The Mirror Dinsion was a treacherous place.
The living conditions were almost impossible, with monsters lurking everywhere, and the distant ball of white that scorched everything beneath.
And yet...
Despite the brutal living conditions, civilizations and empires still managed to exist, and even thrive, in this unforgiving world. But naturally, the sa brutality that allowed them to rise swiftly also ensured their downfall ca just as fast.
Virith-Anash was different, however.
Located at the edge of the Crimson Sea, one of the 7 major seas of the Mirror Dinsion, the city was one of the central hubs that connected to the Remnant South, where the Eclipsed Maw was located.
Built even before the Era of the Shattered World, the city was as old as they ca.
A dry, tallic scent lingered over the small city that sat between jagged cliffs and the endless red waters. It was a sll of rust and salt, mixed with the blood of all the beasts and humans that had died in the sea.
...But of course, that wasn't the primary reason for its red color. That mainly stemd from the type of algae that rested beneath the water.
Ships crafted from dark wood and gleaming mirror-glass docked at the harbor, the crimson water lapping against their sides. Nearby, a large bazaar sprawled out, its colorful stalls nestled against faded white marble buildings that seed to blend seamlessly with the harsh light of the white sun overhead.
"Buy one, get one free! Purchase from our stall for the freshest and highest quality items!"
"Fresh Orkney at! Co and get your at!"
"...Co get your rune paper here! We provide fresh rune paper!"
"Freshly sewn clothes over here!"
The bazaar was lively, with voices screaming continuously as the rchants tried to sell their goods.
There was no better place than Virith-Anash to sell goods.
...All looked good on the outside.
However, all was not well. A closer look revealed the desperation etched on the faces of so rchants as they peddled their wares. Their pale faces and sweat-slick brows betrayed the tension beneath their forced smiles.
"Fifty percent off! Buy it now!"
"Buy one, get one free! Purchase one good, you get one for free!"
"Sixty percent off!"
Their voices grew louder with the passing of ti, their faces paling, and the tension on their faces tightening.
"Co! Get your goods!"
"...I'm just 100 Solas short! So long as anyone can provide with that much money, you can have anything you wish from the stall!"
"Soone!"
Despite the cries of so of the rchants, nobody paid close attention to them. Their pleas were a common occurrence within Virith-Anash.
And then—
Dong! Dong—!
The deep, resounding toll of a bell echoed through the air, reverberating as the massive black church at the heart of the city trembled with each chi.
The rchants despaired, and the windows of several houses closed.
Then ca the Emissaries—cloaked in black, their beaked masks like vultures descending upon the dying. They radiated an aura of dread and fear as they walked through the bazaar.
At their helm was a man in a gray robe, his mask matching the others, but his presence was different. An overwhelming aura of pressure radiated from him, making the air around him feel thick.
Their steps seed to drain the very air from the surroundings, and a suffocating silence descended upon the bazaar. The n in black moved from stall to stall, and with each stop, the rchants anxiously handed over sacks that seed to be filled with gold.
"....."
The silence carried through with each transaction as the n in black continued to collect paynt from each rchant.
Everything seed to be proceeding smoothly, until...
"That's not enough."
A hoarse voice suddenly echoed, and all eyes fell on the trembling rchant.
"No, how could it be.... I was..."
"...You're missing a total of 75 Solas."
"Ah, let check... I might have..."
Trembling, the rchant tried to look around his stall for any change while looking around, a clear look of despair appearing on his face.
And then—
"Do you have the money?"
"I..."
"Okay."
Nodding, the n dressed in black moved around the stall, leaving the rchant no room for retreat as his face turned completely pale.
"No, wait! Wait! Give so ti! I will have the money! Just give so ti! I've always paid on ti! Please!"
The rchant's screams pierced the silence of the bazaar as the n in black closed in on him, grabbing him from all sides. Without hesitation, they followed the lead of the figures in gray robes, lifting him and carrying him away.
"Noooo!! I can pay! I can pay!!"
His screams continued to pierce through the surroundings, but they were only t with pitiful glances as he was brought away.
Such a scene was common in Virith-Anash.
Anyone who failed to pay the Emissaries of the Goddess of Light, Panthea, was t with such a fate.
...It was only through her protection that the city was able to remain standing.
As such, donations were necessary.
