Commerce Emperor

Final Chapter: Commerce Emperor

Final Chapter: Commerce Emperor

For once, I was happy being wrong. We had walked away from a dangerous battle without any significant casualties.

I supposed I had the Shadow’s hoarding nature to thank for that. Things would have gone very differently if they had focused on killing their enemies rather than adding them to their collection. Even then, we’d been a hair's breadth away from losing Rubenzo. I spent hours at his side after we escaped the eruption, splintering and trading away his wounds among our allies when he was conscious, and treating them when he wasn’t. I must have been the first Merchant to nurse a thief back to health.

Four days had passed since the eruption. Daltia’s efforts to turn the lava to snow had greatly blunted the disaster’s edge, but the quakes had taken their toll nonetheless. Villages near Mount Kazandu had been flattened and many buildings crumbled as far as the capital. Not to mention the other issues resulting from the general chaos.

“According to our reports, snow covers most farm fields east of Mount Kazandu,” Lord Oboro informed us. I sat right next to Soraseo, who had taken charge of what remained of the regency council in the disaster’s wake. Most of my fellow Heroes filled the other seats in the depths of the imperial palace, while the throne itself remained empty. “While a few appear recoverable with some effort, the quakes destroyed many dams and flooded entire plains as a result. We may have to anticipate a famine. The disappearances among the bureaucracy have also disrupted efforts to reestablish order in the provinces.”

“That one might have been a blessing in disguise for you in the long run,” Neferoa mused. “Many of those bureaucrats tried to silence me until their Crown took them away.”

“I agree, but in the short term they left many voids to fill,” I countered. “I can use my power to give a crash course in bureaucracy to candidates in order to ensure the state can respond quickly.”

All in all, the Crown had reaped its toll across the land. Every single demon Daltia set to infiltrate the Shinkokan state had vanished, alongside many Knot cultists… though not all. A few remained to be swiftly apprehended, while others escaped to plot another day.

Other citizens seemingly unrelated to the Demon Ancestors disappeared without rhyme or reason. None of us had figured out why the Crown took them yet. Maybe they didn’t have the strength to wake up from their dreams, or the false Artifact had required their skills for its unfathomable designs. In the end, I guessed looking for motives in an inhuman entity was a waste of time; all we could do was deal with the consequences of its departure and rejoice over averting a worse crisis.

We had taken steps on that front. Mirokald, Ravengarde, and Chronius were on the field looking for survivors buried under debris, while Erika and Beni worked full-time in the capital’s hospital to tend to the wounded. It amazed me that Chronius’ daughter was ready to work so soon after spending days trapped inside the Shadow. A few of the Demon Ancestor’s victims had been so shaken by the experience that it might take years for them to recover.

Meanwhile, the Spy had vanished, and Eris… Daltia was still nowhere to be seen. We hadn’t seen the Wanderer’s mark return to Erebia, so she had to be alive somewhere. I wasn’t too bothered. Something told me that she would show up again on her own time.

“I can go repair the dams as well,” Marika suggested. “Our airship can let us access ravaged areas and rescue refugees more easily too.”

“Your help is appreciated, but insufficient,” Soraseo said after a moment’s consideration. “We will recall troops from abroad to reestablish peace and order across our homeland, and focus our resources on rebuilding.”

What an exquisite trap, I thought with amusement as I saw a few members of the council exchanging glances, having suggested this move myself. Soraseo had longed to end the Shinkokan occupation of Seukaia, and this disaster offered the perfect excuse to begin the process. Citizens are rarely supportive of costly foreign ventures when there’s trouble at home.

I understood very well that ending the occupation would be a long process that might last years, but this would be the first kick in sending the stone rolling down the hill.

“If you’re going to recall troops, you should lend them to me,” Neferoa said with a cunning smile. Ever the bold revolutionary, she wouldn’t fail to exploit the situation to push her political agenda. “I can find a use for them.”

“We will show our gratitude for your help by supporting the Fire Islands’ independence movement from Irem, Lady Neferoa,” Lord Oboro said sternly. “However, we cannot provide military aid as it is; nor may we wish to do so in the future.”

