Twig remained inside his stall, chewing on ideas, until another group approached.
This time, instead of armored knights, a handful of young nobles appeared, dressed in fine clothes and escorted by guards.
"Here come more nobles," Twig thought.
Just like earlier, the misplaced little shop drew the attention of someone important among them: a young woman with delicate features stepped toward the counter, studying the carved wooden plates with curious eyes.
The young lady didn't introduce herself — she simply approached in silence, waiting. Twig took the initiative.
"Greetings, fair and noble lady. Your presence alone elevates the very ground beneath your feet," said Twig, giving an exaggerated, theatrical bow.
"Ha!" the young woman laughed. "You're amusing, merchant. What are you doing out here, so far from the crowds? You won't sell much in a place no one walks through."
"Well, believe it or not, this is not the first time I've heard that today," Twig replied.
"Really?" she asked, intrigued.
"Yes. The Crown Prince himself came by earlier. Didn't buy a thing, though. What a shame. His loss, hmmf."
The young lady tapped her chin, thoughtful.
"I see… and why do you say it's his loss, merchant?"
"Oh, that's simple! He threw away the fortune of finding me selling my wonderful merchandise here," Twig declared dramatically.
"Wonderful merchandise?" she echoed. "All I see are wooden plaques on your counter."
"Well… yes. I haven't explained how my shop works yet, have I?"
Twig then took a moment to explain — patiently, playfully — the logic behind the signs and categories.
To his own surprise, he actually enjoyed the interaction. For the first time, he felt something genuine: the simple joy of being a merchant.
Understanding the mechanics of the Masked Merchant's shop, the young lady asked:
"And the 'star' plaque you mentioned — what's so special about it?"
"That plaque has no fixed list," Twig replied. "You tell me about yourself — your story, your dreams, your hopes — and you give me five gold coins. Then I choose an item from that category for you. Something that will help you achieve something incredible."
"Oh, that is very suspicious," she said with a small laugh. "So I tell you my life, expose myself, pay you, and then I don't even get to choose what I'm buying?"
"Oh, dear lady, you're seeing this all wrong. You would be receiving something far more valuable than the gold you pay. I need to hear your story and your ideals — your dreams and what you hope for the future — so I can select an item crafted uniquely for you."
"I see… so that's why it's special," she said. "Very well. I'll play along with your insolent little whim, mad merchant."
She smiled softly.
"Let's begin. My name is Elia Martell, Princess of Dorne, and—"
"That's enough," Twig interrupted.
"What do you mean, 'that's enough'?" Elia asked, taken aback.
"I don't need you to continue. In truth… I don't have anything in my inventory that could solve your problems right now."
Elia noticed the shift in his tone. Before, the merchant had sounded warm, bright. Now he seemed distant, cold.
"I'm sorry… did I say something offensive, merchant?" she asked carefully.
"It's not that. The truth is you have troubles ahead of you — troubles you don't even imagine yet."
"What are you talking about?" she pressed.
"Among my wares, I hold artifacts worthy of myths and legends. But your fate is… complicated. Your final destiny is already set."
Elia stared at him, horrified by the absurdity of his words. With every sentence, he sounded more insane.
"Stop speaking nonsense. How could you know anything about my destiny? Are you trying to scam me for my gold?" she demanded.
"I don't want your gold," Twig replied calmly.
He paused, then added:
"Since you're my first true customer today, I'll make you an offer.
When the moment of your greatest misfortune arrives… I will come to you to collect those five gold coins — in exchange for the solution to the problem standing before you."
Elia froze.
"You're starting to frighten me," she whispered.
"Don't be afraid. I'm not the one you should fear," Twig said gently. "Right now, I'm nothing more than an excellent merchant — offering the deal of a lifetime."
The young princess studied him, trying to gauge whether he was insane, dangerous, or simply theatrical. She forced herself to relax.
"Very well. I doubt whatever you're predicting is real, but I'll humor you," she said. "I'll keep five gold coins aside in case I ever need to pay for your… services."
Trying to shift the mood, she pointed at another sign.
"All this strange talk made me hungry. Under the 'mouth' plaque — what do you have to eat?"
