Snowy Owl's battle spirit simmered like a volcano ready to erupt.
Lena, the tall red-haired wolf-eared woman, crossed her arms and smiled knowingly.
"Looks like your magical pet has made its choice, young master Brandy."
Even without Yeats revealing his identity, the seasoned merchant had no trouble guessing his prestigious lineage.
Yeats couldn't shake the feeling that Lena's gaze hid some scheme beneath its surface.
This tall, dark-skinned wolf-eared beauty seemed familiar — as if plucked right out of his favorite RPG.
A weapon merchant turned guild leader, known for her sharp instincts and ironclad reputation in the Starlight Consortium.
Such a merchant had to be trustworthy to climb to such heights.
Yeats felt reassured about the fairness of the beast fights here.
"I'd like to know — if I join the fight, which pet will face off against my Snowy Owl?"
"That would be the direwolf," Lena said, nodding toward the snarling beast.
"Same rank as your pet, and just fought recently. The skill gap shouldn't be too wide. What say you?"
"Guu! (◣_◢)"
Yeats glanced at Snowy Owl's fierce glare.
"Looks like it's still got a serious case of morning grumpiness…"
He quietly nodded.
According to the rules, if Snowy Owl wins, it earns five gold coins. Any injuries would be paid for by the losing side.
Gray and Frakas watched tensely from the sidelines.
Since Snowy Owl was freshly bonded and inexperienced in battle, they were anxious.
Meanwhile, the caravan guards shouted, rallying the crowd.
This traveling merchant group was a lively mix — halflings, dwarves, half-orcs, and more, all gathered for the spectacle.
The direwolf's handler was a tiger-man — a species known for their silent footsteps and cunning, found from merchant guilds to thieves' guilds.
This tiger-man whistled sharply, and the direwolf immediately crouched in attack stance, baring its sharp teeth.
The battle began.
Snowy Owl soared high, flapping its wings to unleash a powerful Gale Force.
The wind was so fierce Lena's eyes flickered with surprise.
The direwolf struggled, forced back by the gust, claws digging deep into the earth.
Its bloodshot eyes narrowed, body tensed to leap into the gale.
But the gale was not done — a sudden chill cut through! Snowy Owl's Frost Wind combined with Gale Force into a howling icy tempest, instantly encasing the direwolf in freezing mist.
After a moment, the cold wind died down.
The crowd saw the direwolf frozen solid, eyes wide in its icy tomb.
"Hiss..." the tiger-man sucked a cold breath.
"That was quick!"
"Guu!" Snowy Owl proudly raised its head.
It flapped its wings and returned to Yeats's outstretched arm, immediately nodding off again.
"Guu... Zzz..." The owl dozed peacefully.
With the noisy battle over, it was time for a nap.
The crowd fell silent, filled with surprise, doubt, and finally respect.
Suddenly, applause erupted.
Gray clapped enthusiastically. "Well done, Yeats, and Snowy Owl!"
The dragonborn girl met the strange stares without fear.
Frakas, the white-haired elder, stepped forward, his imposing presence silencing the crowd.
Lena smiled and applauded.
"A clean and decisive fight! Young master Brandy, it seems the 'rumors' about you have been exaggerated!"
"At least—"
Lena's wolf ears twitched as she looked at Yeats with admiration.
"You have exceptional talent in beast taming!"
Yeats cleared his throat awkwardly.
"Well, honestly, my bird taught itself."
"I'm just the guy who feeds it."
Still...
Would an Ithu woman really praise taming skills so easily?
Gray looked curious.
"Steward, what 'rumors' do you mean about our young master?"
Frakas's eyes darkened as he whispered:
"In truth, the young master has a nickname he prefers not to hear."
"What nickname?"
"The Rotten Branch of the Brandy family."
Frakas looked toward Yeats as he accepted the applause, eyes twinkling.
"The Brandys are a noble family. When he was young, everyone expected great things — until he proved the slowest learner in the clan. But that was then."
"Now, the young master has overcome his past."
Frakas said solemnly, "That's a victory in itself."
Gray scratched her chin thoughtfully.
Yeats not only cooks well, but dabbles in alchemy and even shows unique insight in beast taming.
If he's the rotten branch, what does that make me? A rotten twig?
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Winning the beast fight made Lena more enthusiastic, and the caravan's attitude improved noticeably.
Yeats felt that if there were a reputation system, the Starlight Consortium's status would have shifted from "Stranger" to "Friendly."
The real star, Snowy Owl, was still napping but would be full of energy later.
Lena handed over the prize money and led them to the storage.
Yeats soon selected two enchanted items, paying with materials from Magmutton and a small magic crystal at a discount.
"Returning Axe: First-ring. Forged from fine steel, this throwing axe returns to its owner after being thrown. Enchantment: Returning."
"Returning Axe is just the basic form. If you want, you can have an enchanter add elemental properties — like a Thunder Throwing Axe," Lena explained.
Yeats smirked.
A weapon you throw that flies back by itself?
Sounds like Thor's hammer.
Gray's eyes sparkled as she eagerly picked up the axe.
Lena warned, "Note, this isn't a 'perfect returning' enchantment. The axe won't always land exactly in your hand, so you have to watch where it falls."
Such advanced enchantments are rare, but this axe was cost-effective and suited Gray's fighting style perfectly.
Yeats imagined her tossing it, then scrambling to catch it.
Sounds a lot like Draven.
The other enchanted item was for Yeats himself — to boost his combat ability.
Knowing he was physically weak, he preferred to stay in the backline and dish out damage with words and spells.
"Ring of Malicious Words: First-ring. A silver ring carved with intricate patterns. Enchantment: Malicious Words."
Yeats examined the ring, noticing two curious runes inside — "LOL" and "WTF."
Yeats: "..."
Malicious Words indeed!
This first-ring spell unleashed a string of magical insults onto a target within range.
The target didn't need to understand the language; just hearing the curses inflicted mental damage.
Much like the classic story of a court jester whose sharp tongue caused the king to clutch his chest and faint.
The spell could even cause brain hemorrhages or ruptured vessels from extreme rage.
The ring recharged using thorns harvested from bramble monsters — cheap and plentiful. Lena gave them a whole bagful, enough to last a long time.
This was Yeats's first offensive spell.
Such spells were usually the domain of bards.
Bards specialize in support through speech and music.
Among bards, the Bladesinger subclass combined deadly swordplay with savage trash talk.
Yeats's secondary profession was currently Culinary Artist — his combat role undecided. Ranger, Druid, or Bard were all solid choices.
Of course, he first had to reach first-ring proper and become a transcendent.
Yeats sighed.
With his "three stages of fighting power," he wasn't sure when that day would come.
Lena asked, "You mentioned needing cold-resistant seeds for farming at Frostridge?"
Yeats nodded.
"Normally, ordinary cold-resistant seeds wouldn't survive there," Lena said.
"I can only offer you rye seeds — and one warning."
Yeats noticed Lena's serious expression — the coming news was critical.
"What warning?"
Inside the tent, flickering candlelight danced in Lena's deep eyes like embers before a storm.
"A cold wave is coming."
Her tone was grave.
"If you don't want to die, quickly move your villagers out of Frostridge — or just don't go at all."
Yeats's heart skipped a beat.
The main plot was about to unfold!