I kick the plant pot and set off, her cries coming from just behind a wall of wooden furniture. Meandering around a barrel of spears and walking sticks, I discover a horizontal column of red oak, used as the shop's counter. Reflecting the emporium's style of chaos, the counter was littered with various trinkets and garment accessories in all states of repair.

A gleaming brass till sat on one end with five glass jars containing multi-coloured frogs with glowing antennas protruding from their heads. Livingston was leaning across the counter, unfazed by the pile of junk across his workspace, holding a small scimitar with a jade handle towards Piia.

Leaping in front of my companion, I brandish my Xiphos like a Knight in shining armour that’s ready to strike down the pervert without hesitation.

“Drop the knife or…”

A shimmering orange acorn flies through the air with a long charcoal chain trailing behind that wraps around my blade several times. The metal jingles to a crack as the chain yanks tight, ripping the blade from my hand. It sails across the room and is snatched out of the air by Tranqit, the Mithril armoured Knight.

“This will be returned upon exit of the Emporium.” He squeaks from underneath his helm.

“Seth, what in Mother are you doing?” Piia lightly slaps the back of my head.

“You were calling for help and he has a knife pointed at you.” I say in my defence.

Livingston looks down at his blade with raised bushy eyebrows.

“I am merely opening my mail while conducting business, administration is an endless disease that cannot be ignored.” He claims while slicing open another letter.

“I meant, help me trade for this Inta cloak. It is amazing and perfect for me.” Piia bristles with excitement.

“Trade, as in, exchange one item for the other?”

“Yes, I will give you an example. For the exquisitely crafted Inta shroud. I would take your Daemonic pack mule and that Xiphos.” He says nodding towards his servant Tranqit who, with his giant singular eye exposed, inspects the sheen of the blade, before shaking his head with disapproval.

“Not the sword then, perhaps another weapon.” He glances towards the Imp daggers hilt sticking out of Piia’s satchel.

“Not going to happen, that mule you’re referring to is Cane and he is a fellow companion and friend. Secondly, that dagger was a gift to Piia to protect herself.” I say with anger.

“It was merely an example, old sport. Your value of this ‘Cane’ clearly reflects the value of the Inta cloak.”

“How do we know these cloaks aren’t abundant in other parts of Silva?” I say trying to rouse this upper class bastard.

“Seth, my tribe has never seen or heard of such a magical gown. You have witnessed its magical effects yourself.” Piia says.

“It is quite alright Lady Satyr, this is a fair and common question. A simple demonstration will sufficiently satisfy all parties. To begin, hand me an item you might throw away without a second thought. Could be an old charm or an ex-lovers note.” He chuckles at his joke.

Piia reaches into her leather satchel and produces the remaining bundle of boiled vegetables. Livingston’s lengthy arm reaches across the vast counter, plucking the offered produce from her hands.

“Prime example Lady Satyr. Now observe the Rarus toads above the registra. Have you come across these before in your travels?” We both shake our heads in reply.

“The Rarus toad feeds off the surrounding aura of an item's value, not in the case of a personal attachment, but in the true energy required to craft said item. Watch.”

Livingston, with the unwrapped old vegetables in his shovel sized hand, reaches across the jars of toads.

Starting with the closest, a celestial gold toad that sparkles and shines like it was polished daily. The toad is slumbering and doesn’t wake from the offering. Moving down the cue, the fiery red toad is next.

Its large docile eyes glance at the food and then towards Livingston with a nasty leer. It turns around, putting its draconic scaly back to the offering with pure spite.

Next is a slimy purple toad, that oozes residue continuously from hidden pores. It spits a phlegmy liquid against the glass jar in response to the food, making Piia giggle. Next along, the blue-green toad moves closer to the offering and smells the air with wide nostrils, before moving back to its nest of straw.

The final toad, a bland and dirty cretin, is rolling in its filth. Coating its grey-white shaded skin with a paste of faeces. As the old boiled vegetables come close it freezes mid-smear, then pounces against the glass jar, shaking the container.

Crushing its hideous face against the inside surface, its white dangling antenna illuminates like a Christmas light. The toad's eyes rolled into its head like it was finally getting a fix of heroin after a long dry spell. Livingston pulls his hand away, much to the misery of the white toad, and returns the food to Piia.

He then offers the Inta cloak straight to the gooey purple toad, getting a curious sniff from the crimson toad as it passes its jar. The purple antenna illuminates, as do the thick syrup droplets coating its skin.

“I don’t fault you for questioning young Seb. Do you trust in my ability and the value of my wares now?” Livingston grins at his petty win.

“Seth.”

“Beg your pardon.” He says.

“My name is Seth.”

“My mistake. So the deal. What can you offer to even the scales?”

We look at each other, Piia is clearly desperate for the cloak. Out of our limited possessions, most only hold value to us, and most are vital for our survival.

I shrug at her.

“I don’t know what that means.” Piia says.

“It means, ‘I don’t know’.”

“Well what about all your loot?” She asks.

Good question. I look through my inventory, reading the runes of my plunders.

Four denars from ram head. I have no idea of their value, hopefully, the purple toad will be impressed by them.

I look at Livingston, he looks suspicious of my introspective expression while I search through my hidden loot. Good, I wanted to wipe that sly smile off his pointy face.

“Do you only trade possession? Or also coins?” I ask.

His smile returns. “Regretfully, No.” He answers.

“Why would you have a cash register then?”

“The registra is merely aesthetics, ties off the emporium decor.”

“Strange shop that doesn’t trade in currency.” I say.

“To be lectured on established commerce theory by a boy that doesn’t understand personal hygiene.” Piia giggles at Livingston's remark causing me to blush red.

“It’s generally standard practice where I’m from.”

“The currency you are willing to trade with, what say its current value?”

Muk, he’s caught me out. I had no clue.

“I don’t know.”

“Neither do I. Neither will the Rarus toads. Owing to the fact that coin value is a collective belief. That rusty metal in your pocket was manufactured without the use of will, magic or power.” Livingston lectured.

Great, so I will have to find a Daemon shopkeeper to spend these denars.

“Even the old food got that white Rarus’s rocks off. Where is the magic in mouldy vegetables?”

“Lady Satyr’s Goddess is an obvious indication that in life, there is power.”

“What else do you have, Seth?” Piia says, still keen to trade while I would rather storm out.

I look through my inventory and produce everything I am willing to part with.

I retrieve the bear claws from thin air, Livingston’s eyebrow twitches in reaction.

So he has seen an inventory ability before.

He clears space on the red counter for me to place each piece of loot.

The Opio pendant, Lux pendant, bear claws, Verox talons, Imp ears, testicles and ovaries. I place them, trying not to seem squeamish in front of him.

He scrupulously inspects each item, lifting them individually to the toads for value analysis. Pushing aside the pendants without a second glance.

To Piia’s dismay, nothing flashed higher than blue.

“Splendid, absolutely splendid. You must have come by these in quite a fashion.” Livingston says, dangling the imp ovaries centimetres from his face, without a hint of queasiness.

“Mother’s grace, so it is a deal?” She says exuberantly.

“No deal my dear. The toads never lie. Even collectively they do not sum the value of the Inta coat.” Piia turns to me with the bleakest face.

I still have my bear poncho, Xiphos, Daemon infantry manual and the Verox vambraces. But I need all of them, especially the vambraces considering my forearm has been lacerated twice.

“I’m sorry Piia.” Looking still bleak, she turns to Livingston.

“What can we afford?” She asks.

“Well what are you in the market for?”