Smirking Merchant Novels & Stories

The alpha shot him a small smirk before instantly wiping his face back to a neutral expression. The longer their negotiations went, the more desperate the merchant appeared. He was wildly gesturing and offering things that even Kari thought sounded far-fetched. Ryedir was just as cool and composed as he was at the beginning, giving even less now than at the start if Kari remembered correctly.

“You’re unbearable on sugar.” I gasped. “I am delightful.” “You are trouble.” “You like trouble,” I said. He didn’t answer. His mouth twitched like he agreed. The shop was dim and smelled like leather and lamp oil. Shelves crowded the walls. A bell jingled when we stepped inside. The merchant behind the counter looked up - thin, quick eyes, a smile that was too quick to be warm. “Welcome, friends,” he said. “What can I get you?” “Thread. Coarse salt. Small flask of oil,” Kael said. His tone was polite, forgettable. The kind that didn’t stick in minds.

Daisy who didn’t care if they had become a public spectacle, replied. “Hey Madame, do you have any proof that she took your money?” one of the other merchants replied. “Yes, that’s right, where is the proof that she deceived you! Do you have a purchase receipt? If you don’t have it better get out of here. Don’t make a fuss here!” another merchant shout, carrying a butcher knife.

I replied, and he smirked sipping his coffee “And if I refuse to give it to you?” he asked and I smirked “Then you won’t live to tell what tomorrow is,” I said, and he cackled loudly slightly lolling his head back “You thought I didn’t come here prepared, I have heard stories of how corny you are,” He said and I smiled “But they didn’t tell you how I am always one step ahead, dearest merchant,” I said, and he started coughing profusely, I stood up from my seat and moved closer to him, and he fell down on the floor coughing out blood

The audacity he had for selling fake things to me to make profits. His shop was at the back of pilgrims market, where illegal business takes place. We arrived at his large shop and we were let in. He looked very enthusiastic to see us, if only he knew what was coming for him. “Sir Damien, to what do I owe this surprise visit?” He asked. I smiled as I placed my hands on his shoulder where he sat beside us. “My good man, am I not allowed to pay you a visit,eh? Or is there something you're hiding?” I asked with a mischievous grin on my face.

I said. The merchant, a burly man with only one eye, the other wounded, frowned deeply, “Whose?” “Cecile.” I answered, “I could never be deserving of something so pretty.” “You’re right.” He laughed, “I’d rather the goddess curse me herself than have any of my pretty garments on the likes of you.”

I whispered. “That’s what he said,” the merchant nodded, looking at his wrapped wrist. “I didn't think much of it at the time. The big packs, they're always arranging things. Marriages, trade deals, deaths. It’s all a game to them. I just figured it was some boring tax thing.” “Always,” I said. My voice was a ghost. “They are always arranging things.” “Anyway,” he said, standing up and testing the weight of his arm. “That feels much better. You have a steady hand, healer.”

But then, the merchant's voice echoed from within the stall, making me freeze. “... un' ve shall see vot ve can do after ze meeting at ze district, yes,” a stout man with bushy beard and receding hairline boomed with a thick eastern accent as he walked out of the stall. He put on a dirty apron and was wrapping its ties around his waist when our eyes met. “Fuck," I muttered under my breath as my grip on the clothe tightened.

How could she be so sure in less than a second or she has seen me walking in from the garden through the window judging from my expressions. I gaze back. My mom is also standing behind my friends with a huge grin, " He works in the Merchant Navy. Do you know it? " I say with a claim. She pulls back with a smile, " Later! " Resting her hands on my shoulders, she squashes them and steps back. " What are you whispering? " Sippy asks, putting her arms around my neck. " I can bet. You're also a part of this. " I slap her back.

And the people changed. We passed a lone merchant, his wagon piled high with bolts of garish silk. His eyes, sharp and calculating, swept over our party. He saw the same things the scouts had seen: the cold enforcer, the bound captive, the sullen "prisoners." But where the scouts had seen a threat, the merchant saw an opportunity. He offered a obsequious smile and a nod to the Weapon, a gesture of recognition between predators. The Weapon ignored him completely, a dismissal more powerful than any threat.