Chapter 18
"I honestly don't think I've ever seen one of those before," Spencer said, squinting at the item.
"I mean, it looks like a pen… but with an eraser?"
They both looked at me with confusion, so I spent a moment explaining.
"A pen is a mechanical equivalent of a quill and ink combined. It doesn't necessarily provide the same kind of beautiful flourish you’d get with a quill, but it offers uniformity in the line of text and is often a much faster writing implement. Are you familiar with an eraser?"
They both shook their heads.
"An eraser is a rubber-like material that's formulated to remove marks from paper or parchment, though it's really only effective on things like charcoal or a graphite equivalent. Why it’s on the pen, I couldn’t say—maybe it has a magical aspect to it."
“Interesting. I can’t say I’ve ever heard of these before.”
"I have some specialized knowledge about them from previous experience, but they’re not common in this… region, as far as I’m aware," I said—really hoping they hadn’t noticed my awkward hesitation when I mentally shifted gears away from the word world.
"I'm not familiar with this item," Stewart replied.
"Well, that’s unfortunate, because it’s kind of one of the things I wanted you to appraise..."
Tessa stood there for a second, then muttered the word in a long, drawn-out way, "Awkward."
"Oh, shut up, you," he said in a teasing tone.
“We’ll just have to wait for someone with the Inspect skill and get it checked that way later.”
“Out of curiosity—and understanding that everything said here is strictly confidential—how rare is the Inspect skill?” I asked.
Giving me the side-eye for a second and then answering the question, he said,
"They're not extremely rare, but I’d say there are probably less than a thousand people in the city who have it. That said, the people who do have it generally like to keep it to themselves. For an Inspect appraisal like this, I’d say it’d probably cost about a gold per item—so probably not worth it."
"And if I were to tell you I have the Inspect skill…?" I asked.
"I’d say—why the hell are you here, then? If you have a skill like that, you’d probably know better than I would how valuable something is."
"Well, here’s the thing," I began. "I mentioned I come from a very remote location in the north—extremely cut off and isolationist. Whatever you're imagining, push that to the extreme. It's almost the equivalent of me not having been born in any civilization you'd recognize. That being said, I don’t know anything about your culture or have any familiarity with your mannerisms. I have no context for what’s valuable here or not. Some of the things from where I grew up are incredibly advanced compared to what you’re used to. Others are… well, let’s just say your ways are brilliantly better than how we did things.
"You need to treat me like a five-year-old who just learned how to talk—almost."
Stewart gave a slow nod, his tone shifting to something more serious.
"Okay… since you’ve got the Inspect skill, how about you use it? Then I can help you understand the value of what you're looking at."
"Sounds like a plan. One second, I’ll read it out to you."
Targeting the pen I’d used, I activated Inspect—and was immediately greeted with the most self-indulgent, long-winded, conceited item description I had ever seen. Not that the item was bad... just that the person who made it was clearly far too full of themselves and had somehow managed to make it all about them.
—-
It was, by far, the most absurdly pompous and over-the-top item description I’d ever read—or even imagined.
Stewart just nodded slowly, a completely bewildered expression on his face. His left eyebrow had climbed so high up his forehead I thought it might disappear entirely into his already-thinning hairline.
“I think I need a shower after hearing that description,” he muttered.
"That description made me feel personally insulted… and I wasn’t even holding the pen." Tessa blurted out.
So aside from the disturbingly self-centered and arrogant description—does it seem like it's worth anything?
“The description drops the value significantly,” he said, “but yes, I think this would be extremely valuable. Especially to the monks in the library. I bet they'd pay an enormous amount, in fact. And don’t worry about the whole 'returning it to the Tristan Clan' bit at the end. It’s a known law that items found or taken as spoils of combat are the finder’s property—and that’s not just a local rule. The Tristans should’ve known that. It’s not a new law or anything.”
“So when you say it's valuable, can you give me a rough idea of the monetary value? I don’t have any very strong desire to keep this item—I have a technique that does something very similar.”
“Ooh, would this be a technique you'd be willing to share or sell?”
“Actually, I’m sorry. I don’t know how to teach anybody else how to do it. It’s kind of unique to me and takes some supplies and training that I wouldn’t be willing to give to anyone else.”
“Well, that's too bad,” Tessa said.
“For an initial bid price on this item, I’d say you’re looking at a minimum of 10 gold. Depending on who wants it—namely the library or some bibliophile from one of the noble families—you could get anywhere from 100 to maybe 300 gold. Heck, for all I know, if the right person gets wind of it, you might be able to squeeze out a thousand gold. But realistically, I don’t think you’ll get more than a hundred unless you send it to auction. We can have it listed with the auction house. There’s one at the end of next week, and you're just about at the deadline to submit.”
She paused, glancing at the pen again.
“What else do you have to show us? You can think about what you want to do with the pen while we continue.”
The next thing I pulled out was a piece of wood. I got it from a treasure chest—well, that's the best term I can think of—from a group of bandits I ran into on the road on the way here. Pulling it from my bag as if I hadn't just retrieved it from personal storage, I placed the stick, about seven inches long, on the table. It was covered in intricate carvings and had the distinct feel of being mana-charged.
Stewart stared at it in awe.
I figured it was a pretty obvious item, so I offered a fairly obvious guess just to get the conversation rolling.
"I'm pretty sure it’s a wand, but I don’t know what it does—or how rare or valuable they are."
