The Crack In Heaven [A LitRPG Progression Fantasy] Chapter 5: Chapter 5: Marked

Read chapter 5 of The Crack In Heaven [A LitRPG Progression Fantasy] by Adamus_Auguste on NovelPedia.

Chapter 5: Marked Kael was still watching the four items glisten under the lamplight when a man passed him by, making for Garrick's desk. He knew those leather overalls. Everyone did. Maelin Quor's grey beard and bald head were more well-known than Garrick's in the slums. After all, who didn't know the wealthiest merchant of the central avenue? Kael did, especially because his mom used to beg beside his shop. "More traffic," she had said with a smile he would never see again. There was also a detail he never quite understood about the man. Instead of watching people's faces, he always seemed more interested in their hands. "Welcome, old friend!" Garrick smirked, his arms spread warmly. "Friend, indeed. But our friendship won't last past this night if you sent a whore to pull me out of bed without a good reason." Maelin Quor pinched between his brows. "My wife won't let me hear the end of it." "A set of fine items for a fine man to appraise. Five silver crowns for each hit." Garrick gestured toward the open case with his right hand. He raised his left hand, half turning to hide the movement. But Kael knew he was pressing a finger on his lips. Their functions were not for him to know. Are they more than weapons? Something tied to Brannick's strength, to whatever woke in Dad. Seven times my pay, for sitting safe behind a desk. Of course. . As he pondered, Brannick threw his dad's cloak on the table. "Assess this one, too. The lad wore it when he returned." Kael's eyes narrowed. It was not his place to talk or make demands. Garrick had been clear. But... he didn't want to lose it. "Can... Can I keep the cloak if it's nothing special?" Garrick raised a brow, and Maelin Quor raised a thick monocle from his apron to his right eye. The monocle moved forward with a click. Through the lens, Maelin's grey pupil swam huge and pale. He unfurled the cloak, coughing when the dust of the mine clogged his throat. After a glance, he threw it in front of Kael, sneering. "Just an old rag that reeks of rot and death. I'm not playing Garrick. The price rose to two gold crowns for the batch, whether you want these items or not." "See, Kael? That's how you use leverage." Garrick closed his eyes, his voice educational. Yet, it turned quizzical as he flipped the ledger on his desk. "But I do seem to remember something quite interesting, my dear, dear Maelin Quor. Don't you owe me? A sizable sum I allowed you to repay me in instalments fifteen years ago. Should I..." The two scars across his narrowed eyes made their golden glow more menacing. "Should I collect what's mine tonight? I guess we can both stop playing. I'm just not sure who benefits from vain threats. All for what? Five silver crowns at best? I've known you sharper, old man." Maelin didn't let the silence settle. The instant Garrick said the word debt, his hands were up, waving it off. "Ah, decades we've known each other. You know how mornings make me." His laugh came easy now, oiled. "Fifty a hit, you said. Decent. Decent enough. It's only the cloak and that ledger, the one that doesn't fit any slot. Almost like the boy scooped up trash on his way out." "Get to work, Mister Nicest. Keep the ledger for last," Garrick pursed his lips, then turned toward Kael. "Keep or burn the rag. I don't care." Kael folded it with a hand trembling as much from relief as from horror. His mother had never borrowed a copper from Garrick. Now Kael understood why. The man owned half the slums in debt, and he always collected. I'll never owe anyone. Not if he just pays me. He watched Maelin assess the dark gloves first. The merchant barely looked at them. His eyes went to his own hands as he turned the leather over, reading them the way other men read faces, and whatever they told him turned his expression solemn. The diamonds at the knuckles made him turn toward Garrick and nod. "You want this one." "Great." Garrick threw the gloves at Brannick. "I know you'll use them well." Brannick caught them, but didn't rep