Legacy of the Tarot (Laoyon)

Master Zellan (Mage & Artifact Dealer), Vladruc the Collector (Rare Magic Items)

The moment they stepped onto Mystic Way; the very air shifted. Unlike the bustling merchant districts, they had strolled through earlier, this part of Veyne had a different presence—a weight in the atmosphere that pressed against the skin, humming with untapped energy.

Tall, rune-etched buildings stretched toward the sky, their surfaces flickering with hidden enchantments. Floating lanterns of soft, azure flame lined the path, casting an ethereal glow upon the cobbled streets. Strange sigils glowed faintly beneath their feet—ancient wards woven directly into the foundation of the city itself.

It was a place for mages, scholars, and seekers of the arcane—where those who sought power did not barter with coin alone but with knowledge, secrets, and fate itself. At the very heart of it, standing tall amidst the eldritch glow, was The Arcane Bazaar—a branch of the Magic Academy of the Ravenloch Kingdom.

The Magic Academy of Ravenloch was not merely a center of learning—it was a living testament to faith, discovery, and the enduring legacy of a being they revered beyond all others. For 50,000 years, scholars, enchanters, and mages dedicated their lives to deciphering the arcane symbols left behind by The Magician, the Creator of Laoyon.

To them, these ancient symbols were not just marks of power; they were divine scripture, the very foundation upon which their entire understanding of magic was built. Every spell, every enchantment, and every breakthrough in magical study could be traced back to these mysterious symbols—remnants of a power so vast it had shaped an entire world.

The Academy's branches, scattered across every major city, each took part in unraveling the mysteries left behind by The Great Magician. Over generations, they pieced together fragments of his will, his knowledge, and his influence, creating a vast repository of magical understanding. It was because of these teachings that magic flourished in Laoyon, shaping civilizations, governing elements, and granting practitioners the ability to bend reality itself.

But even as they grew in power, they never forgot the source of their enlightenment. They were not just scholars but devoted believers, practitioners who revered The Great Magician not just as an ancient figure but as something far greater—a being who had given form to their world.

A towering structure of polished obsidian and glowing arcane symbols stood tall, its entrance pulsing with faint magic, welcoming only those attuned to the mystical arts. Above the door, runes shifted constantly, as if rewriting themselves to reflect the state of the world.

As they stepped forward, a well-dressed shopkeeper with a knowing grin approached. "Welcome to the Arcane Bazaar, our esteemed guests! Feel free to browse our collection of the rarest artifacts, enchanted tomes, and relics of immense power. Everything here is authentic, of course," he added with an exaggerated gesture toward the countless magical weapons, wands, rods, staffs, runes, spell books and other materials displayed inside the magic shop.

Dominic just lost it. With an excited breath, he rushed ahead. "Finally! A shop worthy of my time!"

Arden smirked, hands in his pockets. "He's worse than me in a weapon store."

Leigh let out an amused sigh. "I don't think I've ever seen him this happy."

Selva chuckled. "Then this is going to be fun to watch."

The moment Dominic crossed the threshold, everything changed. The walls shimmered with energy, lined with floating tomes that whispered their contents in hushed voices. Crystals of all sizes pulsed faintly, their glow shifting in response to the energy in the air. Scrolls, charms, wands, and relics sat locked in glass cases, humming with potential. The scent of incense mixed with something almost metallic—the raw, unfiltered presence of magic itself. It was a magician's paradise.

Dominic stood in the center of it all, his golden eyes sparkling with childlike wonder, fingers twitching at his sides as if resisting the urge to grab everything in sight. If Arden had a battle-maniac mode, then this—this—was Dominic's equivalent.

Then, suddenly, a voice whispered in his head.

"Welcome back, Master."

Dominic froze. His breath hitched. His golden eyes darted across the room. None of the others reacted—they hadn't heard it. His heart pounded as his magic stirred instinctively, his senses sharpening. Someone—or something—had just spoken to him.

"What the… who are you?" His mind shot back a response, his muscles tense.

A faint pull, almost like an invisible thread tugging at his consciousness, directed his gaze toward a glass display counter near the center of the shop. Inside, resting atop an ornately carved pedestal, was a single, unassuming sheet of paper.

Dominic's brow furrowed.

It was blank.

