A World Called Memory

by M J Sweeney

Stamina: 410

  Athletics: 21 (+5 Warrior, +5 Wood Elf)

  Camping: 16 (+5 Wood Elf)

  Cooking: 6

  Divine Favour: 20 (+5 Priest, +5 Wood Elf)

  Light Armour: 15 (+5 Warrior)

  Persuade: 21 (+5 Priest, +5 Wood Elf)

  Quarterstaff: 30 (+10 Specialisation, +5 Warrior, +5 Wood Elf)

  Sneak: 5

  Wagoneering: 6

  And those were just a few relevant skills, as there seemed to be over 200 of them.

  I exited the interface and looked in the pouch Drognad had given me. It was pleasing to see a fair assortment of copper and small silver, perhaps fifty of each. Searching in my pants pockets, I got out the coins I already had from the brigands and added them in.

  Arriving at Maximus General Store, I noted the presence of a smithy on the opposite side of the street. The interior was filled to bursting—crates and boxes and barrels, some open, some closed. It smelled good, like earth and herbs and sawdust all together. I sneezed.

  “Blessings of the day!” I looked for the voice, and had to look down and down. Another kind of sprite. It would take some getting used to these different races—they sure did look odd to my eyes.

  This little fellow was dressed in electric blue pants, shoes, and cap, a white shirt with braces, and a saucy smile. “Come to buy or browse?” he asked. He had leaf-green skin that faded in places to a tan brown, green eyes, and a rather pointy face. His skin didn’t match his suit at all.

  “Buying, definitely,” I replied, trying not to stare too much. “I need camping gear to stow in a medium pack. Need the pack too. Flint, tinder, bed roll, that kind of thing.”

  “Gaggle-deedee!” he exclaimed happily. “All rightee then, come on in.” He motioned me further on.

  “You mind if I leave these here?” I gestured at the three weapons I was holding—my staff, the broadsword, and the spear. I thought it polite not to be waving them around in his store.

  “Yes, certainly. By the till is fine.” He didn’t seem bothered, and gestured me ahead of him to look at what took my fancy.

  We collected the essentials first—flint and steel, bedroll, two small copper cooking pots that stacked into each other, a copper water flask with a screw-top lid, a couple of sporks, a multipurpose cooking and skinning knife, a whetstone, two bars of soap, and a clever slatted chopping board with ropes and wooden toggles that folded up neatly and would double as a dry place to sit if needed. I also got a few travel-food supplies, elven rice cakes, dried meat strips, salted nuts, and some strange elvish tea, an herb sweetener, and salt. Lastly, we got a large leather backpack with a few side pockets. We placed all of that on his front counter.

  The sprite eyed me shrewdly. “You an adventurer?” he asked.

  “That I am.” I nodded acceptance.

  He waved me down to the back corner. “C’mon.” There were a few odds and ends here, including blank paper, books, holy symbols on necklaces, fishing rods, ropes, grappling hooks, more backpacks, some drums, a lute, a flute, and a couple of locked glass cabinets. Inside looked like a few rings, some runes, and other small valuables.

  “Watchoo need?” he asked.

  I fingered one of the ropes with a grappling hook. “How much?”

  Most of the rest had a marked price, each for a few coppers. These items were all mostly unmarked.

  “Five jeb, two oll, for real.” He folded his arms over his small chest.

  “Is that a real for real, or a ‘let’s bargain’ for real?” I thought that translated as five small silver and two copper.

  He smiled a little wickedly. “I swear on my Ma Selena, it’s for real.”

  I laughed at that. “So if I make a joke about your mother now, will that go well for me, or poorly, do you think?”

  His grin got a little more evil somehow. “Try it and see.”

  “Maybe later,” I replied.

  He deflated slightly and we moved on.

  I looked at the backpacks. “What’s special about these?” There were three different sizes.

  “Thicker material than the one you’ve got, and fully waterproofed, with a nice wax coating and a lifetime guarantee!” He smiled reassuringly. Sure, I was going to believe that. Maybe. “And the side pouches are zipped! With a toggle and flap over the front, real hard for thieves.” He demonstrated the zip with great pride, “Zeeep, zeeep, zeeep,” he chuckled.

