I felt relieved when I finally caught sight of the distant shores of Boeotia. Even though the sea voyage itself had been free of major incidents, I had been forced to learn an important lesson: even within a tiny team of just three people, conflicts can arise. In the future, I would have to be more attentive and defuse tensions before matters took an undesirable turn.

  Once we reached our destination, we headed straight for the city of Orchomenus, where we were supposed to find Chareleos. I still had no clear plan for how to approach the old collector, but I hoped inspiration would strike once we were there.

  We arrived at the edge of the city and stopped at the “Parnassus” inn. It was a two-storey building that must once have been rather imposing, but had since fallen into decay and filth. A dried-up fountain stood in the courtyard to greet us. Judging by the thick layer of dust covering it, the fountain had not seen water in at least a decade.

  As we stepped inside, I noticed that the interior matched the exterior perfectly. A smoke-stained counter, a few roughly carved tables, and some crudely cut wooden benches made up all the furnishings. It was immediately obvious that the room had not been painted in a very long time. In several places, the plaster was peeling off the walls, exposing the wood beneath. Urgent repairs would have been needed, if not for the universal problem of money.

  The innkeeper approached us and offered three glasses of wine on the house. It was clear that he was eager to learn as much as possible about us.

  “This is Mendean wine mixed with water,” the innkeeper said, flashing what was meant to be a friendly grin. “It’s a man’s wine—strong and red like a bull’s blood. I serve this wonderful wine only to distinguished guests.”

  I took a small sip and found the taste disappointing. Elesya refused to drink it altogether. Thanida, on the other hand, eager to show that she had no weaknesses, tossed the glass back in one go, her expression rigid.

  In theory, the wine the innkeeper offered should have been good. That is, if he hadn’t adulterated it with mulberry juice, alder bark, resins, and other dubious spices. I still hoped he hadn’t also used lead—an ingredient fashionable in some regions, said to reduce acidity and give the drink a sweeter taste.

  “What brings you to our wonderful city?” he asked in a syrupy voice, clearly trying to pry information out of us. “Business? Pleasure? Do you have relatives here?”

  One glance was enough for me to understand what kind of man the innkeeper was. It was obvious that one of his side jobs was pumping travelers for information and selling it to anyone willing to pay. He probably had connections both with the Boeotian authorities and with the local underworld.

  “In a way, yes—we’re here on business,” I replied. “Do you have a moment to listen?”

  “Of course,” the innkeeper said enthusiastically. “The presence of young nobles like you is a joy to me.”

  Without realizing it, the innkeeper’s curiosity was working in my favor. If I fed him a story about my magical sword, he would surely inform all the important collectors in the city within a few hours—perhaps even Chareleos himself. That way, he would save me the trouble of searching for the old man.

  “My father was a dealer in collectible weapons,” I began spinning my lies. “Magical weapons, of course. I wouldn’t say we were extremely wealthy, but business was going quite well. Two years ago, however, my father passed away after a heart attack, at only forty-seven. That left just me and Elesya, who is my half-sister. And back home, my stepmother is waiting for us—now a widow.”

  The innkeeper put on a show of sympathy when I mentioned these details. Elesya blinked in confusion when she heard she had suddenly become my “half-sister,” but she immediately played along, offering a sad smile and lowering her gaze. I, too, paused for a few moments, staring into nothingness, before continuing my fabrications:

  “After my father’s death, things went downhill quickly. The creditors descended on us at once, demanding repayment. What little wealth he left behind vanished before our eyes. I inherited his weapons business, but… I must admit I’m not very good at running it. I don’t have my father’s contacts, and suppliers and collectors don’t take me seriously—they think I’m too young. Things have gotten so bad that I can’t even afford to pay my tuition.”

  The innkeeper shook his head, genuine compassion written on his face. Thanida bit her lip to keep from laughing.

  I threw more fuel onto the fire of lies.

  “For two years now, the inherited business has been operating at a loss,” I said in a somber voice. “I’ve been forced to sell almost everything in the collection—and unfortunately not at very good prices. Everything of importance is already gone, with a single exception: the Lycian sword.”

  The innkeeper flinched in astonishment at those words.

  “The Lycian sword? That can’t be!”

  “Why couldn’t it?” I snapped aggressively. “Look here!” I said, pulling the sword halfway out of my bag so that the ornate hilt and part of the blade were visible. “Do you take us for swindlers? Do you think I’m lying to you?”

  “No, of course not,” the innkeeper said quickly, careful not to provoke suspicion. “Forgive me—I didn’t mean to offend you. I had heard that the sword was in someone else’s collection. But perhaps I’m mistaken.”

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  Of course, everyone in the region knew that the Lycian sword was part of Chareleos’s collection. I smiled faintly, pretending to be relaxed.

  “So that’s what worried you! Well, the explanation must be very simple. There are probably two Lycian swords—perhaps even more. We own one, and the collector you heard about owns another.”

  “That’s not poss—” the innkeeper began, then stopped himself before contradicting us. “Tell me, is the sword truly magical? Can it really do what the legends say?”

  I sighed lightly, almost bored, then replied in a sharp tone:

  “I don’t know what your local legends claim about this sword, but I can tell you what it does, because I’ve tested it myself. The sword is enchanted—it can be sent flying to strike your enemies. You can kill from a distance, without any risk to yourself.”

