In the morning, the first thing I did was have a conversation with Rue. It was essential to make sure he wasn’t sharing anything he shouldn’t. Rue’s eyes focused on as he wagged his tail.
“Rue, buddy, what did you discuss with the innkeeper?” I asked.
“Yummy snakes and yummy smoked crabs,” Rue responded, his tail thumping against the floor.
“Did you just talk about food?”
“No. Rue told Horim about hockey,” he said, his ears perking up.
“Just those two things?”
“Yes!” Rue barked, his head nodding enthusiastically.
“Excellent, buddy. You can talk about those things. But please don’t ntion the dungeon cores we have.”
“Rue knows. Friend Lis say it’s a secret,” Rue assured , his eyes wide and earnest.
“Good. Also, don’t talk about the house, the boat, and all the other Magitech stuff we have.”
“Rue knows.” His ntal voice dropped to a whisper, as if the walls might be listening. “Mini boss Mahya say it’s a very secret secret,”
“What else did she tell you?” I asked, trying to cover all the bases.
“Not say about dungeon, not say about swamp, not say we Travelers,” Rue rattled off, sounding proud.
“Yes. Excellent, buddy. Those are the topics you shouldn’t discuss, especially that we are Travelers.” I paused for a mont, considering what else needed to be covered. “Also, don’t say we can turn invisible or fly.”
“Yes, boss. Rue promise,” he said with a firm nod.
“Well done, I trust you,” I said, scratching his ears, and got a face lick.
After the conversation with Rue, we headed downstairs for breakfast. The sll of fresh bread and roasted ats filled the air as we ate. Once we finished, I turned to Mr. Mossim, who was clearing so tables nearby.
“Mr. Mossim,” I called, catching his attention. “Where can I find the mayor?”
He wiped his hands on a cloth and pointed eastward. “Follow the main road until you see a large house with blue shutters. That’s the mayor’s place.”
I thanked him and made my way to the mayor’s house. When I arrived, a maid opened the door. She looked up and down and said, “Please wait here.” She disappeared inside, leaving standing on the doorstep.
A few minutes later, the mayor appeared. He was a fat, balding man dressed in colorful clothes and greeted with a shallow bow. “Esteed healer,” he said, straightening up.
“Mister mayor,” I replied with a nod.
“Please, co in,” he offered, stepping aside and gesturing for to enter.
I stepped inside, noticing the shiny wood floors and stylish decorations. The house carried the warm scent of baking bread, though the cloying perfu that clung to the mayor nearly overpowered it. He led to a sitting room and gestured for to take a seat.
As soon as we sat, I got straight to the point. “I’m the healer who treated the townspeople yesterday. Mrs. Britrice was supposed to give you a list of those I healed, but I brought my list as well. Here are the nas of the people I healed.”
He took the list from my hand, his eyes scanning the rows of nas. After a few monts, he looked up and said, “We will pay thirty silver coins for each severe case you treated at the convalescent house and twenty silver coins for those you treated at the inn.”
I nodded in agreent. “That works for .”
He counted the nas on the list and did so quick calculations. “There were twenty-nine people at the convalescent house. That cos to 8 gold coins and 70 silver coins. And thirty-six people at the inn, totaling seven gold and 20 silver coins. The final amount is 15 gold and ninety silver coins.”
He reached into his pouch and handed sixteen gold coins. “The extra ten silver coins express our gratitude for coming to the town’s aid.”
I took the coins and gave him a nod. “Thank you, Mayor.”
After a brief exchange of farewells, I left the mayor’s house and returned to the inn. Not bad for a few hours’ work.
When I returned to the inn, I approached Mr. Mossim as he was wiping down the bar. “Mr. Mossim,” I asked, “are you interested in buying anything for the inn?”
He paused, then shook his head. “That’s more my wife’s responsibility,” he replied. “Hold on, I’ll call her for you.” He stepped away and said, “Mary, could you co here for a mont?”
A few monts later, Mrs. Mossim appeared from the back, wiping her hands on her apron. “What can I do for you?”
I repeated my question to her. She considered it for a mont. “I’m interested in dinnerware,” she said, “but they need to be matching sets, not a mix of different dishes.”
I ntally sifted through my storage, and my gaze landed on the stacks of porcelain I had bought in England from a company that had gone bankrupt. “What exactly are you looking for?” I asked.
“Plates, soup bowls, and large serving plates and bowls.”