Just an ordinary sheet of parchment—no markings, no runes, nothing that would make it stand out among the powerful artifacts around it. If anything, it looked out of place.

And yet, the moment his eyes locked onto it, something stirred in the depths of his mind. A long-buried familiarity. A forgotten connection.

"Have you truly forgotten us Master?" The voice whispered again, amused, carrying the weight of ages.

Dominic exhaled sharply, stepping forward.

"What's this?" he muttered under his breath.

One of the shopkeepers, an elderly mage in violet robes, noticed his interest and approached with a knowing smile. "Ah, you have quite the eye, young mage," he said. "That, my dear customer, is one of the most puzzling relics in all of Laoyon. A true mystery."

Dominic barely heard him. He was already lost in the strange pull the parchment had over him.

The mage continued, lowering his voice as if speaking of something sacred. "It is said to be a relic from the very dawn of this world, a witness to creation itself. We call it the Silent Scripture. Scholars have studied it for generations, yet no magic can decipher its purpose. It cannot be torn, burned, or altered in any way. No ink can stain its surface, no spell can make it reveal its secrets."

Dominic's eyes flickered with interest. "Then why display it?"

The mage chuckled. "Because it is part of a set—twenty-two in total. Eleven are kept by the Archimage of Ravenloch. The rest, including this one, are scattered across the greatest magic shops of Laoyon. A reminder that even in a world of endless magic, there are still things beyond our understanding."

A tap on Dominic's shoulder broke his trance.

"What's up, Magician? How's your grocery shopping going?" Arden's voice was light with amusement as he strolled up beside him.

Leigh and Selva followed closely, each taking in the arcane wonders of the shop with curiosity. Leigh arched a delicate brow, while Selva crossed her arms, eyeing Dominic with mild amusement.

But Arden's gaze quickly shifted to the display case. His grin widened when he saw what had caught Dominic's attention.

"Oh? Interesting." He leaned in, placing a hand on the glass as he studied the unassuming parchment. His sharp eyes took in every detail—or lack thereof. "That's one fancy blank paper."

Dominic remained silent, still processing the strange connection he felt with it.

Arden, unfazed by his friend's brooding, turned to the shopkeeper with a lopsided grin. "How much is this?" he asked, pointing directly at the paper.

The shopkeeper coughed lightly, his beady eyes gleaming with opportunity. He folded his hands behind his back, rocking on his heels as if he had just been asked the greatest question of his life.

"Well, young master," he said smoothly, "this parchment is a relic beyond mortal comprehension. A treasure of immeasurable historical and magical significance."

Arden raised a brow. "Yeah, yeah, cut the fluff. How much?"

The shopkeeper's face stretched into a slow, practiced smile. "A mere fifty thousand gold coins."

Arden let out a low whistle. "Fifty thousand? For a piece of paper?"

Leigh and Selva, who had been idly browsing the shelves, turned their attention toward the conversation.

"Fifty thousand?" Leigh echoed, frowning.

Selva's expression darkened slightly. "That's ridiculous."

The shopkeeper cleared his throat, shifting into a well-practiced sales pitch. "Not at all! This artifact is one of the rarest items in all of Laoyon. Discovered thousands of years ago, no one has ever been able to tear it, burn it, or write on it. Its value is beyond measure!"

Leigh crossed her arms. "So… it's a piece of indestructible trash?"

The shopkeeper's smile twitched. "No, no! It's a piece of history!"

Selva exhaled, shaking her head. "Alright, if no one has ever found a use for it, why are you charging fifty thousand gold?"

The shopkeeper adjusted his sleeves, not missing a beat. "Well, rarity alone—"

Leigh didn't let him finish. "Ten thousand."

The old man nearly choked. "Wh—what?! Preposterous!"

Selva smirked. "It's a blank piece of paper. What exactly are we paying for?"

The shopkeeper stiffened. "The prestige! The historical value!"

"Eight thousand," Leigh countered.

"Seven," Selva added.

Arden leaned against the counter, watching the negotiation unfold, barely holding back his laughter.

The shopkeeper gasped as if physically wounded. "Impossible! I—I could—"

"Six," Leigh said calmly, her voice sharp as a blade.

The shopkeeper clutched his chest like he had been struck. "I'm being robbed!"

