Isekai Magus: A LitRPG Progression Saga

by Han Yang

  “What are you babbling about? The poor are on the south end of town, behind another wall. If there’s an invasion from the south, they have to get through the slums,” Desra said without an ounce of compassion.

  I had always lived a mediocre life and never was rich. I still felt bad for those less fortunate.

  The street reached an internal circle with the road bending left and right. A big bank rested in the middle, directly across the street.

  We weaved through the cross traffic and Desra hitched Temara to a post. I watched the knot she used, which was the same one she taught me on the trip here. Small things like that would matter.

  “This is it. The bank will get my approval, and then you’ll have to see a manager to get an account and they’ll realize you don’t have paperwork. I’d tell them you’re an immigrant from Fraunt. That’s Empress Sarass’s realm.

  “That’s common enough, and you just bullshit your way from there. Having a zero Ostriva score will sell that you're a good guy. Around this circle, on the back end is the market. Look, you really exude the mediocre achiever. Stick to that to stay under the radar,” she said.

  “Hey,” I protested. “Eh, not far off. I do like happiness over hard work.”

  “You ready?” she asked.

  I nodded, and we walked up the steps to my new beginning.

  CHAPTER 7

  Nordan - Tarb

  “Here’s your paperwork, Damien Moonguard. Sorry about the wait,” the bank manager said in a soothing tone.

  I accepted the paperwork that had taken a whopping five or six hours to organize. No wonder Desra said her goodbyes before we entered.

  “Can I now deal within this kingdom?” I asked.

  “Undoubtedly. The top copy has a certified note saying you're now a recognized adventurer of the Karn Kingdom with all fees paid. Keep your Ostriva points below the thresholds, and you’re free to go where you like. If you follow me, you can now choose to withdraw some funds,” the manager said, leading me to a teller.

  A young woman smiled coyly. I grinned back, and she giggled. The manager rolled his eyes then left.

  “Ignore him. He’s not a people person. So, you’re new to town? Welcome. I’m Trossa,” she said, pronouncing it Throw-ssaa.

  “Thanks,” I said with my winning smile. “Tarb seems lovely.”

  She batted her lashes. “Let’s see, you have a deposit for thirty Z and then a deduction of half a Z for paperwork. This bank offers Z, coins, or notes. I’ll warn you that the notes only work in Tarb, and if you overdraft, it will not cash and you’ll face punishment. Most businesses use runners, but a few rash fools still make poor decisions.”

  I danced my fingers across the counter.

  “The notes mean if I’m robbed I won’t lose anything?” I asked.

  “Almost. Your paperwork has your last name on it. Even I can’t see that. When you sign over a banknote, you sign your last name, and a manager approves it. Do that enough times, or in front of the wrong person, and they’ll be able to forge your notes. Not perfect, but it does leave thieves guessing if they pick your pocket with unsigned notes,” Trossa said.

  “Okay, let me ask. How many gold coins for a single Z?” I asked.

  She pulled out a clipboard, tracing a finger down the spreadsheet. “Today it is twelve gold and three silver.”

  “And the cost of say - a beer, a pair of boots, new robes, and a horse?” I asked.

  She mulled over her answer. “Five coopers for an ale at most places. Obviously cheaper in the slums and more expensive near the palace. Sandals are a silver or two and what most wear. A quality pair of boots will cost you up to a few gold pieces as some are armored. A mare will be five or more gold for an older horse and then it goes crazy.

  “I see your eyes widening. Yeah, Z is expensive. If it wasn’t, no one would venture out to get it. You’re not rich, but this is enough Z to get you out of robes, into a nice hotel with decent boots, and a quality stallion. Assuming that is what you’re wanting to do.”

  I hefted the sack of coins off my neck and said, “Deposit these, and then I’ll take some larger denominations of Z.”

  “Oh, um… Marstan!” she said, hollering over her shoulder. “I gotta verify the authenticity since you’re from -” she paused, spilling the coins onto her desk. Her face scrunched when she realized the coins were local. “Never mind. I assumed incorrectly,” she hollered.

