— Hey, brother, how do you carry all these goods?
— Never fraternized. “Brother”.
There’s a queue at the interworld checkpoint. A company of conscripts is being inspected. Free merchants have to wait aside.
— Well… ahem… been trading long?
— Why ask?
— Could use some advice, give me some maybe? How do I unlock my potential?
— The advice is easy: don’t get into the amberized worlds.
— Where should I go then? I can’t make it in the capital. And on the outskirts there’s no competition, only soldiers, monks and heroes.
— And amberized.
— And yet you managed to survive somehow.
The grim merchant shifts a heavy sack from one shoulder to another.
— Once they’re done with the conscripts they’ll get to us. They don’t know you. They’ll rip your goods apart, poke into everything. And if you’re UNlucky they’ll let you through.
— It’s just regular customs…
— And you’ll find yourself alone in the amber forest. And the first amber mole will gut you.
— I’m armed…
— Perfect, something for them to latch onto during the inspection. You’re a rookie, but you’re going to the dangerous world without preparation, protection, without knowing the area. You’ll either die from claws and mandibles or you’ll get contaminated yourself.
The experienced merchant spits.
— Get lost while you can. Brother.
The young one thinks it over. Looks at his goods. Looks at the sky. Looks at the conscripts. Turns around and leaves very quickly.
One less competitor.
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