by Kevin Murphy
“That’s asking a bit too much for ice, don’t you think? No matter how premium—”
“That’s the idea,” said Dakkon. “We’ll pay, satisfied, and the others will feel accomplished when they haggle you down to a reasonable 40 gold—or whatever you can take for it. Just don’t go too low in front of more potential buyers. This is high-quality product we’re moving here.”
“I can see how we stand to earn a good amount of money from this, but how will we be dividing the spoils exactly? I understand you have a group who is helping us sell this illusion. How much for their cooperation?” Letis asked, reasonably.
“You and I will split 66% and the other three will take 33%,” said Dakkon. “That’s only 11% per person for each of the others, yet their success and eagerness ought to be a valuable advertisement. Feel free to take out the material expenses for the troughs and stall before divvying up the proceeds.” Dakkon knew that Letis would be taking most of the risk in this operation. Even if Dakkon had been the one to clue Letis in on the operation, it was bold to assume he should take the same level of reward for far less risk. Having just lost his job in the real world however, Dakkon needed the money and—from earlier conversations—he wasn’t sure that Letis really did.
“This should be enough ice for around 15 cart loads, if they cover up the meat and glands and rotate them occasionally,” stated Letis. “We can’t sell that much ice, can we?”
“Tomorrow?” asked Dakkon pensively. “I doubt it. I imagine business will really only pick up after those who buy the ice tomorrow are proven to be successful. After that, I imagine there will be a huge spike in buyers. The average wagon will probably need a refill or two after the first one partially melts, depending on when they start.
“We’d better not skimp on the ice, Dakkon,” said Letis. “If they’re throwing warm boar meat on it, it’s bound to melt pretty quickly.”
“Hmm,” Dakkon considered his partner’s words. “Good point. Give them double what you think they’ll need. In that case, we’ll need several more troughs full of water… I’d help you fetch them, but if someone saw me and connected the dots, that might not bode well for the operation…” Dakkon let the words of intent to shirk his duties linger in the air.
“Yeah, yeah,” said Letis. “I know. But that means you can get a head start on crushing up the ice for me.” Letis tossed his newly acquired chisel onto frozen water and smirked as he turned to go collect several more troughs.
Dakkon shrugged and set to work chiseling and refreezing the water until the bulk of it could be easily spread over the surface of a cart. He kept his hands warm during the process with his thermoregualte skill and any spare mana went to training his other thermomancer abilities.
As Dakkon looked over the mess of ice, he figured he could probably pack layers of slush against the bottom of the broken trough and refreeze it to create easy-to-vend ice sheets. But, as Dakkon considered the arm strain he’d already accumulated from breaking up the ice, he lost any enthusiasm to give himself additional, unnecessary duties. This was an old habit of his that he needed to kick. He knew from experience that improving things simply because they could be improved wasn’t a skill that was monetizable of its own accord.
Chapter 20: Get Rich Quick
Letis made three trips to town and back, each time bringing water in three new troughs. On his final return trip, Letis brought with him two large barrels, a couple of sturdy scoops, and a shovel which he figured would save himself some trouble throughout the day. Dakkon froze the last of the ice and had to leave the remaining chisel duty to his partner so that he could maximize the odds of not being seen around the stall. It was likely some groups got an early start hunting krimmers, and Dakkon didn’t want any testimonies that he was anything short of an upstanding adventurer who just so happened to be among the first group to start refrigerating their spoils.
Dakkon’s night had been one of work and preparation. With the sun due to rise in short order, Dakkon moved back into the city and watched the crowd of players hoping to find groups reform. A few of them apparently recognized him, although he had never seen them. They invited him to join their group, but Dakkon politely declined. When he asked how they knew he could “kill a krimmer in one keen strike,” as they had put it they told him a minstrel had been singing a song about him.
“What exactly is that damned bard up to?” Dakkon wondered.