  “Sorry, I should have -”

  She interjected, “You’re fine. Literally.”

  This amused Trossa greatly. Her chortle carried on for some time. I paused my retort of thanking her to see she was not homely and yet not a model.

  I didn’t know what my next plan was other than to see a library.

  “I’m new to town, obviously. Do you know a trusting guide?” I asked.

  Her eyes darted up with disappointment, and I didn’t think I was the reason.

  “Not me, unfortunately. Bank policy is to not mingle with customers directly. If we had a chance encounter at say, Tootsies, tonight after dinner rush, well that would be okay. A nice place on the other side of the circle. Now, I see a golden nugget and a ruby. Battle loot?” she asked, sorting Toneba’s purse.

  “Yup.”

  “Adding these back in, you’ll have to move them yerself. If you get a whole lot, the bank will bring in a vendor for a fee, but these aren’t worth it. As for the guide, whatcha needin’ beside what you mentioned earlier?” she asked. “I can give recommendations.”

  “I guess trust is my biggest issue at the moment. I haven’t been having good luck with the locals lately,” I admitted.

  She sighed sadly.

  “That’s an easy fix, now that you’re here. Just hire someone who has to stay trustworthy,” Trossa countered with a look that said I should know this.

  “Umm… okay,” I said. “I need a trustworthy guide who can show me to a bookstore or library, a place to stay while I do some research, a little shopping, and then a horse to go to Litroo. Oh, and work while I stay…I’m a healer.”

  She took a deep breath. “That sounds like you need your hand held.” I nodded, not ashamed to admit I needed help. “Any aversion to miscee?”

  What the hell is a miscee?

  “Um… we must use a different term,” I lied.

  “The mouse strivains, the ones who mature quickly and breed like, well, mice. Four feet tall, mouse ears and whiskers,” she said. “They’re not cheap, but they are a great help and have unlimited patience.”

  I gulped and said, “I can hire… or buy them?”

  “Huh, they’re not human. In the Karn Kingdom, miscee are servants with rights but not freedoms. Most are well cared for,” she said. “None can be abused.”

  I scratched the back of my neck, not sure what to say. I wasn’t into slavery. I guessed I could be the good guy and free them, hoping in exchange they’d help me honestly for a bit.

  I would want to help a mythical creature if they freed me. Yeah, freeing the downtrodden is a noble cause.

  “They're at the market?” I asked, feeling better about the situation.

  She nodded and said, “Everything you need will be at the market. There’s a great library in the capital and another in Litroo, but none here. I recommend you take banknotes with a few orbs of Z and a purse of silver around yer neck at a minimum.”

  “That sounds wonderful,” I said.

  She refilled my purse with a few neatly folded bank notes, a few dozen silver, and then ten orbs that shone with their wonderful coloration.

  “How much in the orbs?” I asked.

  She eyed me funnily. “The orbs will always have the verify check. Can’t fake how much Z is in an orb. These are all a single Z per. If you end up spending three and a half Z, just get the six gold and a silver or two back. The mages who parse these generally aren’t cheap for the average user, but a business? Sure.”

  I accepted the purse, placing it over my neck.

  For a few seconds, I jus
t stood there smiling at her, sort of forgetting it was time to go.

  I tipped my head in thanks, and she waved goodbye.

  Becoming a resident of Nordan didn’t feel any different but having some funds to adjust to my situation certainly helped. In the end, I was kinda surprised Desra paid up.

  Walking out of the bank, I daydreamed about just needing to reach my lofty goal to go back home. Dreams of grandeur raced through my head to resurrect a few hundred people and wash my hands of Nordan. I’d earn my ten thousand Z and be on a beach with my parents in no time.

  CHAPTER 8

  Tarb Market

  “What? That’s crazy,” I said in disbelief.

  The man behind the tent in the apothecary station didn’t care for my tone.

