by J. T. Wright
Ranar cut her off. If he'd been wearing his sword, he might have cut her off at the knees! With the blade set aside, he settled for returning the spoken thrust that Tersa had delivered to him earlier.
“You think my prices unfair, young miss? I assure you, I am always fair! I, Ranar Wygon, am known throughout the Infinite World for my fairness and reasonable pricing!”
“Piss!” Tersa expelled the word explosively. “Piss, blood, and more piss! We weren’t born yesterday! Storage is expensive! You can buy a castle, and other stuff if you sell it!”
This was an exaggeration. Storage could be sold for an exorbitant amount but not the castle and other stuff that Tersa imagined.
“I said my prices were fair, young miss. Buy, sell, or trade, I do so for an item’s true value, not for what others might offer for them.” Ranar rested his arms on the countertop. He pressed a finger to the side of his nose. “What you must ask yourself is, why is the standard price of Storage ten gold?”
Tersa spluttered and could not answer.
“Hmm, don’t know? Let I, Ranar, Merchant Extraordinaire, enlighten you!”
“Storage creates a dimension only accessible to one person. Items placed within it are safe. Safe from theft, safe from wear, safe from inspection, safe from seizure and time. Safe even from that all-powerful force, Taxation! The ten gold that nobles and governments offer for Storage is not a price, but a bounty!”
Tersa couldn’t quite process this sermon. It sounded like Ranar was saying the Ability was illegal! Tersa would not be dealing in forbidden goods and said so in no uncertain terms!
“Not illegal. No government is that daft. Banning Storage would make It that much more attractive to Adventurers. No, instead, they inflate the price and use greed to accomplish what the law never could. Eighty silvers, my price is fair, and I never haggle.”
Tersa slapped her gold piece down. “I'll take it!” She still had her doubts, and most of Ranar’s words screamed over her head. But the man had a cadence to his voice that drew her in. She no longer thought the Stone false and claimed it before the merchant could change his mind.
“Very good, young miss, very good. And the other stones. Dash will cost forty silver, and Appraisal… I can let Appraisal go for forty-five. Buying?”
Tersa shook her head mournfully. “Don't have enough… whatcha got for twen… “
“Trade.” Trent, growing used to being forgotten, wasn’t surprised when two agog faces swiveled in his direction. “Trade means you accept items for other items, right?”
“Ahem, Yes! Yes, young master.” Ranar cleared his throat and waved a hand with a flourish. “Trade is the heart and soul of what I…”
The ringing of five silvers and one thousand copper coins covered up Ranar’s pronouncement. Every coin in Trent’s Storage was deposited on the counter.
“That’s not trade, Jerkface! That’s just buying! And that’s not enough to buy…” Tersa started.
Trent wasn’t done. Stepping away from the counter, he walked to the edge of the carpet. The rest of what he had to offer wouldn’t fit on the wagon’s counter, even if it was three times as long.
There wasn’t always been time to collect all the drops in the Land of the Undying Lord. And when Trent first took on the role of a walking vault, his Storage couldn’t accommodate half of what he, Tersa, and Orion had received. That was a problem that had been solved with time, constant use, and the leveling of his Ability.
Arakai padded silently behind him as Trent began sorting his loot into piles. Items stacked in Storage. Like items only required one slot unless they were items of power. Trent had thought that would apply to Beast Cores, but it didn’t. Until they were refined into energy sources for enchantments or all-important Skill Stones, Beast Cores could be stacked one hundred to a single Storage spot.
The weapons and armor the Trial had provided were not as special as Trent had thought them to be. It wasn’t enchantment that had made those arms effective against the Undead and Infernal; the materials they were made of did that. The weapons themselves were all Common and Basic ranks. Common and Basic but in absurd numbers.
Under the disbelieving scrutiny of Ranar and Tersa, Trent set out over one hundred Beast Cores, and dozens of swords, sabers, spears, hammers, and chainmail shirts, all carefully placed on the carpet. Hides, breastplates, bracers, and more were carefully deposited. Trent tried to divide the loot into two equal portions, but by the time he was finished, only a thin line of bare carpet separated his share from Tersa’s.