Those who couldn't contribute to the city had no reason to remain within the city.
"Help! I can pay!"
"Wait, I'm only a few Solas shy! Can't you forgive this once!?"
"Please!"
"No!"
As the rchants were hauled away, new faces quickly filled their stalls, as if they had been waiting in the wings, prepared in advance.
Such was the brutal life of those who lived at the edge of the Crimson Sea.
Soon, the emissaries arrived at a particular stall. It was a modest setup, adorned with a white cloth, and several dozen books lay neatly arranged atop it.
Amid the chaos, one man sat calmly in a white-clothed stall, a book in hand and a leg casually crossed. With sharp brows, silver-frad glasses, and a composed air, he looked less like a rchant and more like a misplaced nobleman.
And as if finally sensing the emissaries, he raised his head, a warm smile tugging at his lips.
"Ah. Good afternoon," he said warmly. "Interested in a book, perhaps?"
"....."
The surroundings turned deafly quiet, whispers suddenly filling the bazaar.
"Is he crazy?"
"...Did he seriously just say that? Is he looking to die?"
Nobody could believe their ears. Was soone so bold as to say sothing like this?
But very quickly, people realized the situation.
"It looks like he's one of the new rchants who recently took place. He probably wasn't able to reach the quota, and is trying to swindle his way out of the situation."
So smirked upon hearing the voice.
"...He might as well just give up."
"Swindling the emissaries? Pftt."
A wave of pitying glances swept through the crowd, all directed at the book rchant. In the long history of Virith-Anash, only a rare few had ever managed to elude the grasp of the Emissaries—and those few were all legendary figures that now stood at the top of the Mirror Dinsion.
How could such a man compete with such figures?
"You do not have the money?"
Breaking the silence was the hoarse voice of the leading emissary, his gray robe fluttering silently as his eyes beneath the mask sharpened.
A terrifying pressure suddenly bore down on the surroundings, several red runes manifesting over the mask of the gray-robed emissary.
"You were told the rules," he continued. "To co up short is to defy the Goddess of Light. Her light does not shine on the unworthy."
The n in black started to surround the rchant, who remained calm throughout the entire exchange.
The tensions escalated from that point.
And just as things were starting to turn dangerous, the rchant placed his book down and put on his glasses. That was when his face changed.
"What's this?!"
He had a shocked expression on his face as he looked around.
"Emissaries? Oh my..."
He quickly stood and reached beneath the stall, drawing out a heavy sack of coins.
"My sincerest apologies," he said, bowing slightly as he offered the bag to the gray-robed emissary. "I'm terribly nearsighted without these, and I was so imrsed in my reading that I didn't see you arrive."
The crowd stared in stunned silence.
He then pointed toward his glasses.
"That... and I can't really see without my glasses, you see. I really do apologize."
"....."
Silence filled the space as they heard the rchant's words.
Seriously?
No one knew how to react. Especially since his words looked extrely convincing. He also provided the money necessary.
Plus, who in their right mind would do this just to provoke the emissaries?
"A mistake?"
The emissary did not move. He stared at the sack, then at the rchant, silent as death.
Then... looking towards the rchant, the runes on his mask started to fade.
"Pay an additional fifteen percent," the emissary said coldly. "And the offense will be forgiven."
The eyes of a few widened upon hearing the emissary's words. 15%!? That was a ridiculous amount.
It was already hard for many to get the normal quota, and yet...
"Oh, okay."
"Eh?"
"What?"
Everyone's eyes widened when they saw the rchant pull out another sack and hand it to the emissary.
"I really do apologize for what I did. I do hope that this makes you forgive my actions."
Throughout the entire ti, the rchant maintained an elegant and refined deanour, handling everything carefully and neatly.
"....."
The emissary stared at the money, seemingly lost in thought.
But then, brushing hands against the rchant, he grabbed the money and turned around.
"Your cris have been forgiven. There will not be a next ti."
"Ah, yes, of course."
The rchant lowered his head and apologized yet again.
The emissary paused again.
"You..."
His voice softly echoed.
"Your na."
The rchant looked up, his eyes shining faintly behind the lenses.
"Lazarus," he replied softly.
"A traveling rchant from afar."
And then, with a polite inclination of his head, his lips pulled further up.
"…Rest assured. Such an incident will never happen again. Of that, I promise."
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