by Neven Iliev
Having arrived at its destination, it placed a hand on the handle before remembering one of Snack’s basic lessons in etiquette. Mindful of its training, it therefore knocked first.
“Come in!”
A dignified – though slightly muffled – voice came from within, prompting Boxxy to enter the tiny-yet-tidy office. Its only occupant was a grey-bearded dwarf sitting behind a desk in the corner of the room. He wore crisp-looking black robes, and a sleek wooden staff tipped with a golden crystal rested against the wall behind him.
“G’day, laddie,” he offered in greeting. “Name’s Grimebeard, and no, it’s not contagious.”
The dwarf chuckled lightly, his voice oddly vigorous for someone so wrinkled. Boxxy momentarily wondered if it had stumbled onto another Edward, but the rough cough the man’s laughter devolved into said otherwise.
“Ah, sorry about that. So, what can I do fer ye?”
“Yes, hello,” the fake elf returned the greeting. “I’m Chester, and I’m here for some training and an item appraisal.”
It handed Grimebeard the slips of paper the receptionist had given it. The old Warlock looked them over, nodded firmly and put them away in one of his desk drawers. He stood, stepping closer to ‘Chester’ before gesturing at the empty chair in front of his desk.
“Have a seat and we’ll get started.”
Boxxy wasn’t quite sure why sitting was strictly necessary, but it did as instructed and parked its rump on the plain wooden stool, putting the two of them at equal eye level. Grimebeard moved a bit closer and placed a hand on the its forehead, which he certainly couldn’t have done comfortably if the taller ‘elf’ hadn’t taken a seat.
“Full Appraisal.”
Boxxy was expecting to feel the same skin-crawling sensation it had experienced when it had been in captivity, but nothing of the sort happened. It instead felt the odd sensation of something inside itching a bit, signifying that the invasive Full Appraisal had been safely redirected to the smokescreen set up by Essence Concealment.
The divine boon showed Grimebeard a Level 25 Warlock with a rather unbalanced but still perfectly reasonable set of Attributes and Skills. That said, the old Scribe couldn’t help but want to lecture the youngster. Summon Familiar, Power Overwhelming, Demonology and Crystallise Magic were not what he would personally call wise Skill choices, as none of them could protect their wielder from harm. One could argue that having up to three familiars for bodyguards would provide excellent protection, but Grimebeard was of the mind that demons caused more harm than good.
He would’ve gladly given the foolish youth a lecture on the matter, but Skill counselling wasn’t what the elf had come to his office for. Not to mention that he was a guild-less freelancer, and they rarely listened to what anyone else had to say.
“Right, good enough. Just gimme a sec here…”
The dwarf walked back to his desk and quickly jotted down the details of the Full Appraisal, including the Attributes and Skill composition and noting the apparent lack of Perks. He walked back to where Boxxy was sitting and lightly gripped its head once more, this time with both hands.
“Job Advancement: Warlock!”
A pale blue light engulfed the dwarf, flowing through his arms and pouring into the shapeshifter’s head.
[The maximum Level of your Warlock Job has increased to 50.]
[The maximum Level of your Ruin Mastery Skill has increased to 15.]
[The maximum Level of your Domination Mastery Skill has increased to 15.]
This was where Boxxy had expected the notifications to end, but its consciousness was suddenly flooded by a string ‘Level up!’ messages punctuated with a rather… interesting update.
[Congratulations, you are now a Level 34 Warlock! INT +18. MNT +18. END +18.]
[You have learned a new Spell: True Darkness]
[You have learned a new Spell: Massive Rejection]
“… What?” it said aloud.
“Hm? Something wrong, laddie?”
It was debatable whether ‘wrong’ was the correct word, but if anyone would know what this was about, it would be a Warlock teacher.
“I just gained a bunch of Job Levels out of nowhere. Is that normal?”
