N-Type, or natural magic, can simply be done with a thought without limit. No one would choose anything else if he had the choice. But there are very few mage classes that offer N-Type, and they are usually Tier Two at the minimum. Aside from Spellflare in Nomad and from combat classes offering N-Type for certain special moves, it's almost never seen outside of indigo.
Most everyone uses M-Type. Each M-Type user has a supply or well of mana that he can convert into any given spell. Once the well's dry, he can't do a single thing more. To regain mana, he must spend time outside the Dungeon or use one of a number of relatively common items. The flexibility makes it so popular. Besides, most magic classes only offer M-Type anyway.
The main, if much less popular, competitor is V-Type. A V-Type mage must select the specific spells he wishes to cast at the beginning of each day. Each such spell has a limited number of uses. But in exchange for the reduced flexibility, a V-Type mage usually has much more powerful spells. Nor does the mage have to worry about mana management at all. But once those spells are gone, they're gone. In almost every case, the mage must wait until the next day before he can cast them again. There are a total of twenty-four, now twenty-five, individual items in existence that are known to have Spell Regeneration, and all were found below the 45th.
"But what," Xavier said with a raised finger, "would be better than if we had both major types?"
"How does that matter?" Elise asked.
"I'm not getting it," I said. "There's no multi-type base class."
"No, I mean the party," Xavier said. "I can be M-Type, you can take Acolyte for the V-Type. We'll maximize our types. Anyway, I've always wanted M-Type."
"But I don't—" I thought about it, thought of another retort, then stopped. What? Why argue over this? He did have a point. And wasn't the party more important than one member?
Didn't I care about all of us more than myself?
"Sure," I said. "Never mind. I'll take Acolyte after Healer for V-Type."
* * *
Classtones are the rarest, most expensive treasure found in the Dungeon. Even top-quality gear has a price limit as only one delver can use it. But any number of qualifying delvers can use a classtone, each paying fees or even monthly dues. Some High Houses, such as the Medici, the Blacks, and the Royals, use the unique classtones they have for personal and political power. Any other find is fortunate; a classtone makes a fortune.
Needless to say, the base classtone at the Healer's Guild was guarded like all get out. If they didn't have the same power of guards for the Cornerstone, they made up for it in number. They had no qualms about using non-Healers to guard it, I supposed.
"Do not step on anything other than the carpet," our leader, an Archiatromantis dressed in layers of white robes, warned. "There are wards, and they are set to damage, not to warn."
"And we can't even heal yet," I joked. No one else in the crowd laughed. I looked through and saw a number of colors, delvers from every spectrum from the many reds to even one blue. Hybrid builds have to start somewhere, I guess. Everyone wore simple clothes—the moment you switch to a new class, any Class Restricted gear that you can't use will just fall off. It almost seemed ceremonial, like a new birth.
One by one we walked to the classtone and touched. No time to feel all philosophical about it while the guards watched you—you just feel powerful afterwards.
Or not. I felt little difference even if I could know another number: 1st Healer.
* * *
"How does this spell-casting thing work, anyway?" I asked Xavier as we went down a corridor. We had been in the Dungeon enough to be casual, but still ready for an ambush. At the moment being a Healer was more liability than asset. I couldn't wear my better gear, and I hadn't the levels for even one skill slot.
But Xavier did. How come 1st Apprentices got spells but not 1st Healers? "You see a shape in your mind, and then you draw it in air," Xavier said. "I've already tried that part on the practicestones. Then you point your staff and some monster gets fried."
"Let's hope that last part works," I said. "And look!"
Turning the corner was a lone Goblin.
"Hold back!" I said. "Let Xavier get this one."
The Goblin marched on, yet I couldn't help but watch Xavier instead. He raised his staff and drew a shining, baroque X in a trail of flame. He pointed, and that flame congealed into one and struck the Goblin, incinerating it instantly.
"You know," I said in the silence afterwards. "There's something to be said for gaining a new class as fast as possible."
"This was awesome!" Xavier shouted. "AWESOME!" He whooped again.
"If it was going to be so good," Mical said with a raised eyebrow. "Perhaps we should have invested in a Spellflare stone?"
"I don't think any of us have the stats for it except Xavier," I said.
"Better to get it," Xavier said. "But man, man. Spellcasting is GREAT!" He jumped.
* * *
A Nomad can learn four spells: Set Home, Minor Identify, Charm of Opening, and Spellflare. The first and last are critical. Set Home is useful for stronger parties, as it allows the user to set where he will return to after someone casts Return. Spellflare fires a bright colored burst of light that can be seen by delvers through the Dungeon walls. Learning Spellflare codes is one of the first things a beginning delver must do. It's logical enough. Red means "Danger." Red-Red-Blue is the more urgent "Danger, We're Retreating." Red-Red-Red is reserved for "Danger, Out-of-Depth" while Red-Red-Black is the more frightening "Danger, Slayers." Yellow-Yellow means "Chest," and everyone's favorite, Yellow-Blue, is "Free Loot."