  I calmed myself and said, “Sorry, I’m new to Tarb. To enter the healers queue, I need a license. To get a license, I need to take a course from the mages’ guild. To apply to the course, I need a hundred Z and level ten in healing?”

  “Yes. Are you daft? That's exactly what I said. We can’t have untrained fools exploding our tents every time we need a resurrection. Get out before I have you thrown out,” the mage said, aggressively pointing to the exit.

  I turned and stormed out.

  When I was free of the store, I muttered, “Asshole.”

  So much for finding work at a registered place. I guess I did create a bomb when I revived Desra.

  That wasn’t the worst part either. Desra over paid by ten times. At least for here, where people likely didn’t die often, and there was an excess of healers.

  I turned back to see the sign on the door said advanced healing 1 gold for 10 mana consumed and three Z for a resurrection.

  That meant I would have to find a whole lot of dead people with enough Z to get me back home in this safe city.

  I huffed, not getting too deterred as I joined the bustling crowd with the din of people chatting. The main circle held an ambience of a fantasy movie with its clacks of hooves, shuffle of feet, and bells trying to lure in customers.

  The city certainly overwhelmed my senses, leaving me a bit off guard because not even thirty feet in, someone kicked my walking staff out of my hand. Naturally, I wanted to collect it from the road, but a foot booted my staff further away.

  A hooded man hovered over the stick, and his eyes darted to another man. I think they were waiting for me to bend over and then try to snatch the purse from my neck.

  Maybe walking sticks were easy targets, or they followed me from the bank.

  Either way, I walked to the nearest guard, told him of the situation, and he actually cared. The two goons dispersed into the crowd, and I retrieved my walking stick that not a single person bothered to pick up.

  The guard pointed me to the local robe seller, and I hurried to the store. A sewn interior pocket would be lovely and put my concern at ease.

  After opening the door softly, a bell announced my entry.

  The interior danced from a warm light, revealing a wooden interior of vertical planks. White orbs of energy hung strategically from the wooden rafters on chandeliers. A scent of wood and cloth rested richly in the area.

  The start of the store opened into rows of robes, fancy male attire, and then deeper in were the rows upon rows of ladies clothing. This was a lady’s store if I had to guess.

  A few women eyed me with whispered tones and lingering eyes.

  “Welcome to Mackee’s,” a soft voice said from the back of the store. “Anything particular?”

  “Uh, yes. Robes, under shorts, under shirt, boots for hiking, sandals for walking, and thick leathers for adventuring,” I said.

  “It would be best to get your armor and boots elsewhere. We focus on the soft and breathable. Adventuring stores have those items in excess while we cater to city living.” The soft spoken man came around the corner with a tape measure. “Interesting. Going for the ruggedly handsome and letting some age show. Too few do that and stick to their prime age.”

  A opened my mouth to reply but simply smiled instead.

  “Arms out,” he said, and I obeyed. He ran a measuring stick along my arm while wrinkling his nose. “Adventuring sure can be grueling. What are you needing to buy?”

  “A few sets of clothing and something to secure my coins with,” I said, adjusting while he worked.

  “Do you want an armpit sling? Or I have robes with inlaid pockets. We make both. The armpit sling is tight to the shoulder and your purse rests in your armpit. It’s gross but safe. The body naturally protects that area by lowering your arm. Anything else?” he asked.

  I smiled and said, “Sewn into the interior, and a sling to try. That’ll be more than enough. The cost?”

  “Let’s walk and shop,” he said happily, “After we get the rest of your inseams.”

  The next ten minutes, he measured me and led me around the store. The clothing he picked out was fashionable, and I kept catching glances from the ladies shopping.

  Instinctively, I smelled my armpits and realized I was beyond ripe. If I was going to the library, I better get changed first to at least be presentable. I pondered what a hotel room would be like in Tarb as I let the tailor select clothing for me.

  “Three gold,” he said, catching my attention.

  I heard the ladies laughing at something, and the bell chime as they left.

  I set a Z orb on the counter. The man chanted - power is life, life is power - and a second later, he plucked the orb off the wooden surface. Nine gold and a few silvers were laid in its place.

