Coming from the red portal exit, Luke focused his eyesight. After a short blurry period, the visual elements fell in place.
Faint chatter from servants and attendants interfered with otherwise tranquil silence. Appreciating the fine wooden structures, artisan furniture, and yellow-black flooring, the Reaver glanced over the finer details of his new home.
After noticing the decor over stone or tile floor that enhanced the main hall, he located the reception desk. Yards away from the spacious reception was the black crystal arch, now actively maintaining a yellow barrier.
Hunters occasionally peeked into the interior from behind the ward but could do no more. Unnoticed in his first walk-through with Iona, enchanted glass acted as an overhead light, emanating gentle white light. The ceiling was black metal, to be expected, considering the building’s overall outside construction.
Luke made a beeline for the receptionist, a younger human woman with brown hair and eyes and a yellow-black-red attire that managed to appear tasteful. Before Luke could greet the woman and ask for Iona’s whereabouts, Xera spoke up.
“Hey there, lady, I’m Xera; what’s your name? You’re almost as pretty as the brown-haired elf woman.” Xera said, excited.
Surprised, the woman looked around before peeking over the desk and noticing Xera, who suddenly acted mute. She doubted her analysis, so instead, she bore her eyes into Luke’s. “Sir, was that you, perhaps? I’m Persephone. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve taken note of you walking with Defier Iona. I wish you luck in your attempt to be one of her many suitors.” Luke picked up a slight annoyance in her tone.
Relative beauty can be a pretty sensitive topic, after all.
She sat back down, wary yet retaining the trained professionalism befitting her station. Xera snickered at Luke’s expense, intentionally staying silent afterward, finding more amusement in the situation that way.
Luke scratched his neck, caught unawares Xera would pull a fast one on him. As much as he tried to be annoyed at Xera, he found it too absurd a misunderstanding to be more than embarrassed. Part of him wanted to act high and mighty, a sort of How dare you accuse me, a Defier, of such a base position, you’re fired lady!
But fortunately for the receptionist, Luke had an entirely different personality. Like many, his thoughts said one thing while his mouth conveyed another.
With a more masculine voice than Xera’s, he spoke, “No, Persephone, that wasn’t me; that was my sword. Don’t mind her antics.” The receptionist began to flush in embarrassment, but Luke continued regardless, “And as much as Iona is a beautiful woman, I was following her to show me around this branch rather than get in her pants.”
“It’s sword wand!” Xera corrected belatedly.
“Hush Xera, a sword wand is still a sword, and it’s still a wand. Just because you can speak more freely now doesn’t mean you can needlessly interrupt. Do I need to put you in sword-wand timeout?” Luke raised an eyebrow at Xera.
Xera, terrified of losing her newly acquired freedom, clammed up for the moment. Luke sensed her radiate intense fear. Taken aback by how effective the measure was, Luke felt terrible. Xera clearly had separation anxiety.
Internally face palming, Luke thought, Right, we had a conversation recently about her fragile state, and she shut down. I’m not socially adept enough to handle this side of Xera properly. Iona mentioned another weapon like her, although the details are fuzzy; maybe that would help. I’ll need to ask Iona about it.
Leaving Xera be, Luke leaned over the desk. He said, “You see, I’m the new Defier the servants over there are gossiping about,” Luke pointed to a handful of maids trading hushed whispers about him in the corner, a useless measure against his upgraded senses. “Hardly know this place. I’ve yet to visit the hunter’s branch. You’re not entirely wrong; however, I am looking for Iona.”
Over-correcting for her mistake, Persephone jumped out of her chair and repeatedly bowed, “I’m terribly sorry, Defier Luke, this was my inexcusable mistake. I beg your pardon.”
Waving his hand, Luke said, “Forget about it, not your fault I haven’t taught Xera social nuance. Not that I’m particularly good at it either. Anyway, Iona is to guide me around Sylen. Do you happen to know where she is?”
Luke heard a few steps clack against the flooring; by the particular sound, it resembled someone dropping down from a great height.
“I’m right here, my new ‘suitor.’” Iona called out behind him, Lulu perched on her shoulder, but Timber was nowhere to be found. She gestured to Lulu with a finger, “Lulu wanted to ask if Sooty is free to be her playmate today.”
Luke sidestepped the new moniker, “How do I never sense when you are nearby? Where’s Timber?” He looked over to Sooty, who seemed excited, tapping on each talon, “Sooty is more than willing.” He nodded to his crow, “Go do your thing pal.”
