by R. A. Mejia
I didn’t see any issue with what I’d done, so I answered honestly, “I copied the spell from you. I can’t cast it as easily or quickly as you do, but that’s where I got it.”
The mage’s face turned red, and he fumed. “You had no right to steal that spell! I am a member of the mage’s guild in good standing, and we have rules against that type of espionage!” Then, as if it just occurred to him, he asked, “Did those filthy cheating gnomes put you up to this? I bet they did. I refuse to work with you anymore and demand the rest of my agreed payment and my share of the stone cores.”
I’m sure that Greebo and I would have stopped soon and been done for the day even if we hadn’t almost been wiped out in that last fight, so when Harrison held out a hand expectantly, I handed over 50 copper and 20 stone cores, glad to be rid of the nagging, bossy, arrogant mage. He pocketed what I handed him and then stomped off down the tunnel, but before he left our sight, he turned and said, “I will also be filing a formal complaint against you and those gnomes.”
I didn't really care about the mage’s words as I watched Greebo’s health rise. Once he was back up to half health, he was able to walk again, and we left the dungeon together. All told, we’d each earned 375 XP and 40 stone cores that we could put toward our quest.
Greebo and I left the fifth floor of the dungeon and proceeded to the first floor where we rested, repaired, and took a breather to talk. Being more than three levels above the monsters on that floor meant that we had stopped receiving any XP for killing the monsters on that level, and they had started to avoid conflicts with us, preferring to run away. Perhaps it was a way for the dungeon to balance out the levels preventing the unneeded waste of monsters against higher-level adventurers. Still, whatever the reason, it meant that Greebo and I could rest in peace.
We went to our usual spot in the east corner of the flower field, a place that had become a familiar resting zone for us since it had both the stone and wood resources I needed to repair myself. I’d still need to purchase or find both copper and iron materials to fully repair, but the materials on the first floor would help get me to 70% of my total health.
While I deconstructed and repaired, Greebo and I sat in silence. Well, I sat in silence. Greebo paced, fidgeted, and gave me sidelong glances. I could tell from his body language that there was something he wanted to talk about but that he was hesitant. I could think of multiple things he could want to speak about: his new class, our future business plans, our experience on the fifth level, or Harrison Freud. Each was a topic that we really should talk about anyway, so instead of waiting for him to bring them up, I did.
“Greebo, if you don’t stop fidgeting and tell me what’s on your mind, I’m not going to tell you about all the cool stuff I researched about your Scavenger class.”
He stopped fidgeting and looked over at me. He took a deep breath before blurting out: “You should have talked to me first before you hired that mage. A decision like that isn’t something you should have made for our group by yourself. I could have told you that guy was going to be a problem, and I could have suggested some guys from the neighborhood to help us.”
Part of me wanted to argue that I’d spent my own money to hire the mage and that I couldn’t have known in advance that things would turn out so badly. But a bigger, more sensible part of me knew that Greebo was right. I’d made a mistake hiring that guy without talking to my friend, and the situation had gotten away from me after I’d paid him a deposit. Still, even though I knew I was wrong, I had never been good at apologizing. Then I recalled something from a communications class I’d taken in college that parroting someone’s concerns made them feel like they’d been heard. “I’m sorry, man. I acknowledge your statement. What I’m hearing from you is that you feel like I should have talked to you before I hired that mage. Is that correct?”
Greebo scrunched up his face in confusion then punched my shoulder lightly with his fist. “Huh? You just repeated my words to me. Talk right, you stupid machine!” His punch was good-natured, and the smile that accompanied it told me that he just didn’t understand why I was talking oddly.
I crossed my arms and tapped my foot, annoyed that I was so bad at apologizing. “Ok. I screwed up, Greebo. I’m sorry. That mage was a total asshat, but I wanted to scan the spells he knew and thought it would have been worth putting up with his attitude.”
Greebo’s look of confusion didn’t go away, and he looked at his hands and placed them over his head, miming putting on a hat. “Asshat?”
I laughed at his confusion over the idiom. I’d forgotten that phrases like that weren’t used in this world. “No, I just meant that the mage was an arrogant jerk.”
He smiled and laughed before continuing. “I like that one; I’m going to use it. Nuts, you were an asshat too for hiring that guy.”
I shook my head and chuckled. “Yeah, I guess I was, man. I knew his personality was going to be an issue, but I ignored it because I wanted to scan his spells, and I thought that his higher level would help us. I’m sorry for not talking to you about adding a new group member first. We’re friends, and I should have talked to you first before making that kind of decision.”
He nodded at my statement. “Well, as long as you know you made a mistake, it's not a big deal, Bolts.”
We sat and joked about Harrison for a minute before I brought up the other topics I felt we should converse about. “Uh, speaking of things we should talk about, I have a couple of things we should discuss.”
He nodded for me to go on, and I listed the other issues: his new class, our future business plans, and our experience on the fifth level.
