"What's the price for the exact location of the three monster spawns near the British Museum?"
The voice belonged to a man in a gray cloak who had just walked in alongside two companions. Fabian stood in front of the wall map, which was now filled with red dots and blue lines. Marcus was taking notes in the Ledger notebook from behind the register.
"Exact location plus estimated spawn times and movement patterns," Fabian replied. "150 pounds. Or the equivalent in two medium-grade raw mana stones."
The robed man scoffed. "Expensive. Yesterday you sold a route map for only 70."
"Yesterday was a route map. Today it's monster data verified from four separate courier reports," Fabian said without altering his tone. "If you don't want it, feel free to hunt for it yourself in the mist. The mortality risk in that area according to my model is 62 percent."
One of the man's companions, a woman whose face still bore old scars, spoke softly. "Just pay it. We already lost two people yesterday because we didn't have data."
The robed man gritted his teeth, then pulled out a small pouch. "Take it. But write down my name. I will remember this price."
Fabian accepted the mana stones and handed over a sheet of paper containing coordinates, times, and directional arrows. "Transaction logged. The Ledger doesn't offer discounts for threats."
After the group left, Marcus let out a sigh. "They were among the people who insulted us on day two. Now they're customers."
"People who insult us usually become the most loyal customers after coming close to dying," Fabian replied. He added three new red dots to the map. "Safe route information and monster locations are now our main commodities. Physical stock is limited. Data can be updated hourly."
The door opened again. The middle-aged woman who had worked as a courier twice entered with an exhausted face. "Mr. Hart, a report from the Holborn node. A large group is moving toward the old dungeon beneath the station. Led by Arthur Pendelton. They went inside two hours ago."
Fabian turned around. "Casualties?"
"Haven't come out yet. But another courier said mana explosions were heard from inside. And someone ran out badly injured, saying the monsters inside are far more numerous than Arthur anticipated."
Marcus stood up. "Their first heavy losses?"
"Highly probable," Fabian said. He tapped on his calculator. "The quest I redirected to him carries a hidden difficulty scaling. His charisma stats are high, but his tactical data is nonexistent. He leads people based on conviction, not calculation."
The courier woman nodded. "Some members of his group mentioned they need the latest monster map. They're too ashamed to ask directly, but they're willing to pay."
"Tell them to come," Fabian answered. "The price for the latest version of the station dungeon data is 200 pounds. No discounts for the Hero Party."
Not long after, four people shuffled in unsteadily. Two of them were the nobles who had bought potions at a high markup yesterday. Their faces were dirty, and one still had a bandaged arm.
"We're from Arthur's party," said the nobleman in front, his tone a mix of arrogance and reluctance. "We need data on the monster locations inside the station dungeon. Quickly."
Fabian looked at them. "200 pounds. Or the equivalent. Payment upfront."
The man flushed red. "We're a Hero Party! Arthur is the Chosen appointed by the System! You ought to support us with special pricing!"
"The Ledger doesn't recognize special pricing for people who think they're chosen," Fabian said flatly. "This data was compiled from reports by people who nearly died. The price reflects the risk they took. Pay or get out."
The mage woman at the back of the group, who had previously insulted Fabian as a coward, spoke in a raspy voice. "Just pay. I already saw three people fall inside because we didn't know the monsters' movement patterns. Arthur said belief was enough. Belief doesn't stop claws."
They gathered up mana stones and remaining coins. Fabian weighed them, then handed over a sheet containing a sketched floor plan of the dungeon, red dots, and spawn time notes. "Data is valid for the next six hours. After that, patterns may shift."
The nobleman stashed the paper with a rough motion. "Arthur won't like this. He says The Ledger is just a bunch of hoarders taking advantage of heroes."
"Arthur can say whatever he likes," Fabian replied. "As long as he and his group keep buying data, The Ledger will keep selling. Pass along my thanks for his business."