“Oh Lord,” Stewart muttered. “This is an item you need to be very careful with. It’s one of those things a noble family will quite literally kill to get their hands on. Let’s see what we’ve got here... just need to check the bottom for the maker’s mark. And... okay! Yes. This was made by the Greenbelt School before their downfall. One of the rarer examples of their work.”
He adjusted the wand under the light and continued.
“We usually see wands from the Red or Blue schools, even the White school occasionally. But Greenbelt? Very rare. Let me check one more thing... There it is. This is a prize among prizes. What makes this wand unique is that it’s rechargeable—not that we have many reliable ways to do that. The mana collection stones we currently use aren’t compatible with these, and only certain individuals have the affinity needed to recharge them.”
He gave a low whistle.
“I don’t know what spells are infused, but based on what I’m seeing, it’ll have both defensive and offensive capabilities. These usually hold about four spells unless they're considered a single-use wand. That doesn't mean it only casts one spell once—it means it’s limited to a single spell repeated until it runs out of charge. Then the wand often disintegrates into dust. Not always, but often.”
I almost opened my mouth to say I could probably figure it out—that you didn’t need a certain affinity, just the ability to channel the correct type of mana back into it. But I bit my tongue at the last moment and went with the safest maneuver we’re all taught as children from Disney movies: just smile and nod. Cute and cuddly, boys. Cute and cuddly.
Right off the bat, Stewart said, “We can give you a thousand gold on the spot. Or, if you put it to auction, you could easily net five to ten thousand gold on the low end.”
He held up a hand before I could respond. “The guild itself doesn’t offer more simply because these are considered dangerous items to keep on your person. Most people don’t want to have anything to do with them once they’re brought in. The moment people find out about them, especially while someone’s trying to sell one, there’s always a hunt for the seller. They want to know where it came from, who found it, if there’s more…”
“So, I could bring this to auction… or could you put it up for auction for me?” I asked.
Stewart gave a dry smile.
“This is one of those specific times where the guild gets a bit greedy—and a little underhanded. We don’t offer that service for items like this. The people who want it aren’t above going after guild employees for more information. So, instead, we buy it directly, vault it, and leave it there for a year or two until people forget about it. Then, quietly, it’ll go to auction. Unless we find a reason to keep it for ourselves... which happens more often than you’d think.”
“I see. So if I don’t sell it to you… I’m absolutely on my own.”
Stewart smiled at me winningly and gave a small nod. “You understand, of course.”
Unfortunately, I did. As much as that complicated things…
“Okay. I’ll hold onto this for a bit. I may take you up on the offer later.”
Stewart gave a respectful dip of the head. “I will say—this has been a treat so far. Not every day we get to see such rare and exotic items of real value. Do you have anything else?”
“I actually have quite a few items, and this may take a while. If I need to pay extra, just let me know. I want you to be paid for your time.”
Tessa spoke up then. “If you decide to sell anything to the guild, we each get a portion of the commission, so don’t worry—we’re covered. It’s part of proving your loyalty and character to the guild, even being present during an appraisal.”
“Not necessarily this kind of information, though,” she added dryly. “For whatever that’s worth. People’s character can change fast when there’s something they really, really want—or think they need.”
That being said, I began taking out swords, blades, and other gear—some in really good condition, some in barely passable shape. Most of it had come from the bandits, and from those piece-of-garbage player-killer adventurers I ran into. I decided to save the animal drops—like the wolf pelts and bear hide—for last.
I ended up selling most of the shields, knives, and other adventuring-slash-looted bandit gear, and walked away with a pretty sweet profit—about 300 gold—mainly due to the sheer volume I’d stockpiled. Tents, spare packs, cookware, even a couple pieces of furniture. That was… until I pulled out the first magical item I was actually okay with selling.
“I’ve got a very special spatial storage ring for sale.”
“Oh, we’ll take it,” Stewart said immediately, not missing a beat. “Almost certainly take it, if it’s for sale.”
“Now, this item’s a little different from the average storage ring,” I said, watching their attention snap into laser focus. “First off—it’s big. Much bigger than most. I’d say ten cubic feet of space, easily.”
If they weren’t already interested, they were practically drooling now.
“But it’s not just the size,” I continued. “It doesn’t just store items—it compresses and removes excess matter and wasted space. Everything inside is condensed down to the essentials. You get full utility from every inch of storage. I don’t know if time is affected in storage… but even without that, it’s an incredibly valuable piece. One I’d prefer to see in the hands of someone who actually needs it. And ideally, sold at auction.”
Stewart’s eyes had narrowed slightly—not in suspicion, but in the way a person looks at a treasure chest with a live bear trap underneath it.
“I can’t even begin to tell you how much this item is worth,” he said quietly. “And it carries the same issue as the wand. Powerful individuals will want it—and want to know who found it, and where. That kind of attention doesn’t go away.”
He glanced over at Tessa. “How did he do in the assessment?”
“He was given a bronze rank,” Tessa replied. “Even caught Gil off guard with a truly brilliant counter… but he was getting beat up before and after. I see a lot of training ahead for him.”
“Well, at least he’s not helpless,” Stewart said with a thoughtful nod. “You’ll have to be careful going forward, but if I were you, I’d get rid of as many of the more valuable things as you can at the auction house. Use an assumed name if you can manage it.”
“Anything else you want appraised?”
“I’ve come into possession of a supply of runed tokens. I’ve figured out what most of them do—but not how valuable they might be. Based on what you’ve told me already, though, I imagine they’d be in high demand.”
I pulled out a sizable pouch and began spreading a small selection of them across the table. I’d made a habit of crafting more and more on my way to the city, and I was up to about six times the number I was laying down now. It felt like a good moment to test the waters.