  I ooh’d and aah’d appropriately. A zip, I thought, imagine that. Must be new to this guy.

  “Just depends what size you want,” he added.

  The three in front of me were basically small, medium, and large. I pointed at the medium-sized one. No need to overdo it.

  “How much?”

  “Two dran, three jeb, no oll, for real!”

  Two large silver, three small silver. I didn’t think I had the coins for that, but perhaps I could bargain him down. “We’ll come back to that. Put it in the pile.”

  Next, he showed me a small rod that looked as though it was made of metal with some kind of wooden tip. He stepped back and snapped his arm out, and—hey, presto—it was a metre and a half long. It was actually longer than him, so he let the tip rest on the floor.

  I nodded appreciatively. “Telescoping rod,” I said.

  “What?”

  “I… never-mind, what do you call it?”

  “The oh-shit!-handy trap detector.”

  “Yes, oh shit indeed.” I already had a quarterstaff, but what if the front half of it got lopped off by a scything trap? “How much?”

  “Eight jeb even, for real.”

  “All right. What’s next?”

  He took a small box off the top of the glass cabinet and pulled out a couple of metal-engraved compasses.

  “Oh this is good,” I said. One of them even had little leaves and vines engraved around the sides, and at the top, above the North symbol, what looked like a four-leaf clover. “How much?”

  “Six jeb, seven oll, for real.”

  “Okay, add it to the pile.” I looked around a moment. “What about the glass cabinet; what’s—” I hesitated. “Before you open it, I’m actually quite poor, so let me just ask, what is the minimum price for stuff in there?”

  “Starts at thirty dran and goes up from there. They’re all magic gear. Magic rings, scrolls, runes, a couple other knick-knacks.”

  I wasn’t sure of all the currencies yet, but I knew I definitely couldn’t afford that. He was fiddling with some keys, but I gestured at him to put it away. “No, can’t afford it. Maybe I can come back when I’m flush. Let’s just take this lot to the front. Then we can discuss if it’s for real.”

  “For real!” he agreed, and motioned me in front. He seemed a careful sort, always checking where I had my hands and making sure I was in front of him at all times.

  There was quite a pile. Once we packed it up, I thought it would mostly fit. I really wanted the adventurer’s backpack, grappling hook, and the oh-shit, but they were also the least necessary. I put the first backpack we had looked at to one side.

  “All this with the adventurer’s backpack.”

  He did some quick sums, touching each item with his fingers and muttering. “Comes to five dran, one jeb, six oll, for real!” He touched his heart at the final fee, looking me in the eyes. Oh yeah, so honest.

  “Um, excuse me.” I gestured at my money pouch. “I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m going to turn around.”

  He smiled, this time genuinely. “Good, go right ahead.”

  I turned my back and quickly counted what I had. Seventy-three small silver jeb, ninety copper oll. I accessed my interface and logged on to the local-net, then accessed currency.

  / Currency /

  oll: copper

  jeb: small silver

  dran: large silver

  zorb: gold

  10 oll = 1 jeb

  8 jeb = 1 dran

  80 oll = 1 dran

  40 dran = 1 zorb

  320 jeb = 1 zorb

&
nbsp; 3200 oll = 1 zorb

  So the copper made nine jeb, plus the seventy-three small silvers, equalling eighty-two total. This meant just over ten large silver dran. I turned around.

  I touched the adventurer’s backpack. “Unfortunately, this is beyond my budget.” I swapped the two backpacks. “Now how much?”

  He looked at me a moment, clearly wondering if this was some kind of strategy.

  I smiled reassuringly.

  “Three dran, no jeb, nine oll,” he replied.

  “Okay, now for real. You asked just over three dran; I’m willing to pay two dran, even. And I promise to return to buy more gear.”

  The little guy made choking noises and glared. “Gah, not for a look up Asphodel’s skirt! No way. And promises, blushes! Give me a reason not to kick you out!”

  “Well I’m offering you cash, not promises, and as long as I don’t die, I will buy more stuff. Okay, how about two dran, three jeb? That’s a good deal.”

  The sprite growled, “Two dran, six jeb, for real.”