“Ah, yeah, that happens sometimes. Yer Job keeps gathering XP even if it’s capped out,” Grimebeard explained. “It’s not that strange to gain one or two Levels after the cap gets raised if ye’ve been putting it off fer a long while.”
“Oh! That’s pretty tas-, I mean, convenient!”
“Eh, not really. Even if it keeps accumulating, the XP ye get this way is hugely reduced. Ye’d probably have gained at two or three times the number of Levels by now if ye had advanced yer Job right away.”
The dwarf didn’t mind explaining for free since the information was directly related to the elf’s request. That, and he wouldn’t be able to call himself a teacher if he didn’t do something to alleviate the boy’s criminal cluelessness.
“I see. Thank you.”
“Yer welcome, laddie. So, let’s see this magic item ye brought.”
Boxxy stood, unwrapping the staff on its back to present it to the dwarf. Grimebeard stared wide-eyed, unable to contain his shock at what was clearly a staff of considerable power. He reached out a trembling hand and placed it on the handle.
“Identify, Appraise Item, Detect Enchant,” he chanted, his voice quivering.
The staff’s information flowed into his mind, a strange glint appearing in his eye as he smiled at the disguised shapeshifter. He opened his mouth, but the young ‘Mister Underwood’ spoke before he could.
“Bad things will happen if you lie to me, old man.”
The poorly-veiled threat immediately halted the dwarf’s train of thought. He bit back his words and admitted to himself that this dopey kid was sharper than he looked. The dwarf had been about to try to deceive him that this was merely a decorative walking stick, not even a Caster’s staff, and then offer to buy it for a ‘good price.’
But his little scheme had been foiled before he could even attempt the cheat. The guild was sure to have his ass on a platter if he was caught falsifying Appraisal results again and he couldn’t just attack a client in broad daylight and hope to get away with it. He decided to change his approach.
“I wouldn’t dream of it, laddie!” he exclaimed, taking his hand off the staff. “I was just shocked since it is quite the excellent item! Here, let me write the details down for ye!”
The dwarf hurriedly returned to his desk and pulled out a form of some kind, writing down the staff’s information. Boxxy carefully observed him as he did so, keeping watch for any more suspicious behavior. It may have been oblivious when it came to matters of social interaction, but it was an expert in the field of greed, and certainly hadn’t failed to notice the way the dwarf was blatantly coveting its fancy staff.
Even if it wasn’t particularly shiny, it was still the shapeshifter’s property, which meant that anyone who dared to lay a finger on it would have their face eaten. It was debating doing that anyway, but, much like his would-be victim, realised that this was neither the time nor the place for violence.
Once Grimebeard was done, he handed the sheet of paper to Boxxy, who glanced it over while nodding to itself.
Yup, can’t read a single word of it.
Its ability to read and write was still practically non-existent, so it simply rolled up the appraisal results and stowed them inside its robes. Snack or Fizzy should be able to tell it what the paper said, although its validity was obviously questionable. Boxxy hadn’t even been planning to have the staff appraised here, but it had seen the opportunity and taken it, much to its regret. Deciding it would be good to get a second opinion, it rewrapped the clearly-valuable item, slung it over its shoulder and proceeded to leave the building.
Grimebeard sat in silence for about a minute after the door to his office slammed shut. Once he had made sure that the elf was gone and that nobody was listening in, he reached under his des
k, pulling out a crystalline blue cube about eight centimetres on all sides. He tapped the topmost side three times and it flashed in response. He brought it up to his face and started whispering into it.
“Iretta. Chosoros. Elemus. Crokara. Ronbus. Epiporia. Afurte. Mekon.”
Having received the correct keywords, the cube flashed again and its insides flickered to life. It kept blinking for several seconds before projecting a slightly-transparent three-dimensional image directly in front of Grimebeard’s face. It took a few moments for the hologram to stabilise, whereupon it took the form of a hooded head and shoulders.
“You’re contacting us way ahead of schedule.”
The words that came from the cube were slightly distorted, but nevertheless understandable.
