He was late for work.
Tim took off at a sprint. His job at the smithy was the one thing he had going for him. He couldn’t screw that up. Tim needed the job. It came with the perks of a salary and a place to sleep. He couldn’t imagine spending the next twenty years panhandling.
The merchant stalls and buildings looked blurred as Tim raced through the streets. Tim's lungs were heaving uncontrollably by the time he skidded to a stop outside Ironbeard’s shop. Hands on his knees, he sucked in air like a fish gasping its final breaths out of water. Black dots swam across his vision, but he didn’t pass out.
Ironbeard’s voice rang out as soon as he crossed the threshold to the shop. “You’re late.” The dwarf came around the corner carrying a red-hot sword in his hands. “And you look like shit.”
Tim couldn’t disagree. It’d been a hell of a night. He met the dwarf’s hardened gaze. “Sorry.” Not much of an apology, but it was all he could think of at the moment.
Shaking his head, Ironbeard chuckled. “I didn’t expect you in today, but when you come to work, you have to be on time. Since I already have help in the back, you’ll be working the counter.”
Marching up to the counter, Ironbeard pulled out two giant sacks. One of them was filled with silver coins, and the other bag had copper coins spilling from the top. The dwarf set the bags down and watched Tim intently. “I’ll give you the same speech I give everyone. I know how many coins are in the sacks, so don’t get any ideas.”
“I’m not sure I’m qualified to sell your wares.” Tim looked at the items in the shop. He had no idea how to use most of them, let alone how much they were worth.
Ironbeard chuckled. “By the Builder, boy. I didn’t know you had a sense of humor.” He slapped his thigh, laughing in earnest. “Running my shop… I can’t believe it.”
A few moments later, the rumbling laughter stopped, and Ironbeard met Tim’s confused look. “The coins are for quest rewards.”
What was Ironbeard talking about? He offered people quests? How had he not know about this?
“The copper coins are for goblin rings since they’re iron. And the silver coins are for orc jewelry, which is normally made out of silver or gold. Inspect the items, make the proper payouts, and put the items in the barrels.”
Ironbeard watched Tim for any sign that he understood the instructions. “Can you handle that, or do you want to work the bellows again?”
Tim looked at the bellows and shuddered. “I can handle it.” Walking over to the barrels, he peered inside. Both containers were about half-full of various rings, earrings, and nose studs. Many of them still had flesh attached, and all of them were covered in blood from when the players ripped them off the monsters’ corpses.
Tim grimaced. “Who has to clean these?”
“I told you I’d be putting you to work later.” The dwarf peered at Tim, laughter dancing in his eyes. “Next time, don’t be late.”
I should have taken the day off.
Picking earlobes and nose cartilage off the rings and washing bloody jewelry wasn’t a very appealing activity, but it was his job for now. “How much do I pay out?”
Ironbeard grinned, feeling like his apprentice was finally catching on. “Twenty-five copper for ten pieces of iron jewelry, and ten silver for a mixture of silver and gold from the orcs.” The dwarf paused, stroking his beard in thought. “Make sure each group of ten orc rings includes at least one gold band.”
The burly dwarf rubbed his hands together in anticipation of all the new metal he’d have to work with. “I pay more than the other merchants, so there should be plenty of takers.” Ironbeard looked at the barrels and the coins and back at Tim.
“Don’t look so worried. Everything will be fine,” Tim smiled reassuringly at Ironbeard’s frowning face. “I have a degree in finance.”
“Ah, so somebody told you that you were smart once.” The blacksmith spat on the ground. “Good for you. Might as well be a piece of toilet paper for all the good it’s doing you here.”
Tim froze, eyes locking with Ironbeard’s steel-gray irises. “Wait, there’s toilet paper in Promethia?”
“Yeah.” He looked at Tim as if he was as smart as a box of rocks. “How else do you wipe your ass?” Ironbeard shook his head. “Don’t tell me you're still using leaves.”
