14. A Trade Fair

Antony Fain sat dejectedly across from Silas.

His friends cast worried glances, but Antony waved them off, and the kids relaxed, turning back to their noisy play.

Antony stayed silent.

Silas said, “Mrs. Fain said you’re mixed up with underground gangs.”

Antony’s ears reddened. After a pause, he muttered, “They’re not. I… know someone who can introduce us, but we haven’t been accepted yet.”

Silas nodded, understanding.

These naive kids probably thought gangs were cool and wanted to join. But at their age, their mischief hadn’t proven their worth or fulfilled their ambitions.

“Your mother’s very worried about you.”

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Gdvsdu qlzz pkzldv. Gqvla y xsxldv, bkp qynl vokpvle yp bl pyke, “Mblu esd’v lhld jdso obyv R oydv!”

“Ebyv es usw oydv?” Fkzyp nswdvlale.

Gdvsdu qasgl, prllnbzlpp.

Fkzyp nsdvkdwle, “Zsw oydv vs fskd uswa qyvbla’p cwpkdlpp?”

Gdvsdu vbswtbv, vbld dseele.

Fkzyp ypjle, “Uyd usw es yeekvksd, pwcvaynvksd, xwzvkrzknyvksd, yde ekhkpksd okvbkd sdl bwdeale?”

Gdvsdu’p xswvb pzsozu qlzz srld.

Fkzyp pktble psqvzu. “Qs vs pnbssz, Gdvsdu. Nlyad pjkzzp, tykd jdsozletl, yde uswa ryaldvp okzz vawpv usw vs hldvwal swv.”

Antony stared at Silas, as if some belief or conviction was shaken. After a pause, he asked, “Do you need to know math within one hundred to do business?”

“Maybe within ten thousand,” Silas said tactfully. “I don’t know how big your father’s business is.”

And this world lacked calculators.

Antony’s expression looked like the sky was falling.

He suddenly snapped, “Then I’d rather—”

“Can you fight?” Silas interrupted, studying Antony’s face before adding slowly, “Dare to kill?”

Antony trembled instantly.

Silas shook his head. “You know this deep down. You just don’t want to bow to your parents. But if you keep wandering with your friends, you won’t even afford tomorrow’s meal.”

Antony likely left home with pocket money, but reckless spending had left them hungry by now.

A dull look crept into Antony’s eyes. He mumbled, “I could find a job.”

“Sure, addition and subtraction within one hundred.”

Antony: “…”

He slapped the table angrily, stood, went to his friends, said a few words, and returned to Silas.

Neck stiff, he said, “I’ll go back with you.”

Silas, slightly puzzled by the quick shift, hadn’t expected a few words to sway Antony. Mrs. Fain’s attitude suggested he was a stubborn kid.

But Silas didn’t press, asking instead, “What about your friends?”

“They’ll go back to their homes,” Antony said curtly, avoiding “wandering” or details about his life outside, clearly reluctant to share.

Silas wasn’t overly curious. He nodded to Erik and left Ernestine with Antony.

From start to finish, he saw neither the tavern’s owner, rumored gang members, nor anyone tied to fencing Unending Lands goods. It might’ve been too early, or the merchants hadn’t returned.

Either way, Silas felt relieved.

With no combat ability, he’d be at fate’s mercy if trouble arose—relying on [Flowing Breeze], his only ritual? He didn’t even have potions.

As for his Keeper powers, Silas knew too little to act rashly.

Leaving Ernestine, Silas glanced at the sullen boy beside him and asked, “How did you learn about Ernestine?”

“I snooped through my dad’s letters,” Antony admitted after hesitating. “One mentioned a trade fair at Ernestine in early August. I was curious.”

A trade fair? Likely the fencing channel Silas had heard about.

He noted this, thinking he might get clearer details from Erik Colens.

Antony added, “I planned to stay out until August!”

Silas thought, Mrs. Fain would’ve lost her mind.

Then, realizing something, he asked, “You’re nearly out of money. How were you so sure you could survive that long?”

“I was…” Antony started unthinkingly, then clamped his mouth shut, silent.