“There are multiple types, and I’m not sure I’ll sell all of them, but I believe there’s a strong market for them. I won’t say exactly how many exist... only that there’s more than what I’ve brought.”
Stewart’s eyes narrowed slightly with interest. “It really depends on what each one does, and how easy they are to activate. For families that have mana stones or access to channelers, demand could be very high—very high.”
He reached toward one of the nearest tokens. “For example, what does this one do?”
"That's actually one of the few I’m on the fence about selling," I said. "It’s a lightning rune token. It bombards the surrounding area—about a three-foot radius—with multiple strikes of electricity or lightning. The power depends on how much mana is channeled into it from a stone. A few of these are already charged and just need to be activated..."
I paused, rubbing the back of my neck. "I had to use one on my way here Unfortunately. It did end up killing a bunch of mana wolves."
"You ran into mana beasts on your way to the city?" Stewart asked, his eyes widening.
"Yeah. It was not an enjoyable time. I managed to lose them for a few minutes, but they caught up quick. The only reason I made it was because I bottlenecked them in a cave I came across. It was a close call."
Tessa gave a low whistle.
"But," I continued, "I did get some interesting items from them. I’ll show those once we get an established perceived value for these rune tokens. That’ll help me get a better starting price at the auction hall."
"Good idea," Stewart said, nodding approvingly. "Having an established organization declare a perceived value will definitely help with the chances of it being accepted for auction—and keep the bidding competitive."
"That being said, I need an honest appraisal and an estimate of its value—because it looks like almost everything I have to sell will need to be put up for auction."
Stewart nodded, already running calculations in his head. "The single-use runes will probably go for around 80 to 100 gold each. The multi-use runes? Anywhere from 100 to 150 gold, depending on the number of uses and how easily they can be recharged."
He picked up one of the more ornate tokens, flipping it in his fingers.
"Now the utility runes—what I think you’d probably call the basic ones—those are closer to 10 gold each. Useful, but not life-changing. However…" He tapped one of the darker, etched runes. "These invisibility runes will easily start at 300 gold. And remember, that’s just the starting price. None of these are common. Once the first item goes up for bid, it’ll be like blood in the water. Nobles, collectors, elite adventurers—everyone’s going to want in. Sharks circling."
He leaned forward, his voice lower now. "So I’d strongly recommend having an escape plan. Do everything you can to maintain the security of your identity."
"Understood," I said with a firm nod. "Here are the other items I mentioned from the mana beasts."
I laid out the next batch of items on the table one by one, explaining where I got them—courtesy of a not-so-friendly pack of mana-infused wolves and a bear that really didn't want company.
Stewart gave a shorty and concise on the value and possible price at auction or best selling method after each item. It went something like…
Dire Wolf Hides (x4)
Thick, tough, and lightly resistant to magic—especially great for cloaks, bags, or armor that needs to hold up in nasty weather.
“These’ll fetch a tidy sum with the right crafters. Easily 100 to 150 gold per hide, possibly more if someone’s buying for a noble commission.”
Dire Wolf Teeth (x6)
Good for potions, enchantments, or some nasty alchemical brews.
“Teeth like these are always in demand. You’re looking at around 20 to 30 gold apiece, more if there’s a shortage at the local apothecaries.”
Dire Wolf Claws (x8)
Rarer than the teeth. Sharper, too. Alchemists love them for high-end concoctions.
“These are the money bits. At least 40 gold each, maybe 50 depending on the buyer. You get a bunch of mages in one room, and these will go fast.”
Bear Claw (x1 – Large)
Big, sharp, and very rare. Magic users drool over this kind of thing.
“Now this is an eye-catcher. You’re looking at 150 to 200 gold at auction—maybe more if a noble thinks it’ll help them impress someone.”
Bear Teeth (x2 – Large)
Used for boosting stamina. Ahem—particularly popular with people who work long hours… in certain nocturnal professions.
Chuckling Stewart said “Let’s just say there’s always demand. Probably 75 gold each. Double that if you hint at the ‘other’ uses when you put them up for auction.”
Dire Wolf Meat (x4 – Medium cuts)
Tender and full of mana, a favorite among chefs and nobles.
“Luxury meat like this? 30 to 40 gold per cut. Get a noble chef involved and it might go even higher.”
Bear Meat (x1 – Large)
Rich, flavorful, and saturated with mana. It screams banquet centerpiece.
“Easily 75 to 100 gold. Don’t sell it to just anyone—wait for a chef with a reputation or a noble hosting a feast.
That’s about all I can tell you”
"Thank you. Could you put this all in writing with some kind of official seal? It'll speed up the process once I go to the auction house."
"I can take care of that," Tilly said with a nod, already reaching for the necessary forms.
"Again, thank you for your time. Hopefully, I’ll find something else interesting for you to look at. It’s been a pleasure to meet you."
Stewart gave a short wave and replied with a smirk, "The same, adventurer."
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
After that, I turned to leave, but just before walking out of the hall, I paused and glanced back toward Tessa.
"One more question—where would I go to find potions or magical items for sale in the city?"
Tessa tapped her chin with a faint smirk that just barely showed her sharp teeth. “There are a couple of decent places, but if you’re after potions, you’ll want to stop by The Bitter Draught—it’s in the second ring, just past the curved market road. They’ve got some overpriced, showy nonsense up front, but if you ask for Gregory and say Tessa sent you, he’ll take you to the back room where the good stuff is. Enchanted gear too—lighter on selection, but expensive. Still, you can afford it now.”