“Fine by me. It was a jest.” Neferoa crossed her legs with the assurance of a true negotiator. “For now, I will settle on you opening your ports to my ships for sanctuary. My men need safe harbors away from the Fire Islands for certain missions, and surely you’ll need fast ships to bring your boys back home.”

Soraseo clenched her jaw, since it would mean heating up relations with Irem, yet nodded slightly. “We shall consider it, Lady Neferoa. For now, you are welcome to stay among us.”

“Of course,” Neferoa replied before smiling at me. “I cannot leave while this one hasn’t paid me for recording my song.”

“I’ll be happy to hammer out a contract once we locate all the missing soundstones,” I replied, albeit with some apprehension. A few of the objects we used to spread Neferoa’s song across the Shinkoku couldn’t be located, and I feared we had the Knots to thank for that.

Daltia’s warning rang true. Neferoa wasn’t the only Bard in the world, and the Puppeteer of Lust might find a use for my soundstones should his followers ever manage to break him out. Solving yesterday’s disaster had planted the seeds for tomorrow’s troubles. We would also need to return the Shadow’s now shattered mask to the Arcane Abbey to purify the mark within.

Those remained long-term problems. For now, we agreed to focus on assisting with reconstruction and recovery efforts, though Neferoa and Rubenzo said that they would have to leave in a few days; the former to continue her piracy war with Irem, the latter because new troubles brewed in his homeland of the Everbright Empire.

“It’s nothing too unusual, have no fear,” the playwright reassured us. I worried a bit for his health, but he appeared to have made a full recovery since the Shadow incident. “Just a small league of nobles plotting to unseat the empress according to our Spy friend. Plots like this take root now and then, but tend to flourish into wars unless nipped in the bud.”

“You’re in contact with the Spy?” I asked with great curiosity. The man—if it had been a man at all—just disappeared after the eruption. “Are they even in the Shinkokan Empire anymore?”

My Rogue friend smiled ear to ear. “I have absolutely no idea.”

“I recall catching Father speaking about the Sword of Belgoroth with a man behind a closed door, but found him to be alone when I opened it,” Mersie said with a thoughtful look. “I heard the Spy say a few words, and his voice… his voice sounded very close to that mysterious visitor.”

“And you think they’re the same person?” I inquired, with Mersie nodding hesitantly. “If so, then the Spy must have been fighting the Knots in the shadows long before they earned their mark.”

“Now I’m curious,” Marika said with a chuckle. “I wonder if the Fatebinder even knows their identity.”

“They are an enigma wrapped in a mystery,” Rubenzo mused. “I say that their shroud of secrecy is half their charm, and I would be loath to deprive them of it. Let our friend enjoy that small refuge of anonymity.”

“Speaking of enigma, I have to ask something of you,” I said, locking eyes with Rubenzo. “When you took the Shadow’s connection to all the world’s envy, what did you see?”

Rubenzo stroked his chin and pondered my moment before answering. “Loneliness. I only sensed loneliness, loss, and frustration. Their existence was a pitiable one, my friend. We Rogues often look everywhere for happiness, except within ourselves. I can only hope that they find peace once their soul finally fades away from that awful mask.”

I meditated on his words, then nodded slightly. “I see.”

Mersie knew me well enough to guess what bothered me. “You’re thinking about Eris, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” I confessed. After she showcased her Merchant power to save our friends, her secret had quickly spread. “I wonder what she must be thinking right now.”

“I still can’t believe she played us for fools from the very beginning,” Marika muttered under her breath. Learning the full truth had hit her especially hard, since we’d all been close from all the way back to our Snowdrift days. “I… I truly thought she was our friend.”

“I think she was,” Mersie replied with a sigh. Having lived so long under a false identity, I guessed she understood Daltia more than any of us. “She wouldn’t have returned to help us otherwise.”

“She was indeed our friend,” I insisted. “Daltia cut out Eris from herself and wiped her memories. She had never lied to us; not consciously.”