"For a single silver coin, I can offer you a sweetness like nothing you've ever tasted," Twig said.
Elia placed a silver coin on the counter. Twig accepted it, reached discreetly into his inventory, and produced a candy cane — red and white, glossy like glass, smelling of mint and sugar.
Elia tasted it — and her eyes widened.
"This is wonderful! It reminds me of the sweet fruits of Dorne… but even sweeter and far more delicious."
She purchased a few more candy canes for the road. Before leaving, Twig repeated the same request he'd made to Prince Rhaegar:
"If you see the Starks around, please tell them the Masked Merchant arrived yesterday."
After a small laugh, Elia agreed and rejoined her group.
Throughout the day, Twig continued selling small items — mostly to artisans looking for materials. None left fully satisfied; the Masked Merchant's peculiar rules tested the patience of even the calmest customer.
As the sun dipped low, and Twig prepared to close the shop, a lone knight approached.
The lion embroidered on his clothes said everything: a Lannister.
The young blond man inspected the strange stall curiously. Twig delivered his usual comedic routine, now finely polished from practice.
"I want to see your weapons," the knight said plainly.
"Which category?" Twig asked.
Without hesitation, the knight placed ten gold coins onto the counter.
"Hm… ten gold coins. You're the first who neither doubted my rules nor took offense," Twig commented.
"My family has more gold than we can count," the young man replied. "This is insignificant. And if you try to cheat me, I'll kill you before you regret it."
Twig smiled behind the mask.
"Unlikely, young Lannister. But you've done your part. Now it's my turn."
After sorting through the items in his merchant cart, Twig brought out a sword — one of his own creations — and placed it before the knight.
The young man lifted it, surprised by its lightness.
He stepped back, testing cuts and swings. The balance felt as if the blade had been forged for his hand alone.
"This feels like a weapon I've trained with for years…" he thought.
He inspected the edge — flawless.
Then he turned to the merchant.
"My name is Jaime Lannister. The sword is exceptional… but ten gold coins seems steep for its real worth."
"Is that so?" Twig replied.
He plucked another sword from his inventory — the Stardust Blade, dropped for the second time from the Vagabond Wolf boss — and smirked.
"En garde, lion."
Holding the blade with only two fingers, Twig swept it toward Jaime in a wide arc.
Instinct took over. Jaime raised his new sword to block.
CLANG!
The force made his arms tremble. His boots slid back across the grass.
Before Jaime could regroup, Twig had already placed the Stardust Blade back onto the counter.
"See, Ser Jaime," Twig said calmly. "The sword you just used was able to block that strike by a sword identical in might to the blade once wielded by Ser Madrik Rouster — forged from a fallen star.
Look at your weapon: still perfect, untouched."
Jaime checked — and indeed, the blade was flawless.
"How…?" he whispered.
Twig continued:
"It's simple. This sword was forged by a master whose skill has surpassed the limits of its own material. It rivals Valyrian steel in everything but substance. If you care for it, I'm sure one day it will earn a name of its own."
Jaime exhaled sharply, and looked at the counter.
"It's true… this sword is identical to Dusk."
"Dusk?" Twig echoed.
"Yes. Ser Arthur Dayne's legendary blade is Dawn — the sword granted to the worthy knight of House Dayne. And Dusk is the name he gave to the sword Prince Rhaegar gifted him when he accepted his place in the Kingsguard. They say Dusk increases the strength of whoever wields it.
Perhaps yours does the same?"
"Perhaps," Twig said. "But this particular blade is not for sale. You already chose your weapon — as per my rules.
If fate allows us to meet again, bring more gold."
Jaime blinked, stunned.
"What kind of merchant refuses more gold… knowing I'm a Lannister?" he thought.
As Twig tidied his counter, Jaime realized it was getting late. He had an important dinner to attend.
He began to leave — but Twig called out:
"Thank you for your patronage. And should you meet Lyanna Stark, please inform her that the Smiling Mask arrived yesterday."
Jaime paused, nodded once, and departed.
Twig dismantled the stall, moved to a hidden spot, and used Kafra service to teleport back home — completely unaware that, later that night, at the grand feast of Harrenhal, his existence would become the favorite topic among many nobles.