The two birds excitedly flew up and away; Lulu slowed down for Sooty to keep up; in a flash, Luke could no longer see them. Trusting in Reaver’s link and whatever ability Iona had to connect with Lulu, Luke put the protective instinct aside.
“If our date is enjoyable enough, I’ll tell you the answer to both those questions. Now, you must’ve chosen a profession by now. Which did you go with?” Iona asked, rocking back and forth on her feet.
Does she have to call it that? Why not tell me right away?
Ignoring his inner thoughts, Luke said, “I went with Runic Enchanter, felt like it’d benefit my technique the most. Although I’m not too pleased to be around more runes.”
Placing a hand in front of her mouth, Iona laughed and then spun toward the black crystal arch, “I don’t often have a free day like this; let’s go; anything you need to do while out and about?”
While the two worked toward the exit, Luke said, “I’ll need to sign out the room I rented at the Jolly Cat Inn. Sell some stuff, although Sooty has all the meat, so I may wait on her. Need to visit Celen if we have time. What about you?”
Putting a finger to her cheek while looking up in thought, Iona said, “Musai said I’m to watch over you for today, to help you get settled in, but as for my errands…I have none I want to do.” Scanning Luke’s gear, “I can introduce you to the spot with the best crafters I know for tier one armor. Are you interested?”
Can I even wear that sort of thing? I haven’t leveled at all. At least the cap has been raised higher.
Stepping out the Defier’s guild onto the white-stone pathway paved over the grass out front, Luke responded, “Absolutely interested.” Remembering an item he picked up from Onelius, he added, “I’ve got materials I want fitted into a new piece, says a crafter under tier one would be delighted to use them.”
“Whenever you’re ready, I’ll take you to the enclave they stay at near the Defier’s guild,” Iona reassured.
Luke passed by the inner walls that enclosed the Defier’s guild. The building was taller, but it streamlined people to its main entrance. Looking both ways, Luke saw various civilians enjoying their day on the street. Restaurants were around, but moreover, plenty of shops relevant to combat classes and crafters were omnipresent. Blacksmiths, alchemists, enchanters, material depots, leather workers, tailors, the list went on.
“Is this where you meant?” Luke asked Iona, seeing plenty of crafters in these stores.
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“Not quite, but they’re nearby, want to get it over with now?” Iona said.
“May as well if we’re close.”
“Follow my lead. This Beast Master will show you sides of the city you had no clue about.”
The Reaver accompanied Iona. She turned into an alleyway one block away from the Defier’s guild. Walking further, she came before a rough wooden wall. A door made of an unidentified blue metal was attached to it.
Knocking on the door, an eye slide snapped open, and a pair of feline eyes looked at her.
“Invited or member?” A voice said, sounding similar to a male tora’s.
“Kelic, you stickler, acting like you have no idea who I am. How many times do I have to say I’m a member for you to stop asking me?” Iona fussed.
“Rules are rules, Defier.” The eyes shifted to Luke, “Bringing him in with you? That’ll make your monthly quota exhausted.”
“No need to remind me. He’s coming in with me.”
“Very well, bring the human in.”
Luke heard clicks, clangs, bangs, and chains moving for an exaggerated amount of time. After what seemed like over twenty locks were shifted open, the blue metal door swung out.
Iona stepped in, and Luke followed after her. The door shut with a loud bang, as if the tora man slammed it shut. Luke inspected the watchman; he kept groomed gray fur with black-blue streaks and wore two daggers on each side with orange-black leather bouncer equipment.
The tora glared at Luke, but the Reaver noted the bouncer didn’t dare to attempt the same intimidation tactic with Iona.
Makes sense, he’s stuck at tier 1 based on the aura fluctuations coming off him. You’d think a place for business would have a friendlier door guy.
Iona scoffed, “Ignore Kelic. He’s working on his grouchy cat impression. All he’s good for is keeping away the kiddies and everyday thugs. Come, this dump has the best armor workers for your level range. You’ll go somewhere more upscale once you get hands on tier 2 materials.”
The bouncer’s ears pinned back but didn’t say a word. He kicked the dirt road and, with harrumph, returned to watching the door, sitting down in a simple wooden chair.
“Lead on then,” Luke said.
