The Royal Capital of the Carlo Kingdom was overflowing with life.
Shops of every kind lined the bustling streets—ordinary stalls, upscale merchants, and even specialized weapon and potion shops catering to adventurers. There were so many that Ron doubted he could visit them all even if he spent the entire day wandering.
Compared to this lively metropolis… his Arnold Territory truly had nothing.
Yet prosperity did not erase poverty. Ron noticed groups of street children, well-coordinated, offering "guide services" to newcomers. They introduced shops, explained routes, and answered questions—with a price.
Generous customers might give dozens of silver coins. The stingy would still hand over at least one silver coin.
As for copper coins?
The children acted as if they had never heard of them.
To maintain appearances, the children even wore clean clothes—clothes borrowed from their group, not personally owned.
Strangely, although several children glanced their way, none approached.
Ron blinked, puzzled—until he turned to see the dozen knights behind him wearing expressions so tense they might as well have been shouting: "Approach and die."
"…Why are you all so stiff? Is this your first time traveling far?" Ron asked, exasperated.
Thomas immediately answered, solemn as always, "Reporting, My Lord—this subordinate is visiting the Royal Capital for the first time."
"Same."
"Me too."
Voices chimed in one after another. Ron stared at them for several seconds.
"We need someone who actually knows their way around the Royal Capital. See those children?"
Thomas and the others followed his gaze and nodded with military seriousness.
"Go pick one. Anyone."
Hadley stepped forward immediately. Minutes later, he returned with a boy.
"Greetings, noble sir! My name is Rabi. I will be at your service from now on."
The boy looked no older than ten, yet he spoke like a seasoned vendor.
Ron smiled. "Then take us to the best weapon shop."
"As you wish!" Rabi bowed deeply and led the way.
Along the road, Ron asked, "How many weapon shops are there in the Royal Capital? Who is the most skilled blacksmith?"
"There are 28 weapon shops. The most skilled blacksmith is Master Wahaba—but he retired long ago. He only teaches apprentices now."
Ron continued asking more questions. Rabi answered each one, though his eyes silently pleaded for mercy.
Thankfully, the destination was nearby, and Rabi escaped further interrogation.
"Sir, this is the shop."
Ron looked up. A sign reading Aresb hung above the entrance. Inside were rows of polished weapons—it was a weapon store, not a forge.
He decided to take a look.
"Welcome, welcome!" A clerk rushed over eagerly. "Are you looking for swords? Blades? War hammers? We have them all."
Ron said casually, "Bring me the best weapon you have."
The clerk did not hesitate, leading him to a wall where a long-handled battle-axe was displayed.
"May I examine it up close?" Ron asked.
"Of course!"
The moment Ron touched the handle, the item card popped up.
[Battle-Axe (Green)]
[Attribute 1: Sharpness (White)]
[Attribute 2: Wind-Breaking (Green)]
A green-quality weapon with two attributes.
Ron nodded. Indeed, slightly stronger than Master Hadley's usual work.
"What rank is this axe considered here in the Royal Capital? And how much is it worth?"
The clerk answered proudly, "This is a masterpiece crafted by Master Wahaba himself! His weapons are coveted by adventurers. This particular axe is one of the finest—priced at 500 gold coins!"
The tone was clearly exaggerated, but the price still matched what Ron expected: only seasoned adventurers could afford green-quality gear. Blue-quality equipment was considered a rare luxury.
Ron had a better understanding now.
After offering brief thanks, Ron left the shop.
"Next," Ron told Rabi, "the best potion shop."
Potion-making was a profound craft—thousands of potion types existed, and only those with talent could learn the discipline. Potions weren't just healing items; they played major roles in dealing with magical beasts.
Weapons, armor, potions—these three pillars formed the adventurers' economy.
As Ron learned more about potions, a thought emerged:
What if I grow medicinal herbs in my territory? The profit could be enormous…
But he quickly dismissed the idea.
Feed my people first. Dreams later.
For the next few hours, Ron visited various shops across the Royal Capital. Everywhere he went, he felt the pulsing energy of a city built upon countless outsiders converging within it.
By evening, they wrapped up—lodging and food still needed to be arranged.
"This is your pay for today. You worked hard."
Ron handed Rabi a small bag. The boy weighed it—about 20 silver coins. He beamed.
"Thank you, sir! Wishing you a pleasant stay!"
Ron left the boy and turned away, his mind swirling with ideas for developing Arnold Territory.
Just then, Marvin returned, accompanied by a tall, handsome young man whose cheerful features resembled Viscount Gordon's.
"My Lord, the matter is handled," Marvin reported. "This is Young Master Michelle Gordon, the Viscount's eldest son."
Michelle bowed slightly. "Greetings, Baron Arnold."
Although Michelle was the son of a Viscount, he had not yet inherited a title. In nobility etiquette, he was junior to Ron.
"Nice to meet you, Young Master Michelle," Ron said with a smile.
Michelle laughed lightly. "Baron Arnold, you are too formal. Your succession is merely awaiting procedure—please call me Michelle."
Ron chuckled. "Your father has helped me greatly. There's no need for excessive politeness between us. We're close in age—please call me Ron."
"Then Ron it is." Michelle grinned. "Father's letter said I must entertain you properly—otherwise he'll scold me. You were looking for an inn, right? Come. I'll take you to a good one."
Ron found himself liking Michelle's sunny personality.
He also remembered Viscount Gordon's words—Michelle had inherited his water magic talent.
I should find a chance to touch him and check his entries…
The group followed Michelle deeper into the Royal Capital.