Silas narrowed his eyes. “Related to that gang contact?” He studied the boy. “Were you planning to work for them? What could a kid your age do?”

He paused, thinking.

Then he said, “Gather information?”

People rarely guarded against kids Antony’s age.

Antony’s eyes widened, stammering, at a loss for words.

Silas confirmed his guess. A thoughtful look crossed his eyes—what information? At this time, late July…

No, wait, if Antony had a way to survive outside, why agree to return with Silas?

It clicked. Silas said firmly, “Your father’s gains in the Unending Lands… or perhaps, news about the Unending Lands?”

These were things Antony could only access at home.

After Silas appeared, Antony might’ve wavered about returning or showing submission to his parents. But Silas’s presence gave him an excuse to go back.

No wonder Antony softened so quickly.

“…How do you figure out so much!” Antony looked on the verge of collapse, staring at the steady, harmless-looking black-haired, black-eyed young man.

From a few words, instinctive reactions, and actions, he deduced all this?!

Young Antony found it unbelievable.

Silas gave a faint smile.

From last night’s overheard map shop conversation to his knowledge of the Unending Lands, Silas saw that Const’s foreign trade heavily relied on merchants traveling there.

In this context, open trade was one thing; smuggling and fencing flourished in the shadows.

But Const wasn’t content with this. The Grand Duke aimed to develop the Withered Plains with state power, forging stable economic ties with other nations—the Withered Plains Development Plan.

At this juncture, Old City’s underground gangs, reliant on smuggling, needed real-time updates. How far had the development plan progressed? What was the Unending Lands’ current state?

Mr. Fain was a prime information source. Gangs might not reach him directly, but his son had walked right to them.

It all made sense.

Of course, what they traded, smuggled, fenced, or sought to gain, and how the Withered Plains development would proceed—Silas knew none of this.

From Antony’s reactions, he concluded: Old City, no, all of Lafami City, seemed turbulent.

Though July’s rainy season was ending, a true storm loomed.

Silas sighed almost imperceptibly.

They returned to 13 Milford Street in silence. Silas had little to say, while Antony, shaken by Silas’s perceptiveness, worried about failing his task.

As Silas guessed, Antony’s gang contact had given him a mission: extract Unending Lands information from his merchant father.

Based on the intel’s value, he might earn gang membership or money.

So, when Silas arrived at Ernestine, Antony acted reluctant but ultimately followed without much resistance.

He wanted to complete the task.

Soon, they reached 13 Milford Street. Several carriages were parked outside, including an advanced, mechanical-structured automobile.

Silas studied it thoughtfully, then glanced at Antony.

Antony squirmed under his gaze, snapping, “Why’re you staring?”

Silas said, “When you took the gang’s task to get information from your father…” He paused meaningfully. “Did you consider that leaking it might harm his business?”

Antony froze.

After a moment, he said stiffly, “I’d never do that!”

Flinging the words, he shoved past Silas toward the door.

Before he touched the handle, the door swung open. A travel-worn middle-aged man stepped out. Antony froze, stammering, “F-Father…”

But his usually stern, strict father said nothing, only glanced at him before turning to Silas. “Mr. Noel, first meeting. I’m Bertram Fain. Thank you for handling my son’s matter.”

Silas shook his head. “It’s nothing. Call me Silas.”

They entered the apartment. Seeing Antony, Mrs. Fain let out a sob, rushing to hug her little Antony, her furrowed brow softened by tears.

Antony looked uncomfortable but let her hold him.

Silas followed Bertram Fain to the first-floor parlor. Silas briefly recounted his morning, and Mr. Fain sighed in relief, thanking him repeatedly.

“I got my wife’s letter, so I hurried back. Thanks to you, or I’d worry my wife might’ve done something drastic,” Mr. Fain said, a fleeting, bitter smile crossing his stern face.

Silas wisely stayed silent, avoiding comment on Fain’s family matters.

“As for the underground gangs…” Bertram Fain gave another bitter smile. “Recently, with Unending Lands matters, it’s been…”

He shook his head.

Silas, curious, asked, “What’s happened?”

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