They walked out looking humiliated. Marcus locked the door and sat back down. "They're still too arrogant to admit that without your information, their losses would be even worse."
"Arrogance makes for a fine customer," Fabian said. He updated the wall map with new data from the dungeon. "Arthur suffered his first loss. Four people, maybe more. But he will still claim it's a test for true heroes. Meanwhile, every piece of data I sell adds to The Ledger's capital."
A skinny young man who had cursed at Fabian on the first day walked in with his head bowed. "I... need a safe route toward Covent Garden. And the locations of the two holes that swallowed another group yesterday."
Fabian looked at him. "You were the one who called me a hoarding coward last week."
The young man bit his lip. "I was wrong. My friends died following the crowd to the pillar. I just want a route that keeps me alive. How much?"
"Route plus spawn locations, 180 pounds," Fabian answered. "Or you can work as a courier for two days and get that data for free plus commission."
The young man nodded quickly. "I'll work. I don't want to die."
"Marcus, log his name. Give him the report package for the Museum node." Fabian returned to his calculator. "Information is a commodity that never spoils. The more people look down on The Ledger, the more of them will return with open wallets."
Throughout the rest of the day, seven more groups arrived. A few still took the time to throw cynical words before paying. Others submitted immediately and requested the latest data. Fabian sold to all of them at the exact same price: high, firm, and without status discounts.
Toward evening, the courier from Russell Square returned with a concise report. "Arthur exited the dungeon with twelve people remaining out of twenty. He claims it as a victory. Three missing, five severely injured. He's still announcing that the System chose him for the next quest. But several of his members quietly asked where they could buy more accurate monster maps."
Fabian closed the Ledger notebook after recording the day's sales figures. "Let him make his announcements. Conviction keeps him moving forward. Dependence on The Ledger's data keeps him alive. Both are profitable."
Marcus leaned back in his chair. "You've turned people's fear into numbers in a ledger."
"Fear is demand," Fabian replied as he turned off an unnecessary emergency light. "And demand dictates price. The Ledger merely adjusts accordingly."
Outside, the night mist began to thicken once more. Inside a tent at Russell Square, Arthur Pendleton stood among the remainder of his party, raising a bloody sword and declaring that today's losses were merely a stepping stone for true heroes. He didn't mention the name of The Ledger. But in the pockets of several of his members, sheets of monster data from Fabian remained neatly tucked away, ready for the next quest.
Latest Chapter
Chapter 126: The First Breach at Dawn
The northern perimeter of the settlement woke not to the gentle chirping of morning birds or the quiet rustle of autumn leaves, but to the cold, unforgiving bite of a winter frost and the sudden, violent shudder of frozen earth. At first light, breath pluming in the freezing air like thick white smoke, a heavy, muffled thud vibrated upward through the hard-packed soil. It was the kind of deep, concussive impact that did not merely rattle the ears; it settled directly into the bones of everyone standing near the barricades.Before the reverberation could even fully fade into the gray morning mist, it was followed immediately by the sharp, splintering crack of stressed pine. The sound was distinct, ugly, and entirely unmistakable—the unmistakable shriek of wood fibers tearing apart under immense, unnatural pressure.Vance’s advance guard had initiated their surprise dawn strike against the newly patched northern gate. They were not knocking politely, nor were they waiting for the mornin
Chapter 125: Preparing for the Siege
"If anyone else tries to requisition extra timber without my direct, written authorization, I’m personally nailing their boots to the floorboards of the command hall," Fabian roared, slamming his heavy brass paperweight down onto a stack of requisition forms with a force that rattled the inkwell."Stop shouting at the carpenters, Fabian, or you'll be the one building the wall when Vance's advance guard crests the northern ridge," Evelyn snapped back, marching past his outdoor desk without breaking her stride. Her boots crunched sharply over the scattered wood shavings that carpeted the central square. "We don't have time for your administrative tantrums. Miller needs every available hand at the western gate right now.""My tantrums are the only thing keeping this settlement from collapsing into a disorderly pile of kindling and debt!" Fabian shouted after her, jabbing his quill into a fresh sheet of parchment with venomous precision. "A settlement without an accurate log of its timber
