Legacy of the Tarot (Laoyon)

The clang of hammer against steel echoed through the bustling weapon market of Veyne as Arden, Leigh, and Dominic stepped into a grand, stone-built forge known as The IronBlade Armory. Unlike the smaller market stalls scattered throughout the city, this establishment had an air of authority—it was where true warriors armed themselves. The scent of heated metal and oiled leather filled the air, and weapons of all kinds gleamed from racks lining the walls.

The moment they stepped into The Ironblade Armory, the rich scent of heated metal and oiled leather filled their senses. The shop was larger than most, its stone walls lined with gleaming swords, reinforced armor, and expertly crafted weapons. The rhythmic clang of a hammer striking steel echoed from the back, where blacksmiths worked tirelessly, shaping new weapons for the warriors of Veyne.

The trio had one goal—sell off their unused loot and prepare for the next step in their journey.

Arden approached the long wooden counter, setting his backpack down with a heavy thud. He grinned, pulling out a collection of daggers, swords, and shields they had gathered from past fights.

"Alright, let's turn this into gold, shall we?"

Behind the counter, Darian Ironblade, the burly, battle-scarred owner, barely glanced up at first. He was a man of few words, his gaze sharp and calculating as he took stock of their goods. His two assistants, Selva, a keen-eyed woman who handled high-end weapons, and Bren, the youngest and most eager of the three, stood nearby.

Selva leaned forward, inspecting the weapons with mild interest. "Standard mercenary gear. Some good, some scrap. You'll get a decent price, but nothing special."

Arden smirked. "Oh, I think we've got something very special."

With an air of nonchalance, Arden reached into his pack, fingers wrapping around the hilt of his most prized find.

As he pulled the Wyvern Blade into the open, the entire shop fell into silence.

The moment the weapon left Arden's bag, the atmosphere changed.

The usual background noise—the steady clang of hammers, the murmur of other customers—faded to nothing.

Darian froze in place, his grizzled face darkening as his eyes locked onto the weapon. Selva stiffened, her casual demeanor vanishing as she instinctively took a step back. Bren's mouth fell open, his face pale, his fingers twitching at his sides.

The tension was thick enough to cut with a blade.

"That sword…" Selva's voice came low and cautious, all trace of amusement gone.

Darian slowly stepped forward, his large, calloused hands resting on the counter as he studied the weapon. His voice was heavy, laced with something between awe and disbelief.

"That's Wyvern Blade. But not just any wyvern's." He exhaled sharply, rubbing his jaw. "Where did you get this?"

Arden grinned, twirling the blade casually, its edge catching the flickering forge light.

"Oh, you know—just outside the Gate. On top of a mountain. Found a nice, cursed wyvern there and thought—why not?"

Bren let out a strangled noise. He suddenly bolted out of the shop, pushing past customers and sprinting into the streets.

Leigh blinked. "Where is he going?"

Selva muttered a curse under her breath. "The Merchant Council. He's going to report what you just said."

Dominic exhaled, rubbing his temple. "Of course he is."

Darian still hadn't taken his eyes off the blade. "You fought the Lone Cursed Wyvern?" His voice was gravelly, tinged with disbelief.

Leigh frowned. "Lone? Cursed? You mean that thing was famous?"

Darian let out a low, humorless chuckle. "Famous? That thing terrorized Veyne for decades. It would descend from its mountain, burn our crops, and destroy our trade routes. No one—not even the best warriors—came back alive after trying to slay it." Even the Great Mage from distant land who sealed it in the mountain five years ago couldn't completely eradicate its threat. Without that barrier, Veyne would never have become as prosperous as it is now.

Selva crossed her arms, studying them. "And you're telling me you three killed it?"

Arden gave her a cocky grin. "Wouldn't be standing here if we didn't."

Darian's expression darkened. "You don't understand what you've done."

The tension in the room grew thick once more—but this time, it wasn't fear. It was reverence.

Not ten minutes later, the sound of marching footsteps filled the street outside the armory.

Through the open doors, a group of Merchant Council guards strode forward, their armor pristine, their weapons gleaming under the midday sun. Behind them, a man draped in deep blue and gold stepped forward, his presence commanding yet refined.

Lord Varian Alcor, a high-ranking member of the Merchant Council, studied the trio with sharp, knowing eyes.

He didn't look at Darian. His gaze went straight to the Wyvern Blade in Arden's hand.