After another half-hour, Dakkon’s party of four had been reunited, and made a show of setting off, out of the city. Their presence did not go unnoticed, and a few players followed them, likely curious to see about their hunting grounds and methods since they had been the ones to earn such a bounty the day before. The group acted as though this didn’t concern them, but, in fact, it was exactly what they were hoping would happen. Dakkon wished there were more than five followers, but he couldn’t exactly advertise their departure without drawing suspicion.
The group of four worked their way to Letis’s new stall and were happy to see that the mid-thirties shopkeeper was open for business. The four graciously accepted the merchant’s offer to buy ice for an extortionate 60 gold, and sat back as the merchant scooped a layer of ice into their cart then smoothed it out. The group’s leader-apparent, Ramses, shook the merchant’s hand gratefully, then they set off to hunt. After the exchange, only two of the five who had been trailing the group earlier remained following. The other three had clearly run off, satisfied with the information which they had gathered. “Letis ought to be doing decent business soon enough,” thought Dakkon.
After the morning’s charade, the group fell into normal stride. Finnegan held overgrown boars captive as the slayers-three drew upon the beasts and felled them quickly. After two hours of good results, the group doubled back to sell their cartload of monster parts.
Dakkon thought about Letis to establish a telepathic link on the trip back to Tian. “Letis. How’s the shaved ice business treating you?” Dakkon asked.
“I’ve sold two cart loads since yours,” replied Letis. “We’re going to need a better way to keep all of this ice frozen. If you just pop by and refreeze it occasionally, I’m pretty sure we’ll have to chisel it loose again.”
“Hopefully sales will pick up when the word spreads,” thought Dakkon. “Did you give the purchasers extra ice?”
“I sure did,” replied Letis. “I even let them know it was extra, since business was slow.”
“Good man. We’re heading back to sell, so you may see some new buyers show up soon.”
Dakkon severed the mental connection to his business partner, and his group walked into town. They sold their bounty for 102 gold, drawing a new round of questions which Ramses turned aside, saying simply that they had a deadline to maintain. It was plain to see the group was pulling a cart filled with red-tinted and sloshy ice, however. When someone asked the skinny, approachable-looking Finnegan where they got the ice, he told them they were just going to top off their ice now. Then, as the small crowd followed the group, Finnegan embellished their success with the frozen product.
When the crowd arrived at Letis’s stand, Dakkon stepped up before Ramses had a chance.
“We only want half—to top us off,” Dakkon said loudly enough to be heard and made an odd gesture that served to cast two re-freezing hotspots on the bottom of the two large barrels. His mana left him rapidly.
Letis sold the group half the amount of ice. The group paid him 30 gold, then before they set off, Finnegan took the opportunity to tell the onlookers that although Letis’s ice was special, it still had a time limit, and that they absolutely had to get the most out of their money. Dakkon marveled that Finnegan might end up advertising the ice far better than he had hoped. They’d probably need to ramp up production for the next day.
The group took off and repeated the process of hunting, selling, and re-filling their ice, growing the number of in-the-know passersby just as they grew their EXP and rewards. By the end of the day, Letis had nearly sold all o
f his ice stockpile. In total, the ice had profited them an incredible 880 gold. “Letis must have been able to sway several on-the-fence purchasers,” Dakkon thought. When Finnegan, Ramses, and Damak learned that they would each receive an extra hundred gold on top of their party split of 175 per person, they were ecstatic. Even Damak, who had been less than enthusiastic about misleading players before, was eager to prepare for the anticipated to be much busier second day of sales.
After a bit of discussion, the five decided to prepare for one high volume day of sales, sell as much as they could, split the profits an even five ways, then disappear for a while, on to other things. Once the customers found out that they were paying 50 credits for plain ice, there would be a reckoning for Letis if he were foolish enough to stay. A single day would allow for a reasonable pillow of doubt, but after that, Letis would likely have a large target placed on his head. Since he was forced to set up shop outside of the city, there would be no guards to intervene no matter how bad the situation got.