“I know, but I have an urgent job for you. One that both of us are bound to profit from.”
After all, it wasn’t every day that an Artifact-grade item crossed Grimebeard’s desk, and he wasn’t about to let some snot-nosed runt run off with it so easily.
Part Five
Boxxy, still under the guise of Chester Underwood, strode through the heavy doors of the Bootsplit Craftsman’s Union. It was an artisan’s guild, the local ‘flavour’ of the organisation that Fizzy still technically belonged to. Most towns and cities within the Lodrak Empire had one of these Unions, but they weren’t structured in the same way as the Order of the Black Wand. Rather than a singular entity with multiple branch offices, they were instead a collection of fully autonomous guilds that worked closely together.
This was necessary because every region and settlement had its own specialty goods and products, not to mention the difference in available raw materials and trade routes. It was far easier to have each division regulate themselves and make their own guild policies than have a central authority handling administration for the entire country. Adventurer guilds like the Order or the Mercenary Guild could get away with it because their members tended to travel a lot and having a certain standard and sense of familiarity was important to them. Artisans, on the other hand, rarely moved shop once they had established themselves, so their only concerns were local connections and services.
None of that mattered to Boxxy, however. It was neither an adventurer nor an artisan. The most accurate term to sum up its occupation would be ‘murder hobo.’ However, it did have things that it wanted appraised, and this was the best place for it. The only reason that it had even attempted to do that at the Order was because the opportunity had presented itself. It was slightly regretting ignoring Fizzy’s warning that the Order of the Black Wand was full of shady and untrustworthy people, but, in Boxxy’s defence, it was fairly shady and untrustworthy itself.
Speaking of the golem, she was supposed to be here ordering supplies, and yet she was nowhere to be seen. In fairness, though, this place was a lot bigger than the Order’s office. About the size of an extra-large barn, to be precise. Fizzy might simply have gone into one of the several workshops on the premises. Deciding to ask around, Boxxy approached one of the unoccupied clerks, a middle-aged dwarf wearing half-moon spectacles and a clean white-and-grey striped shirt. He was busy scribbling at something behind his desk and didn’t seem to notice the ginger elf’s approach.
“Hello there,” the shapeshifter greeted the gentleman in an effort to get his attention.
“Oh! Hello, sir,” the man responded. “What can I help you with?”
“I’m looking for a steel golem. Looks like a female gnome, has a shield attached to her left hand?”
“Who’s asking?”
“I am.”
The man appeared supremely unamused.
“Don’t be a smart-arse, just gimme your name, lad.”
“Oh. Chester Underwood.”
“Ah, you’re the owner it mentioned. Fine piece of equipment you got there, if you don’t mind me saying.”
“Thanks, but can you tell me where she is?”
“Should be through those doors over there,” he pointed to the far left of the lobby. “Our smiths are currently fulfilling your order and it insisted on observing them. Should be a bit longer before they’re done.”
The ‘order’ in question was for Artificer parts, an entire crate’s worth. They were necessary for Boxxy’s tinkering practice, so it had told Fizzy to have plenty made as quickly as possible. Though it had told the gate guard that it would linger for a few days, it ideally wanted to be in and out as quickly as possible.
“I’ll leave that to her, then,” the false elf declared. “Meanwhile, I’d like to have some things appraised.”
“Oh? What kind?”
“Magic items. From a dungeon.”
“Really?” the dwarf raised an eyebrow. “Dungeon diving? At your age?”
“I had strong allies.”
“Fair enough. We actually have a few people available who can take care of that.”
“Any of them not human?”
The clerk sighed in exasperation. Though he certainly understood why racial tensions between elves and humans existed, that didn’t mean that he particularly liked it.
“Hold on, I’ll call them over.”
He pushed a button on his desk and a buzzing noise came from somewhere in the back. A few moments later a female elf in her late twenties came from the door behind the desk. She had dark green hair styled in a no-nonsense ponytail with eyes to match, and her slender, elegant figure was wrapped in an expensive-looking white and gold garment that looked more like an evening gown than a robe.