Chapter 124: The Unseen Watcher
"If you drop that strap in the mud, Kael, I'm going to charge you administrative fees for soiling municipal evidence," Fabian muttered, not looking up from his endless columns of grain distribution figures as the scout kicked the command hall door wide open.Kael didn’t apologize. He tossed a heavy, oil-darkened strip of supple calfskin directly onto the center of the clerk’s freshly inked ledger, the wet mud splattering across the pristine margins with a soft, offensive thwack."Save your ledgers, Fabian," Kael said, his voice flat and dangerously low. He leaned his palms against the edge of the desk, his dark eyes locking onto the administrator's round spectacles. "Look at the buckle. Standard-issue brass plating, double-stitched with waxed hemp. That didn't fall off a stray merchant mule."Fabian dropped his quill, his face turning an alarming shade of mottled crimson as he stared at the soiled parchment. "Do you have any absolute conception of the bureaucratic damage you have just
Chapter 123: Lily’s Bargain
"If you think a basket of wilted root vegetables entitles you to priority water rights during a municipal drought, Lily, you fundamentally misunderstand the statutory boundaries of the agricultural ledger," Fabian snapped, his quill scratching an aggressive line across the parchment.Lily did not flinch. She set a heavy, woven wicker hamper directly on top of the administrator’s open accounts, her fingers stained deep with dried loam and crushed dandelion stems."They aren't wilted, Fabian; they are winter-hardy feverfew and iron-root leaf, freshly harvested from the southern beds before the morning frost locked the soil," Lily said, her voice dropping into a dangerous, measured cadence. "And you know damn well that without those herbs, half your clerical staff will be coughing up black lung from the workshop dust before the week is out."Fabian’s quill froze half an inch above a new column. He stared at the woven rim of the hamper, his jaw working as his mind calculated the precise e
Chapter 122: The Carpenter’s Blueprint
"If you spill a single drop of ink on these charcoal lines, Fabian, I'll staple your collar to the outer gatehouse and let the crows settle the administrative dispute," Miller growled, sliding a massive, dirt-smudged scroll across the scarred oak workbench with a heavy thud.Fabian didn't even flinch. He adjusted his round spectacles, peering down at the crude, dark streaks smeared across the rough-cut parchment. "Threatening an administrator with avian-inflicted property damage is a Class Four infraction under the municipal charter, Miller, but given the appalling lack of straight edges on this draft, I'd say the wind is going to ruin your fortifications long before the crows arrive.""Straight edges don't stop a Westminster battering ram," Miller snapped, planting both thick, calloused palms on the edge of the wood and leaning aggressively across the table. "Look at the angle. Thirty degrees off-center. Any iron ball or heavy timber they hurl from the ridge hits this shield and glan
Chapter 121: Dawn Logistics
"If another apprentice brings me lukewarm chicory instead of true leaf tea before the first ledger entry is balanced, I am locking the rations bin and throwing the iron key directly down the dry latrine," Fabian snarled, slamming his brass-weighted ruler against the edge of the weathered crate with a crack that sounded like a dry pistol shot.The trembling young boy standing opposite the makeshift desk flinched so violently he nearly dropped the steaming tin cup onto the ink-stained parchment. "The kettle wouldn't draw, sir. The damp got into the peat stacks behind the northern wall during the night fog.""Damp is an environmental variable, boy, not a legal defense for administrative incompetence," Fabian snapped, snatching the tin cup from the youth's blistered fingers and glaring into the murky brown liquid. "Look at this film on the surface. It tastes like stagnant ditch water boiled over charred fence posts. Go back to the quartermaster and tell him if he issues me another pound o
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