“I would be frightened in her place,” Neferoa replied with a shrug. “The Fatebinder will strip her of her mark the moment she learns of her betrayal, last-minute change of heart or otherwise.”

I had the feeling it wouldn’t come to that, somehow. In any case, we concluded the meeting on these words; or so I thought.

“Robin?” I turned to glance at Soraseo, who had remained seated. “Would you and Marika stay with me for a moment? You too, Lady Mersie.”

“Sure,” I replied. Our allies left one after the other until the four of us remained inside the imperial council room. “Is this about your brother?”

“Has he left his room yet?” Marika asked with deep concern.

“No,” Soraseo replied with a sorrowful scowl. “Neither will he speak to me. I hope he will in his own time.”

“Give him time,” I said in an attempt to console her. “From what you told me, his ideal dream involved the two of you reuniting with your mother; which implies he wants you in his life.”

“You speak kindly, Robin.” Soraseo nodded in assent. “I believe it too. It is why I suspect the Crown did not take my brother. A part of him does wish to move forward, deep within his heart. It will take time for…” Her voice broke a bit. “For him to forgive me.”

Mersie crossed her arms, a thoughtful look on her face. “Some wounds run deep, Lady Soraseo. Your brother may never extend mercy to you, but… I say that you must not give up on him. People can change, and feelings too.”

I could tell from her tone that she spoke from experience; that she thought of Chronius when speaking of wounds, forgiveness, and mercy. I’d heard from Soraseo that she extended a hand to save the Archer from the Shadow during their fight. I doubted she would ever fully absolve Chronius for his past crimes, no more than Soraseo’s brother would let go of his mother’s death… but there might come a day when a bridge would mend that rift.

“My country is in as much pain as my brother, and while my exile has been repealed, I remain stained in the eyes of many,” Soraseo said softly. “Great ordeals are ahead of us, and I… I wish to ask for your help.”

I scoffed in amusement at her humility. “By now, you should know better than to ask.”

“We’ve dragged one city out of poverty and restored a kingdom once before, so sure, we can do it again,” Marika mused. “Besides, Beni seems to like this place.”

“I can see with my contacts in Goldport how we can restore trade with the Shinkoku Empire,” Mersie added. “If you’re willing to open your borders again, this would let us secure a new flow of goods into your country and help restore its economy.”

I’d clearly rubbed off on her too much. “I have a few ideas on how to improve this country’s infrastructure without relying on material taken from colonies abroad,” I said. “I wouldn’t mind advising the new empress for a while.”

Soraseo rarely smiled, but when she did, her face always brightened like a radiant sun. “Thank you, my friends,” she said with a deep bow. “The Shinkoku Empire owes you a debt of gratitude, as do I.”

Might the past Merchants forgive me, I wouldn’t count this one.

We split up afterwards. Mersie left to check on Chronius, Marika on Beni, and I went to a very special place in town.

“Robin…” Marika said as we prepared to go on our separate ways for the day, her hand scratching her head. “I, uh… how to say this…”

I waited patiently for her to find her words. Marika was a bold and confident woman, so seeing her act so anxiously raised all kinds of alarms. I had my suspicions about what caused her such unease.

“Would you…” Marika cleared her throat, seemed to consider something, and then quickly decided against it. “Would you like to have dinner with Beni and me tonight? Just the three of us?”

“I’d love to,” I replied, recognizing the blatant attempt at avoiding a difficult subject. “It’s been a while since we had time for ourselves.”

“Yes. Yeah, that’s… that’s what I was thinking about.” Marika smiled sheepishly while doing her best to hide her embarrassment. “I’ll see you tonight then.”

I graciously thanked her and then watched her leave at a hastier pace than usual for her. I knew what was on her mind, and I would gladly discuss it at length once she felt ready for it.

Marika was thinking about the Crown’s dreams, and what it showed her. I suspected it made her rethink how things stood between us, maybe enough to try and test the waters to see how I felt on the matter… yet she wouldn’t try to make a move while the Eris issue remained unresolved.