  I thought a moment and decided not to push it. “Okay. Deal.” I smiled.

  He blinked and finally smiled back. I counted the coin and handed it to him. There was a ding from my interface, but I ignored it. We packed the backpack together. I still had the small backpack with the leather armour in it, so I slung one over each shoulder and picked up the three weapons again. Carrying loads of gear was a pain.

  “Nice doing business with you, sir sprite,” I offered kindly, holding out my hand. He shook it warily in his small hand, but then smiled.

  “You too, elf,” he replied.

  Realising I didn’t get his name, I hoped there would be time for that later. Walking outside, I crossed over the street to the smithy. It was an outdoor affair, with a forge and bellows down one end and a couple of long tables down the other. Down one side of the tables were neatly stacked rows of farm equipment; shovels, hoes, rakes, and the like, and down the other side were a few weapons and some leather and chain armour.

  The smith was hammering away as I approached. He had two assistants both working on something off to the side, so I ignored them. The smith paused and looked up as I got closer.

  “Good morrow,” he said. He was a high elf, one of the andas alfar. He was muscular with light brown hair and brown eyes, a little shorter than me, and fairly dirty from the soot of the forge—the first dirty elf I had seen so far. In other games I had played, wood elves—the andain alfar—were smaller than their high elf cousins, but in this milieu, we were in fact a little taller and bigger—being a more physically-oriented race than the magic-using, fair-haired, fair-skinned andas alfar. I felt good about that, being a little larger and more solid than most of the high elves I had seen so far.

  “Good morrow, sir. I was hoping to buy or trade, and repair some gear.” I gestured with the weapons I was holding.

  “Marasc!” He gestured at one of the apprentices to continue with the hammering and motioned me to one of the empty front tables.

  Placing down the two weapons, I kept my staff separate, then opened the small backpack and pulled out the leather armour, including my worn starter-piece. I also kept the leather gloves aside, thinking they might be useful. They fit fairly well anyway, if a bit stiffly. As generic gloves, they didn’t look they were part of the set, and they provided some basic armour protection anyway.

  Gesturing at the armour, I said, “If possible, I’d like to get this lot resized to fit me. Or if it’s a better price, sell this to you and have some elven leather made to size. Also sell the spear and broadsword.”

  He looked over the armour first, picking it up and testing a few buckles and straps. “The armour smells, but it’s in reasonable condition, fairly well made. But to be honest, although I can get it resized, the chest piece and boots will never quite fit properly. It will be more expensive for me to make you a new set, but you’d be better off in the long run. Now, before we discuss price, let’s see the weapons.”

  He looked at the spear, picked it up briefly, and put it down. “All right. A spear.” His eyes twinkled. “The broadsword…” He picked it up and unsheathed it, then sighted along the edge and ran his fingers along it. “Might be worth something. Now I could unwrap the binding on the grip and slide out the tang—that would give me a better idea of who made it and the quality and such, but we can do another simple test.” He looked at me and presented the hilt for me to hold. “Hit the table firmly with the flat of the blade. Not hard, not soft,” he instructed.

  “Really?” I was dubious.

  “Really. If it bends or breaks, it’s not worth buying; if it rings and bounces back, it’s good.”

  “Why me?” I asked.

  “Your sword, your responsibility,” he replied. So if I broke it, I couldn’t blame him.

  I hit the table and the sword spanged back, making my whole arm shudder. Shit, reverb. The smith took it again and sighted along the edge. “Good, very good. All right… shall I give you an estimate?”

  I nodded.

  “Let’s see, sword is good, so sixteen dran for that. Full armour set, good to go for the right buyer; has to be human-sized or for a large elf; that’s worth twenty dran. Spear and two worn leather chest pieces, one dran for those. That’s thirty-seven dran, just short of one zorb.”

  I had a feeling that the world economy was quite tight, and it took a while to earn more than silver. Of course, I hadn’t checked the online market yet, but I was also sure that at the top level, rare magic items were being sold for inordinate amounts of gold. Such was life.

  “Okay, sounds fair so far.” For some reason, I didn’t feel like haggling with this guy so much. Intuition, maybe. “And for a full set of leather?”

