“Long-Term Investment”

The air of Ferro Scuro was thick with soot and steam. 

Crowds milled around makeshift markets amid rusty gears, bartering for mechanical parts and demonic relics, while metal priests offered sermons in exchange for bloodstained coins.

The group, still dizzy from Zeltha's teleportation, tried to move through the crowd. 

Amid the smoke and the clamor of the market, a honeyed voice, like oil spilled on rusty gears, drifted toward them:

"Oh, travelers, travelers! New faces, pockets full of hope and little mistrust... my favorite clientele!"

The owner of that voice emerged from between the stalls: a woman with brown hair pulled back in a high ponytail, unruly strands sticking to her sweaty forehead. 

Her long coat looked like a traveling tent, bulging with bundles and objects that rattled like chains in the gloom. In her hands, she waved cloudy flasks and rusty weapons, pieces that looked like relics torn from still-warm corpses.

Her smile was wide, too wide. The kind of gesture that seemed to invite business and at the same time warned that all business would end in ruin.

Ayato raised an eyebrow.

"This looks more like a fairground stall than a gun shop."

"Bah! Don't underestimate the quality of Madelis, the Peddler of a Thousand Treasures!" she retorted with a smile so wide it almost seemed genuine. "See this dagger? It was used by a famous assassin... before his arm was torn off. And this potion... well, half my customers survived to taste it."

Isolde sighed, crossing her arms.

"More like half didn't survive."

Vera, looking uncomfortably, sniffed at one of the bottles.

"This smells like... schnapps with ink."

Ayato and Isolde exchanged glances, wondering what kind of world someone like Vera could recognize schnapps in...

Until they agreed that it was Slyphidia who had bestowed that knowledge upon her, that a drunken goddess is a bad influence in the long run.

Dakim grunted, giving her a stern look.

"Stolen merchandise. I smell it."

Madelis raised her hands, exaggerated.

"Stolen is a very ugly word! I prefer 'recycled with love and a market vision.'"

Ayato let out a dry laugh.

"Of course, a businesswoman. And you'll probably sell everything for triple the price."

"Quadruple," she corrected shamelessly. "But think about it, heroes: if you survive this industrial hell, I'll be your trusted supplier. I'll give you special discounts..." 

She lowered her voice, winking. 

"Because I see in you, Sarcasm Boy, a long-term investment."

Isolde rolled her eyes.

"Another leech clinging to us?"

But Madelis was already gathering her cart, walking among them as if she were part of the group.

"Oh, no, no, I'll just accompany you for a little while. I was just going to... snoop around that big castle that looks like a torture furnace. And of course, I'll need strong people to distract the guards while I, ahem, negotiate with the inventories."

Vera murmured worriedly, "So... she's planning on using us as bait."

Ayato shrugged.

"Well, I'm used to being used. But hey, if Miss Shark Mentality gives us an advantage... welcome to the circus."

The city's cogs creaked in the distance, like a metallic roar heralding a storm. And amid the smoke and red lights of the Pseudo-Castle, Madelis smiled like a thief who'd just found her biggest haul.

***

The makeshift market was alive with voices, smoke, and metal. Amid rusted gears and banners of worship to the Infernal Tyrant, Madelis's wagon gleamed like a gold-leafed mousetrap.

"Come in, come in!" she crooned, spreading her arms as if opening a stage. "Blessed objects, cutting-edge weapons, drinks for discerning gods... and lost family heirlooms, now recovered!"

Dakim frowned as she held up a golden crucifix.

"An amulet enshrined in the blood of forgotten martyrs?" she said theatrically. "It protects against blasphemy and corruption..."

The paladin held it in his hands. It weighed less than expected. Its runes seemed too perfect, too clean.

"Hmph. I'd better take it. The city reeks of heresy."

Ayato chuckled.

"Beautiful... Fake gold for a true paladin."

Madelis smiled like someone selling bottled air.

"It's pyrite! I mean... 'purifying fire gold.' A bargain for just three coins."

Dakim didn't notice. Or pretended not to.

Further ahead, Vera stopped when she saw a bottle with blue glass and a sealed stopper.

"What's that?"

"Imperial-tinted liquor, reserved only for aristocrats and minor gods. Every drop tastes like a kiss of eternity," Madelis said, shaking the bottle with exaggerated delicacy.

"Hmm... might cheer Sylphidia up," Vera murmured, opening the cat-shaped purse.

"What a cute stuffed animal that doubles as a purse, in the shape of a cat~," said the peddler, looking with her feline amber eyes, almost mistaking Vera's purse for an otter instead of a cat.

When the goddess received the bottle, she took a sip and immediately spat out the liquid as if it were poison.

"Ugh! This is cheap alcohol with squid dye!"

Madelis shrugged, still smiling.

"Well, goddess, the divine palate is always too demanding~"

Meanwhile, Ayato stopped in front of an object he hadn't expected to see in that world: a six-chamber revolver, with a crude but recognizable design.

"A firearm?" he whispered, taking it in his fingers.

"Exactly! Emerging technology from the workshops of Ferro Scuro. Only a few alchemists and blacksmiths know how to forge them. Expensive, dangerous... and exclusive!" Madelis explained, emphasizing each word as if revealing a priceless secret.

Ayato smiled wryly.

"In my world, they were common. Here, it looks like an experimental toy."

The cylinder jammed, the trigger was loose, and the bullets were more expensive than jewels. But he kept it.

"I'll take it. Even if it's just out of nostalgia."

Isolde, who had remained cold and distant, raised her eyebrow when Madelis pulled a familiar weapon from a small chest: her old hunting rapier.

"Where... did you get that?"

"Oh, my dear lady, I'm dedicated to rescuing forgotten relics from the shadows of the black market. I imagine you'd like to have it back, wouldn't you?" Madelis tilted her head viciously.

Isolde snatched it from her hands, clicking her tongue.

"What you steal isn't yours."

"I didn't steal it," Madelis smiled. "I set it free."

In the end, everyone had fallen, one way or another, into the peddler's trap. Dakim with his fake crucifix, Vera with her adulterated liquor, Ayato with his flawed relic, and Isolde with her stolen past.

And Madelis, with her little notebook, jotted down notes as she walked beside them as if she'd always belonged to the group:

"Customer number one: a gullible paladin. Customer number two: a naive mage. Customer number three: a nostalgic man with expensive bullets. Customer number four: a lady with unfinished business. Ah... what a beautiful monopoly in the making!"

***

As the group made its way through the blackened streets of Ferro Scuro, Madelis walked among them with the ease of someone who has been traveling together for years.

"So, when do we sign the official 'partnership-investment' contract?" she said, flipping through her notebook.

"There's no contract," Isolde grunted.

"Of course, of course... a tacit contract. The best."

Dakim gritted his teeth.

"This woman is dangerous. If we let her go, she'll talk about us on every corner."

Vera lowered her voice.

"And if we take her, at least we can keep an eye on her."

Ayato smirked.

"Excellent. Now we have an official group mascot. Cart included."

"Official supplier!" Madelis corrected, beaming. "And the first to believe in your future as market figures."

With each step, the smoke from the Pseudo-Castle became more visible on the horizon, and the peddler's cart creaked behind as a reminder that in Ferro Scuro, even the most absurd scam could turn into a dangerous investment.