in games.
He received the document on the eleventh day. That same evening, Lorne brought him welcome news—the long-awaited underground trade fair was finally here.
Like periodic markets in certain regions, Braggs’ gray-market gatherings took place twice a month. But unlike ordinary bazaars, these events dealt in goods that thrived in shadows: stolen treasures, contraband, even human trafficking. No need for surprise—beyond mercenaries, adventurers, and unscrupulous merchants, the attendees included Braggs’ rule-makers.
Namely, the nobility.
Unsurprisingly, the underground market was controlled by local shadow powers, though it wasn’t uncommon for certain nobles to dip their fingers into the pie. This was an open secret, hidden only from the commoners who preferred the illusion of peace and stability.
The underground trade fairs rotated between Maria Market in Hood District and Shepherd’s Market in East City—densely populated areas chosen specifically to avoid drawing attention. Yet observant individuals would notice an influx of unfamiliar faces converging on these locations during the designated days. Strangers exchanged pleasantries, conducted business, and vanished by dawn.
Both markets featured small auction halls available for rent—ostensibly legitimate businesses, but in truth, they were built primarily to host these clandestine gatherings. If one investigated their ownership, they’d find nothing more than a nondescript merchant’s name. Dig deeper, however, and it became clear that both structures were funded by the local noble council.
But these were merely footnotes.
When Barthom escorted Brandon down from the carriage, the sunset over Braggs glowed like the titular painting—burning orange against the horizon, staining the surrounding clouds crimson.
Facing the fiery glow, the young man wore a crisply pressed knight’s uniform. Beside him stood Chael, his apprentice mage, completing the disguise—they posed as a Highland Knight from Karasu and his squire.
Also accompanying them were Brandon’s “sister,” Antietta under the alias “An,” and his fiancée, Roma.
Antietta stepped out of the carriage and subtly slipped her hand away from Brandon’s. Veiled in black, she wore a sleek gown, her eyes distant yet watchful as they scanned the crowd milling about outside the auction hall.
Her lips pressed lightly together, her demeanor transformed entirely from just days ago. Where once she exuded fragile vulnerability, now she radiated icy detachment—an aura that warned others to keep their distance.
Even Teste’s spies wouldn’t dare approach her now, let alone Jon the Owl. Besides, in the current climate, a single disappearance in a vast city barely raised eyebrows. The cemetery district already inspired dread, so municipal workers only noticed their oversight days later when colleagues acted upon it. Missing persons typically fell under the Guard Unit’s jurisdiction, but by then, the peacekeeping cavalry had already conducted an extensive search—three companies scouring East City almost to the point of alarming the local noble council.
However, Viscount Teste seemed eager to bury the matter quietly, tying it back to the unsolved “Cemetery Assault Incident” from nearly half a year prior. Thus, Antietta could now appear in public without fear.
Standing slightly taller than Antietta was Roma, who was intently studying a row of crystal orbs on a nearby table. Her brow furrowed as if channeling scholarly dedication, determined to decipher their purpose.
Brandon couldn’t help but chuckle inwardly. The orbs bore no inscriptions, and no amount of staring would make flowers bloom from them.
He knew Roma’s focus wasn’t genuine curiosity—it was a ploy to draw Antietta’s attention.
Over the past few days, Roma and Antietta had developed a rapport. Roma possessed an innate knack for sniffing out opportunities beneath mundane surfaces, while Antietta provided worldly knowledge and practical insights.
For instance, without Antietta explaining how the Anzek region supplied Braggs with wine and food, Roma, hailing from the rural Buchi, might never have recognized the business potential.
But Antietta filled that role admirably. Though her expertise stemmed from books rather than experience, it still surpassed Roma’s reliance on imagination.
“What are those things, An?” Roma finally asked, unable to contain her curiosity.
Antietta’s gaze lingered on the row of thumb-sized crystal orbs, their owner clad in a black robe—a monk. Not everyone in Eruin had the privilege to wear such attire.
She glanced at Brandon, expecting some reaction, but the young man remained impassive. After a moment, she frowned.
“They’re ‘Embers,’” Antietta murmured softly.
“What’s an Ember?”
“An Ember is a sacred artifact used to spread civilization across the wilds. It’s surprising to see such items here at an auction.”
“I don’t understand,” Roma admitted bluntly.
Antietta sighed. Brandon hadn’t disappointed her since hiring her, but his fiancée was proving challenging. Roma wasn’t difficult to get along with—quite the opposite—but her endless questions treated Antietta like a walking encyclopedia.
Still, Antietta couldn’t refuse. “How much do you know about our world?”
“Nothing.”
“…”
Antietta coughed lightly. “Then I’ll try to explain simply. In Cruzean mythology, their god—Eshiru (Marsha) created the world from chaos using six elements: fire, wind, earth, water, life, and darkness. When the four Elven Kings forged their covenant, the boundaries of the world took shape.”
“These boundaries continuously draw magical energy from chaos, forming an infinite plane where we live. Hence, our world is flat and extends endlessly in all directions.”
“But the world naturally leans toward chaos. To counteract this, Marsha established laws to anchor order within the lands tread by mortals. Within these realms, celestial bodies function normally, allowing civilizations to flourish.”
“Beyond Marsha’s protected territories lie elemental battlefields and vast transitional zones—what we call the ‘Wilderness.’ However, wilderness and ordered lands can shift. This dynamic gives rise to Frontier Knights and ‘Magic Tides.’”
“And Embers? They’re the key to planting laws into the land. Every settlement founded in the Wilderness requires an Ember.”
After finishing her explanation, Antietta asked, “Do you understand?”
Roma nodded, then shook her head. “I only understood the first sentence…” Before she could finish, Brandon grabbed her cheek and pulled her close, cradling her in his arms.
“Little Roma, it seems you lack the aptitude to become a wizard. Don’t worry about these things. Let’s focus on how much money we can make at the auction instead.” As he spoke, Brandon shot Antietta an apologetic glance.
The girl smiled faintly.
Stepping forward, she asked, “Are you not interested in those Embers, Sir Brandon?” As his advisor, she was well aware of his recent acquisition of a Frontier Knight certificate.
Brandon glanced at the crystal orbs. Their sheer number intrigued him, but he knew others shared his interest. He figured he’d test the waters later. Besides, he already had access to a dormant Ember elsewhere—he wasn’t in urgent need.
“I understand. We’ll see what happens,” he replied.
Antietta studied him, hesitated, then nodded reluctantly. In her eyes, Brandon was a young knight venturing out to carve his own path. His success—and consequently hers—depended entirely on acquiring territory or earning distinction in battle.
Thus, every move Brandon made weighed heavily on her mind.
Brandon noticed her concern and opened his mouth to reassure her, but suddenly spotted Lorne signaling from the shadows. The trade fair was about to begin, and they needed to hurry. Startled, Brandon looked up and saw the gathered crowd beginning to file inside.
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