  “You know, normally we don’t sell the marked leather to outsiders, but to one of the elves, we can. As a dryad, you qualify. Of course, if you want the master level armour, I would only do that once you increase your standing with the guild and paid me a hefty sum of money.” He grinned with that statement. “For grandmaster-level gear, you’ll have to go to the guild in Geras Anandiel to apply. Not that you’ll have any luck, but I thought I’d tell you before you ask. Most of you adventurers end up trying. Or if you’re really diligent, you can pick up the trade and work at it yourself!”

  I heard a few quick dings from my interface, but I ignored it for now. Thinking about what he said, I realised that the different “liked” races gave different bonuses to each other, and “disliked” did the opposite. Made sense.

  “Well, you need boots, leg-guards, chest-piece, bracers and gloves, shoulder-guards, helm. The leather work will all be specially reinforced and toughened, so it’s better quality than the gear you currently have. You have two main choices: studded leather or reinforced.”

  “What’s the difference?” I asked.

  He pulled out a couple of sample pieces from an iron-banded chest. “The reinforced leather is simpler, more disguised and artful, and a little lighter.” He showed me a leather gauntlet that was tough, but lighter than its studded leather counterpart. The studded leather was blackened with small metal knobs, with a more bulky exterior. “The studded variation basically gives the same protection, only you’ll look a lot meaner.” He grinned at me, clearly curious as to my response.

  “I’ll take the reinforced one. I would prefer it to look more standard.”

  He didn’t offer any judgment on that. “It’s twenty-five dran for each of the smaller pieces and one zorb for the chest. I produce good work, so the gear is certified reinforced elven leather; comes with its own benefits in and out of combat. You can also pick between high elf leather and wood elf leather—they give different bonuses. Total comes to five zorb and fifteen dran altogether. Now, less your stuff here, that’s… four zorb and eighteen dran owing. You have the coins for that?” He looked sceptically at my worn clothing. Another thing I’d have to take care of.

  “No, I don’t. I am going to look for work, however.” His face fell a little, but I sm
iled back. “Can I ask a small favour?” He frowned. “It is to your benefit. I don’t really want to begin crafting my own gear; I’d rather be out there”—I gestured to the forest—“earning it. In the meantime, would you hold this gear for me”—He started shaking his head—“and before you say no, if I die, and don’t reclaim it or contact you in a week, you can keep it. No harm, no foul.”

  He blinked at that and slowly smiled. “That I can agree to.” My interface dinged again.

  “Well,” I continued, “there’s one tiny bit more. If you happen to see me in the next day or so and I tell you I’m getting the coins together, if you felt inspired, could you start working on the first couple of pieces, so there’s not too long a wait?” I asked again, all bright-eyed and hopeful.

  He laughed at that and slapped his thighs. “Now, that’s funny. But good. All right, it’s a deal. Shake on it?” I smiled and shook his hand. Great! Now I have to find work.

  “What’s your name, young dryad?”

  “Cordaen,” I replied, then quickly added, “of-the-Forest.”

  He laughed again. “Good one. Just make that up?” He wasn’t fooled. “Will have to give you a warrior nickname once you earn it,” he said. “I am Alhain Connivaria, master-smith of Ell’Escow, at your service.” He gave a short bow, and I bowed in reply.

  “Bennih!” He called his other apprentice over. They sat me down and measured me from head to toe. They made me bend over, bend backwards, breathe in and out, and otherwise contort myself through all sorts of exercises. Bennih measured all of it, while Alhain noted the results.

  “The main thing you have to decide is between combat-leather and scout-leather. The first will give better bonuses to defence; the second will help you to fade from sight. Also, the latter works best outdoors.”

  “I would prefer the combat-leather. Are there colour options?”

  “Dark brown, tan, wood-brown, chocolate. I can add green trimming, will help slightly with camouflage.”

  I laughed. “I’ll go with dark brown. We done?”

  “For now.”

  I collected my remaining gear, including my original leather armour. Now I had but the one pack and one weapon, so I felt relatively unencumbered again, and went wandering up the hill. After accessing my interface, I saw that a couple of skills had levelled—persuade and bargain. I had also received six new quests!