  “Thanks for your business,” he said.

  “May I get a recommendation for a nice inn?”

  “Carleena’s is toward the bank or Tootsies is around the bend, past the market,” he said. “Next door is Tarb Venturin and More. Best to get your gear there.”

  We bid each other farewell. When the door clasped closed, I stayed on the stairs for a moment with my new clothes awkwardly in my arms. The street teemed with all sorts of healthy young humans.

  None seemed interested in me, going about their day. I did see my first miscee carrying bags behind some nobles.

  I stayed on the sidewalk, heading into Venturin & More. A guard stood at the door. He gave me a quick inspection with indifference, but he didn’t halt my entry. The glass door revealed no patrons and a man writing in a ledger at a checkout desk.

  This store had more windows to let in natural light and additional magical orbs up high. The interior was stone with marbled floors and wooden shelving creating neat rows. A few sections avoided the shelving for weapon racks, and I immediately felt overwhelmed by the thousands of items for sale.

  “Can I help ya?” the rugged man with a cheek scar and a bushy beard said.

  He appeared young but had never corrected the damage to his face. Maybe he liked showcasing the battle wounds he recovered from?

  “I’m new to the realm and lost most of my gear getting here. Treat me like a youngling. To start, I could use a bag to store these clothes in,” I said.

  “Yani’s the name, follow me. If you stick a gold in my palm, I’ll let ya grab the bag and start stuffin’ items in it,” he said, eyeing me with a stern glare.

  I reached into my bag and placed down the retainer.

  He hefted the coin, checking it against the magical lights from above. After he bit the golden coin, he stuck it in a pocket.

  “What’s yer budget?” he asked, a bit of hunger in his voice.

  I avoided directly answering. “I need a healing staff, some boots, a bag, and some form of armor,” I said.

  “I’d say. That robe is over fifty years old and if -” Yan shuddered, pausing his sentence to keep from offending me.

  We arrived at a section of bags, and he hefted one. A larger bag a few down the row had a pillow, a blanket, a shovel, a pot, and a water jug on it. I pointed to that one, and he swapped them out.

  A second later, he had the opening spread wide for me to stuff my fine clothing into.

  He didn’t
say much, whistling a tune. The man was in his element. His store was empty besides me, and I had to wonder how much I was overpaying for the one-on-one service.

  “Those noble clothin, from Macks?” he asked, pointing to the bag. I nodded. “Give me a set.”

  I rummaged through the bag, handing him the one outfit that came in two pieces. He used the soft cloth to measure up against hard leathers.

  “Medium-large or large small,” he muttered, handing me my fine outfit back. “There’s plated leather. It weighs a ton and will literally kill you in the summer. There’s also light leather which will help from brush and pike pokes from sharp sticks but that’s ‘bout it. There’s medium hide too. It’ll help a bit. A strong swing from a sharp blade, though, and it's done. What’s yer magic type?”

  “Healer,” I said, and he rolled his eyes with a scoff. “I said I was from out of town.”

  “More like never been in a city before. Wastin’ money on fine clothing. We have healer robes. You’ll never need armor or thick leathers unless you’re solo adventurin’ which no healer does,” he said.

  He led me to a back wall with six staves. We bypassed those for four types of robes, with two being for winter. Out of the two summer options, one was white and green for a city while the other was thick brown with black trim and a black belt. He yanked the forest version down, and held it to my body frame.

  “Perfect. It's four gold, though,” he said.

  “Three,” I replied, trying my best to blend in.

  “Aye, I guess since yer getting the bag too. That walking stick is just a stick ya know,” he said.

  “Uh… and these?” I asked, pointed to the staves.

  “Each staff is different. All they do is channel the spell. Use them to conserve mana. The one on the right is a 25% reduction at a hundred Z. The one on the left 3% at a single Z,” he said.

  I eyed my walking stick, and said, “Pass on the staff for now, but if I end up suddenly using lots of mana, I’ll come back for it.”