She paused, then added with a hint of dry humor, “And if you’re ever looking for items with somewhat questionable origins and no questions asked, there’s a small stall run by a woman named Magda in the gray alley behind the Glass Toad Tavern. But you didn’t hear that from me.”
I gave her a grateful nod. “Noted. If anyone asks, I overheard it in a tavern.”
She laughed at that and turned back to her paperwork. “Safe travels, Jake. And maybe invest in some armor for your ribs—you look like someone who’s going to piss off all the wrong people.”
With that glowing endorsement, I stepped out into the wide avenue in front of the guild hall, letting the air hit me as I headed toward the auction house. According to the directions Stewart had given me, it was only a few blocks deeper into the ring—straight through a short tunnel gate flanked by heavy brass lamps and a vendor or two trying to peddle incense, pickled fruit, or “rare” gemstones that were suspiciously low-priced.
The sun was dipping, casting everything in a warm gold. It was the kind of glow that made even the roughest buildings look pleasant. I should’ve known that meant something bad was bound to happen.
Two blocks in, I ducked down a quieter side street, trying to avoid the dense market traffic. That’s when I heard it—footsteps, just a little too in sync behind me.
I took a casual turn down the next alley. They followed.
Alright.
Another turn. Still there. No hawker stands here. No people. Just uneven cobblestones, the scent of hot oil from a smithy somewhere nearby, and the rising certainty that someone had picked me as a profitable target—probably guessing I’d just come out of an appraisal meeting.
I slowed near a stack of old crates and pretended to fiddle with my belt pouch.
One… two… three…
Three men. One on either side. One behind. Cloaks, average height, average build—trying a little too hard to look like they belonged here.
They didn’t.
“Well, well,” said the one with the fancy little dagger that gleamed too much to have ever seen real use. “Look at that. Someone just walking around with coin to spare.”
I didn’t sigh aloud, but I wanted to.
“Listen,” I said, turning slowly and flashing them a smile that didn’t quite reach my eyes, “I’ve had a long day, and I’m tired. If we can skip to the part where you learn a painful lesson, I’d appreciate it.”
They laughed.
Wrong move.
“Take another step toward me,” I said evenly, “and I’m going to treat it as an attack. Then I’m going to kill you. And no one will find your bodies.”
That gave them just the slightest pause—but not enough.
Thinking about bodies made me suddenly remember: I still hadn’t collected any bounties, and there were still corpses crammed in my personal storage. Which, now that I really thought about it, was disgusting.
The one with the dagger stepped forward, trying to look in control. “Cut the crap. We know you’re headed to the auction house. We’re just here to relieve you of a few items before the families swoop in and confiscate it all anyway. There’s always some new guy who thinks he’s tough enough to protect whatever shiny things he found on the side of the road. Give us half your coin, and the stuff you had appraised, and we won’t kill you.”
“Do you want to be fried,” I asked calmly, “or stabbed to death?”
“You cocky little shite,” said the one on my left, suddenly seething. “You really think you’re gonna beat three guys at once?”
“I tell you what,” I said, pulling a lightning rune from my storage and holding it up between two fingers. “If you can hold onto this for longer than five seconds, I’ll give you ten gold.”
They stared at it, clearly having no idea what it was.
One of the two in front sneered and nudged the other, pointing at me with a conspiratorial grin. “This idiot has no clue who we’re with.”
Perfect.
I tossed the rune to the guy on the left. As expected, he scooted closer to his partner, cupping it in both hands like he’d just been tossed a trinket.
I didn’t even look his way.
Instead, I pulled a bone arrow from storage, cocked and ready, and fired it straight into the chest of the third man behind me. The arrow thudded in deep, right over his heart. He dropped to his knees, then tipped sideways and was still.
Just as the arrow was loosed, the lightning rune activated.
The air cracked with a flash of blue-white light, and both men in front of me seized up like puppets yanked by invisible strings. I smelled bacon. Burned hair. A sharp ozone sting.
Then—ding—a system message popped up:
You have leveled up. Would you like to loot?
That was new. I’d never been asked if I wanted to loot before. I figured there’d be an explanation in the system notes, but at the moment I was just standing there blinking at the notification, surrounded by bodies.
[System Notification]
Level Up!
You have advanced to Level 3.
Stat Increases:
- Strength: +10
- Stamina: +10
- Intelligence: +5
- Mana Capacity: +15
- Dexterity: +10
- Durability (Constitution): +20
Note: You may feel a sudden rush of clarity, improved physical resilience, and increased mana saturation. Temporary muscle fatigue and mana hunger may occur as your body adjusts to its new baseline.
Loot Recovered
[Bandit 1 – Scorched Remains]
- Filigreed Silver Necklace (Unidentified Rune – Magical): An elegant silver chain, delicately wrought with filigree and set with a rune that glows faintly beneath the scorched grime. The rune’s purpose is unknown and requires identification.
- Silver-Plated Boot Knife (Blessed): Compact and finely balanced, this weapon is ideal for close combat. Silver plating makes it particularly effective against unholy or cursed creatures.
- Polished Copper Coin Pouch: A thick leather pouch secured with brass buttons. Contains 64 large copper coins, all neatly stacked and gleaming—clearly well-maintained.
[Bandit 2 – Lightning Victim]
- Reinforced Leather Bracers (Rare): Dyed a rich charcoal gray with flawless stitching and reinforced inner padding. The craftsmanship is exquisite—nearly seamless. Grants additional protection without sacrificing mobility.
