The Permanent Black Lion Merchant Contract rests in your palm, a thick parchment the color of oiled leather, its edges bevelled by candlelight and travel wear. A gleaming seal, the Black Lion rampant carved in onyx, sits at the center, held by a wax ribbon that smells faintly of smoke and ink. The writing is narrow and precise, pressed so deeply into the fiber you feel embossing under your fingertips. The texture shifts with every turn—soft parchment where fingers rest, grainy ink pooling along the margins, and a faint glitter like starlight dancing along the sigil when sunlight hits at a certain angle. Lore tells of caravans binding their fates with similar parchments, sworn oaths carried through storms and sieges, promising profit. To hold it is to hear the drums of the market, to feel a town's supply line leaning in your favor. In day-to-day life, the contract is a quiet talisman: once activated, it grants you permanent access to the Black Lion Merchant's counter, letting you browse wares with certainty that standard contracts could only dream of. It isn't mere gold or glamour; it's trust hammered into a thing you can tuck in a sleeve. You imagine the original owner, a roguish but principled trader who crossed river and ridge to seal an agreement with the Black Lion, and you sense a continuity—the world passing from one hand to another through ink and sigil. That continuity matters when you raise the contract to your chest and step into the market's hustle. The merchant's row—stalls that gleam with lacquered wood, crates stacked like small fortresses, the chatter of haggling filling the air—suddenly makes sense as a stage for a life built on perpetual access. The contract's uses are practical but not routine: you can replenish supplies for a guild hall, outfit a caravan with trusted traders, or simply keep a pocket full of dreamlike deals that come with time, not just a coin. It turns a daily grind into a long walk, a journey that invites risk and reward in equal measure, and it marks you as someone who can be navigated by price and principle alike. In this world, a good deal is a story, and the contract is the opening page. Pricing, as with any old relic, moves with rumor and reach. Traders speak in hurried whispers about Saddlebag Exchange, a busy hub where contracts and commutations find new hands at prices that reflect both risk and opportunity. A contract like this is traded not merely for currency but for reliability—the knowledge that tomorrow's wares will remain accessible and that a single signature can slip a traveler past the day’s small obstacles. When you walk away with it rolled inside your coat, you don't just own a purchase; you own a line of possibility, a thread through the market's fabric that can ease a rough crossing, broaden a skyline of ambitions, and, perhaps, shift the balance of a single trade forever. The contract travels with you, onward, always.