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It does not take you long to peruse the wears in the so-called mobile kiosk. The folding display cases containing his wares unfurled into an efficient circle of shelves that easily fills your view with the goods he has for sale. It must take him ages to pack everything up properly when changing out his goods, but the resulting storefront is well worth the effort. Time is money to a merchant of any caliber, and the best part about money made upon the Crown Road is that he needn't pay a sales tax upon it. That law comes not from the duke, but the Queen herself.
The Crown shall provide for the maintenance and protection of the Crown Roads, either with the Queensmen or through a stipend to the local lords whose sections shall be subject to inspection. In turn, the local lords cannot collect taxes for use of the roads for travel or commerce. Like any traveling merchant, Seamus smiles a merchant's grin at the opportunity to make a good sale outside of the gates of Baileport.
The only taxes he'll owe the crown shall be on his profits here, rather than his gross sales.
Of course, you've a smile of your own, for its not often that goods from as far away as the Twilight Mountains come through Baileport - and when they do, they're often twice the price he posts. Here you see a great rope of thyrslob silk from the Spider Keepers beneath the Mountain of the World Eater that will last until your grandchildren are old and grey with grandchildren of their own, if not longer still. There you see a ring of whalebone that boasts of granting it wearers the ability to breath within the depths of the worldly waters - though may the gods help you if you foolishly dive so deep you reach the abyssal waters beneath the world.
But what truly catches your eye rests upon a pillow behind a pane of glass. Though it would be better to say that rather than your eye, it caught your heart, for you can feel the thrumming of the artifice resonating with your very bones. A cane that claims to be of polished ivory and ironwood, with cyclopean tracings etched in moonsilver along the shaft. It presence draws upon the worldly waters, pulling in currents of mana through its core just as surely as the tide. To call the polished bone of its derby handle ivory makes sport of the beholder, for from the flows of mana about it, there's nothing it could be but the bones of a Leviathan.
Native to the abyssal depths, such beasts rarely surface more than once a century to the worldly waters and the sky above them to breath deep of the air they need for their next dive. You have never seen one in your life, but Master Cullen did in his youth. He claimed the beasts were terrible and majestic, a stark reminder of the enormity of the universe, and just how tiny humans truly are. His staff has a core of the same material, while your own wand is made of whalebone.
"Where did you come by this?" You cannot help but ask Seamus. Hopefully, you didn't just give away how dearly you wish to buy the cane.