He didn’t put out the more gruesome results of the Harvest Skill like hearts, eyes, tongues, and livers. He left his herbs in Storage as well. The herbs were his alone, and Herbalism told him that their true worth would only be paid by an Alchemist or Herbalist. He thought the same might hold true for organs, zombie hair, and fingernails.
When he was done, Trent felt a twinge of guilt. There should have been three shares of loot. A portion of all of this rightfully belonged to Orion. Trent’s sworn brother was far away, but Trent resolved to make it up to the man when, or if, they ever met again.
Arakai panted in wolfish laughter as he sat down next to Trent at the edge of the miscellaneous products. “Well played! A Survivalist must see the blood of his enemy, and a merchant has no greater foe than a determined customer!”
Chapter 21
Ranar’s long legs brought him out of the wagon. “Indeed, Arakai. I, Ranar, Merchant Supreme, have met my match! I may not be able to afford feeding you after this young master has finished fleecing me.”
“It is unusual to see a newly Awakened Adventurer with such a large quantity of Beast Cores,” Ranar mused.
Trent shrugged. “Tersa and I both have the Harvesting Skill.” It had been a long time since Trent’s knife had failed to find a Beast Core. A few of the Graks they had fought (what felt like a lifetime ago), hadn’t given up the sought-after treasure, but Trial Beasts were very generous in this aspect.
“You mistake me, young master.” Ranar smoothed his robes and then folded his hands at his waist. “Most cannot resist the pull of the Skills a Core might contain. So many Cores are consumed in impatience. It pains me to think of the business lost.”
“They are all from Undeads.” Tersa was skipping as she joined the group. It had slipped her mind that Trent was holding their plunder. Seeing all the marvelous drops that would soon become money and items set her heart to pounding. “Who would want the Skills of an Undead?”
Visions of acquiring a Skill like Maggot Filled Eyes, Horrible Breath, or Saggy Rotten Skin, dampened Tersa’s excitement. During the Trial, she had never once been tempted by the Beast Cores.
Ranar, who was far more knowledgeable of what Abilities and Skills were possessed by the Undead, thought Tersa’s question was shortsighted. Who wouldn’t want Regeneration, Detect Life, or Death Touch?
Ranar was grateful for the duo’s ignorance. When he had concocted his plan to separate Trent from Cullen, in a manner that wouldn’t arouse suspicion, it had felt quite clever. Arakai had said Ranar wasn’t as subtle as he thought he was, but what would a wolf know?
Ranar hadn’t considered that Trent and Tersa might be too poor to avail themselves of even the discounted prices at his fair. If Ranar sold the Skills he intended to provide Trent, for the 15 silvers worth of coins the boy had piled on the counter, suspicion would have naturally followed. Worse, the two young warriors might have assumed his goods to be fake and left.
“Now, these goods, I can offer…” Ranar rubbed his hands together as he surveyed the assembled items and warmed up to his pitch.
Trent interrupted him. “Wait, what Skills? These are Beast Cores.” He had taken Ranar’s words as a slip. At first glance, Skill Stones and Beast Cores appeared similar. Tersa adding that no one would want the Skills of the Undead confused Trent.
“Where do you think Skill Stones come from, young master?” Ranar answered. “Trials, certainly, but Beast Cores, when processed and refined, can be
imbued with a Skill, if one is willing to lose a Level for whatever Skill is applied to the Stone. Many make good money this way!
“However, Cores may also contain Skills of the Beast from which they are harvested. The probability is low, perhaps two among all the Cores you have gathered will contain a Skill. Young, ill-advised Adventurers, having acquired so many Cores will often risk the gamble. They trade away the certainty of gold for the allure of rare Abilities.”
“Everyone knows that, Jerkface!” Tersa added, eager to sell her share of the loot and learn the two new Skills she had already decided to buy.
“Oh,” Trent muttered as he scratched his ear. The allure Ranar spoke of called to him. The Undead had been tricky opponents, and presumably had interesting Skills. The look on Tersa’s face told him that if he tried to keep the Cores for himself, her new axe would soon be put to use. Trent nodded for Ranar to continue with his offer.
“Ahem, yes. For the Cores, three gold is the best I can offer.” Tersa contained the gleeful twitch Ranar’s price inspired and prepared to haggle for more. Ranar denied her the chance.
