While Prof wouldn''t have put it in that blunt and rude way, he wasn''t exactly flush with cash right now – and refused to give money to beggars in principle. If he could torture himself at work for a decade or so, others could do it too.


    Well, and on Arkadia he managed to amass his wealth in the most bloody way possible, facing mortal peril for almost the entire time, he was on the planet. On the very first day, he was even sent to kill off a rather high-Level Dire Wolf!


    He suspected for a time, that Lady Jotabor suspected, he was a Traveler from the start and sent him for pest control in the hope, he would perish on the way. A win-win situation, a Traveler less, and an honored noble wouldn''t need to dirty her hands. Or bloody her sword.


    Dirt on noble hands or blood on expensive weaponry was a chore to remove, after all.


    “I can help you shopping!” The beggar girl trailed after them “For money, of course!”


    Prof actually saw some value in that: It was a basic truth in all the multiverses: the locals knew best, where the good stuff could be bought, and bought for a much lower price.


    The opposite was also true: the locals knew, where to buy bad quality, where to buy for a high price, and… well, basically, where to get stuff of a certain quality and for a certain price.


    He would be willing to part with some pocket change if that meant, he could get a better deal. Also, using D?nci as an interpreter wasn''t actually going well. At best, the Grimalkin just ignored the request to talk to the locals, and at worst, he was actually willing to do that.


    Or, more likely, offending, insulting, and being rude to them.


    “All right, you are hired! We need cheap hard liquor, affordable local specialty hard liquor, basically drinkable beer in a keg, some nice local specialty food, and… well, that’s it.”


    “Oh, we have porridge! It is said, it’s the best porridge on all Arkadia!”


    “Skip the porridge…”


    “And we have beans…”


    “Skip the beans…”


    “Lentils?”


    “Skip.”


    “Cabbage?”


    “Skip.”


    “Oats?”


    “Skip.”


    “Almonds?”


    “Skip… No, wait! I actually like almonds.”


    “And tomatoes. We usually have them in dried form.”


    “A few of those wouldn’t hurt…”


    Finding the beer seller wasn''t that hard in the end – they just needed to find the largest crowd, preferably of desperate males with haunted looks and a lot of groceries in their hands.


    “What do you need?” the seller asked in almost incomprehensible dialect.


    “Beer. Around ten to fifteen liters, if you may. I don’t have a cask, unfortunately.”


    “What’s this ‘beer’?” that probably was just a rhetorical question from the seller, who was currently pouring a pitcher full of what remarkably looked like beer.


    “Ehmm… that? A liquid with moderate alcohol content, made of water, hops… ehmm… corn, and dunno… Probably the most popular drink in the world?”


    “Ah, that. No, we don’t have beer here. We only have s?r. Lukewarm s?r.”


    “Oh, a local specialty! That’s my request!”


    Buying untested and untasted stuff by the barrel from random vendors on a market probably wasn''t a very smart move, but two things made it a necessity: first, the locals didn''t have a proper beer, and second, Prof was somewhat fed up with hard liquor. Well, and it made his stomach hurt.


    Including a small barrel, the price for twelve-and-a-half liter – the only caliber of cask the seller could supply – wasn''t all that high, and exchanging currency with goods was done in short order. Prof even managed to haggle the final price a bit – even if he only had [Commerce] and not [Haggling] at a passable Level. Arkadia''s rules sometimes worked in interesting ways; why have a dedicated Skill for one thing, when another one could do the same thing in a pinch?


    Well, with a high enough [Haggling] perhaps he could get stuff for free? But then again, [Intimidation] and wanton violence could do the same…


    His newest tourist shepherd then directed Prof to someone, who made cheap (and almost undrinkable) booze out of left-over organic material at the edge of town – situated right next to a few tanners.


    “That doesn''t exactly look reassuring." Prof surveyed the highly sophisticated medieval industrial plant''s crumbling walls. Just as they arrived, someone emptied a barrel out of the main gate, directly onto the road.


    It stunk.


    Well, not only the contents of the barrel stunk but the whole building. And the tanners next door.


    A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    “This is actually the main product of the town.” the beggar girl informed them.


    “What? The stench?”


    “No, the swill, they make here. It is sold all over the Seven Kingdoms! It’s a base carrier for potions. Or something like that.”


    Prof’s rudimentary [Alchemy] made some bells ring: indeed, cheap booze could be made as the base ingredient (or ‘carrier’) in potion production. It was actually better, than plain water, but worse, than a few other, more expensive liquids. Well, and you could disinfect wounds with it too. Or drink it, if nothing else potable was readily available.


    On the other hand, cheap (and hazardous) booze could be made basically everywhere, where leftover organics could be found. Why some people bought undrinkable swill from a few towns or countries over, if they could make it themselves with just the right application of a cauldron and fire, Prof didn''t exactly understand. With all the taxes, tolls, and whatnot the final price for the import was probably higher than everything locally sourced.


    Well, Earth had the idea to cart basically everything from China to basically everywhere else, and it was still cheaper than producing locally.