It's actually more work to memorize the codes than to earn enough crystal to buy the spellstone. It can be found in 1st Floor chests, so it's super cheap.
Cheap being relative. "Seriously?" I asked. But the shopkeeper had already left to attend to another customer. "It's a 1st Floor drop!"
"We'll just search," Elise said. "No reason we can't go in again today. I'm already wanting another level. Rogue is 11:30 AM!"
"Don't you start, too," Mical said.
"Am I the only one who doesn't like his class yet?" I asked.
Andy frowned. "Class Restricted. No pick."
Elise hugged her, and said, "Don't worry, we can get Miner for you eventually."
* * *
Perhaps if we hadn't been pushing ourselves in those next few days—claiming to ourselves we needed Spellflare for safety, ergo we took risks to get it—we wouldn't have stumbled into the room full of Wolves on the 2nd. And had we not seen the orange chest, we would have fled.
"Get it!" I shouted. "Let's go!"
The Wolves needed no encouragement, and for a moment it was pure hand-to-maw. But the longsword Sampson could now equip cut through many, and Elise stabbed another.
Xavier fried the rest. The last wolf fell, shuddered, and was silent.
"An orange chest," I said. "All to ourselves."
"Better get it before some random band of new delvers stumble into it," Elise said. We laughed, nervously.
Fifty orange crystals were within. So much loot—I could barely calculate how much. Five hundred thousand red? We could get a stat potion, maybe. Definitely enough to get Mical and I Minor Heal.
But that was not all.
"Look," Elise said, and held up a stone to her Identifier. "It's Return!"
"That's what I call luck," I said. "Incredible luck. Quite possibly worth more than everything else in there."
"I know," Xavier said. "I'll head for Dimensional Apprentice immediately."
"Hey," Elise said, holding up a different stone. "This one's a Painting 1 skillstone. I want it."
"Why?" I asked.
"Because." Elise rolled her eyes. "I'll take it first pick, and you better not."
"It's not that valuable. About fifty red at the Auction House, if I remember last I saw one," Mical said. "Just take it as part of your personal cut."
Oh, right. Personal cuts. Wouldn't I now have the most cryst
al I ever had?
* * *
Eating a skillstone is like eating crystal—still feels weird the first time you do it, but nonetheless delicious.
"I really want to paint now," Elise said, licking her lips. "Like, right away." She pulled out the painting supplies she had bought and went to it.
"Same here," I said. "I mean, I want to heal someone."
"Good," said Mical, "because we'll cut expenses by using up our spells rather than buying consumables to heal ourselves. It's infinitely cheaper except for opportunity cost."
"Just resting is free, too," Xavier said. "I've noticed I've healed way faster on my own since becoming a delver."
"It's not free. Every day you aren't delving is a day without income and with crystal consumption."
"But spells aren't free, either," I said. "because you have a limited number a day."
"Certainly. It's the opportunity cost. But being ready for the next delve in a day rather than a week is marvelously superior. And once we have sufficient levels, we can heal more serious wounds without resorting to consumables or a professional Healer." Mical smiled. "Which means, in the end, we have more crystal for the party—or ourselves."
"You're really into the business part of this all, Mical," I said. "I'd just be glad to be healed sooner or even in battle."
She shrugged. "What's wrong with looking at the world in such a way? Is there something wrong with owning more crystal? All the more to give away or spend on others, if you'd rather do so than on yourself."
"Yeah," Elise said. "You're just too humble to admit you've been putting some of your cut in beggar booths."
"Well... Um..." Mical turned a little red. "I do not mean to boast of such things."
I hit my forehead and got up. "I haven't sent anything to my family in a while. Great. Well, this is a perfect time."
But as I walked past Andy to the door, I sensed her Health was not at her maximum. "Andy," I said. "It would really help us if you told us you were injured when it happens."
She nodded and silently drew back her sleeve to show a nasty cut. I drew circles within circles, and touched Andy's arm. A flash—and the cut closed itself. I felt an unreal amount of satisfaction at this. No wonder Xavier was on top of the world after his first cast.
"Hey!" Xavier said. "Did you even practice?"
"It wasn't a bad wound, I guess," I said. "Or I'm just naturally good at this." The latter idea was even more satisfactory.
A knock on the door. "Courier!" called the voice. Andy immediately hid behind Elise.
"For whom?" I asked as I opened the door. The young woman outside was in the green clothing of a Ranger—a less popular class nowadays, which was probably why she ended up with a relatively menial job.