“No haggling! I, Ranar, am always fair! As for the weapons and materials… hmm, in the right market, weapons to fight the Undead are more valuable than the Cores. But that market is far from here! I will make you a deal! I will take all of this at a high price, but not for coin! You must deal in trade.”
That was fine with Tersa. She had no intention of walking away from here with gold in her pouch. Gold might be seized by Cullen if he remembered its existence, but Skills would be hers alone forever! Trent agreed somewhat more hesitantly.
“Good! We are in agreement.” Ranar waved his hand, and half of the items on the carpet disappeared. He handed Tersa a gold piece and said, “This is for you, young miss, for your share of the cores. The coins on the counter and your share of the items will cover the price of the three Stones you have chosen. Now, young master…”
Tersa panicked at the sight of the gold coin. She couldn’t have gold! “I'm still buying!” She announced, grabbing hold of Ranar’s sleeve to claim his attention.
Ranar irritably shook her fingers free. “What else do you want?”
Tersa took a deep breath. “I don’t…”
“I see the problem, young miss, yes, of course, I do,” Ranar said hurriedly. He could not hear that hated phrase again. “Storm Bringer is almost as unusual a Class as your friend’s Survivalist Class. Chainmail isn’t right for you. Here, this is what you need!”
Snatching the gold piece back, Ranar took a grey leather jerkin from his wagon’s inventory and shoved it into Tersa’s hands. He had to be rid of this insufferable brat! Ranar hadn’t missed the fact that since Trent had left Terah’s temple, he was no longer able to read the boy’s Status. He was also painfully aware that unless he focused directly on Trent, the boy’s presence slipped away.
Whatever Trent had gained in the Trial, it was affecting even Ranar. Only the boy’s importance to the possible revival of Al’rashia kept Ranar from forgetting his purpose for coming to this backward corner of the world. Tersa’s constant claim on his attention pulled at the strand of focus that he retained.
Tersa held the jerkin doubtfully. She did like it. Grey with black buckles, the leather armor reminded her of the vision the fountain had shown her. It was perfect! With her axe and dueling wands and this jerkin she would practically become the graceful warrior she had seen in the waters. But…
“This is worth a gold piece?”
“Worth a gold piece!? It’s worth ten!” Ranar shouted before he remembered he was now an eccentric merchant and not a Paragon. For now, he was not an Awakened over Level 1000, who could command the respect of even the gods. He coughed. “Ahem. Yes, young miss, my price is fair! But I see you are unsatisfied with my bargain. Never let it be said that I, Ranar, let a customer walk away unsatisfied! Allow me to present a small refund and teach you a trick as recompense.”
A copper coin appeared in Ranar’s fingers. He made it jump and dance before Tersa’s watching eyes. “A small refund but one I think you will enjoy. You have Storage now, a fine Ability, but one which is costly at low Levels. This coin’s value is more than copper to you.
“25 MP to store a single item? Who would be happy with that? Now, this coin has significance but little worth. I think, young miss, you will find that, despite what your Storage tells you, a copper coin can be stored, and when you retrieve it the cost is only a single point of MP! If you take this coin and put it in Storage, again and again, your Ability will level quickly! Quite the deal, yes? Yes! Please, take it and allow me to clear accounts with your friend!”
Tersa found herself accepting the coin and the advice without further question. Her eyes were alight as she walked to a nearby tree, took a seat, and began to level her Storage. Ranar heaved a sigh of relief as she walked away. His breath caught as he turned to face Trent.
Trent’s face held no sign of pleasure at Tersa’s purchases. He glowered and kicked at the ground. Ranar thought he’d slipped up. “I assure you, young master, the trick is valid. It will not harm the young miss.”
If anything, Trent’s frown deepened. It had been weeks before he could use Storage more than once a day without suffering from Mana loss! How come no one had thought to teach him this trick? Was it that he wasn’t worth a copper coin?
Trent stomped back up to the counter while Ranar and Arakai shared puzzled looks. Trent worked the counter’s screen, his fingers pressing much harder than Arakai had told him was necessary.