Heat crept into Tim’s cheeks. “Let’s not talk about it.” Why in the fuck did he not have toilet paper? Ernie was going to have some serious explaining to do.
Trying to sound more confident than he felt, Tim turned and laid his hands on the counter. “I’ll be fine up here by myself. Seriously, you don’t have to worry.”
“Says the guy wiping his ass with leaves.” Ironbeard shook his head in disbelief. “Don’t make me come up here. I’ve got other work I need to do today.” He paused. “But if you really need me, I’ll be in the back.”
Not a ringing endorsement, but at least the dwarf finally left him alone. Now he could get started removing the orc bits from the rings they’d already collected. Since he’d end up cleaning all the items, he might as well get ahead while he had some downtime.
Tim dumped the barrels out onto the floor. The smell coming off of the rotting flesh was enough to make him retch. It was a good thing he hadn’t eaten since yesterday, or he might have made things worse. Nothing said fun like cleaning rings covered in blood, puke, and fleshy bits.
Picking up a nose ring, Tim ripped the cartilage off and wiped the ring down with a rag before tossing it back in the barrel. Then inspiration struck. What if I can put the rings in my inventory, and they came out clean just like my robes with the mud? If nothing else, it was worth a try.
Tim picked up another disgusting ring. Pulling up his user interface, he put the ring in his inventory, then pulled it out again. Resting in his hand was one blood- and cartilage-free ring.
This was going to make things a whole lot easier.
Now that Tim had a way to easily clean the rings, he was running into another problem. He only had two barrels, but three kinds of metal. It was an easy enough fix. All he had to do was track down another giant barrel. Looking around, he spotted an empty crate at the side of the room.
Tim grabbed it. This would be fine since there is a lot less gold to deal with. He carried the crate over and set it down next to the two barrels, then looked around for something to write on the crate with, and spotted a bit of charcoal. With penmanship of a surly third-grader, Tim scribbled the word Gold on the side of the crate.
With all the receptacles Tim needed in place, he started sorting through the silver and gold rings. It was easy to see the gold were vastly outnumbered by the silver. No wonder Ironbeard wanted to make sure he received at least one golden ring with the silver ones the players turned in.
Gold must be harder to come by, or maybe it’s from some kind of elite orc. If Ironbeard needed more gold, maybe he should offer a separate quest just for the gold rings. The surly bugger might have to pay out a little more, but he’d come out on top in the end.
He wondered how much all of it was worth. The loot was probably worth more once the blacksmith melted it down to make something more useful out of it.
Looking up, Tim saw his first customer approaching the counter. “How can I help you?”
The player slapped his bloody hand down on the counter, splattering the surface with bits of blood and dark goo. When he pulled his hand away, there were ten iron rings on the counter. One of the rings still had an entire ear attached to it.
I’m not cleaning that shit up.
If Ironbeard was paying more than the other merchants, then he deserved better than rings covered in bloody bits. Reaching out, Tim pushed the rings back toward the player. “We’re only accepting cleaned rings from now on.”
The player sneered at Tim. “Fuck that! I want the same deal I got yesterday.” He pushed the bloody pile back across the counter.
Tim shrugged as if he could care less. He wasn’t going to tell this asshole the trick a
bout putting the rings in his inventory. Let the bastard work for it. “It’s fine. I just can’t pay you the entire amount if the rings are dirty. I can offer you twenty copper, or you’re free to find another smithy that will take them.”
The player’s face turned beet-red. “This is outrageous! You’re trying to fleece me.”
Tim smiled. “It’s the same payout as long as you bring in the rings cleaned.” He pushed the bloody rings back across the counter. “Or you can accept the reduced price.”
Ironbeard hadn’t told him it was okay to make changes to the terms, but if Tim was going to run the quest rewards, he was going to do it his way.
“I’m already here. Just fucking take the things.” The player tapped the counter and then held out his gore-covered palm. “My money.”
Reaching under the counter, Tim plucked twenty-five copper coins free. He placed five of them next to the sack and the other twenty in the player’s hand. “Pleasure doing business with you.”
