What do I sell? Why, immortality, child!

Do not laugh, for I am very serious. No, I am nor a sorcerer or conjurer. You’ll certainly live longer if you eat my delicious foods and partake of my dried rations, to say nothing of the many armors and shields I have on offer, but I’ve nothing that’s protection against the will of the gods when it’s time for you to fall.

Ah, but how can there be immortality on offer if that’s the case, I hear you ask! Simple, so simple that it’ll take longer for me to explain than it will for you comprehend.

At my humble warehouse, your road to fortune and glory begins. Will it be a kingdom you win for yourself? A merchant empire? Or such wealth that will see you, hale and hearty at the end of your years, imparting tales of your exploits to eager great-grandchildren?

That is immortality, my friend, the kind of afterlife available to all and that swords cannot scratch. And that is what I sell, to those canny enough to see it.

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