Warrior Training System

People dressed in everything from luxurious clothes to rags mingled, buying or even stealing items as they moved about.

It reminded Cassian of the slums he once called home, though this place was slightly better maintained. Ven Dyke family guards still patrolled, ensuring some order, and there were fewer poor people visibly out on the streets. However, their presence was still noticeable. If it had been any different, Cassian might have felt suspicious.

Having grown up in the slums, he knew one undeniable truth: poverty existed in every city, whether in the form of nobles barely surviving on loans or street rats like he used to be.

\'If there aren\'t any poor around, either the rulers are hiding them, or something more suspicious is going on behind the scenes,\' Cassian thought to himself. He sighed as he watched a young boy, a few years older than him, getting pickpocketed by a small child. The boy didn\'t seem poor, and the child only managed to slip a few coins from his rather full pockets, so Cassian chose to ignore it.

"He deserved it," Cassian muttered under his breath as he stepped into the shop to buy garments. He sympathized with the boy, but he also knew better. One should never flaunt their wealth unless they\'re absolutely sure no one would dare steal from them—or they\'re skilled enough to prevent it. The slightly purplish-haired young man, clearly not aware of that rule, had learned it the hard way.

The inside of the garment shop was modest, with neatly arranged clothes hanging on wooden racks and folded on shelves along the walls. The clothes here weren\'t luxurious or made for the nobility but were practical, sturdy garments meant for the working class. Simple tunics, trousers, and dresses in muted colors filled the space—earthy browns, faded greens, and dull grays.

The fabrics were durable, meant to last a couple of years before they would need to be replaced.

Cassian could feel the busyness of the shop as several people moved around, examining the clothes, haggling with the shopkeeper, or making small talk. The smell of fresh linen mixed with the faint scent of sweat from the crowd. Though crowded, it wasn\'t an unpleasant atmosphere; it was just the way of things in a shop catering to common folk.

He recalled Lucy\'s strict instructions before she left him at the shop. She had told him exactly how much his new clothes should cost and warned him not to pay a single copper coin more. If the shopkeeper tried to overcharge him, Lucy had said to simply wait for her to return. Cassian wasn\'t worried, though.

From what he overheard, the price for a single set of clothes here was generally one or two silver coins.

Lucy had mentioned that each outfit would cost one or two silver coins, which matched Cassian\'s daily earnings of four silver coins. He had already withdrawn all the money he\'d earned from the previous month, and with the current month\'s earnings still untouched, he wasn\'t too concerned about spending an extra coin or two.

But as he picked out five or so dresses and brought them to the counter, he was shocked by the price the shopkeeper quoted. He blinked, thinking he must have misheard.

"Apologies... how much?" he asked, surprise evident in his voice.

The stout woman behind the counter maintained a warm smile, seemingly unbothered by his raised tone. She calmly reiterated, "It will be one gold coin, sir." Her smile, however, appeared less genuine as cassian heard the price, with her fat cheeks both raised and sagging, making it look ugly.

One gold coin was worth 100 silver coins—more than half his monthly salary. Cassian now understood why Lucy had warned him. He had never bought anything substantial in his life, aside from scraps of food that cost a few copper coins. Glancing at the woman behind the counter, he felt a flicker of anger.

He\'d seen her sell similar clothes to other customers for around ten or twelve silver coins, far less than the outrageous price she was quoting him.

The woman, noticing his displeasure, kept her smile and said, "If you don\'t like the price, you\'re welcome to try other shops, little sir."

Cassian didn\'t understand why she had chosen to swindle him out of all the people in the store. He wanted to walk away, but remembering Lucy\'s advice, he forced a smile and replied, "Oh, it\'s not that. My aunt will be paying for them—she\'s just shopping next door and will be here soon."

Cassian stayed put, remembering why he couldn\'t just walk out. Lucy had mentioned that this woman was an acquaintance of hers. If Lucy found out that her so-called friend was overcharging him—someone she trusted—things might get interesting. The worst-case scenario? Lucy could take the woman\'s side, but Cassian doubted that would happen. He just had to wait for her to return.

The woman nodded at his excuse, her fixed smile making him feel like it was permanently glued to her face. "Well then, how about you look around some more until your aunt arrives," she said sweetly, though her tone had a subtle edge.

She gestured to a more luxurious set of clothes on the far side of the shop and added, "See those over there? Good material, and cheaper than this set. Go look around if you think these are too costly." The false kindness in her voice grated on him, but Cassian kept his expression neutral.

A realization struck him as he wandered over to examine the more luxurious sets of clothes. He finally understood the fat woman\'s scheme.

Seeing him browse through the clothes, the woman gestured for one of the attendants to approach him. Cassian caught the gesture in one of the many mirrors scattered around the shop. "What a clever tub of lard." he muttered to himself with an amused smile.