I couldn’t blame her for it. I still required closure myself.

I left the palace and walked into the streets. I found the Shinkokan capital much more appealing visually without the thick mist blanketing everything. The quake had destroyed a few buildings and damaged many more, but I had high hopes we would repair most of them with our combined powers over the next few weeks. Saving lives over stones took priority for now.

While most of the capital espoused Shinkokan architecture, there was a building at the city’s edge built in the mainland style: an ancient church of the Arcane Abbey, built centuries before the country closed itself to missionaries. Most of its stone walls and roof had crumbled due to disrepair years ago, though the quake itself hardly inflicted any damage by some miracle. A handful of gravestones remained as the lingering remnants of a forgotten past.

I found her there, staring at a grave with her back turned to me.

“How did you know I would be here?” she asked me with a voice lacking any surprise whatsoever.

“Because I know you,” I replied while walking up to her. “We first met in a place like this once.”

Daltia nodded calmly, and I daresay I detected a hint of fondness on her face. I looked at the tombstone she was facing. It was newer than the others, with a single name carved on the stone: Shamshir.

“The name is appropriate,” Daltia said mournfully. “They were a shadow of what they used to be.”

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“Shamshir?”

“Yes. Do you know there used to be a time when they gave most of what they stole to the poor and downtrodden? They never uttered a word nor provided an explanation, but their heart was always in the right place. It’s only after I helped forge their mask that they started speaking in the voices of others through stolen faces.” Daltia took a long deep breath. “Whenever Shamshir took a life or Bel destroyed a village, I kept telling myself… ‘In the end, it will all be worth it. This investment will pay off someday.’”

I remained silent. A kinder soul would have told Daltia that it wasn’t her fault, but that would have been a lie. While she wasn’t entirely to blame for the choices of Belgoroth and Shamshir, she helped transform them into the menaces they had become since. Demons, whether with or without marks, would remain her legacy.

“But that’s the thing with investments, isn’t it? You can never tell whether they’ll fail or succeed, and sometimes you’re in so deep that you cannot turn back.” Daltia raised her head and stared at the distant clouds. “I sank so much of my friends, efforts, and future in my dream to change course, even when I knew it would lead me straight off a cliff.”

“For all it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

Daltia scoffed. “A victor shouldn’t feel sorry for the loser, Robin.”

“Why? Life isn’t a zero-sum game.” That, and I still held great affection for her in spite of everything. “I didn’t want to live in your world, but I don’t wish you to suffer in this one either.”

“That kindness of yours will cost you one day, Robin,” she said with a small sigh. “But I suppose I shouldn’t pass judgment. You bested me handily.”

Did I? A question had been bugging me since I saw Daltia teleport away to rescue Soraseo’s group from the Shadow.

“You never lost the Wanderer’s power, not for a second,” I said, and she didn’t deny it. “You could have teleported away at any time to remove the soundstones before they triggered.”

Daltia avoided my gaze. “I could have.”

“Why didn’t you then?”

“I don’t know,” she confessed. “I think somewhere deep within me, a part of me hoped that you would prove me wrong and that I had made a mistake somewhere. I assume that’s why the Crown didn’t take me with it.”

In the end, I’d managed to shake the Devil of Greed’s faith. I wasn’t sure how to feel about this. Eris had been a dear friend, but Daltia allowed for the creation of the Knots, Sebastian, Chastel, and her fellow Demon Ancestors. For all the good memories we shared, so many evils could also be traced back to her. I felt no pity for crushing her vision, but strangely no joy either.

It had been nothing personal. Just business.

But her words reframed the Wanderer mark’s decision. Roland’s own mark would have killed him had he grown corrupted in order to find a new user, yet it stayed with Daltia.

The Class hadn’t chosen Eris by mistake or trickery as we thought, but because her remorse had been genuine. It had sensed her inner conflict and while it provided a searing warning, it still decided to stay and give her a chance to atone for real; one that my former lover took when it mattered.

