The natural reaction, when someone yells at you they are looking for you, is to run away. It was probably generically ingrained – only those, who ran away from saberteeth and dinosaurs and aliens yelling at them, survived to make kids. Those, who stayed to ask, what the one yelling wanted, were eaten, abducted, or abducted and eaten.


    Prof didn’t run away – he was a product of modern society, with no primeval monsters hunting Humans for giggles, and the most life-threatening danger he faced, was some surplus rebar lying around. No one needed to run away from rebar. Well, Prof should have. Or at least walked away very cautiously.


    Also, he was a gentleman, and running away from someone, who obviously wanted to talk with him, wasn''t exactly polite. That and gentlemen rarely run, they walk in a speedy fashion.


    As Prof turned, he came face to face with a familiar Goblin.


    “Good day to you, honored not-Guildmaster. How may I be of service?"


    “Haven''t you done enough already!?! You! You! You…"


    “Me? Me? Me? Oh, thank you for your accolades! I deserve it! I’m Fabulous and Magnificent!”


    “Do you even know, what you have done?!?”


    “No. I’ve done a lot of things, and every last one of them is fabulous and magnificent. So, whatever I did lately, has to be fabulous and magnificent too!”


    “Mini, I think, he meant you in plural, not singular.”


    “Awww, isn’t the not-Guildmaster polite? He talks about me in plural!”


    “Mini, that’s not… you know what, you are right. You did everything, I had nothing to with it. Whatever it is.”


    “Are you all retarded?!? You know what, this isn’t over yet!” the not-Guildmaster obviously wasn’t a gentleman – since no gentleman would run away in the middle of a conversation they started. Well, normally, a gentleman wouldn’t accost innocent foreigners on the street either.


    “Sssshould sssstart ssstabbing?”


    “No, Sharpclaw. Not yet, at least. I don’t know, what his problem was. And that would be murder.”


    “Actually, no. According to Forestean customs, that would be regarded as self-defense. He threatened us, so it would be legal to kill him, his family, and his organization. And his pet undead Dread Bear."


    “Miss Minerva that’s quite excessive for a passing threat!”


    “Yeah, I would try not to kill poor undead bears, they are cute, and if nothing else, you could always gift them to the Royal Zoo of the Craigh Kinn Estate. All their animals are undead! However, to get to the target, it is quite likely, you would have to dispatch that poor teddy bear too.”


    “Miss Minerva, I meant…”


    “Hey, Bianca! Look! A house!” Prof could basically feel his [Pointing-Out-Random-Things] Skill working overtime. At least he hoped, there was such a Skill, since he wasn’t able to find it in his Skill-list. It was no wonder, with hundreds of Skill cluttering up his Character Parchment. It was possible, however, that the Skill was simply misnamed, probably into something meaningless, like [Distraction].


    Whatever Skill did the work, it did it well, because Bianca looked at the house out of reflex, interrupting her argument with Mini.


    “I think, we should talk to Wolfgang. Maybe he knows, what that was all about." Prof told the others. If a villain on duty for the last story arc started spewing threats, it was always a good idea to look into the issue. However, Prof was living in a real world, he had enough experience both on Earth and Arkadia, to get curious about a guy, who tried to sabotage one of his projects. A dignitary like one of the local capital''s not-Guildmasters usually doesn''t just start throwing empty threats around. Folks like that started building shark tanks below poorly concealed trapdoors, or hiring assassins, and lawyers and made people, who offended them disappear. Preferably in their freshly built shark tank.


    Prof''s Intelligence of 18 told him, the not-Guildmaster''s arrival had something to do with the rumors they heard – and most likely not the interesting ones about folks sleeping around with their not-close relatives. If the other rumors had something to do with a certain new kind of music and a certain concert… Well, it was too late to deny involvement.


    “It won’t go well.” Wolfgang said, after he was informed about the possible problems “I heard, the Musicians’ not-Guild in Saugarten was burned to the ground, and the General is planning to make Mythrill not just legal, but the official music for the military.”


    “Why is that a problem?”


    “The President was always a proponent for Clay, the Chief subtly supported Clay too, and the General was pressured into making Clay the semi-official music. Even Granite was secondary to Clay in the official standing. Unofficially, Granite was probably more liked. With Mythrill on the table, and being the true official music, Clay is going to fall back, and if the riot in Saugarten is any indication, it will fall out of fashion hard.”


    This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    “Yes, and?”


    “It’s political, don’t you see? The President was already barely able to cling to the position, it is almost sure, he will be kicked out of office.”


    It was just fantastic! Prof wasn’t exactly interested in politicking back on Earth, and now he had to learn the intricacies of Greenskinian politics, and how taste in music influenced everything. No, he was not interested in how the fan base for different parties was composed, how the different power blocks rhymed with each other, or how the music was played in the smoky backrooms.


    He didn’t care, how the show would go on, now, that the gig was up.


    On the other hand, getting his money – or at least the jewelry – from the jeweler in Saugarten was important. With widespread riots and his moving to a different country, his investments were in acute danger! Going back to the capital to get the stuff back was out of the question too – with the not-Guildmaster currently in the same city as him, and Ostwaldland teetering on the brink of all-out civil war, if he did any traveling, it was to a different country, and not even deeper into the flames.