- Obsidian Ring with Bronze Inlay (Enchanted – Rare): A sharp-edged black stone ring adorned with subtle bronze veins. Provides +20 to Speed and Dexterity while worn. Slight pulse of mana when first touched.
[Bandit 3 – Arrowed Cleanly]
- Bone-Cored Shortbow (Uncommon): Crafted with precision, this bow is reinforced with a pale beast bone for improved tension and control. Grants +2 damage against beast or skeletal targets.
- Silver Coin Pouch: Contains 31 large silver coins and 4 small silver coins, each stamped with city mint marks. The pouch is lined with oilcloth to prevent tarnish.
- Carved Bone Knife with Back Sheath (Agility Boost): A curved ivory-colored blade designed for swift draws. When used, grants +10 to Agility for 10 seconds on the first strike. Comes with a snug-fitting back sheath.
After stowing the loot and rolling my shoulders to see if I could feel any immediate changes from leveling up, I gave a small shrug. Nothing noticeable yet. I started walking again, heading in the direction of the auction hall.
I had made it maybe thirty-five steps—turned a corner—and there they were.
Five more bandits.
The only thing that came out of my mouth was:
"Are you kidding me?"
***
I stopped mid-step, staring at the five men lounging in the alley like they’d just been kicked out of a failing stage play titled " Pirates of the East Docks. A budget production."
One was sitting on a crate, chewing what looked like raw onion. Another had two belts crossing his chest for absolutely no reason. A third—who I was already mentally naming “Stupid Pirate”—had an eyepatch… over his hat.
“Hold on,” I said, gesturing with both hands. “Can we pause the murder attempt for one second? I just need to clarify something for my own sanity.”
The one with the onion narrowed his eyes. “Speak your peace, it will be your last chance.”
“Okay,” I said, nodding at eyepatch-hat guy. “Are you… are you pirates?”
“Absolutely!” Stupid Pirate said proudly, puffing his chest out. “Sea-faring rogues of legend and—”
“You’re in -an alley,” I interrupted. “There’s not a drop of seawater for thirty blocks.”
“Well I guess you could say we’re Former pirates,” he amended.
“I see No boats. No sea. No treasure. You’re simply bandits,” I said with finality.
He frowned. “But pirates sound like there’s more depth to the term .”
“Sure,” I agreed. “If you like scurvy, living in damp sweaty conditions , and fighting over spoiled rum. Bandits, at least get to sleep on dry land and eat food that doesn’t smell, and taste, like wet boots.”
One of the others chuckled. “He’s got a point, Barry.”
“I’m not Barry here, I’m Blackfang!” Stupid Pirate snapped.
“Yeah, okay,” I said. “Let me know when your ship docks in this alley.”
Before the next insult could roll off my tongue, the one sitting on the crate—the obvious leader—stood up and barked, “Shut UP and KILL him!”
“Boost it is,” I muttered.
I did something I hadn’t done on my own before, i pulled from my mana core, while feeding in mana materials from my storage pace, flooding my limbs with power. The world slowed just enough for me to move like a blur. I knew i would pay for this when i was done. I closed the gap with the closest one—"Blackfang"—and drove my elbow into his throat before planting a knife under his ribs and giving it a brutal twist.
Two “pirates” down the middle reached for weapons. I dropped a lightning rune between them with only a seconds delay and was already moving before the air exploded behind me. They didn’t scream so much as gargle and twitch.
The fourth one tried to run.
I thought that was Bad idea.
I pulled the bone knife, felt it hum in my grip, and crossed the distance in a blink. One clean slash across the back of his knees and a deep jab to the base of his neck. He dropped like a sack of flour with a hole in it.
The last one stood frozen, weapon halfway out, eyes wide.
“Go on,” I said. “Make the story interesting.”
He didn’t.
So I made it short.
One kick to his knee, one punch to the throat, and then I drove his own dagger into his chest. It wasn’t artful. But it was effective. The sensation of being winded and suddenly feeling 300 pounds heavier struck me immediately when the mana ran out.
Five bodies. One irritated adventurer. Time for loot. And then maybe a 10 min nap at a nearby tavern.
Loot Recovered:
[Blackfang – Stupid Pirate]
- Gleaming Cutlass (Common): Looks expensive, isn’t. Surprisingly sharp, though.
- Eyepatch Hat Combo (Novelty): No bonuses. Maximum embarrassment.
- Tiny Flask of Questionable Rum: Might be flammable. Probably should be.
[Crate Boss – Definitely a Bandit]
- Reinforced Leather Jerkin (Uncommon): Light armor. +2 Defense. Smells like garlic.
- Map of “Treasure”: Actually just a list of pawn shops and taverns.
- Steel-toed Boots (Sturdy): Durable. +1 to kicking things that need kicking.
[Charred Twins – Rune Victims]
- Singed Cloaks (Damaged): Possibly wearable. Possibly cursed.
- One Melted Dagger Hilt
- Half of a Playing Card (Ace of Crabs): Meaning unclear.
[Runner – Fast but Dead]
- Boots of Minor Swiftness (Uncommon): +3 Dexterity when sprinting.
- Lockpick Set (Fine): One pin bent. Still functional.
- Tattered Letter from “Marla”: Suggests he owed her 8 silver and a chicken.
- Just kidding …
Loot Recovered:
[Blackfang – The Eyepatch Enthusiast]
- Polished Silver Cutlass: Immaculately maintained, likely ceremonial or stolen from a noble's collection. Engraved with a curling wave motif near the hilt.
- Gold Hoop Earring (x2): Solid gold, well-crafted, no tarnish. Worth 3 gold each.
