Fiona woke up in a tangled mess, but clear-headed after a very eventful night. Her limbs were sore, but it was the kind of workout sore she expected from a night of aerobic activity. She felt great…

  Except, for the massive feline trying to sleep on her head. That was uncomfortable. Tucker was purring like an infernal engine, pawing gently at her head.

  “Tucker, get off,” she grumbled, and pushed the big cat away. He sparked her with just a tiny bit of energy. She swore that the cat snickered when he stretched and cozied up to the empty spot of the bed, kneading into the comforter. She frowned at him before she threw off the covers. Aside from some last-minute preparation at the shop, she had a free day, and a get-together with her friends. One last night, before the next challenge. Hmm. Maybe I would like to hang out with her as a more than friends kind of thing.

  She paused to think about that. In her last life, she hadn’t really been into…anyone, except for one person. Maybe a few crushes in high school, but she--

  She shook her head. There was no point. The last time they'd talked, it had been pretty clear where things stood, and it was a bitter moment she was better off forgetting.

  "You need to pick me, or that failing store of yours, Fiona, because you're going to lose both!"

  Her ears flinched at that last ultimatum. She'd made a bad choice. And she knew it. She couldn't do that again. She couldn't make those same mistakes twice. However, she had to stop to think of her current situation:

  It was, by any measure, utter insanity. She was a rocking hot elf chick who had started steamrolling most issues with a comically oversized hammer. She was about to go on a date with a demon chick who made coffee for a living. Her biggest nemesis was a blonde vulture, inexperienced king who she would thumb her nose at, for every inch she could get.

  She laughed out loud and startled Tucker, who looked like he might launch himself into the ceiling for a second, all tensed and wild-eyed. “Oh dear, Tucker, I’m sorry. It’s just…it’s a little funny, how life changes so fast,” she assured the cat with a few strokes down his back, and he started purring again and nestled down. Near-instantly asleep.

  That cat was something else.

  She didn’t didn't have to go run a last-minute check on the store until later, so she grabbed some fruit and fresh baked bread that Granny had dropped off, after exchanging greetings with her. While she munched on her apple–or it looked like an apple, except it was a bit more tart and the texture was very smooth–she sat down with the book Clarke gave her.

  She’d been a fast learner all her life. A lack of boobs in her prior life and astonishingly average hair didn’t do her any favors, so she played to a certain level of nerdiness and tact. Skills that right now were useful, in the place of swinging oversized weapons and beating monsters into next Fall’s fashion line.

  The book was also amazingly dull. It read like old video game manuals, and was about as dry as possible. There was a list of common classes that people gravitated toward, and the list was lengthy. Engineer was a class–as was artist, investigator, guard, soldier, laborer, and more. Though, some of their roles did overlap, to an extent.

  But Merchant of Fortune wasn’t among any of the ones listed. There were appraisers, vanilla merchants, shady market dealers–which she raised an eyebrow at because who on Cepalune would want to advertise that class–and several other variants. Some could evolve if certain criteria were met. Possibly as a reward for dedication to a particular craft?

  Who governs all this? I know people talk about walking gods on Cepalune, but…I’m woefully behind on the history of why.

  She flipped back to the beginning, frowning. There were numerous gods and goddesses listed, and faint, sketch drawn depictions of them. Some were exaggerated and more symbolic than others, looking like runic symbols. Others, were drawn to be…surprisingly human. A man as tall as a mountain, a confident smile, chiseled abs and attending to a celestial sized forge. Duralin, the god of forge and foundry—followed commonly by dwarves, but others in the various industries of construction and metal craft also took a keen interest. Worship and faith, she read, did not govern who did, or did not get a class—with very few circumstances.

  She’d have to brush up later. Some of them took the form of avian humanoids, dragons, fox spirits, raging balls of fire, shadowy creatures, there was no real rhyme or reason.

  Or, why were they scarce mentioned on the street.

  One thing all the classes did have, was a natural intuition of their basic functions. While people gave names to these abilities, they were not identical for any two people. Personality and natural talents could modify baseline skills into improved functions, or even brand-new functions. It gave her a moment of pause:

  She’d been slaying monsters without a class, the whole time. She naturally knew how to react, dodge, swing, and deliver titan-felling blows by instinct. Where was all that skill in the last life?

  Well, I suppose monster slaying comes naturally. A giant Kaiju killed me, so it’s the universe's way of powering me up, to go back and kill that big scaly bastard. She grunted at that thought–Earth could be a pile of rubble for all she knew. She didn’t know what could have happened. Even if there was a chance they’d held out, she’d been told it might be impossible to go back—for the time being. She went back to her studies, with Tucker rubbing his head against her leg.

