《The Arcanum Algorithm》

Chapter 4 The Price of a Dream

The forge’s heat seemed to intensify, pressing in on Grimm. A gold coin. The words echoed in his mind, a daunting sum that represented security, a future, the entirety of Ham’s careful savings. To risk it on a chance, on the words of a man in a grey robe… it was madness.

Sixth Brother watched the conflict play out on his friend’s face. “See? It’s not for the likes of us, Grimm. Walk away.”

But as Grimm stood there, the image of the book hidden under his floorboards flashed in his mind—the intricate diagrams of scent, the descriptions of worlds beyond imagining, the promise of a power that could not be taxed or taken away. He thought of the steward’s sneering face, of a life spent bowing and scraping for silver coins that could be stolen on a whim. This was a crack in the door of that life. It might be the only one he would ever get.

He met Sixth Brother’s concerned gaze, his own eyes hardening with a resolve that felt both terrifying and exhilarating. “I have to try.”

Sixth Brother could only stare, his expression a mixture of disbelief and a dawning, grudging respect for the sheer audacity of it.

Without another word, Grimm turned and ran. He didn’t head for the Viscount’s estate or his cart. He ran through the winding streets of Bitherl, past merchants closing their stalls and children playing in the dust, his lungs burning. He ran all the way to his lonely hut on the outskirts.

The summer sun was still high, hours from setting. He had time.

He barreled through the door, went straight to the loose floorboard near his bed, and pried it up. The small strongbox beneath felt heavier than its size suggested. His hands shook slightly as he opened it. The two gold coins glinted amidst the smaller pile of silver, a king’s ransom to a man like him. He counted out one hundred silver coins—the equivalent of one gold—his stomach clenching at the sight of the diminished hoard. This was it. His future, weighed in silver.

He hesitated, then reached deeper into the hiding place, his fingers brushing against the familiar, rough leather of the Manual. He pulled it out and stared at it. If he was going to do this, he would do it with everything he had. He tucked the book securely inside his tunic, re-hidden the strongbox, and ran back toward the city, the bag of silver a heavy, accusing weight in his hand.

The Lord’s manor was the most imposing structure in Bitherl, a stone edifice that spoke of generations of power and wealth. Grimm had only ever seen it from a distance, usually guarded by a half-dozen stern knights. Today, however, there was a steady stream of people entering and leaving through its main gates. They were well-dressed—merchants and minor nobles, most leading sullen-looking children or dejected teenagers. Their expressions were universally crestfallen. Grimm understood. They had gambled a gold coin and lost.

Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Grimm joined the flow, heading for the entrance. A young man, perhaps his own age, stood blocking the way. He had the calloused hands and sun-tanned skin of a farmer’s son, but he wore a new tunic and an expression of grossly inflated importance.

“Stop right there,” the boy said, his tone dripping with condescension. “The f*e is one gold coin. In advance.”

Grimm’s fist tightened around the small leather pouch. This was the moment. He could still turn back. Live his life. Find a girl like Mary. Be safe.

He thrust the pouch forward.

The boy took it with a dismissive sniff, hefted it, and without bothering to count the contents, tossed it into a large iron-banded chest behind him. It landed with a heavy, final clink amidst a dozen other similar pouches. The sound seemed to echo Grimm’s heartbeat.

The boy waved him through with a bored gesture. Grimm stared at him for a second, this gatekeeper to his dreams who looked no different from himself, and felt a surge of contempt for the boy’s unwarranted arrogance. He said nothing, simply pushed past him and walked into the shaded courtyard of the Lord’s manor.

Grimm’s mouth went dry. The weight of the book against his chest felt like a brand. He had spent his last coin to buy a ticket to this man’s world. Now, he had to step forward and see if the door would open, or if it would be slammed in his face, leaving him with nothing but an empty purse and a broken dream. He took one step, then another, joining the line of those waiting to be judged, his fate balanced on the edge of a gold coin.