“I was right in the end,” Daltia lamented. “I did create a god. And like its predecessor, it chose to selfishly abandon us to pursue grander goals.”

“Or the Crown realized a flawed god cannot fix a flawed world, or maybe it left to figure itself out,” I countered. “None of us can tell, Eris.”

“No, I suppose we can’t. The Goddess could never truly understand us, but now I realize we couldn’t understand her either. Mortals and gods are too far apart to coexist, even when one created the other.” Daltia scoffed in bitter amusement. “My plan was doomed from the start.”

I couldn’t confirm or deny that affirmation, so I remained quiet. Many would have embraced the Crown of Desire, enough for it to depart Pangeal with followers of its own. I still had a long way to go to create a world where people would look to shape a brighter future rather than live in lies and a cold dead past.

My eyes noticed her shaking fingers, and my gaze lingered on her hands. A chill traveled down my spine. Her pale skin was dry and cracked like ancient stone.

“Eris?” I grabbed her fingers to find them both brittle and colder than ice. “Your hands–”

“My immortality was tied to my hoard of Devil Coins, and that came to an end when I forged the Crown,” Daltia admitted. “I went all in with my plan, trusting my Artifact to preserve me in our new world… it was yet another prayer that went unanswered, I suppose.”

She was dying. That snow had indeed been a parting gift. She had come to visit me to say her farewells.

But I refused to watch another friend die. I’d buried too many people I cared about to add another to that list.

“Then take half of my years,” I argued. “I have so many of them stored as it is. I can sell them to you.”

“Half of your years?” Daltia’s lips morphed into that oh-so-familiar mischievous smile. “Are you asking me to become your lady wife?”

I couldn't help but chuckle. “Yes, you could say that,” I admitted. “I want you in my life.”

Her smile faded away, a hint of emotion breaking through her cold facade. “Even after everything I did to you? To this world?”

“Yes,” I replied without hesitation. “My answer will always be yes.”

Even after her betrayal, even after the evils she caused, the lives she ruined, and the destruction she sowed… She was still the woman who had guided me on my journey as the Merchant and who had taken a step towards redemption by choosing to save the lives of thousands.

She was the demon I’d been chosen to fight, and still the woman I’d fallen in love with. I couldn’t cut off one part without accepting the whole, nor could I abandon her to die. Not after all we went through together, not after she finally chose to do the right thing.

All she had to do was to say ‘yes’ and she would live. A simple word would have the power to ward off death, the same way it helped her survive for centuries.

Yet I knew her answer the moment I looked into her pale eyes.

“Thank you, Robin,” she said softly, sincerely. Her fingers gripped mine with a strong and genuine affection. “That means more than you can imagine to me.”

My jaw clenched in disappointment. “But this is a no, isn’t it?”

Daltia nodded with sorrowful resolve. “My journey lasted nearly a thousand years, handsome, and some crimes cannot be forgiven.” She looked so very tired in that instant, and I saw a glimpse of the long centuries weighing on her shoulders. “It is about time I face the music, Robin.”

“How can you be forgiven if you don’t even try?” I argued with her. “Your Wanderer’s mark is proof that it’s not too late for you.”

Daltia looked into my eyes for a moment and appeared to briefly consider my offer, only to shake her head.

“I told you that I was bastard-born from a priest and priestess in a convent,” she said. “The truth was that I was never wanted.”

“I recall,” I said softly.

“My first few years of life were difficult, and left a hole in my heart,” Daltia continued as she reminisced about the past. “I tried to fill it with money very early. I was a child who assumed that since gold could buy anything, so why not parents? Soon enough I started putting my charm and silver tongue to use to accumulate such wealth that the Goddess Herself took notice of me. I had prayed to her so often, searching in her silence the mother I lacked, and one night she answered.”

Daltia looked up to the church’s cracked bell tower and the symbol of the Arcane Abbey carved on it. “Can you imagine how unbearably proud I felt? To have earned our creator’s very attention through my merit? I saw my mark as a well-earned reward for a lifetime of toil and not the duty it was.”