"Alex Kenderman," she said. She held up a seekerstone and then pointed it at my chest. "You were hard to find." She pulled a letter out and handed it to me. "Enjoy," she said, and stood there.
I opened it.
Dear Alexander,
We have become worried due to your lack of letters. In addition (I hate to speak of such a crass matter) we are running low on funds.
Are you safe? If this letter is returned undeliverable, we are planning to find someone to find you. Or, perhaps, "revive" you, if that is the case. Please, reply if at all possible. We have already paid for the courier's return.
If I am but being alarmist, please forgive me. Things have been going well for us otherwise—we have been able to pay off one of our debts with your remittances. Thank you kindly.
Sincerely,
Alexandria Kenderman
P.S. Annabelle says:
What's it like, there? Do you actually have friends now? Or a girlfriend? What's it feel like, knowing you'll live forever?
I hit my face again. Sorry, sorry, sorry. If you're wondering why my reply was written in paint with a small brush, that's because it was the nearest writing implement, and the courier girl was glaring at me to finish.
Dear Mom and Annabelle,
Sorry for not writing! So much stuff has been happening that there's been no time. Sorry also about the remittance! I'll send you a big load just after I finish this letter.
I've been relatively safe. Sorta. It's actually... Man, how do I describe it? Just because I can't die (forever) doesn't mean it's not dangerous. I can still die (temporarily), or just be lost for a long time. But I'm with a party, so it's less dangerous than you think.
Maybe when things settle down I can write a longer letter. Right now, me and my party are doing lots of delves—we've got to, to survive.
P.S. Yes, Annabelle, I have friends now. A whole party full of them. And I'm not sure what it's like since death is as scary as ever. That, and starvation. Next letter I might be able to explain what it's like to eat crystal.
"Can I have my brush back?" Elise asked me as I handed the letter to the courier, who bowed slightly and walked off. Andy emerged from her cover behind Elise.
"Sure," I said and handed it back. "That was embarrassing. Hadn't sent anything, and they thought I had died or something."
"Were they worried they couldn't afford a revive?"
"They're surfacers," I said. Weird, how you were now they. "They—and I up until a month ago—considered death as permanent."
Elise was very quiet.
"I wonder," Xavier said. "Somewhere beyond the Deep, something beyond shattering, is there any possible way for a delver to permanently die?"
"No," Elise said. "But I wouldn't bet my life on it."
"What makes you say no?" I asked.
"Because I—" Elise became very quiet again.
"On a similar subject," Mical said. "Perhaps we should consider revival insurance? We're close to being able to afford it, and as a matter of professionalism..."
* * *
That was the time. Just the right time. We had just optimized our party, imperfectly yes, but improving. Xavier learned more spells, Andy and Sampson grew tougher, and Sampson became naturally Stronger from exercise—lucky dog. Elise learned Charm of Opening, and we no longer had to abandon magilocked chests. Everyday, Mical told us how much we had—sometimes profit, more often loss. Yet every delve was a new source of wonders, new challenges, new monsters we dared to fight. Our Experience constantly increased. I can remember to this day the stains on the underside of Xavier's bed above mine.
I wish those days could have lasted forever.
But they didn't.
Chapter Seven:
The Quest
If you go to any tavern, guildhall, or shop with a bench of waiting customers, you will invariably hear one complaint, over and over and over: prices, most unreasonably and unjustly, are too high.
Don't think of this like the prices you'll find at some store at home. They'll stay the same. In the City, you'll find the price of everything is different from day to day.
Blame the high-spectrum delvers. It's their fault.
It's impossible to picture how wealthy a high-spectrum delver actually is. You can find a cheap shirt for, say, one red. A blue delver goes and deposits a blue at the Bank and now has a trillion red credited to his account. So what can he do? Buy every cheap shirt, and every expensive shirt for that matter. He can even buy all the tailor shops.
Or try to, anyway. It's supply and demand. As soon as the average delver realizes that some crazy blue is buying shirts by the ton, they'll think of starting their own tailor shop. The price of Tailoring skillstones will hit the stratosphere. Cloth will become so expensive that any article of clothing is hoarded. You'll start seeing delvers wearing rags, or delving deeper, seeking rare drops of soft robes and comfortable leather.
Eventually that crazy blue will tire of this, or collect enough shirts, or have raised the prices of shirts so high that's it's no longer practical to feed his textile addiction. Shortly later, the people who have stockpiled shirts will sell them as quickly as possible before the shirt bubble pops, which it will. Tailor shops will be shuttered, one after another, to be repl
aced with the latest obsession. Garbage bins will be so full of shirts and other clothing that you can dress yourself for years.
The City and the Dungeon Page 6