  “I wonder if animals have classes?” she pondered. “You don’t fit, cat,” she stated with an annoyed glare.

  “Moooow.” He proceeded to pin her in the chair, and made ample use of the armrests to support himself.

  Now she was stuck here. She doubled down and kept reading. She came across the depictions of the various classes. True to Clarke’s word, there were many common markings for classes. For most people, it was on their dominant wrist, left or right. For others, it could show up anywhere. It also could be moved by a force of will.

  She pondered why she’d move it from her wrist. When she peered closer, she swore she saw the wings flutter on her skin for a split second, and the facets of the heart gleaned like a normal jewel. She blinked, and it was back to normal. “What do you think Tucker, is mommy crazy, and got a super rare class by being dramatic?”

  Tucker responded with a soft kitty snore, and she tried not to giggle. She continued to look through some sample images. Coins, gold bars, contracts, pens, handshakes–there were numerous symbols for those who dealt in commerce and trade.

  But not one of them was a jeweled heart. She frowned and rubbed at it again. It was rather pretty. She wondered how that worked–she’d been able to show Bonnie, because…she wanted to?

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  That made sense. It was an intimate portrait of identity. As much as having a lithe figure and pointy ears. But didn’t feel any different. It’s not like she just signed up to be the goddess of commerce or something; surely, a ton of other eager eighteen-year-olds had done the same thing as she did, for flourish and flair.

  The tingling continued. She frowned and sat up. “Alright, what’re you telling me, exactly?” Tucker looked up, thinking he was speaking to her, but plopped his head back down when she didn’t continue. She pondered the thought internally.

  I’m a merchant. I know value. I know how to negotiate. I know how to inventory, organize, and barter. Merchants also know how to defend their value, so, maybe there’s some combat utility in there, somewhere? I mean, I can beat up monsters for days, but that might just be my natural affinity. How rare is this? I already can carry gold like it weighs nothing.

  She sighed softly. Clarke had been worried for good reasons. Until she figured out more, she needed to keep this low-key. In the meantime, Fiona studied more about the merchant classes, and how they worked.

  One thing they all had in common, was an appreciation of worth. In coins, at least. She scoffed at that–you couldn’t put a price on a piece of art, but you could abstract how much it would be worth to a collector, who would want its beauty displayed to the world. Evaluating prices was by intuition–with a certain gravitation towards an item's true worth, regardless of familiarity with the object. This certainly tracked with her valuations of items. But, what about people?

  She’d gotten strange intuitions of people–light and floaty with people genuinely happy. And then, it felt like a lead weight, when she had looked at Glados. That had to mean something. How happy was a person? The richness of their soul, maybe?

  She laughed softly at that. If one could measure the worth of a soul, that could lead to some interesting intuitions of a person’s mood.

  She’d have to test that one out in the shop again. But as for physical value, she’d had a knack for getting pretty close to the values Greg had called out for a few items, without formal training. Maybe she could get better at it.

  She turned the page for a historical note. They could be skilled negotiators, not just in finances. Indeed, merchants had been used as diplomats in trade disputes, or after ceasefires had been called in inter-kingdom disputes in previous years. That surprised her, a little bit. Wouldn’t someone with better training in people management skills be more suited for that?

  It was late morning before she put the book down and got to work jotting down some notes on the store and opening plans. It was more busy work, but, it still had to be done. She hoped her little peace-out moment at the guild hall would attract people to the opening, and Jake never failed to deliver. She owed him a serious favor after this, no matter what he might say about the whole guild being in her debt.

  Except for Felix. He had so many orphans to sponsor for stealing her snacks. And probably from other orphans.

  After one quick round trip to the emporium to ensure everything was in order, she realized she needed food for the apartment–something she’d neglected to notice, because this week had been quite busy. She walked through a stone alleyway between two buildings and emerged into the sunny skies with a few puffy clouds on the brisk autumn day, and a bustling market set up in a large square on the other side.

  All of Cepalune was up for display in the large commons area, set up as a recreational area for this small segment of town. Three access streets connected to the main streets, so carts could come through, but it wasn’t a through-way like the rest of the streets. Folks of all shapes and sizes were meandering around, looking on in awe at imports from faraway kingdoms, while merchants schmoozed and hustled to get the best deals for themselves.

  Nearby, she saw a man with small tusks in his mouth pointing to a few shiny items on a soft cloth. His cute-as-a-button daughter jumped for joy at, pigtails dancing in tune with her movements. A few vendors were working meals on-demand, though the grills and fires were moved a bit further away from the through-fare.