“Whatever.” The player stormed off.
“Another satisfied customer.” Tim chuckled. He’d have to do a better job in the future. Ironbeard wouldn’t like it if all of the players went to another smithy. Sure, the guy was a dick, but Tim’s only job was to pay the coin for the rings. If he wanted to make things easier on himself, he had to tread carefully.
One thing that would make life easier was if I could put the whole pile of rings in my inventory at once.
“That just might work,” Tim mumbled. He placed his hand over the rings. With a thought, he added the pile to his inventory, then put them back on the counter with another thought. All of them were clean.
Tim dumped the iron rings into the barrel and then got to work cleaning and sorting the rest of his gruesome pile on the floor. It didn’t take long for him to get all of the rings cleaned and sorted. It was too bad he couldn’t put the floor and counter in his inventory to clean them. Instead, he’d have to do it the old fashioned way.
Tim found a bucket and a brush and got to work on the counter. No one wanted to walk into the blacksmith’s shop and look at a bloody counter.
It wasn’t a butcher’s shop, for fuck's sake.
When the countertop was blood-free, Tim moved to the floor. Ten minutes later, nobody would have been able to tell the floor had been covered in rotting goblin ears and nose cartilage.
The next player entered the shop and approached the counter as Tim put away the bucket and brush. “How can I help you?” he asked, turning around to face the man.
A radiant smile ignited on the player’s face. He raised a hand full of grizzly trophies and got ready to slam them down on the clean counter.
Did people enjoy making the largest mess possible when they knew they’d wouldn’t have to clean it up?
Tim held his hand over the counter, stopping the player from making more work for him. “We only accept the rings once they’ve been cleaned.”
The player’s face filled with righteous fury. “Fuck that.”
Tim sighed. It was going to be a long day.
But once he trained the players, he would never have to deal with the issue again. Before the player could storm off, Tim grabbed one of the grizzly rings. “All you have to do is put the rings in your inventory and take them back out again.” He demonstrated with the ring he’d just taken, then dropped it back into the player’s hand.
The player looked at the clean ring in his hand. “Are you serious?”
Tim smiled. “Works on clothes, too.”
The rings vanished and then reappeared in the player’s hand, completely clean. “Far out.” He set the rings on the table.
Reaching under the counter, Tim took out ten silver pieces and dropped them in the player’s waiting palm. “Don’t forget, this quest is repeatable. We’ll buy as many rings as you can get.”
The player looked at his hand, and the coins disappeared. He flashed a grin. “Thanks for the pro tip, bro. I’ll be back for sure.”
Tim waved as he left, then tossed the eight silver rings into the barrel and the two golden hoops into the crate. This wasn’t going to be so bad, if the last player's reaction was anything to go by. It seemed not everyone knew about his handy little inventory trick.
Another day or two of this, and he wouldn’t even have to explain things. Players would just turn in the rings free of filth.
Whose degree was worth toilet paper now, bitch?
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Time to clean those rings, boy,” Ironbeard called as he stripped out of his thick leather apron.
“Already done.” Tim pointed at the two barrels and his crate. Showing a little initiative with the rings might just be the kind of thing that softened the dwarf up to listening to his new idea. “Have you ever considered offering an additional quest just for gold rings?”
Ironbeard stopped in his tracks. “One thing at a time, lad. Did you say you cleaned all the rings already?” He looked around the shop for a giant mess but couldn’t find anything out of place.
The dwarf approached the barrels and peeked over the rims. “Well, I’ll be.” Ironbeard turned to face Tim. He stared at him for a moment, tugging his beard in thought. It was the kind of well-practiced gesture the dwarf probably didn’t even realize he was making.
“How?” The smith watched Tim intently. “I won’t have any kind of dark magic in my shop.”
Dark magic? It shouldn’t surprise Tim that the game would have dark magic. There had to be villains, right? What did surprise him was that the use of such magic was so widely feared it could cost him his job.
If there was a Goddess of Light, there might also be one of darkness.