I could see where this story led. I’d seen it with Belgoroth.

“Yet at no point did I see people as, well, people,” Daltia confessed. “They were always resources to use, problems to fix, and tools to briefly satiate the hungry void in my heart. When Cipar suggested that we take control of kingdoms by force in peace’s name, I didn’t hesitate. Neither did I think twice about helping Belsara torture poor souls into the first beastmen, simply to see if I could create life in my own image. And when the idea of surpassing the Goddess who had abandoned me crossed my mind, I never considered the cost that dream required. I paved the path to my ascension with the blood of countless innocents.”

Her Wanderer’s mark burned on her skin with an otherworldly glow as she reminisced about her sins.

“Can you fathom the number of corpses behind me, Robin? The mountains of human suffering?” she asked me. “I empowered monsters like Chastel and fools like Sebastian to use and discard. I sowed the seeds which left Archfrost tearing itself apart, exploited the pain Soraseo’s homeland spread for my own use, and fostered chaos and wars wherever I could in order to reap a harvest of souls. Then came a time when I even stopped seeing my fellow Heroes as friends, but as tools and obstacles instead.”

She locked eyes with me, her two marks burning on her skin.

“I chose all this because I was the Merchant,” she said. “I alone was chosen to give life value, to determine the worth of things and people alike. I alone owned the world.”

“Why are you telling me this?” I asked her.

“What I mean to say, Robin, is that I had a thousand second chances which I never deserved, and I found as many excuses to ignore them,” Daltia confided. “I used my pain and those of others to justify the unjustifiable; and while I had doubts, they were never strong enough to stop me. For all of my power, I don’t think I have the strength to change; not if it comes at the cost of someone else. Those years of yours will be better spent on those who will spend them more wisely than me.”

“But you did change,” I argued. “Rubenzo, Soraseo, Mersie, and so many others are only alive today because of you.”

“Because you bested me, Robin. We both know I wouldn’t have acted without you.” Daltia shook her head, a thin smile on her lips. “I won’t lie though, my time as Eris did shake my faith in myself… but at the end of the day, I shall always be the Devil of Greed. I shall bear whatever punishment awaits me. I deserve that much.”

Hope wavered within my soul. I could feel in my bones that she had reached her decision the moment I proved her wrong when the world hinged on the balance. I could sell time for life, but only to those who wished to be saved.

Nonetheless… I still refused to give up.

“Then you would be a poor Merchant,” I stated. “You would depart this world with your debts unsettled.”

Daltia frowned at me. “My debts?”

“We’ve won today, and no more demons will arise from your scheming,” I replied, “But half your colleagues are still out there and will break out at one time or another. The War of the Heroes will go on without you until the last of the Demon Ancestor is defeated; people whom you empowered. They’re the debts you’re trying to saddle us with.”

If she had any pride in her past occupation, if she had ever been worthy of her Merchant mark, and if her guilt was indeed genuine, then I knew where to strike.

“I’m not letting you get away with this so easily, Daltia Eris Belarra,” I declared with all of my wits and charm. “If you have any Merchant pride, then you’ll help us clean up this mess. Or do devils break contracts nowadays?”

“You would torment me more because you find death too sweet an escape?” My wording vaguely seemed to amuse her. “I went bankrupt, and still you would give me absolution?”

“I’m not absolving you,” I countered. She still had a long, long way to go to earn that. “I’m not giving away time for free. I’m offering you a payment delay and years of community service. It’s a contract, not a charity.”

Daltia chuckled, then exploded into warm laughter. For the first time since she had merged back with her demonic self, I had managed to break through her shield of sorrow and confidence.

Was there a stronger force in this world than laughter?

It took a while for Daltia to calm herself, and when she regained her breathing I could see the gears grinding in her head. She pondered my offer for what felt like forever, then gave me that mischievous smile she always sported before playing a trick.

“Very well, silver tongue,” she said, gaining my full and undivided attention. “I’ll take that deal… at one condition.”

Oh? A counteroffer? “Which one?”