    “Say, Wolfgang, would it be possible for the jeweler in Saugarten to mail me the jewelry? Maybe the inn could send me the camping gear too."


    “Normally, it would be possible, but with the current state of affairs, you know, all the rioting, I wouldn''t advise to do it. Greenskins are excellent enough to hang on to the proceeds for a year or two. I''m fairly sure, this will blow over within that timeframe, so you could come back, collect your money and see the sights. There are a few very picturesque villages and castles I could show you."


    That was not happening. Prof could stomach only so many scenic bunkers, and Ostwaldland''s natural wonders weren''t that charming either. The food was good, though.


    “Judging by your displeased expression, you aren’t that thrilled by my fatherland. I can assure you, it is more excellent, when not in uproar, and you haven’t seen anything yet.”


    “Yeah, sure. I will think about it. Could I leave you as a contact person? So the jeweller could send you to money, and you could forward it to me. Well, as soon as I figure out, what I will do in the next year or two. We had this plan with Mini to go as West as possible and see what''s there. Maybe on the way back. Could you hang on to the money till then?"


    “Sure, why not? When are you planning to leave?”


    “We have just started to compile the shopping list. It will be at least a few days, till we are ready."


    With the contents of the warehouse they still had, they could probably save a lot of money. Speaking of the warehouse… Most of the stuff was still there, obviously, if you wanted to sell a few tons of assorted goods, preferably in a short time, so the perishables didn''t perish, you had to do it as a main job. Since they had to do all those epic adventures and did a tour to the front too, they didn''t have time to do a yard sale.


    Prof doubted they could sell everything in a few days, so Wolfgang had to take over that part too. And hold on to the proceeds.


    Prof decided next time he entered an ancient forgotten vault, he would prioritize easy-to-sell, cheap stuff, and currency – selling the highly valuable loot was simply too much of a chore. On the other hand, it was easier to haul a bag of gems around than a ton of nails in a couple of wagons. Which they didn''t have.


    Yet.


    Prof wanted to buy one for months, even back in Willowflower. It was a more comfortable way to travel, and they could transport their supply and loot easier too. Finally, he had enough money to buy one. Of course, a four-horsepower two-seater sports wagon or a luxury carriage was out of budget. Maybe a used one, but Prof thought, it was still a needles expense.


    As he found out the next day, medieval societies and cities didn''t have dealerships for brand new wagons on every other corner downtown or huge lots with used ones at the city limits. In fact, there weren''t even sleazy wagon merchants with a few vehicles with rudimentary visual improvements and rolled-back odometers sitting on overgrown plots of land.


    Mostly, because hog-drawn wagons don’t have odometers.


    But even so, there weren''t any dedicated shops, selling new or used vehicles in the entire city. Who would have thought, that in a medieval society, there weren''t big vehicle manufacturers, who built wagons, chariots, carts, and wheelbarrows large scale, just to slap a, say, star, a few rings, a jumping horse, or any other logo on the bonnet and let them sit around for a few months until someone with enough cash could buy one?


    As Prof found out – although he suspected so already – most things, and certainly things that improved road mobility, were made-to-order, even in Greenskin lands. Also, such pieces of convenience were used as long as they fell apart – no one was selling basically working vehicles, so they could buy the next year''s model, which did more or less the same thing.


    Well, almost no one was selling. Luckily, the Greenskins were excellent people, and Prof was directed to a merchant house or not-Guild, or whatever they were. And indeed, they were selling an almost-new wagon in almost perfect condition! It was only a decade or two old, the tarpaulin was torn in a few places, the trunk lid (or back gate, or whatever the piece at the end of the hull was called) was broken, and the cargo space had a few suspicious brownish stains. The wheels had seen better times too, but Prof was reinsured, they were still good for a few hundred kilometers.


    In Prof’s experience, that meant, they would probably last till the city limits before failing catastrophically.


    Being excellent to each other meant, the let’s-call-him-Merchant couldn’t outright lie about that piece of junk, and paint it as the best vehicle currently on sale… No, he could do the latter one, because it was the best one currently on sale in the whole of Sumpfigerort. In fact, it was the only one on sale anywhere close by. Not being able to use [Con] on Prof didn’t mean, he couldn’t use [Convincing] or [Commerce] or even [Haggling] – yes, there was a separate Skill for that too.


    Just for the low price of seven schillinge, Prof was soon the proud owner of a classical flatbed wagon – repairs and new wheels not included. For some strange reason, Prof felt as if he went to a used-car dealership back on Earth, wanting to buy a not-too-old sedan, but walked away with the most beaten-up van or pickup truck, the yard had. Pushing his newest acquisition, because the engine was dead.


    “Couldn’t that thief have stored your new toy until we bought some hogs?”


    “He wanted to have money for letting us park it there.”


    “You know, we could hitch up your mounts…”


    “My poor Binky won’t pull a cart! And anyways, the leather parts, where we could hitch them up are torn too”


    “Why exactly did you buy this piece of shit?”


    “Eh… Bianca, Mini, please just shut up and push…”