Tim smiled and leaned close to the dwarf as if he were going to tell him a juicy bit of gossip. Ironbeard’s eyes grew bigger as he waited for the hook Tim had set. “I got the players to do it.”
Ironbeard burst into laughter. “You sneaky son of a bitch! This is fantastic. Cuts the work in half.” His smile turned into a frown. “How many clients did I lose with this new policy of yours?”
Reaching down, Tim pulled a small sack of coins from his purse. “None yet, but a few accepted my offer of a reduced rate for the dirty rings.”
Tim dropped the small sack of coins into Ironbeard’s hand. “Here’s fifty copper and ten silver. You’ll find that amount matches what’s in the barrels and missing from the coins you provided.”
It was hard not to feel good about the work he’d done today. Most of the players had been receptive. One or two might not come back, but that was a small price to pay for not having to clean the rings himself. As long as Ironbeard kept paying above the going rate, they’d be the first stop for any player with half a brain.
The dwarf moved to place his hands against each of the barrels, then picked up the two sacks of coins he’d given Tim that morning. His face scrunched as if he was working on a complicated math problem, then he grinned. “Everything seems to be in order.”
Ironbeard pulled two silver coins from the pouch and gave them to Tim. “Only seems fair.”
“Thank you.” Tim pocketed the coins before the dwarf could change his mind. Strictly speaking, Ironbeard didn’t have to pay Tim a dime. NPC Corp was taking care of his salary, room, and board in return for his labor.
The dwarf stashed the coin bags in his vest. “Now, you were saying something about offering a quest for just the gold rings. Do you really think players would go for it?”
Tim nodded. “I’m guessing the gold comes from some kind of elite orc. If the reward is good enough, players will group together to cash in. Plus, they’d get a decent payout for any iron or silver pieces they collected along the way.”
Pacing back and forth, Tim tapped one finger on his chin. “Of course, it only makes sense if you can make use of the extra gold.”
Ironbeard slapped Tim’s shoulder. “One can always use more gold, boy!” Tugging his beard again, the dwarf looked at the barrels and the much smaller crate. “But the deal has to make fina
ncial sense.”
Stepping to the counter, he pulled out a small book and started writing in it. Then he turned to Tim. “What if we did the same payout for the iron, but cut the silver payout to eight coins? I’ll offer one gold piece for ten of the gold orc bands.”
Tim thought about the adjustments and saw one glaring problem. “Can I suggest one change?”
The dwarf guffawed. “Don’t hold back on me now, boy.”
“Instead of lowering the payout for the silver rings, why don’t we increase the number of rings needed? Say, twelve rings for ten silver.” Tim grinned. “No one wants to earn less money, not if it just means looting a couple additional rings.”
“All right. I’m adjusting the quests now.” Ironbeard extended his hand toward Tim. “Keep making adjustments like this, and I’m going to have to teach you something.”
Tim beamed at the dwarf as he clasped his hand. “Keep making those threats, and I might be tempted to learn.”
Ironbeard slapped his thigh as he rumbled with laughter. “Get out of here. I’ll be seeing you early enough tomorrow.”
Giving his workspace one last glance to make sure nothing was out of place, Tim headed for the door. “See you tomorrow.”
The sun hit Tim's eyes as he stepped out into the street, and the elated feeling he’d had moments before came crashing back down. Now that work was done, he was going to have to deal with the fact that two men had killed him, and he had to get ready for an assassination of his own.
It was going to be a busy night.
The first thing he needed to do was go to guards for help. They should take a murder in the city seriously enough. Where the crime occurred shouldn’t be a factor—all of Promethia’s citizens should be treated equally. Once the guards handled the matter, all he’d have to do was worry about Lady Briarthorn’s quest.
Not that her quest wasn’t a problem.
Before he could worry too much about tonight’s quest and how he’d handle his first attempt at combat, Tim had to figure out how to use his flame burst spell. He couldn’t expect to sneak onto a ship full of people and take them all out using his scepter as a club. Clubbing people over the head until they died wasn’t exactly stealthy.
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