“Young master, if you will allow me to make a few small recommendations,” Ranar slowly addressed the moody youth.
“These are what I want!” Trent’s hands slapped and three Stones appeared on the counter.
Ranar looked over Trent’s choices, baffled. “Two Charms and a Spell, young master? You are no caster. Balm is useful, and I see your clothing has tears, explaining Mend. But Fireball? I can offer you much more.”
“These are what I want!” Trent declared firmly. “How much?”
He wasn’t going to explain to a stranger that he had a Fire Elemental living in his vambraces that would be thrilled if he learned more powerful Fire magic. He would have bought an Earth Spell, as well, but Ranar only had Earth magic of tier-two and above available. Trent thought he might manage the tier-one, Fireball, but tier-two was out of his reach.
As for the Charms? People looked down on everyday magic, but they still learned it. Trent, on the other hand, liked Charms. The Spells were cheap and practical. Balm was a Healing Spell that could patch up the scratches and cuts he often accrued, while Mend would do the same for his perpetually torn clothing.
“Mend and Balm are fine choices, young master, but instead of Fireball let me offer you these.” Ranar produced three Skill Stones, and before Trent could issue a stubborn refusal, he began to juggle. In much the same way Tersa was captivated by a copper coin, Trent found himself bewitched by the spinning Stones.
“You are a Survivalist and Swordsman, yes? Yes! But a Swordsman with no defense! Why is that? Have you considered how your Classes interact? Block is one of the first Skills a Swordsman learns.” A Stone left Ranar’s hands and was tossed towards Trent, who caught it automatically. “Why is it absent from your repertoire?
“The answer is your Survivalist Class! Survivalists disdain defense. Why should mighty warriors fear a cut? If being cut allows you to close with and kill your enemy, it is a badge of honor! The scar, a lasting memento! Consider the Skills you obtained with your Survivalist Class! Unless I miss my guess, and I never do, Stealth, Camouflage, and Climb were your first Skills!
“But why? You are no Rogue, prone to hiding in the shadows. You are no Explorer, wondering what may lie at the top of a cliff! For you, those Skills are activated to close with and kill your opponents. You slip past enemy sentries to strike at the heart of their camps, but when your sword is unleashed, you attack boldly, announcing your presence with blade and death! Yes?”
The words struck a note within Trent. He felt their truth. Others had insisted he was a Rogue, but he knew that was false. Facing his enemy was thrilling. Confronting a foe was when he felt most alive. It had always bothered him when he received a Skill like Stealth or Create Traps from his Class. They felt necessary but wrong.
Ranar was still speaking. “Young Survivalists discard defense for the kill, but an Old Survivalist knows that to defeat all that oppose you, you must be alive. Block, Disarm, and Parry are Skills of a Swordsman that Survivalist has denied you.” The other two Stones were tossed to Trent, and he almost dropped the first, catching them. “You must overcome the aggression inside you if you wish to see what lies beyond Advanced Classes!”
Before a dazed Trent’s eyes, the remaining loot on the carpet was swept away, and the Spell Fireball was returned to the wagon’s inventory, while the two Charms were placed on top of the three Skills. Ranar’s voice was soft and hypnotic as he spoke. “Survivalists, descended from the hunt, refined in the flames of war. Carry those words within you, Trent Embra. They contain the truth of what you are. Your Sergeant approaches, we must part for now. Our deals are done. I have two last gifts for…”
Trent shook his head fiercely, trying to break the trance that Ranar had him in. They weren’t done! He didn’t turn down the Skills Ranar had thrown to him, but he wanted Fireball! Fireball was essential! He could feed the sleepy Elemental that had followed him from the Trial with it. More importantly, with Fire Manipulation and Heart of the Inferno, Trent could use the Spell almost as easily as he did a Charm. He had to have it!
“I have more to trade!” Trent spluttered. And it was true. His Storage wasn’t quite empty. He didn’t know if what he had was enough, but he had to try. The sword he had received in the Garden, the sword he couldn’t draw, remained, and would continue to clutter his Storage. As did his short bow and the book, Fairy’s Garden. He also left the plants and Beast parts where they were. That left three items which he took out to trade; two ragged hides that had been turned into rough armor, and a chest of gold and silver.