Upon entering the inner chamber, Ethan took in the sparse furnishings and quickly realized it was little more than a place to sleep. There was a small wooden table pushed against the wall, and beside it a narrow bed with tangled, unmade sheets. A faint sour odor lingered in the air, the unmistakable sll of soone who lived alone and did not care much for appearances.
"Apologies for the ss, young man. When you live alone, you tend to let things slide," Master Roger said, clearly noticing Ethan’s expression. He looked mildly embarrassed as he reached over and gave the bedclothes a half-hearted tug, straightening them just enough to pretend he had tried.
Ethan gave him a strange look. The intelligence the system had given this NPC felt unusually high, far beyond what he was used to. It reminded him of the unsettling sensation he had experienced when eting Gregor Darnell, the City Lord who had been possessed by the Dragon Child. For a brief mont, a thought crossed his mind. Could this old man also be inhabited by so kind of spirit? Yet the feeling was different, lacking that sa oppressive presence.
Still, Ethan could not completely dismiss the idea, and he studied the old man with renewed suspicion.
After fussing with the bed for another mont, Master Roger turned back to him, rubbing his hands together as if warming them. "So, young man," he said slowly, "you really can take my entire stock of Black Powder?" His small eyes glead with unmistakable greed.
"That depends on how much stock Master Roger currently has," Ethan replied calmly. "But regardless of the quantity, I am prepared to sign a contract. I will purchase all the High-Explosive Black Powder you produce in the future at market price."
The old man’s expression shifted at once. The enthusiasm on his face dimd slightly, replaced by a cautious look. "Then... how much are you planning to buy this ti?"
Ethan caught the change imdiately, and a faint smile tugged at his lips. ’So he really is just a money-grubber.’ It was obvious Master Roger had assud Ethan would place a small initial order while dangling promises of future cooperation.
"Not much," Ethan said evenly. "I only brought one hundred thousand gold with . Would that be acceptable to the Master?"
He watched the old man closely as he spoke. For a split second, Master Roger’s eyes flickered, betraying a flash of excitent, but he quickly masked it with forced indifference. Ethan did not miss it.
’The old codger is putting on an act.’
"One hundred thousand gold," the old man murmured, pretending to think it over. "Hmm... yes, that will do."
The poorly concealed excitent in his voice confird Ethan’s suspicions.
"In that case," Ethan said, playing along, "perhaps the Master could show the goods?"
If the old man wanted to pretend he was unimpressed, Ethan was more than happy to let him keep up the act, as long as it ant seeing the product first.
"Heh heh," Master Roger chuckled, rubbing his fingers together. "And the money...?"
He was clearly not about to reveal anything without seeing the gold. Ethan wanted proof of the goods, and Roger wanted reassurance in the form of coin.
Ethan gave it so thought. NPCs like this were bound by the strict rules of the Ethereal system. Any attempt to cheat a player would result in imdiate deletion, so there was little real risk. He reached into his bag and pulled out a familiar money pouch, the sa one he had originally intended to use when dealing with the Mad Engineer during the schematic appraisal. That transaction had been handled through Renegade Alliance guild funds to avoid arbitration issues, leaving these two hundred thousand gold coins untouched in his possession.
He counted out half and handed the pouch containing one hundred thousand gold to Master Roger.
The old man took it eagerly, opened the pouch, and peered inside. His squinting eyes practically vanished into the folds of his wrinkled face as a wide grin spread across it. "This way, young sir. Please, this way," he said hastily, tying the pouch shut and stuffing it deep into his pocket as if afraid it might disappear.
Ethan did not mind that the old man pocketed the money without ceremony.
Master Roger shuffled over to the bed and kicked a specific spot beneath its fra.
Clunk, clunk, clunk.
The sound of hidden chanisms echoed through the room. The foul-slling bed split cleanly down the middle, the two halves sliding apart to reveal a narrow stone staircase descending into darkness below.
Master Roger gestured for Ethan to follow and stepped onto the stairs himself, leading the way down without hesitation.
They walked for a long ti, the narrow stone passage spiraling ever downward. By Ethan’s estimate, they descended at least a full kiloter before the tunnel finally leveled out. Then, without warning, the cramped corridor opened into a vast underground space so large it felt less like a cave and more like a hidden warehouse carved into the earth itself.
"We’re here," Master Roger said, his pace quickening as he stepped forward.
Ethan followed closely, and despite himself, his jaw slackened slightly.
The cavern was enormous, its ceiling vanishing into shadows. Crate after crate filled the space, stacked in orderly rows that stretched from one end of the chamber to the other. Every single one was marked with familiar symbols. Black powder. Enough to supply an army.
’No wonder he said a hundred thousand gold was acceptable,’ Ethan thought. ’He wasn’t posturing at all. His stock really is this massive.’
"Young man, take a good look," Master Roger said, his earlier sleaziness fading as sothing closer to seriousness took its place. "If you weren’t the leader of the Renegade Alliance, I would never have brought you down here for a hundred thousand gold, or even two hundred thousand." He paused, then added in a lower voice, "But this batch, I need to move it. Storing all of this beneath my own quarters makes uneasy. If it ever went up, the entire Plaguelands would be wiped out in smoke."
Ethan listened carefully, studying the old man again. The shift in his deanor was striking. Just monts ago he had been a greedy rchant counting coins, and now he sounded like soone genuinely concerned about the danger of his own creation.
"So, about the hundred thousand gold," Ethan said at last, feeling an unexpected sense of inadequacy as he took in the sheer scale of the inventory. Not long ago, he had thought himself absurdly wealthy, sitting on two hundred thousand gold as if it made him untouchable. Standing here, that amount suddenly felt laughably small.
"For one hundred thousand," Master Roger said, pointing toward a large stack of crates set apart near one corner of the cavern, "you can take that pile."
Ethan walked over and pried open one of the crates. Inside was a dark, grainy substance, but the color was slightly lighter than standard black powder. He imdiately recognized it as the result of Master Roger’s unique distillation process. The texture was uniform, the quality unmistakable.
Still, Ethan frowned slightly and asked, "Master Roger, if I’m not mistaken, you should also have completed detonators in stock, correct?"
"Oh?" The old man raised an eyebrow. "You want finished products as well? You must be in a hurry. I do have them, but the price will be significantly higher than just the powder."
Ethan glanced once more at the pile he had been offered. The quantity matched the value, and there was no sign of trickery. He nodded. "That’s fine. I trust Master Roger’s professional integrity and reputation. However..." He let the word hang.
"However what?" Master Roger asked, his interest clearly piqued.
’Perfect,’ Ethan thought. He had been waiting for that. "However, for such a bulk purchase, shouldn’t there be a discount? As you said yourself, the Renegade Alliance is no small force. We are currently the world’s first Level Nine guild, and the first to own a fortress. My personal strength may not be worth ntioning in front of a master like you, but when it cos to funding, I will not fall short. In the future, if Master Roger ever finds himself facing any financial difficulties, I would be more than willing to offer support."
He spoke steadily, carefully painting the image he wanted, not just a buyer, but a long-term patron. What he truly wanted was to bind this man, at least partially, to the Renegade Alliance.
In his previous life, this NPC had always remained stubbornly independent. You paid the price, he sold the goods, and that was the end of it. No favors, no allegiances. This ti, Ethan wanted to see if he could change that, even slightly. At the very least, he hoped for a discount.
But instead of responding imdiately, Master Roger fell silent.
He simply stared at Ethan, his expression unreadable.
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