29 Chapter 29

Atlas leaned forward, his gaze piercing through the thick veil of spice-laden air that hung heavy in the bustling marketplace. "Come now, good sir," he said, his voice smooth as velvet. "Surely you can appreciate the rarity of these goods. Such craftsmanship is a marvel to behold."

The merchant, his cheeks flushed with irritation, shook his head vehemently. "I appreciate quality as much as the next man," he replied, his voice tinged with impatience, "but I cannot overlook the exorbitant sum you ask for these baubles. The price is simply too steep."

Atlas leaned back in his chair, a hint of disappointment flickering across his features. "But you fail to see the true value of what I offer," he countered, his tone taking on a persuasive edge. "These are not mere trinkets, my friend. They are artefacts of unparalleled beauty and significance."

The merchant scoffed, a derisive snort escaping his lips. "Significance, you say?" he retorted, his voice laced with scepticism. "What use is significance if it cannot be measured in gold? I am a businessman, not a sentimentalist."

Undeterred, Atlas pressed on, his silver tongue weaving a tapestry of words designed to sway the merchant's resolve. "Ah, but gold is not the only currency of value," he countered, his voice honeyed with persuasion. "Consider the prestige that comes with owning such rare treasures. Imagine the envy of your peers when they see the splendour of your collection."

The merchant's brow furrowed as he weighed Atlas's words, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features. "I suppose there is some merit to what you say," he admitted begrudgingly, "but I cannot justify such an extravagant expenditure without assurances of their worth."

With a knowing smile, Atlas reached into his pocket and produced a small velvet pouch, its contents gleaming in the sunlight. "Then allow me to offer you a token of my sincerity," he said, sliding the pouch across the table. "A small sampling of the riches that await you should you choose to invest in my wares." It was painful to hand over such gems, not only as they may be identified as being looted in Altdorf, but such sacrifices must be made to secure his wealth.

The merchant's eyes widened as he peered inside the pouch, Atlas could almost see the sight of the glittering gold coins within his eyes as the gems sparked a newfound sense of greed. "Very well," he conceded, his voice tinged with avarice. "But this is my final offer. 750 Gold. Take it or leave it."

Atlas's smile widened into a smirk as he reached out to seal the deal, holding the merchant's hand firmly in his supernatural strength as he stared into the greedy man's eyes. "Don't take my pleasant demeanour to be a sign of weakness." Atlas clenched slightly causing an audible noise as the fat man squirmed in pain. "I'll be taking my full payment before I leave."

At the frantic nods of agreement, Atlas released and sat back in the chair, trying not to expose his fangs in pleasure. There was something about dealing with mortals that felt different now he was undead. The small games and tricks they played to get slightly ahead were amusing; like watching children playing at being adults.

------------------------------------------------------

As Atlas strolled through the bustling streets of Nuln, his mind churned with thoughts of potential business ventures. The weight of his purse, heavy with the promise of wealth, served as a reminder of the opportunities that lay before him. He cast a discerning eye over the various establishments that lined the thoroughfare, searching for inspiration.

The inn where he had left his undead servants behind was but a distant memory now, as he navigated the maze of winding streets and bustling markets. The sun beat down upon the cobblestones, casting long shadows that danced across the facades of the buildings.

As he passed through the poorer district, Atlas wrinkled his nose in disgust at the stench that assailed his senses. The air was thick with the acrid smell of filth and decay, a stark contrast to the perfumed airs of the wealthy elite. It was then that inspiration struck him like a bolt of lightning.

Soap.

The thought came unbidden, a spark of genius amidst the squalor of the slums. If he could find a way to manufacture soap cheaply and efficiently, he could sell it at a premium to the nobility of Nuln. After all, cleanliness was a luxury reserved for the wealthy, and Atlas saw an opportunity to capitalize on their vanity.

"AI Chip – search for a method to create soap. Limit to options whose ingredients are cheap and easily sourced."

Beep!

*Searching….*

*Running Simulations….*

Beep!

*Error – lacking data on local ingredients.*

Atlas rubbed his chin in thought, he had scanned some plants into the database during his campaign against Altdorf, however the selection was very limited.

Turning around, he strides downtown, where many of the cheaper goods where found. With renewed determination, he set off in search of the ingredients and equipment he would need to bring his vision to fruition. The streets of Nuln stretched out before him like a vast canvas, ripe for the strokes of his ambition.

The apothecary shop, nestled in the lower part of town, appeared weathered and worn, its wooden sign creaking in the wind. The facade bore the marks of age, with peeling paint and cracks snaking across the surface. Inside, the dimly lit shop was filled with shelves stocked with jars of various shapes and sizes, each containing a multitude of herbs and botanicals. The air was heavy with the scent of dried flowers and roots, mingling with the faint aroma of musty wood.

The attendant, a weary-looking man with a threadbare apron, glanced up as Atlas entered, his eyes betraying a hint of suspicion. As Atlas approached, he slipped the man a silver piece, his gaze unwavering. With a nod of acceptance, the attendant gestured for Atlas to explore the wares at his leisure.

Moving through the cramped aisles, Atlas examined each jar with a discerning eye. Labels promised remedies for everything from headaches to heartache, though he remained sceptical of their efficacy. Carefully, he picked up each herb, allowing his fingers to linger for a moment as he channelled his magic through them. The AI chip embedded within him hummed softly, recording the intricate details of each plant's structure and properties.

With each passing moment, Atlas grew more absorbed in his task, his focus unwavering as he catalogued the wealth of knowledge contained within the shop's walls. Once finished, he slipped out and moved on to his next target. That evening, while the sun was low enough not to irritate his skin and the moon not yet out, Atlas catalogued hundreds of different herbs, plants, roots and powders.

Finally feeling more confident, he sent out the command.

"AI Chip – retry search."

Beep!

*Searching….*

*Running Simulations….*

Beep!

*37 solutions found.*

*1. ...…*

*2 ...…. *