- Coin Pouch (54 Large Copper, 11 Small Silver): Tightly cinched and stamped with the mark of a minor mercenary company—likely robbed from a past employer.
[Crate Boss – The Alleged Leader]
- Blackened Steel Dagger with Decorative Guard: Razor-sharp, balanced for throwing or close quarters. Guard engraved with the symbol of a defunct noble house.
- Fine Leather Gloves: Supple black leather, reinforced palms—artisan made. Ideal for work or stylish combat.
- Heavy Coin Purse (17 Silver, 2 Gold): Well-worn but recently restocked. Coin edges show minting from several provinces.
- Small Velvet Pouch Containing a Citrine Gem (Flawless, 0.8 carats)
[Twin Bandits – Lightning Victims]
- Brushed Bronze Buckle Belt (x2): Handsomely made with no marks or scuffs. Common among caravan guards.
- Wool-Lined Boots (x2 pairs): Practical, sturdy, excellent stitching. Still warm.
- Coin Pouch #1 (8 Silver, 1 Gold)
- Coin Pouch #2 (12 Small Silver, 22 Large Copper)
- Small Drawstring Pouch with 3 Rough-Cut Garnets: Unset, deep red, worth appraisal.
[The Runner – Short Career Aspirations]
- Slim Iron Shortsword: Standard issue but meticulously kept. Light and reliable.
- Scroll Case (Empty): High-quality oiled leather with brass ends. No markings.
- Coin Purse (28 Large Silver, 4 Gold): Organized by size. Smells faintly of mint and sweat.
- Tin Snuff Box (unused): Plain, but immaculately polished. Latch works smoothly.
That was weird. It felt like someone was messing with me—just a bit. The real question was: who? I didn’t get the impression it was Javier, or even God—or at least not Earth’s God. But whoever had the ability to tamper with the system, throw in jokes, and constantly change how the notifications appeared was either highly unstable… or just completely undecided on how they wanted to present things. And it didn’t feel like the work of a god. No, it felt more like an engineer—one with a strong grasp of pop culture and a deep love of sarcasm. The benign kind.
The auction hall rose like a monument to wealth and taste, with white stone pillars, sweeping arched windows, and gilded ironwork that curled in elegant patterns along the upper balconies. The roof was tiled in deep emerald green, polished to a glossy sheen, and the entrance was flanked by two statues of hooded figures holding ledgers and scales. Wide steps led up to the entrance, polished to a mirror shine.
The surrounding district buzzed with the hum of affluence—clean stone streets, trimmed hedges, and carriages drawn by well-groomed beasts. Vendors here sold rare silks, gem-studded trinkets, and imported spices, their stalls polished and pristine. Everything screamed prosperity, and more than a few eyes lingered on passersby as if evaluating their worth in coin.
I spotted a man casually marking off items on a piece of parchment clipped to what was probably the equivalent of a clipboard. Walking up to him as politely as I could, and in as much of a gentlemanly demeanor as I knew how to pull off, I said to him:
“Good afternoon, sir. If you might excuse an interruption for a moment, I’m looking for any direction you might be able to give to someone attempting to add items to the auction before the cutoff day.”
Looking at me with a calm demeanor that somehow radiated extreme disdain, he replied in the most patronizing way I have ever encountered:
“Of course, sir. We’d be happy to assist you in finding your way. We at the Azure Auction and Trading House appreciate fine items from all sources—no matter how humble their origin. If you just step around the building edge there, you’ll see a stairway up to the second floor with an office where we accept and appraise possible additions to the auction. Just go right in and let them know what you’re there for. I’m sure it will be an excellent addition.”
Every word was delivered with such sickeningly sweet sarcasm that I felt like I needed to wash my hands and ears just from being around him.
Despite the clear, sarcastic dismissal, I nodded slowly, biting back a reply that would’ve gotten me banned from the building—or worse, politely escorted out with a black mark on my name. Instead, I offered my best tight-lipped smile and said, “Thank you for your… exquisite hospitality. I’ll make my way there directly.” I followed his directions and thanked him politely with a head nod, before climbing the stairs. Yes—more stairs.
As I turned and stepped down the indicated path, I couldn’t help but mutter under my breath, “If smug were a profession, you’d be the damn guildmaster.”
The side path curved neatly around the building, lined with immaculate flowerbeds and absurdly over-decorated lampposts. Sure enough, there was a marble stairwell ascending to a wide balcony-like landing with a carved sign that read: Private Acquisitions – Second Floor Intake.
I followed his directions and climbing the stairs. Yes—more stairs.
I took the steps two at a time. Not out of enthusiasm, mind you—but because if I didn’t get out of earshot of that man’s condescension, I was going to burn the smug off his eyebrows with a lightning rune.
“Good afternoon, sir. How may the Azure Trading and Auction House assist you today?”
The thing that stood out to me the most—aside from the fact that her dress made my jaw want to hit the ground and behave like a hound dog—was that she was beautiful beyond reason. And then… there were the ears.
She had the most adorable rabbit ears I could have imagined.
This was one of those moments where I was keeping my hands to myself by sheer force of will, because every other fiber of my being wanted to touch them. Just to see if they were as soft as they looked.
About three seconds into my unintentional gaping, I realized she held this position for a very specific reason. She was here to knock people off-center, to put them off their guard—hopefully causing them to spill valuable information, or at the very least, to do exactly what I was doing: ogling her and losing all sense of what little decorum I'd been taught growing up.