Each was assigned his task, befitting their individual talents. Finnegan would spread the word about the miraculous ice for sale, Dakkon would freeze water, Letis would break the ice up, and Damak would go into town to get refills for the water since there would almost certainly be prying eyes attempting to follow Letis back to his supplier. There would likely be eyes on Letis’s stall tonight, also, which is why Ramses would be out, trying his hardest to keep people away from the area using every means at his disposal. The likelihood that their work wouldn’t go unnoticed was simply another reason for Letis to get out of town.
The five worked industriously through most of the night, acquiring and filling 12 large barrels with crushed ice, which could be tilted at a 45-degree angle and rolled by one man despite their great weight.
The extra hands resulted in six times the ice to sell. If luck was on their side, Letis would have one hell of a busy day tomorrow.
An hour before sunrise, Ramses showed back up to the stall with a red skull on his left cheek.
“You boys done yet?” asked the rogue.
“What’s with the skull?” asked Dakkon.
“Just going above and beyond the call of duty,” said Ramses.
“Nokti’s mark. You get that skull on your cheek from killing a player,” said an unperturbed Damak. “For a day, others can attack our rogue without receiving a red skull themselves. If they manage to kill him, he’s all but guaranteed to drop some gear. Even if he’s grinding away in a full group, there’s a fair chance of him getting jumped in the middle of a fight. The group can’t really come to his aid, either.”
“It’s a good thing our fights are so short, then,” said Ramses. “After a fortune seeker sees us down one of those overgrown pigs in a second, I doubt they’d have the balls to try something.” Ramses accentuated his statement by holding out his upturned palms as though weighing two hefty, rounded objects.
“Or,” said Damak, “Maybe they’ll think you have extremely valuable gear and that the reward of taking you out is worth any risk.”
The rogue dropped his still outstretched arms and huffed.
“Ah, never mind that,” said Ramses. “I’m not laying low for a whole day. Not when it’s our last day with the pigs.”
Ramses’s concern was reasonable. Dakkon was under-leveled and several days’ worth of hunting behind the other three, and even he was beginning to notice diminishing returns from the boars. The levels of the four players weren’t particularly high, so it followed that they probably didn’t need to grind the same enemies for long amounts of time simply to progress. For all Dakkon knew, it could be entirely unnecessary to grind in this game. Perhaps players were simply reverting to an old, familiar method of progression which they learned from other games that they had played before.
“With Finnegan out advertising for us, the hunting grounds may end up being highly contested,” said Dakkon. “On top of the rumors spread by the other players, I doubt we’ll be able to fill the cart as quickly as we managed before.”
The expression on the others’ faces showed that they agreed with Dakkon’s assessment.
“Speaking of the bard, shall we go meet up with him?” asked Damak. “Ramses should stay here, though. He ought to stay away from town while he’s marked.”
“Can players attack a marked player in town?” asked Dakkon.
“Sure, if they’re careful not to be seen by the guard or anyone who would report them,” said Damak. “But, it’s best we avoid advertising that he’s ripe for harvest.”
“Bah, it’s not my first mark,” said Ramses. “A good cloak’s sufficient enough to hide from prying eyes when you know what you’re doing.”
“Still,” said Dakkon. “Letis may have some more unwanted company before he opens up shop. It would kill two birds with one stone if you watched his back until then.”
“I’d like that,” said Letis quickly. The talk of a large target being on his back and that he might have unwanted company seemed to be getting to Letis, now that his hands were finally idle.
“Fine, fine,” said Ramses. “You are the martyr for our misdeeds, after all.”
Ramses grinned at Letis and the makeshift merchant’s skin blanched despite the darker-ness of night. Nights in Chronicle simply weren’t as oppressively dark as they were in the real world.