  That last one caught her attention, with the sizzle of browning meat tantalizingly close by, along with a few sweeter-smelling cakes by another vendor. They were selling off their magical fired, oven-produced treats at record speed, with the perfect consistency. A tip jar by that vendor was generously loaded with copper, and even some silver coins–quite a haul for a single day!

  That sweet cake never knew what hit it, so she dropped a generous silver on the counter and took one to go. The baker gave a warm smile and thanked her as she bit in. The texture was luxurious and smooth, and the cake had a balance of sweet bread-like filling, and just a tiny bit of tart on the frosting. An avian waved her farewell and popped in the fresh batter as she departed. She skipped to the tune of a market that carried a natural rhythm to its movements and sounds.

  Okay Fiona, focus. Don’t get lost. What are you making for dinner tonight? She was an okay cook by any measure, but what could she make that would be universal? What was something that she hadn’t seen done here before, and would be fun, and that she had equipment and magic for?

  Okay. Think. I was an Italian girl Or, an Italian elf. Wait, that makes no sense--whatever! It still means, pasta! And sausage. I don’t think I could make gnocchi, because I haven’t found a potato equivalent yet, though the tubers are close. But they do have wheat here, and flour! And things that are mostly chickens! She had a plan in motion, now.

  It took a few stops, but she gathered the necessary ingredients. As for splitting up the pasta, she could borrow one of the tools from Jarl’s place. He did make the noodles. Or even little pasta wraps! She just hoped he had spares. After securing seasonings for a steal of a deal, she skipped back to Jarl’s place, and walked in the door, where a fey bell rang as the door opened. She was greeted by the familiar scent of something salty, sweet, and aromatic as soon as she walked in, along with the clinking of utensils on plates, and a low murmur of enthusiasm completed the soundscape.

  “Greetings, we’ll be with you in a second–oh hey Fiona!” There was a flurry of motion as Laura, Jarl’s wife came to greet her. She was similar, to Jarl in appearance, with a crest of white and blue feathers, green raptor eyes, and blue scaly skin just like her husband. Unlike her husband, she had a slender build–and was quite a looker, even wearing an apron and with a pen stuck behind her ear crest. “With that spring in your step, I almost heard you coming from down the block, you red-haired vixen!”

  “Hey, Bonnie’s the vixen, not me!” she protested, even as she laughed. “I just came by to ask, could I borrow a noodle maker tool?”

  “Ah, of course! With everyone demanding those noodle dishes that you make out of that rice mix, I’ve had to order a bunch from the smith! He must love that he’s raking in money for that,” she added with a sharp smile. “Fi, you’ve got good timing! I heard you were opening up shop in a couple of days. What have you got for the opening? Any appetizers, catering?”

  “I, uh–” she stumped and frowned. Had she been going so fast, that she didn’t even think about it? That could have been a massive stumble. Well-fed customers were also more likely to stick around and make purchases, the longer they stood in front of displays. It was a proven phenomenon, like how casinos did the same thing to keep people coming back. Given enough time, the house always won.

  But this wasn’t a casino, it was an enterprise to make sure this dragon’s loot was going to pay debts. Hopefully, it would also keep her gainfully employed for the immediate future. "Um, I might have goofed, Laura."

  Laura sighed and shook her head. “Girl, you’re as sharp as they come, so here’s a proposal. I need to go out tomorrow, and get some supplies. Front me the money, and I can prep some extra little foodstuffs that’ll win over people’s hearts. What do you say?”

  She was banking on a small risk, but Laura was a saint, and her food was pitch-perfect. She counted out some coins, and handed them to Laura, who made sure to jot down the amount on her notepad. “I need things that scream elegance, and fill stomachs. What have you got for that? I’m thinking something fresh, something they can take to go, or come back wanting more. What fills that gap?”

  “Oh! Now you’re thinking!” Laura said with a smile and tapped the pen on her snout for a second. “Hang on. Those meat slider things that you introduced me to…we should do those! Easy to make, easy to get the things I need.”

  “Good thinking! I need something sweet, though. Hmm…maybe fruit cups of some kind?” she proposed. “And something savory. Fried tubers, with some salt!"

  “Hmm. might be worth a try,” Laura added as she tapped her notepad, before scribbling a few words down. “Alright Fiona, I can work with this! A pretty penny for us, and I’m sure there’ll be satisfied customers for you!”

  “Aw Laura, you’re the best!” she beamed, and after a few more minutes of catching up, departed Jarl’s diner with the noodle maker in hand.

  Now, she was ready for tonight. She just needed to slow down the jackhammer in her chest. Dinner with friends should not be this stressful.

  (Magius acquires the Merchant Class to make the sale...)

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