“I will accept ten years of yours and the duty that comes with them… if you accept a gift from me in return.” Daltia held my gaze with a mix of resolve and amusement. “Proof of my goodwill, and of our contract.”

I didn’t even hesitate. “Yes, of course. Ten years of life, for that gift.”

Her hands gripped mine, and our marks shone brighter than the stars. A shining hue painted the world with gold, and for a brief instant time appeared to come to a screeching halt. The noises of the city were silenced, and the wind no longer blew.

The flash lasted a mere instant, but I sensed a colossal shift in the very fabric of reality, of essence itself. An invisible weight pressed on my soul as my left hand glowed along with my right. A power flowed into me, ancient and pure; one with which my own Class resonated with.

When the light finally died, a new mark appeared on my left hand. A skull-shaped coin so similar and yet so different from the Merchant’s numbered symbol; a ghastly sight which I had come to loathe, but that was now carved into my very essence.

“That’s…” I struggled to believe in my own eyes, even when I checked Daltia’s hands. Her newfound years had healed them from their cracks, but her mark was nowhere to be seen. “Impossible…”

“Didn’t you know?” Daltia smiled ear to ear. “This was how our generation was meant to pass on the marks had we decided to do so: by choosing our successors. Of all the Merchants I’ve fought and met across the centuries, you alone I find worthy of my charge.”

“But… but the world’s greed–”

“It went away with the Crown, and the rest I traded away. You will not inherit my sins, that I can promise you.” She let go of my hands and put them behind her back. “And this ensures that even should dark thoughts cross my mind again, I will lack the ability to act upon them.”

“This is too much power for any one person to wield,” I argued. It simply offered far too many temptations.

“Then seal the mark away, splinter it, sell it… the choice is all yours now, and I am certain you will find a wiser use for it than I ever did.” Daltia let out a breath heavy with finality. “But I wouldn’t cast it away so soon. Believe me when I say that the likes of Cipar will make you wish you were fighting Bel and little old me.”

My jaw clenched, and I nodded with grave understanding. This mark wasn’t a gift, but a responsibility; one which Daltia had failed to live up to. I was now the inheritor of two marks of different sets of heroic generations, and with them, my predecessor’s hopes. She had chosen to put her trust in me, in so many ways.

“What next then?” I asked. She had disappointed a great many people who would like to have a word with her.

“I will beg Lady Alexios for her mercy, and pray for your sake that she gives me a third chance,” Daltia warned me with a small sigh. “It would have been so much easier for everyone if you had let me die, Robin. It would have caused less problems if I’d died a Hero. I hope you understand that.”

“I do, and I don’t care.” I chuckled. “I’m not one to give up on a brighter future, you know that. Getting there will be messy, the best results come with toil.”

“I can never tell where you stand on the edge between foolishness and wisdom, handsome… but I will say this.” She scratched her cheek, whose silver mark had stopped glowing. “It doesn’t burn me anymore.”

She had taken the first step on a new journey as a Hero, and this time… this time, I had the feeling she wouldn’t stumble on the way.

“Will we meet again?” I asked her with a faint smile. “I’m still looking forward to our next date.”

“It’s not up to me anymore… but I hope we do,” Daltia Eris Belarra said with one last, blissful smile brighter than the sun. “Thank you for everything, Robin. Thank you for reminding me of what hope feels like.”

Then she was gone in a puff of smoke.

I found myself alone again amidst the tombs, the wind gently blowing on my cheeks. I glanced at my marks, the twin coins of the Merchant, and then to the sky. Daltia was probably back on Mount Erebia and would soon face the Fatebinder’s judgment. I couldn’t tell whether or not Lady Alexios would extend the same mercy I did… but it was the way of the Merchants to gamble on a brighter tomorrow.

I took one last deep breath, covered my new mark with a glove, and then left the silent church. There was still so much left to do.

I had people who needed me, and a world to save.

The End

Afterwords

And it is finished. Thanks again to Daniel Zogbi and Charles Setser for their invaluable proofreading, and to all my patrons on Patreon for supporting this series.