“These are good things to talk about. Let's start with my class. You say you did some research? What did you find out?”
I described the information on his possible skill and ability choices that I’d found through the Metalman OS.
“So, those are your options for abilities for the first ten levels of the class. It’ll depend on what role you want to take in our group, but if you still have those five class skill points, I can’t see a greater benefit than taking all three levels of Scavenger Strength. You’d have to wait till you did at least one class quest to get that last needed skill point, but you’d be doubling your carrying capacity--which means twice the loot or materials you could carry and twice the potential profit margins each day.”
“Wow! You really know all that stuff about people’s classes? That’s really valuable information. I can’t tell you how stingy guilds are with that kinda information. They hoard their secrets like a dragon hoards gold.” He stopped and gave me a serious look. “The guilds might not actually like that so much, you know. I know Dobliao, the Scavenger Guild Master, wouldn’t. Let's just keep the fact that you know all this stuff between us, ok?”
I immediately agreed. I understood the power of knowledge and what some people would do for power. “So, what do you think of my suggestions for your Scavenger class?”
“My dad discovered the class, Repair. I already knew the early abilities of it. Personally, I’ve always liked the Lucky Looter one. Better loot means more money, right?”
I nodded in agreement but countered, “Yes. That’s true, and I would certainly encourage you to get that too. There’s no reason not to grab as many class quests as you can to get those class points and all the abilities you can, but an increased chance at better loot is just that: a chance. Scavenger Strength is a steady guarantee of improvement.”
Greebo rolled his eyes and said, “You sure you’re not pushing those abilities cause you want me to carry all your stuff? I’m not going to be your pack mule.”
I’d actually thought about Greebo taking that exact role but thanked my lucky stars that my Metalman frame couldn't betray my embarrassment at him realizing it. Instead, I shrugged and forced a chuckle. “No. Of course not. I just thought about all the loot you could carry…” I turned away quickly whispered, “and maybe some materials for me to fabricate stuff and repair.”
/> “Ha, I knew it!” He said with mock annoyance. Then he laughed and patted me on the shoulder. “It’s fine, Bolts. Lots of goblins play porter for adventurers. At least I’ll be carrying stuff that will benefit us both if I take those class abilities. I’m gonna think about it, but I want to visit the guild before I make up my mind. Not that I don’t believe what you say, but the guild may have even more choices than what you found out about on your own.”
I wanted to tell him that my data was pretty reliable but didn’t want to ruin his determination to do his own research. “Ok. That’s fair. But feel free to talk to me about anything you find if you need to.”
He nodded, and we went onto the other topics. We agreed that the fifth level of the dungeon would require at least one more party member, though we disagreed on what type of member to get. I wanted another mage so that I could get more spell schema, but he wanted another fighter to help deal damage and tank. We agreed that we’d have to see what the adventurer’s guild had to offer before making a decision.
As far as our business opportunities went, he hadn’t come up with anything. For one, we no longer had an immediate goal to work toward. Sure, we could both use more coin, but at the same time, we hadn’t planned out what we wanted to spend it on. Before, we’d had goals: get enough for Greebo to purchase his class and enough for me to pay off the gnomes. But now, those goals had either been completed or other alternative options were available. If I won the Ultimate Research Warrior Competition, my debt to the gnomes would be forgiven. I didn’t have to focus on paying that debt as soon as possible like I had before.
I summarized my thoughts. “So, the issue is: What are our goals now? At least for money. I know that we can make more just doing the repair business, but I feel like there are so many more opportunities we’re missing with just that. We have a bit of capital . . . I have a little under 20 silver saved, and you have what? 15 or 20 silver?”
Greebo shook his head. “Sorry, no. I only have 5 silver saved after I paid for my guild fees, and I’ll be expected to pay monthly 15% of what I make scavenging to them too.”
“Well, we still have 25 silver total to spend. So, what are we working toward? I know I have class quests I want to complete. But what about you?”
Greebo sat and thought about the question for a long time. I’m not sure he’d ever thought past his immediate goal of getting his class. After a while, he looked up at me and said, “I want to help out the goblins in my building. They helped save me when I got cursed, and I owe them.” He paused, as if trying to find the words to describe what he wanted to say, then continued, “I don’t mean to give them money or nothing, but I want to help them leave that place and be better goblins. My dad helped a lot of people in our district, and I want to help our people too. You understand what I mean?”
I did understand, and I was proud of him for wanting to settle his debts while still thinking of others. There wasn’t anything wrong with him wanting to buy himself some better gear or to move out into a better home where he didn’t have to share a room with a dozen other people, but instead, he recognized that he could repay the good that his roommates had done for him, and he wanted to help his community. And, frankly, from what I’d seen of the Northern District, the people there could use it.
“Ok. We can work on helping out the goblins in your building, but we’ll have to think about the best ways to do it.”
He nodded in agreement and we sat, joked, and talked about possible plans while we both recovered our health.