  “That’s incredible!” the innkeeper exclaimed enthusiastically. “You say you’ve tested it? Could I see a demonstration?”

  “Yes, you could—if you were willing to buy it. We’ll gladly give a demonstration to a potential customer, but only if they prove they’re serious and have the money. If someone can present a bank letter of guarantee or an account statement showing at least 300,000 sesterces, then we’ll show exactly what this magical sword can do.”

  The innkeeper looked disappointed by my decision.

  “Isn’t there any other way?” he asked, his voice betraying a growing nervousness.

  I put the sword back and closed the bag.

  “Innkeeper, with all due respect for your hospitality, you don’t strike me as someone who could afford such an expensive magical artifact. We’re talking about business on an entirely different level here, not something as simple as running an inn. We’re not circus performers in a traveling show, putting on demonstrations at the public’s request. So don’t take it personally if I refuse to satisfy your curiosity about the sword’s powers. Naturally, for serious bidders, we are willing to do whatever is necessary.”

  Smacking his lips in dissatisfaction, the innkeeper shifted his gaze toward the door, then took another sip of wine. He was probably thinking about what other information he could squeeze out of us before reporting to those who might be interested.

  “Listen,” he said suddenly, “allow me to ask you something: how is it that you haven’t managed to sell such a marvelous sword yet? If it truly has that legendary magic, I’m sure many people would want to buy it.”

  With a scornful smile, I replied:

  “It’s obvious you don’t understand the trade in collectible weapons. Yes, many people would like the sword—but very few can afford it. And among those, even fewer would be willing to part with hundreds of thousands of sesterces to buy it. We’re talking about sums that make even a king hesitate and think twice. We’ve traveled through countless cities to get here, yet we haven’t found a single serious buyer. What we need is a passionate and extremely wealthy collector, someone willing to spend any amount for the pleasure of owning such an important magical artifact.”

  The innkeeper’s eyes gleamed with interest as I laid out these details. He was probably calculating how much money he would earn for the thorough report he was going to write about us.

  “If we don’t find a buyer here either,” I continued in a sorrowful tone, “I’ll be forced to turn back and significantly reduce the sword’s price. I urgently need money and can no longer afford to wait for the perfect buyer. I may even have to cut the price in half. That would certainly attract plenty of offers.”

  The innkeeper was feverishly memorizing every detail I had shared. I was certain he now had enough material to fill an entire scroll.

  “But… aren’t you afraid someone might steal the magical sword?” the innkeeper asked, casting a greedy glance at the bag slung over my shoulder. “You know, valuable objects always attract unwanted attention from thieves and bandits.”

  I replied casually:

  “We have no reason to be afraid. Thanida, the young warrior at our table, provides all the protection we need. I assure you she is highly skilled both with weapons and in combat magic. She’s extremely vigilant and acts at the slightest suspicion. And if we were ever to be overwhelmed by superior numbers, I could even use the Lycian sword itself. One simple command from me, and the sword would fly through the air, severing the heads of thirty bandits on its own.”

  As if to confirm my words, Thanida made her sword rattle in its scabbard, casting a slightly frowning look at the innkeeper.

  “So that’s how it is?” the innkeeper grinned, this time with noticeably more restraint. “Honored nobles, it’s been a pleasure speaking with you. Now please excuse me, but I must attend to other guests who have arrived in the meantime.”

  I nodded in agreement, but I didn’t take my eyes off him. I watched as he hurried behind the counter, rummaging underneath it. Taking an inkwell and a quill from a drawer, the innkeeper quickly scribbled a few lines on a scroll. He rolled it up, sealed it with a bit of wax, and called over a ragged child—probably a slave. I didn’t hear what he whispered into the boy’s ear, but I saw him hand over the scroll and gesture authoritatively toward the door. Without waiting for further instruction, the small slave rushed out of the inn through the back door.

  “What do we do now?” Elesya asked.

  “We wait until tomorrow,” I replied. “In the next few hours, we’ll find out whether the fish bites the bait, just as I predicted. If nothing happens, we’ll go into the city tomorrow and contact several weapon collectors.”

  Toward evening, an old man appeared at the inn. He was dressed in a fine gray woolen coat and had short, neatly groomed hair. Judging by his clothes, he seemed to be a local noble. Although he was around seventy years old, he looked strong and healthy for his age—helped, no doubt, by the fact that he did not share the worries of ordinary mortals.

  After exchanging a few words with the innkeeper, the old man came straight toward us.

  “I’ve heard, by chance, that you have an item for sale that might interest me,” he said in a rough, unhurried voice. “I am Chareleos, the greatest weapons collector in the region. I have an offer for you—one you may find interesting.”

  He paused to study us more closely, then continued:

  “I invite you to my palace so we can discuss the details. My carriage is waiting outside. I’m sure you’ll be interested in what I have to say.”

  From the commanding tone he used, it was clear that his invitation was anything but optional. Although Chareleos no longer held any official position, he still wielded considerable influence among his former subjects. I was certain that if we had refused, the local authorities would have created serious problems for us almost immediately.

  I signaled the two girls to prepare to leave. I took my bag and followed Chareleos into the carriage. I had a strong feeling that a difficult night full of unforeseen situations lay ahead.

  Since Chareleos was now personally involved in the matter of the Lycian sword, it meant we were on the right path. So far, everything was unfolding according to my expectations. The fish had taken the bait.

  There was only one small detail I hadn’t anticipated: the fish was a shark.