I’ll be honest, finishing this volume was very much a fight unlike any other beforehand. I don’t think I’ve struggled with a book like this since I burned out on Magik Online years ago. The hiatuses and drop in quality (at least it felt like a drop to me) should attest to it.

When I first outlined Commerce Emperor, my goal was to write a long-running saga with one volume per Demon Ancestor, culminating with a final conflict between Robin and Daltia; something which had been planned from the very start.

I stayed true to that goal during the first volume, but then started experiencing fatigue and dissatisfaction in the second. It took me a while to realize the problem: what I wanted to write was a story about economics, deal-making, and city-building, in short, a slice-of-life about Heroes on the ‘low scale’ so to say. Those were the parts I enjoyed the most writing in Commerce Emperor.

But at the same time, I’d planted the seeds of a vast, world-threatening quest to defeat the Demon Ancestors. I’d created a vast cast of characters, each with their own journeys, but wrote it all in the first person; I wanted to write commerce stories, but also epic battles where thousands of lives would be on the line. In many ways, I think my issue with Commerce Emperor is that I tried to do too many things at once, to write two very different stories and combine them somehow. I was able to keep those somewhat coherent in the first volume when I was building up the world, cast, and powers, but as the stakes rose those cracks grew wider and wider. I was strongly tempted many times to stop, but it just felt wrong to stop with volume 2 after all the plotlines I’d sowed beforehand.

My objective for the third volume was to return to small-scale; commerce-themed, road trip-like adventures… but the more I advanced and confronted my outline with the plotlines I’d already started (Soraseo’s return from exile, Mersie and Chronius, Daltia’s crown) the more I realized it simply couldn’t be done. I had shot myself in the foot a long time ago. All I could do was try my best.

Although the ending was how I intended to conclude the series in the first place, Commerce Emperor was very much cut short from my original planning. I am sorry if this feels rushed. My main fear was to leave this trilogy unfinished, a tale without a conclusion that would have left everyone, myself included, utterly unsatisfied. I wanted to at least conclude the storylines of the main cast, to give Robin, Soraseo, Mersie, and so many others a certain sense of closure. I think I managed to do it somewhat, in a ‘and the adventure continues’ kind of way.

If I had the ability to go back in time… I guess I would either start by making it a multi-viewpoint anthology from the start, or reduce the scale of the conflict to better focus on city-building. There’s still a chance I will return to this universe, either with other Heroes unseen in this trilogy (like the Mage or the Ranger) or perhaps another generation years into the future called to fight the remaining Ancestors… but for now, I admit I’ve burned out on this series and I’ll walk away from it. This ending was written in case I do not return to it to at least give a sense of closure to my readers.

Honestly, it’s a terrible feeling to stop enjoying what you create after advancing so far; like suffering from a stroke midway through a race. I don’t wish it on anyone, and I hope I at least managed to entertain you all to the end.

As for the ending, that was the one I planned during my original outline (though the Curse of Pride would have been the last ‘physical’ threat instead of the Shadow of Envy after a lengthier set-up; the ability to make everything they say ‘true’ would have been pretty fun to write). I always knew from the prologue that the story’s final confrontation would be a clash of ideals between Robin and Eris/Daltia over what it means to be the Merchant, the meaning of happiness, and what makes a hero. I hope CE at least provided answers and food for thought to readers looking for those.

While I do have many regrets over how I wrote Commerce Emperor, I did have some fun too and I feel it helped me progress as a writer. It’s easy to stay in our comfort zone, and much more difficult to push boundaries. I’ve learned many things about myself and my craft through Commerce Emperor, from the joys and limits of first-person narration to new prose and the necessity to better focus my storylines from now on.

For now, I’m going to keep writing Blood & Fur (which is three-fifths into the story as I write these lines) and try some lighter stuff like Dungeon Wreckers and Board & Conquest (both of which will probably hit RR after the winter holidays once I've advanced on the Patreon backlog). I miss more zany and comedic works, and as always, I hope I’ll see you again on the next one.

Best regards,

Voidy.