Damak and Dakkon took the longer route around the outside of town to the east-side entrance of Tian, where Finnegan said they could find him. Along the way they passed totem-like post after totem-like post, which Dakkon had initially assumed were used for some sort of city-wide detection or defense magic—but if they were skirting around the edge of the city early in the morning, then they were doing exactly what he imagined might trip some sort of magical alarm. Some were grouped in twos and threes, while others stood alone. Each stone post was topped with a carving of an animal which, to Dakkon, appeared to be chosen at random.
“What’s with all the animal…” Dakkon wasn’t sure what to call them, “totems?”
“Those are way-markers to shrines,” answered Damak. The stout warrior eyed Dakkon curiously. “You haven’t spent much time in Tian, I take it.”
Dakkon shrugged.
“The residents of Tian venerate what they call ancestor spirits,” said Damak. “As far as I can tell, they’re all animals. Each spirit has a shrine it is bound to. When you put your back to the city wall and look out to a way-marker, it will point you in the direction of the shrine for that spirit.”
“Ok,” said Dakkon. “So, they’re for the benefit of fledgling shamans?” “…Like Zelle,” Dakkon thought.
“I guess,” said Damak. “I’m not really an expert on the matter. I know that certain factions in the city keep the shrines tidy—like the exorcists.”
“There are exorcists in Chronicle?” asked Dakkon. “Does that mean there are possessions and whatnot?”
“Honestly, I’m not sure. If a shrine is allowed to fall into disrepair, the ancestor spirit may start lashing out,” said Damak. “Exorcists, among others, are sent to eliminate rogue spirits. Beyond that, who knows. I certainly wouldn’t doubt possession could be a thing in a world with magic.”
“Guess the only way to find out is to kick over a shrine,” said Dakkon in an attempt to be lighthearted.
Damak leveled his gaze on Dakkon once again, a serious look in his eyes. “I’d avoid joking about harming the shrines. The people of Tian take the matter seriously. I wouldn’t be surprised if someone were to disappear for a comment like that. Disappearances… happen here.”
“That’s a bit unnerving,” observed Dakkon. “Any reason why?”
“I suspect it has something to do with the mob presence in the city; but again, I really don’t know. I’d wager the sort of questions that lead to that answer are the same sort that cause someone to go missing in the first place.”
“Care to run that by me again?” asked Dakkon.
“I mean, I don’t think asking about how or why people go miss
ing is a healthy habit,” said Damak.
“Fair enough,” said Dakkon. “Still, it’s interesting that such a clean and clearly prosperous city would have a criminal underground.”
“Maybe it’s so nice here because of that,” suggested Damak.
Dakkon simply couldn’t see it. From his frame of reference, criminals lived in dirty, seedy parts of town where their actions could go mostly unnoticed or unobstructed by the law. He considered how alien the idea was that a mafia-like group would be able to create such an obvious paradise for the wealthy. He turned the idea over in his mind to the sound of their feet plodding along in the damp grass until they reached the eastern entrance to the city.
Chapter 21: Test of Mettle
It was still a bit too early for the sun, meaning the pair still had time before they needed to meet up with, and drag Finnegan away from, the tavern. It had been a while since Dakkon stabled his horse—Nightshade—at the temple in eastern Tian. While in the area with a little extra time, Dakkon couldn’t miss an opportunity to see how the proud horse was faring. Though Nightshade seemed to like him well enough, aside from traveling, Dakkon hadn’t spent much time with his mount. The last time they were together, Nightshade had been injured and scared half to death. He worried that, in the eyes of his horse, he might have grown estranged.
Dakkon and Damak arrived at the temple. After only a bit of fussing with the monk on duty, the helper fetched the older stable master, whom Dakkon had passed the horse along to, and they were taken to see the black horse. Though they had arrived without a treat to offer, Nightshade was still clearly pleased to see Dakkon—though the steed initially snorted at Damak. Despite Nightshade’s ill-temper toward the stubbly warrior, Damak managed to pat the black horse on its neck which it accepted without resistance.