I Refused To Be Reincarnated

Adam pointed at the sailors unloading boxes and barrels in front of the commercial centers. A man dressed in a flowing long coat nodded each time a sailor reported the contents. White hair, curled in a peculiar way, fluttered with the movement and a moustache almost as big as Yann’s twitched each time he spoke, prompting Adam to snort. "This man looks... ridiculous."

He turned toward Yann, his lips pursed. "Don’t tell me that’s trendy in the archipelago."

Yann passed a hand through his brown hair, his lips snapping into a thin line. He clicked his tongue after a moment of silence. Eventually, he said, "Now that I look at it after so long... It indeed looks ridiculous." He pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head as if to forget a shameful memory. "Most nobles, their stewards, and trusted aids wear this aberration. To distinguish ourselves from commoners, they said. They only look more stupid."

Adam glanced at Yann, his lips curling into a smirk, clearly imagining the arcanist with large curls down to his back. And indeed, Yann would have lost at least fifty points of style with that haircut. Well, he surely had the same in the past.

Feeling Adam’s heavy gaze linger on his short hair, Yann face-palmed, hissing through his teeth. "All right! It’s useless to deny it. I had the same, like everyone in my circle back then." His voice dropped to a mutter. "Five hundred years, and they still changed nothing."

Eager to change the subject, he pointed at the commercial centers, starting to answer Adam’s question by the one emblazoned with a crowned pouch. "That building over there belongs to the barter throne, a powerful guild born from the union of the capital’s noblest houses. They focus on selling manufactured items and the transportation of people and goods."

He pointed at the ships moored by the calm river. "Most civilian ships are theirs, and we’ll buy our ticket to the next city from them. The guild with the fish leaping over the ocean focuses on maritime products. It’s actually the oldest guild around. Strangely, no one owns it or perceives a share of its revenues. Instead, they serve to repair their armada of warships and fund the enforcers and their sea-mongering divisions."

Adam leaned forward, absorbing Yann’s explanation.

"They’re called the Deepwake Syndicate. Not people you want to mess with, lad..." Yann paused, his eyes narrowing as if remembering something. He tucked his fingers around his chin. "I’ve once read that this guild is as ancient as the college, perhaps even more." He shrugged, his voice dripping with noble contempt. "It seems some people are ready to write any nonsense as long as it earns them a few more Prestige."

Adam’s eyes narrowed. This was indeed a syndicate he didn’t want to upset. The less interaction he had with it, the better it would be.

"Noted. The last one covers weaponry, right? Quite hard to mistake with the helmet and crossed blades."

Yann nodded. "The Crystal Quill Consortium deals with magical equipment. The best enchanters work for it, and civilians need a permit to purchase goods of the fourth tier or above." He glanced at Adam’s exquisite coat, sighing. "In your case, you’ll need a permit to sell your products... not that it matters. Follow me."

Adam followed through the maze of boxes, wondering why they wouldn’t need the permit, yet knowing he’d get the answer soon enough.