"Please excuse me," I said, trying to recover some shred of dignity. "I haven’t had the occasion to meet a woman of such charm and attractiveness in quite some time. I hope you’ll forgive me for the momentary lapse in decorum. It was inexcusable, and I’d like the chance to make up for it—if I may?"
Just as I came to my senses, I noticed what she was doing—copying what looked to be very expensive invitations to the auction by hand. Her penmanship was elegant and precise, but judging by the way she paused now and again, she was right on the edge of getting a cramp. The perfect opportunity had just presented itself.
“Miss, I see that you’re copying invitations, and while you have an exceptionally elegant hand, I suspect it’s starting to cramp from the detail work. If I may, I’d like to lend you a rather special item to help you catch up on your work and, hopefully, provide some relief. On the condition that it’s returned to me when you’re finished, I invite you to use it freely for the next few minutes. Then, when you’re done, please bring it into the room with the other items I’ve brought for appraisal—it’s one of them.”
She gave me a look that could’ve singed eyebrows—deep skepticism and an eyebrow arched high enough to qualify as its own performance. And honestly, I couldn’t blame her. She probably had to deal with a dozen sleazy types every day, and I wasn’t exactly winning points so far.
Still, I pulled out the Copy & Print Pen—no, I was not about to say its full absurd name—and quickly explained how to use it.
“Simply draw a line through one of the invitations—make sure it includes all the text you want duplicated onto the next sheet. Then, as soon as the pen touches the new parchment, it’ll replicate the contents exactly. The line you drew will vanish, and the original invitation will remain untouched.”
I gave her a reassuring smile and stepped back. “Please, give it a try. Afterward, perhaps you can help me schedule an appointment to have my other items considered for auction.”
Still watching me with skepticism, she followed the instructions—drawing a deliberate line through the entirety of the first invitation. The moment the pen touched the next piece of parchment, the invitation’s contents were instantly copied onto it with flawless precision.
Her eyes widened in astonishment, genuine wonder lighting up her expression. I could see it—the excitement, the rush of possibilities racing through her mind. In that instant, she realized what this pen could mean for her. All the books she could duplicate in hours, all the tedious transcription work reduced to mere minutes. Her job, I could guess, was the result of her precise, elegant handwriting—and she was likely one of the few trusted scribes allowed to produce invitations for VIPs and nobility. That meant dozens of invitations a day, hundreds a month, each needing to be perfect.
And now? Now she saw a way out.
The greed in her eyes wasn’t malicious—it was desperate.
In her mind, Chasseresse thought: This tool was a ticket to freedom from endless hours at a desk—a chance to carve out a life beyond ink and parchment. She was well-paid, yes, but even a generous salary couldn’t buy time, and time was something she had precious little of. Like most Bunnykin (not to be confused with Rabbitkin), she had a large extended family—brothers, sisters, cousins, uncles, nieces, nephews—countless mouths to support. Honestly, she would be surprised if she could name even half of them.
Seeing that glimmer of desperate hope in her eyes, I decided to offer her something reassuring.
“Miss,” I said gently, “I’m going to have this item placed for auction, and I’ll be honest—it’ll probably go for far more than most people can afford. But I can see how much this means to you. So here’s what I’ll offer: get me in to see the appraiser, and help make the process go smoothly… and I promise I’ll give you something that can do something similar. Free of charge.”
One of her ears flopped forward, and she nervously rubbed it with one hand in a gesture so adorable it nearly broke my concentration. She hesitated, eyes flicking back and forth as she processed everything. Three seconds passed—then she looked at me with a resolute nod, the hint of desperation still lingering behind her voice.
“Deal,” she said. Simple. Final. Almost like a lifeline had been thrown.
“Is there a time for me to see the appraiser within the next few hours,” I asked, “or should I return tomorrow?”
“That won’t be necessary,” she replied with certainty. “She’s available now and will likely be quite excited to see what other items you have for appraisal—if they’re anything like this,” she added, gesturing toward the pen. “Most days, we’re bombarded by people who think they’ve found a shiny rock in their field or some such nonsense, convinced it’s the next big-ticket item that will make them rich.”
She gave a sigh, her tone softening. “It can be hard on her, having to let people down, so I do my best to keep those types from wasting her time—and from causing her distress.”
“I’m sure Lady Miranda will be pleased to see what you’ve brought,” she said with a small smile. “You may call me Chasseresse—or Chass, if you prefer.”
I introduced myself with a slight bow. “Jake Bashir. And I guarantee I won’t be wasting her time.”
Following Chass down a long hallway, sparsely lit and paneled in dark wood, I heard a stringed instrument drifting through the air as we approached the door at the end. The melody jumped between sorrowful and lighthearted, then ended abruptly on a note of passionate enthusiasm—just as Chass knocked.
I almost wished she hadn’t. I would have liked to hear how the song continued.
The melody reminded me—uncannily—of Humoresque No. 7, particularly in the way it transitioned from playfulness to something raw and deeply emotive, far beyond what its lighthearted introduction suggested. I was so caught off guard, I felt the sting of a tear begin to form.
I knew, without a doubt, that I would have to bring as much music from Earth as I could. I’d need to be selective, of course—but there was too much beauty to leave behind.
Chass noticed me covertly rubbing the corner of my eye and gave a conspiratorial grin. “I understand. It can catch you off guard when you’re not expecting something beautiful,” she said knowingly, with a glance that hinted at why she worked where she did—and what sort of effect she had on people.
A moment after her knock, a soft, melodic voice called, “Please, come in.”
Chass stepped forward, opening the door and leading the way as she spoke.