I removed three samples from my Storage and placed them on the bar. “Here are a few options,” I said, showing her each. The first was a white plate with a black geotric pattern, the second a smooth cream-colored plate with dots in various shades of brown, and the third a light blue plate with a dark blue leaf pattern.
Mrs. Mossim scrutinized each plate, her fingers tracing the patterns. “I like these,” she said, smiling. “But I need to test their durability.”
“Go ahead,” I encouraged, stepping back.
She picked up one plate and dropped it to the floor. The plate shattered into pieces, and her face fell. “It’s lovely,” she admitted, “but we need sothing more durable for the inn.”
I scratched my chin, thinking. After a mont, I rembered the rune book I had studied that covered runes for daily use. “I might have a solution for you,” I told her, “But I need to check my inventory first to ensure I have what you’re looking for. Also, I need to know exactly which pattern you want and how many pieces each.”
Mrs. Mossim considered montarily, then excused herself and went to consult with her husband. When she returned, she said, “We’d like the white pattern with the black design. We need a hundred dinner plates, a hundred soup bowls, and twenty large serving bowls and plates.”
“Got it,” I said, nodding. “I’ll check and let you know.” With that, I headed back to my room to review my inventory.
I pulled out the book of runes again in my room and flipped through the pages, skimming the description. The description said it was for clay dishes, but I thought that porcelain shouldn’t be that different.
I shrugged and tried it. Carefully, I engraved the rune onto a plate and charged it with mana. I even rembered to do it with my profile open to see how much mana it took. Five units—not bad. I let the plate drop from my hand onto the floor to test it. It landed with a solid thunk but remained intact.
So far, so good.
I threw it harder, the plate bouncing but still whole. Finally, I slamd the plate onto the floor with all my strength. It shattered into four pieces. “Hmm,” I mumbled, crouching down to inspect the fragnts. “Not completely immune, but not bad at all.”
I took out another plate, ready to engrave the next one, when a knock sounded at the door. I opened it to find Mr. Mossim standing there; looking concerned.
“Is everything alright?” he asked, peering past into the room. “I heard a loud noise, like sothing fell.”
“Everything’s fine, Mr. Mossim. I was testing the durability of these plates for your wife.”
He gave a strange look. It had been a long ti since I got one of those, but he didn’t push further. “Alright then,” he said with a nod. “I’m just checking.” He turned and headed back downstairs.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
For the next two days, I was on a mission, engraving and charging all the plates Mrs. Mossim asked for. During those two days, people occasionally ca to the inn for to heal them. So had not co on the first day, while others had fresh burns. I kept a list, and by the end of the two days, I had 17 more nas on the page.
During all this ti, Rue spent his days outside with the children, only coming inside three tis a day to get food. After I finished my project, I discovered that the sneaky dog had asked for a al from the innkeeper and then had the nerve to co up to our room, asking for another al from . When I found out, all I could do was laugh and shake my head. I had no words.
When I finally finished, I went downstairs and found Mr. Mossim.
“Could you call your wife, please?” I asked. “I’ve got sothing to show her.”
She arrived a few minutes later, her curiosity clear as she approached . “Did you find what you were looking for?”
“I did,” I replied, handing her one of the newly engraved plates. “I found the stock with the stronger plates. Go ahead, test it.”
She eyed skeptically, but took the plate. With a quick motion, she dropped it on the floor. This ti, the plate remained intact. Her eyes widened in surprise, and a huge smile spread across her face. “Now, this is what we need,” she said, sounding pleased.
She examined the plate I handed her, her fingers tracing the rune. “How much mana does it take to charge these runes?” she asked, looking up at .
“Five units each.”
She nodded and asked, “And how long does the charge last?”
Feeling embarrassed, I rubbed my neck. “I’m not sure,” I admitted.
Her expression tightened, and she frowned slightly. “You don’t know how long it lasts?”
I shook my head, not quite eting her eyes. “No, I don’t. When I bought the stock, the rchant told the mana cost but not the duration. I was still new at this, so I didn’t know to ask.”
She sighed, clearly not pleased with my response. “Well, durability is important, but so is knowing how long it lasts,” she said, her tone more curt. “Especially for sothing that will be used regularly in an inn.”
We moved to the bar, where Mr. Mossim joined us for the negotiation. After so back-and-forth, we settled on a price: Ten gold coins for the entire set. My Appraisal said it was worth almost double, but since I didn’t know how frequently they would need to hire a mage to recharge the runes, they used it to their advantage. Their skills left my rchant skills in the dust. But since he was Innkeeper Level 17, and she was Inn Steward Level 23, I didn’t feel too bad about it.