At that moment, Dominic, who had been silent the entire time, sighed and nodded. "Okay, I'll buy it. Fifty thousand."

The shop fell into absolute silence.

Arden instinctively agreed before his brain caught up. "Yes, that's the right price—wait, WHAT?!"

Leigh and Selva thought they heard wrong. "WHAT?!" they shouted in unison.

The shopkeeper's eyes lit up as he clapped his hands. "Good choice, dear customer!"

Arden, Leigh, and Selva turned to Dominic with horror.

"You scammer," Arden muttered under his breath.

Leigh grabbed Dominic's sleeve. "Dom, why?!"

But Dominic simply shrugged, reaching out something from one of his space pouches. "Don't worry about it." Leigh and Selva did worry about it. A lot.

Dominic pulled out the fire wand he had looted from the Lone Cursed Wyvern and placed it on the counter. "Can you appraise this wand for me?"

The shopkeeper, who had been basking in the glory of his recent scam—sale, froze the moment his eyes landed on the item. His pupils shrank, his breath hitched, and for the first time in the conversation, he was the one caught off guard.

"Th-The… Wyvern Breath Wand!"

His voice cracked with genuine shock and disbelief.

The reaction was so visceral that the entire shop went silent. Customers, assistants, and even a few enchanted objects that had been humming faintly stopped—as if the air itself had stilled in recognition of something dangerous.

Arden, leaning lazily against the counter, suddenly perked up. "Oh? That's interesting."

Leigh raised an eyebrow. "Did you just recognize it?"

Selva folded her arms. "That's a pretty big reaction for a so-called 'ordinary shopkeeper.'"

The old man visibly gulped, his hands tightening into fists as though he had seen a ghost from the past. His reaction was no longer that of a smooth-talking merchant—it was someone who had just encountered something legendary.

The shopkeeper's fingers hovered above the wand, but he didn't dare to touch it. His face paled, his previous confidence evaporating into thin air.

"This is… a Legendary Wand," he breathed. His voice carried a mix of reverence and fear.

Leigh and Selva exchanged glances, sensing the weight behind his words. Arden simply smirked, amused by the sudden shift in attitude.

The shopkeeper straightened, clearing his throat before explaining.

"This wand, the Wyvern Breath Wand, is said to have been crafted from the flames of an Elder Wyvern that once ruled the skies of Laoyon. Forged centuries ago by an unknown master, it was lost in the depths of the cursed lands—never to be seen again. Many have searched for it, but none have returned."

He swallowed, eyes flickering toward Dominic with newfound respect. "To think you actually obtained it… I can't even begin to measure its worth."

Arden chuckled, throwing an arm over Dominic's shoulder. "And here I thought he just looted another fancy stick."

Dominic shot him a side glance. "This is why I never let you appraise things."

Leigh sighed. "So? Can you tell us how much it's worth?"

The shopkeeper hesitated before shaking his head. "I can't. A relic like this is beyond standard appraisal methods. It holds power and history that only true experts can decipher."

Selva crossed her arms, holding her chin. "Then what do you suggest?"

The old man took a deep breath. "We auction it."

The group blinked.

"Our shop has connections to the most powerful noble houses across Laoyon. If we host a special auction, we'll attract bidders willing to pay fortunes for an item of this caliber." His fingers twitched, excitement creeping back into his tone. "Our shop will handle everything and only take a 5% cut of the final winning price."

Dominic considered the offer for a moment before nodding. "Fine. Let's do it."

The shopkeeper exhaled, looking genuinely relieved. As a gesture of trust, he carefully picked up the blank indestructible paper from the counter and handed it over.

"A token of goodwill," he said. "Take this with you."

Leigh smirked. "You mean the piece of indestructible trash?"

The old man winced but forced a smile. "Ahem. Let's call it an investment."

Dominic accepted the paper without a word and tucked it away.

With that settled, he and the group purchased additional magic items and gear for their journey—spellbooks, enchanted tools, and rare materials. The auction preparations were left in the hands of the shopkeeper, and by the time they stepped out of the Arcane Bazaar, the gears of fate were already turning.

A legendary wand. An auction of the century. The attention of powerful nobles.

While waiting for the special auction arrangements to be finalized, the group headed to The Star Rock Café on Bazaar Street—just past the temple adjacent to the Arcane Bazaar.