    So, there was no need to throw bottles when in a booze factory…


    If Prof had any inclination to start a trading empire, helped by his vast knowledge, of how the extremely advanced Earth did all the manufacturing, shipping, and selling… he would need to invent heavy goods vehicles and hire some Eastern Fenrian drivers.


    Well, and put a lot of Skill Points into a few Skills.


    Oh, and do actual work.


    Neither of those was happening – plundering… ehm… salvaging abandoned goods was way easier, and he would be able to see the sights too!


    As it transpired after chatting up the clerk, the beggar girl was actually wrong in stating, that the swill was exported all over the Seven Kingdoms. It was quite surprising – you would expect a random young and uneducated vagrant to know, how and what was sold internationally and how the local economy worked.


    Not.


    What Prof found out was, that the locals indeed exported booze to all the Seven Kingdom, but not the undrinkable swill, but some local specialty, made of grain and almonds. And nuts – walnuts, chestnuts, and hazelnuts, to be precise. While expensive even directly from the producer, the booze was expertly made and even gave important status effects. Besides making the drinker drunk, that was the main reason, booze was consumed in the first place.


    Even if had to fork out some of his last cash, he was almost forced to do so – leaving innocent and excellent local specialty stuff behind simply couldn’t be done by a Gentleman. Prof needing a certain amount of liquids each week had nothing to do with it.


    Having secured enough Hog Fuel to last – hopefully – till the coast and a few bottles of quality booze, Prof took stock of their finances.


    “All right, girls, we are technically broke again. I really hope we can get good prices for the stones and jewelry from the Fallarians, or else we need to actually work."


    “Noooooo!!! I’m a proud noble! We don’t work! We have servants to do the actual work!”


    “With work, I mean, a few runs in a dungeon, or some honest adventurer work. You could do that, no problem.”


    “Sssstab for money?”


    While the beggar girl didn''t participate in the discussion – for the lack of language Skills, the party was talking in Bergian – but Prof was almost certain, what kind of advice she would give: demand money from passers-by. Sharpclaw''s idea was almost the same. As Mini demonstrated earlier, begging, highway robbery, and paying taxes differed only in the amount of potential violence that was applied to the collection of money.


    “I don''t think, it is a good idea to do stabbing for money," Prof concluded.


    “Why? Stabbing for money is as an honorable profession, as any other!" Mini was… Mini again "See dear Bia! She has been stabbing for money probably all her life. Foxy too. And that idiotic but cure other Elf. If we are honest, you do stabbing for money too!"


    “Mini, I use axes. You can’t stab with axes.”


    “Semantics! And you did enough stabbing: all those dungeons, different bandits, wildlife, even Hags! Every time you came away with more money, than you started with.”


    “But stabbing people for money is… well… not nice?”


    “Why?”


    “Well, because the law says so, and if you stab other people, the constabulary will come after you. And well, stabbing people ain’t right.”


    “Back home there isn''t a law against stabbing people for money or because you can. If you can and survive, you are in the right, and no one would raise a fuss. Not immediately, anyway. How do you think, succession is done?"


    “The old ruler dies and the successor is crowned.”


    “Yeah, exactly. No one cares if the old ruler died of old age or acute metal poisoning. Or any other fun and legitimate reason. Not even, if the successor is holding a bloody dagger. Well, it helps, if the successor brings an army, but anyway."


    “So, you say, we go to the Fallarian Empire or whatever their name is, and start making successors? I don''t think, that is the way for a long life."


    “Who cares, peasant? If you make enough successors, and those being mostly me, I see no problem, if you die early and horribly!"


    “Thanks, D?nci, I knew, I could count on you…”


    “It’s Prince D?nci, peasant. Or you could try Future Supreme Emperor D?nci.”


    “I’m putting down my foot here! No stabbing other people for money! If we need, we will stab critters for money, but not people!”


    “Define ‘people’. Aaaand, are bandits included in that prohibition? What if you don’t know?”


    “Mini, I think, you really raised [Annoying] to truly ridiculous Levels. But WHY?!?!?”


    “It''s fun and a self-defense strategy for the times when wholesale slaughter and carnage isn''t a viable option."


    “Has your brain rotted away, corpse lady? There aren''t times when slaughter, party, and carnage aren''t the best solution!"


    “I beg to differ, oh Future Supreme Emperor! You can solve quite a few problems with courtesy, bribes, and indifference."


    “Violence is generally cheaper, more fun, and requires less time.” Mini dispensed her version of wisdom, with both Sharpclaw and D?nci nodding.


    “Sssssstabbing eassssy. Talking hard!”


    Prof questioned – not for the first time – what kind of crimes he committed in his previous life to warrant such… friend?... Acquaintances?... Travel companions?... in his current one. He was quite certain, he didn''t make bad choices in the last few months, that led to the current situation. Every last one of them was well thought-out, carefully deliberated, and made utilizing all the information he had.


    If no one told him important information, like Elves were bad news, Vampires were crazy, Forestdeep was a place, normal people were running away from, and you don’t mess with Greenskin music, it wasn’t his fault!


    Oh, wait.


    Quite a few people informed him about most of the previous points.


    Anyways…


    “Hey, folks! Look! Picturesque ruins of a once famous sports stadium!”