As I pocketed the coins, I couldn’t help but think:
Sixteen gold for a few hours of healing, and ten gold for two days of engraving runes. Healing is definitely more profitable.
Later that day, I went to check out the market that had sprung up in the town center. It was a “Breath” day, the day off they had once every ten days. Rue joined for the market, and I suspected it was to get treats.
The market was packed with people trying to get the best deals before soone else did. There were many strange slls in the air, like sweat, food, and so mystery sll that might’ve co from one of those strange food stands. Over the noise, vendors yelled as they sold their goods from handcarts, wooden carts, and rickety tables that could barely hold their goods.
The produce was again different. I already saw that on the island, but here it was more pronounced. On the island, they had many fruits that resembled pineapples, coconuts, and figs, so there was so thread of familiarity—here, nothing; it all looked weird.
They had root vegetables in strange colors and shapes. A young man stood behind his cart, selling bright orange vegetables that looked like misshapen pretzels. Intrigued, I approached him and picked one up, examining its odd shape. After a mont, I handed over a few coins, bought one, and began peeling it right there. Taking a bite, I found the texture dry and starchy, and the flavor almost nonexistent.
I looked up at the vendor. “What do you make with this?”
He smiled, eager to explain. “You can cook it in water and then mash it, or bake it in the oven with so sauce, or even fry it up with at.”
So, a sort of potato substitute.
Reaching into my storage, I pulled out a box. “I’ll take a full box,” I said, handing him the coins.
Soone else sold a big red vegetable like a tomato, but the vegetable had a tough exterior like a pumpkin, which the seller cleaved with an axe and scooped out the inside into bowls made of tough brown leaves.
I bought one bowl and took a cautious bite. Imdiately, my face contorted—it was sourer than a lemon! The sharpness hit like a punch to the tongue.
The seller noticed my reaction and burst out laughing.
“What do you make with it?” I asked, wincing. “It’s awfully sour!”
He chuckled, shaking his head. “When you bring it to a boil, the sourness goes away,” he explained. “It’s used as a base for sauces and stews.”
So, kind of like tomato.
At least the color matched. I bought all the ready bowls he had—I had a lot of experintation to do. Soone else sold sothing that I initially thought was bright yellow onions, judging by their shape, but then I saw sobody peel one and bite into it. I bought one as well and discovered that it had layers like an onion, but the taste reminded of a cucumber. When I asked the seller if they fry it, he looked at like an alien.
I am, buddy. I am.
There were leafy greens with thick, waxy leaves that looked almost too tough to eat, and so other herbs with unfamiliar leaves. I didn’t buy the big leaves, too tough, but bought so herbs to experint.
So sold Spiky fruits in shades of red and brown. So fruits had tough, scaly skins, and others had a rich color that made think of tastes I couldn’t quite place. Soone sliced open a tiny orange fruit and exposed pale at. This slled natural and sweet, making want to know what it would taste like.
I bought one of each and tasted everything. The scaly fruit was too sweet, but the rest was interesting. I bought so of each.
A woman nearby was selling smoked ats that looked remarkably similar to bacon and ham. As we passed by her booth, Rue panted, his eyes fixed on the display. “Rue want treat,” he pleaded, his tail wagging eagerly, and he actually gave puppy-dog eyes. It looked ridiculous; he was almost the size of a horse.
I bought him a big piece of at, and he swallowed it in three bites, barely tasting it.
The woman behind the booth chuckled. “How much does it cost you to feed him?” she asked, clearly amused.
I sighed. “A lot,” I replied, shaking my head.
She laughed again, nodding. “I can see that.”
As we talked, I noticed a cut running down her arm, already healing. Without thinking, I reached out and touched her hand, casting Healing Touch. Realizing what I’d done, I pulled back, suddenly feeling awkward for touching her without permission. But instead of being upset, she looked at with admiration, her eyes wide.
She bowed deeply. “Thank you, esteed healer.”
“You’re welco,” I replied, flustered.
I turned to leave, but she called after , “Wait.” She handed an enormous piece of at. “Thank you very much.”
I accepted the at with a nod. “Thank you.”
Rue, who had been watching the exchange intently, pleaded again. “Give Rue! Give Rue!”
I sighed deeply, resigned. “Fine.”
In no ti, this piece was also gone in a few bites.