"So," his voice was smooth but laced with curiosity, "you're the ones who did it."

Arden twirled the sword lazily before gripping it by the hilt. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

Varian smiled. "Quite the opposite. Veyne has suffered under that beast for far too long. The fact that you succeeded where countless warriors failed…" He exhaled, his expression unreadable. "Tonight, you shall be honored for your deeds."

Selva blinked. "Wait… they're not in trouble?"

Varian chuckled. "Trouble? These are heroes, Selva. And heroes deserve recognition."

Leigh exhaled in relief, while Dominic gave Arden a knowing look. "You're loving this, aren't you?"

Arden grinned. "Oh, you know I am."

Inside Ironblade Armory, the warm glow of the forge flickered across the weapons and valuables piled on the counter. Lord Varian Alcor, standing with arms crossed, watched as Darian, Selva, and Bren Ironblade inspected each item with their trained merchant eyes.

Darian Ironblade, the grizzled blacksmith, picked up a battle-worn longsword, testing its balance. He grunted, turning it in his calloused hands. "Hmph. Decent make, but it's seen better days. You want a good price for this, you'll have to convince me."

Selva, his sharp-eyed daughter, leaned against the counter, arms crossed. "The real prize here is the Wyvern Blade. But I assume you're keeping that one?"

Arden grinned, spinning the blade once before setting it aside. "You assume correctly."

Leigh sighed, setting down a small sapphire. "Just give us a fair price for the rest of this. We don't need top value, just enough to fund our journey."

Dominic, arms folded, smirked. "And enough to cover Arden's endless appetite."

"Hey!" Arden shot back. "I eat for survival!"

Selva arched an eyebrow. "You eat like you're storing food for hibernation?"

Bren, the youngest of the Ironblades, snickered as he scribbled calculations on a ledger. "Alright, let's see… You've got weapons, rare materials, enchanted trinkets, and a good chunk of raw gold."

Total Earnings from Selling Loot: 15,800 Gold Coins

Leigh nodded in approval. "That should be enough."

Arden rubbed his hands together, already imagining the supplies they could get. "Perfect. Now, where do we put all this gold?"

Lord Varian Alcor smirked. "That's where I come in."

Lord Varian personally led them through the stone-paved streets of Veyne, where lanterns illuminated the grand structures of the city. Their destination? The Merchant Council's Grand Bank, a massive building lined with steel vaults, thick iron doors, and an elite squad of armored guards.

The moment the trio stepped inside, they were met with the clinking of gold, the scratching of quills on parchment, and the low murmur of merchants handling transactions.

Behind a reinforced counter, an elderly banker, dressed in fine silk robes, adjusted his spectacles as he examined the newcomers.

"New accounts, Lord Varian?" the banker asked, looking them over.

Varian nodded. "They'll need individual accounts."

Leigh nodded. "We'll each store our share separately."

Arden, however, grinned. "Wait, wait, wait. Let's just put it all in one account—mine."

Leigh immediately turned to him with a blank expression. "No."

Dominic leaned against the counter, smirking. "Do you think we're idiots?"

Arden feigned innocence. "It's just for convenience! I'd take great care of it!"

Leigh crossed her arms. "Like how you took great care of our food supplies? Which mysteriously vanished?"

"I was hungry!" Arden shot back.

Selva, who had accompanied them, let out a low chuckle. "I like them."

The banker cleared his throat. "Separate accounts it is, then."

After some lengthy debates and a very watchful Leigh, the trio split their earnings and stored their gold.

Leigh's Account: 6,000 Gold Coins Dominic's Account: 5,000 Gold Coins Arden's Account: 4,800 Gold Coins

Arden pouted. "Why do I have the least?"

Leigh raised an eyebrow. "Because you'll waste yours first."

Dominic chuckled, nodding. "She's not wrong."

Arden grumbled, but before he could argue, Lord Varian clapped a hand on his shoulder.

"Now that your finances are in order, let's move on to the next part of the night." He gestured toward the exit. "Chairman Aldric Voss awaits. You are invited to a grand celebration in your honor."

Leigh straightened. "A feast?"

Arden's grumpiness vanished instantly. "Now that is something I can get behind."

Dominic sighed with a smirk. "Here we go again."

Their earnings were safely deposited, ensuring they wouldn't have to carry bags of gold through the festival crowds. They were even gifted a Merchant's Permit, granting them exclusive access to Veyne's elite trading circles.