“Lady Miranda, this is Jake Bashir. He has a few interesting items he believes would be a welcome addition to this week’s auction. He’s already shown me one I can say without hesitation will be highly sought after—especially by the monks at the library.”
She gave a wistful smile and added, “Much to my own grief, as I half-covet it myself… if only it were even remotely within my price range.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lady Miranda,” I said with a respectful nod. “And I must thank you for the beautiful music I was treated to on my walk down the hall. It reminds me strongly of a similar piece I once heard—years ago.”
“I’m sure my assistant is quite pleased to hear you enjoyed her performance, Mr. Bashir,” Lady Miranda replied, gesturing with a graceful hand to the young woman seated to her left.
The musician gave a small, polite nod and a gentle smile in acknowledgment. She was a short-haired blonde wearing a utilitarian French maid’s uniform—none of the frills or lace one might expect. Despite her calm demeanor, she radiated a quiet danger. The instrument resting in her hands looked like a cello’s cousin, but sleeker, darker. Deadlier, somehow.
“Thank you again for the wonderful treat,” I added sincerely. “And I hope the items I’ve brought will meet your high standards. Stewart from the Adventurers Guild appraised them and assured me they would more than please. I brought a note from him to that effect.”
Lady Miranda’s interest visibly piqued at the name. “If Stewart thinks highly of them, then they must be worth seeing. He’s not easily impressed.”
She steepled her fingers and leaned forward slightly. “Now then—what’s the first item you’d like to present?”
“I was told I should lead with this,” I replied, reaching into my bag.
I pulled out a small bundle wrapped in a pristine white cloth and gently unfolded it to reveal the wand, laying it carefully across the surface of the dark wood desk.
“I was assured this wand is from the Emerald—or Green—School,” I began, keeping my voice even. “It’s said to be rechargeable, which I understand is exceedingly rare. From what I’ve been told, it should contain at least four spells—at least one defensive and one offensive.”
I paused and gestured toward the wand as it rested on the white cloth.
“As you can see, it’s in excellent condition. What’s more—it’s charged. I couldn’t tell you how many uses it has left, but it's definitely active.”
Lady Miranda’s gaze sharpened as she leaned forward, her gloved fingers resting on the desk’s edge with a deliberate stillness. The faint golden trim on her sleeves caught the light as she tilted her head, studying the wand with the eye of someone who had seen enough fakes and forgeries to recognize something truly rare when it appeared.
Her voice was smooth and measured, like someone reading poetry in a cathedral. “Emerald school, and charged. That alone makes it worth a fortune. But it’s the condition that surprises me most. Even the guild’s deepest vaults rarely house one this intact.” She extended a slender hand, hovering just above the wand without touching it. “May I?”
I nodded once.
She reached into a small velvet-lined drawer and retrieved a delicate, clear crystal stylus with an intricate rune etched near the base. Tapping the wand lightly at four different points, faint pulses of light responded—soft green, deep gold, and a flicker of icy blue. Her eyes gleamed with interest.
“Defensive and offensive... yes. Likely elemental in nature. Possibly air and earth-based. The fourth spell is harder to read—either a veil or displacement effect. Not destructive, but very useful.” She looked up, lips curved slightly. “You’ve brought me a treasure, Mr. Bashir.”
The blonde assistant—still seated and serene—gave a small approving hum without interrupting the flow.
“I would recommend placing this as a headliner in the auction,” Miranda continued. “It will draw in the old blood—nobles, scholars, collectors, even high-ranking adventurers. The bidding will be aggressive, and if I may speak frankly… dangerous. Items like this attract interest beyond money. The kind of people who buy wands like these often do so to keep them out of other people’s hands.”
She paused, allowing the weight of that to settle.
“If you’re comfortable with that, I will personally list it. Estimated starting value: 10,000 gold. Final bid could be twice that or more—depending on who shows up.”
I leaned forward just a bit, letting my voice drop to that smooth, thoughtful tone I used when I was about to propose something just a little too clever for its own good.
“What if we were to sweeten the pot,” I said, “by adding a connected item to it?”
Lady Miranda’s brow arched gracefully, and for the first time since I walked in, her posture shifted forward with genuine interest. “Connected?” she repeated, like she was savoring the word. It came out slow and melodic—she had the voice of someone who’d mastered the art of drawing people in without trying too hard.
She folded her hands neatly atop the desk, fingers laced like a spiderweb, and gave me a look that said she expected something either brilliant or infuriating.
Her assistant didn’t speak—she didn’t have to. Even with her face composed, the slight tilt of her head told me I had her full attention now.
Lady Miranda's eyes sparkled at my offer, but she held her poise like a seasoned noble at a poker table.
“A wand of a lost school, already charged… and now ten rune tokens?” she said, her voice velvet and precise. “My, Mr. Bashir, you certainly didn’t come here to waste anyone’s time.”
She leaned back slightly in her chair, fingertips steepled. “Are we talking general runes? Or something more… provocative?”
Before I could answer, Sophie, her assistant, finally spoke—her voice calm, but with the quiet sharpness of someone who didn’t waste words.
“Reusable runes are classified as strategic-grade artifacts in most kingdoms,” she said, looking me dead in the eye. “If even one of them is combat-enhanced, I’ll need to lock this room down until the initial appraisal is complete. For your protection… and ours.”
She wasn’t threatening me. She was simply stating a fact, like a seasoned bodyguard who’d rather not have to kill anyone today but absolutely would if things got messy.
Miranda gave a low, amused hum. “Well, Mr. Bashir? Shall we see how sweet your pot really is?”