Chapter 8 - Crafter’s Paradise
When Greebo and I left the dungeon for the day, the midday sun was barely past its zenith. We didn’t have enough stone cores to finish our Adventurer Guild quests, so we decided to get Greebo squared away with his class choices. We traveled to the North Quarter then to the Scavenger’s Guild. Greebo was welcomed by Tim, but I wasn’t allowed to enter this time since I wasn’t a member of the guild. Greebo turned and bid me farewell, promising to look through his options for his class points and to pick up any class quests he could.
I didn’t have any other plans for the day, so I decided to spend some of the coin I had on some iron so that I could fully repair myself. I’d already scoured the few stalls that had been open near the dungeon before we went in, but I’d never checked the Western District, often called the Crafter’s District. Now that I thought about it, I’d never even been to that part of the city before. I knew the general direction of the crafter-centric district from Greebo and I traveled through the center of town then south-west from there. The journey did not take long as the streets were still relatively empty, and I took the time to appreciate how it was different from the rest of the city.
The buildings in the Crafters District were a mish-mash of architectural styles and construction materials. There were two-story wooden structures, one-story brick offices, and even some that were made out of slate or some other dark stone. Each section of buildings had a painted sign that showed that they were dedicated to some specific craft.
I wandered through the district and talked to craftsmen and craftswomen of a variety of races. There were humans, elves, gnomes, orcs, goblins, centaurs, and many others. The Crafter’s District seemed to be the most eclectic of the city, caring little of race, only about the quality of one’s craft.
Some of the crafters were taciturn and seemed afraid I was some spy seeking to steal their secrets. Other people were only too happy to speak about their work and happily showed off what they were working on with pride in their voices.
I approached a centaur who was working in a tall open-air woodshop. There was sawdust on the stone floor and large projects like beds, statues, carts, and carriages, spread out in the warehouse like building. He had a glossy brown coat of hair on his horse end and curly black hair on his head. He didn’t wear any clothes except a long leather vest and was measuring a plank for a bookshelf he was constructing.
“Hello, sir.”
The centaur turned at the sound of my voice, smiled and said, “Hello there.” He tilted his head curiously as he looked down at me and I was sure he was going to comment at never having seen a talking golem. Instead, he shrugged and asked, “How may I help you?”
I appreciated that he hadn’t voiced whatever questions he may have had about what I was. I pointed to the shelves behind him and said, “I was just admiring the beauty of the woodwork on those shelves there.” Then I gestured to some of the other projects that hung from the ceiling or were on tables. “Everything here is so well made. I was just wondering if there was some magic involved.”
The centaur beamed at the complement of his work. “There’s a little magic from the buildings I suppose, but everything in this shop is the product of hard raised skill.”
“Magic from the buildings?”
“Oh, yes. All the buildings in the district have enchantments and spells placed on them.” He pointed to a series of complex looking runes in a corner of the ceiling. “That one there decreases the time it takes to finish a project.”
“And all the buildings have these kinds of enchantments? That sounds expensive. Is that the reason I’ve seen the same kinda crafts congregated together?”
He nodded. “That’s a good observation. Us crafters aren’t rich, so we save some money by sharing tools and materials, but also to share the cost of enchanting the buildings. The Crafter’s Guild gets us a discount on special craft-specific spells that are embedded into the buildings.” He pointed down the street to a two-story wooden building with a sign on it with a needle and thread. “The tailor buildings, for example, have an enchantment that protects against pricking your fingers with needles and increases the speed of sewing. The glassblower and blacksmith buildings on the other side of the district have enchantments to regulate heat and air so that the environment maintains a stable temperature and protects against accidental fires.” He pointed to a group of brick buildings with heavy metal doors and no visible windows. “The jewelers’ buildings have mult
iple layers of security and protection against theft.” He pointed behind me to an open-air shop where men were using throwing wheels, kilns, and all manner of special tools that I was unable to identify. I could just see the racks that held vases, statues, plates, and cups. “They have enchantments laid into their floors against slippage and self-cleaning surfaces that get rid of the clay messes.”
It seemed like he’d describe every building in the district, and I didn’t want to spend all day there, and I interrupted. “So, regardless of the craft, it benefits everyone to work together in an enchanted building. It makes perfect sense. Thank you for taking the time to explain it all to me. I’ll leave you to your wonderful work.”
I waved goodbye and walked down the street to the tailor shops. Peeking in through the first-floor windows, I saw large bolts of cloth hung along the walls, mannequins designed to hang clothes from while they worked, and numerous tables, and desks and stations that were covered with thimbles, scissors, needles, thread, and various unfinished clothes. Though I’d seen the bolts of cloth made in the factories to the east, I was surprised when I didn’t see any sewing machines. But perhaps having a crafting class for tailors made it unnecessary. After all, based on what I could tell from outside, the stitchwork on the clothes was as good as any done by a machine in my world.