There was also a booth selling dried herbs and spices. The slls of these ingredients mixed as I walked by, creating an almost too-strong cloud. I bought a small sampling of each and got out of there as fast as possible. I loved my Perception stat, but sotis it was too much.
We moved to the general goods area, and the first were the clothes and fabric sellers. So sold tunics and cloaks made of rough yarn in earthy colors. Others sold clothes that were much more colorful and matched what the people around were wearing. I felt so fabrics, and they felt like rough, durable cotton, but not as durable as jeans.
After the clothes were the weapons sellers. They sold swords with heavy, straight blades and knives with worn leather grips on the handles that looked more useful than pretty.
Kids ran back and forth between the booths. Their yells and laughter added to the noise as they played gas or begged vendors for sweets. Rue imdiately zeroed on the children and went to make friends.
Well, if he’s busy, he won’t beg for food.
I walked through stalls that sold household goods, leather backpacks and saddle bags, furniture, and toys. Finally, I reached the end of the stalls and took out my stall. I sold more porcelain dishes, eager to clear so space in my Storage, and by the end of the day, earned six gold.
Maybe engraving runes isn’t such a bad idea after all.
But the thought of constantly calculating value and profit was exhausting. I didn’t want to spend my ti managing investnts—I wanted to travel and see the worlds.
As the market was winding down, one trader approached , his eyes on my sales stand. “Are you willing to sell that stall?” he asked, catching off guard.
I blinked in surprise. “Sell the stall?” I echoed. The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind.
“Yeah,” he nodded. “I never saw anything like it and it looks very good. I like the roof for rainy days.”
I appraised my stall, shocked to discover it was worth 60 gold. “I didn’t expect that,” I muttered. Then, turning to the trader, I said, “I’ve got another stand I’m willing to sell. It’s just as good as this one.”
“How much?”
“Sixty gold.”
After so negotiation, we struck a deal for fifty-five. Before going to sleep that evening, I opened the Archive and wrote a ssage to Mahya and Al.
Tr. JR
“Clueless, Versailles, Prince”
If you find a good deal, buy more stalls.
You won’t believe it, but one is worth sixty gold.
In the morning, I noticed three unfamiliar faces in the inn, dressed in armor. When Mr. Mossim brought breakfast, I asked. “Who are those three?” Nodding towards the armored trio.
He glanced over and replied, “They’re adventurers.”
I looked at them occasionally while I ate, expecting rowdy behavior—shouting, drinking, the works—but they just sat quietly, eating their breakfast and chatting amongst themselves.
It wasn’t what I expected, which just goes to show that stories don’t always match reality.
As I was finishing up breakfast, Mr. Mossim approached with a thoughtful look. “You know,” he began, “you might want to talk to those adventurers. Offer your services as a healer when they go to clear the caves.”
I shook my head. “I’m a traveling rchant and healer, not the adventuring type. The dangers of the road are enough adventuring for .”
He nodded in agreent, a small smile on his face. “True enough. It’s much healthier and safer that way.”
The trio of adventurers made realize that my ti was running out. I needed to decide about the dungeon. I’d never fully cleared one alone before, but I’d handled a good sixty percent of the silver dungeon by myself with just my lightning, and I fried all the sharks in the second dungeon. Those experiences gave the confidence to tackle this one as well. Finally, I decided that Rue and I would enter the dungeon. If it seed manageable, we’d push forward. If it was too much, we’d retreat. From what Lis and Mahya had told , leaving the dungeon wouldn’t be a problem. The only problem was getting back in before it regenerated. I also knew that if I conquered the dungeon and took the core, I wouldn’t want anyone to know about it. So my leaving would need to be public and visible.
I approached Mr. Mossim, who was busy arranging so glasses behind the bar. “Mr. Mossim,” I began, catching his attention, “we’re leaving. Now that the adventurers have arrived, the town doesn’t really need a healer anymore. Besides, I won’t stay for ten days until the next market.”
“You know,” he said, turning to face , “you could stay a bit longer and sell to the adventurers. They might be interested in what you have.”
I shook my head with a smile. “I appreciate the suggestion, but I sell household goods, not weapons and armor.”
He nodded, understanding. “Fair enough. Safe travels, then.”
“Thank you, and please pass on my thanks to Mrs. Mossim as well,” I replied with a nod, before turning to leave.
I visited the mayor to collect paynt for the last batch of people I’d healed, and then Rue and I left the town, taking the sa visible route we’d arrived by.
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