“Hi there,” she greeted Boxxy and the clerk. “What’s up, Holt? Who’s your friend?”
“Hey Alea, this is Chester,” Holt replied. “Lad here needed some magic items appraised.”
“I see. Follow me, please.”
“Shouldn’t I pay first?” Boxxy asked.
Alea shook her head.
“We’ll charge you for everything once we’re done.”
“Oh, alright.”
The elf woman led Boxxy through the same door she had exited just moments ago, guiding it through a series of corridors before they arrived at her office. It was much bigger than Grimebeard’s, presumably because it also doubled as a workshop of sorts. Various ingredients, materials and weapons were organised neatly atop a stone counter that almost resembled an altar – a notion reinforced by the glowing sigils and runes etched into it.
“That’s just my enchanting station,” the woman explained when she noticed her guest staring. “Forgive the mess, I was just taking a break from a bulk order.”
She sat down on the plush couch in the room’s open area and invited ‘Chester’ to sit in the armchair opposite her. Boxxy obliged, though it had to remove its staff from the sling over its shoulder in order to do so.
“I see you’re a magic user,” she said with a businesslike smile. “Let me guess, Warlock?”
“Yes,” the shapeshifter admitted, mildly surprised. “How’d you know?”
“Your type likes to wear red or purple robes like yours, I’ve noticed. Now, enough small talk. What would you like appraised?”
“This.”
Boxxy raised the staff in its arms, much to the surprise of the woman sitting opposite it.
“I got it recently from a dungeon,” it added. “I need to know what it does.”
“I understand. Then, if you’ll allow me.”
She held her hands out as if asking to be passed the staff. Boxxy hesitated a bit, but this place seemed a lot more reputable than the Order so it reluctantly handed it over.
*CLUNK*
Only to have the metal staff slip from her fingers and go crashing to the floor.
“Oh, darn it! I am so sorry,” she apologised immediately. “I didn’t think it would be so heavy after seeing you handle it so easily.”
The casual comment sent Boxxy’s internal thoughts into panic mode. Of course, a feeble magic user shouldn’t be able to carry this thing. Even Snack couldn’t lift it, and she was a demon. Granted, all other things being equ
al succubi were physically weaker than adult humans, but that didn’t change the fact that Boxxy had messed up.
“Guess you must be stronger than you look under those robes.”
Struck by a moment of inspiration at Alea’s comment, the doppelganger subtly shifted the flesh underneath its baggy clothing.
“Yes!” it nodded. “Want to see?”
“There’s no need to- oh, my!”
The elf had barely spoken before Boxxy opened its robes to reveal a set of rippling abs and bulging pecs. It was the kind of well-developed, nearly fiend-like musculature that would have benefitted greatly from even the tiniest bit of Strength (STR). Certainly not the sort of body one would expect to see on a stereotypical seventeen-year-old elven Spell-slinger, but Alea didn’t seem bothered at all. Quite the opposite, actually.
“Can I… touch them?”
‘Chester’ nodded, and she leaned forward, extending her arm hesitantly. She placed her slender fingers on its ripped body, slowly trailing them up and down the delightfully-firm muscles.
She found herself attracted to the masculine display not just because that was the sort of thing she was into. That was a big part of it, but it was also the fact that this beefcake’s three-digit Charisma (CHR) score was specifically designed to reel her in even deeper.
“Ack! I apologise!” she pulled her hand back suddenly. “I don’t know what came over me.”
“It’s no problem.”
“Then could you, uh, put those away now?”
Boxxy donned its clothes once more, satisfied that its brilliant ruse had worked. Alea, on the other hand, coughed into her clenched fist in an attempt to dispel what she perceived as an awkward atmosphere.
“In any event, could I ask you to hold that up for me?”
The shapeshifter did as she requested, allowing her to appraise the item without having to bear its weight. Much like the dwarf before her, her reaction was rather extraordinary.