In the enclave, Luke witnessed four shops in a cul-de-sac. Reading the signs, they each specialized in an armor type, one for cloth, another for leather, the third for mail, and the final building for plate armor.
Luke hardly saw himself wearing plated gear, but the other three were fair game. However, he was here to use Onelius’s hide and horns, and he doubted the hide could be utilized for anything other than leatherworking.
Double-checking the materials he set aside to commission some armor, he first went into the leather working store. Inside was a plain wooden floor, various leather armor pieces were displayed, two leather workers crafted in the back, and one person was at the front desk, a well-groomed tora man with orange and red fur. Dank light sputtered from the flat plaster ceiling.
Iona went off to the storefront that specialized in mail armor. The Reaver hadn’t the faintest idea of what she’d need from crafters of this level, but that wasn’t his business. Eager to offload some items or get a new one made, he greeted the tora at the front desk while gazing at the displayed apparel.
“You’ve got some excellent pieces on display,” Luke pointed to the two leather workers in the back room, “did they make them all?”
The tora put his hands over each other and rested his head on them, his arms using the desk as support, “Lester and Kelthula? Everything you see here is a product of their handiwork or mine; does anything catch your interest?”
Luke put a finger and thumb under his chin while looking up to the right corner of his eye, “While some of the pieces are attention-grabbing, I was hoping to sell off some of these materials. Do you mind taking a look?”
Putting on a business smile, the tora said, “As a friendly reminder, we do not take any materials or drops below item level ten, either in required level to wear it or in material quality.”
There goes any plan of selling off the Crimson Hood, Ghastly Gloves, and Scarlet Tunic then, maybe the Fasa House will take them off my hands? At least the hides should meet their standards.
Nodding slowly, Luke said, “Do you have a table for me to unload everything? I’ve got a large haul of hides.”
At the mention of hides, the tora eye’s lit up for a split second, but hid it after, “A large haul? One moment, please.”
Going under the desk, the tora hauled out a folded table with a hinge in the middle. Treading out to the more spacious front, the worker laid it out for Luke’s use.
“Thanks, I’ll bring it all out now if that works for you.”
“Go on ahead, sir.”
Keeping back those aforementioned equipment pieces, Luke took out the two common items dropped in his first round at Orlan’s ice side, Saber’s Shirt and the Snow Felt Hood. He also took out all Chimera pelts, fangs, snow-saber pelts, and snow-wolf items. After a momentary hesitation, he placed Onelius’s Hide and Horns in a separate spot.
“My apologies, sir; we do not accept the common quality armor items.”
Luke swiped back the Saber’s Shirt and the Snow Felt Hood.
Demurely inspecting the new materials and two plain items, the tiger man kept his composure, that is, until Luke placed Onelius’s drop on the table. The item radiated a faint dark gold glow. Gulping, the tora opened his mouth, his eyes burning in intensity at the scarcely available loot.
Taking a turn in attitude, the tora became agitated, “Where did you get this item? Do you comprehend what an opportunity that hide is? All the top leather workers and tailors who have yet to reach tier 1 would kiss the ground you walk on if it meant they could attempt a crafting feat with it.”
“I know what that item is. I picked it off the ground after I killed Onelius myself.” Luke said, subtly dropping he was not a man worth trying to take this item from.
Any ulterior motive in the tora’s heart vanished after that. Shivering, he crashed to the floor and gripped Luke’s ankle with both hands, “I beg of you! I’ll do anything to be able to make an item with this. I’ve been stuck as a level twenty-five leather worker for over five years. My family could…no, it’s unfair to mention.”
Shaking his leg, Luke tried to get the tora off him, muttering, ‘Get off me,’ but the tiger-man was persistent, holding on while begging the entire time.
“Please! This could be an opportunity for my family. I swear on the World Spirit, you won’t regret giving me this chance to use the item!” The desperate man let go, clapping his two hands together, and begged with his head against the floor.
Stopping his movement, Luke thought. The item description wasn’t kidding; crafters do go crazy for anything capable of a crafting feat.
Drawn by the commotion, one of the two leather workers in the back stormed up front, “Dejen, what in the world are you doing with the cus..to..mer…” Her eyes slowly drew to Onelius’s hide and horns.
As if bobbing her head in understanding, the old elf woman said, “If I were in your shoes, I’d act the same way. Get off the poor man, regardless. He is a customer, not your problem solver.”
Dejen did not listen and smacked his head against the floor once more; he became more respectful, “Master hunter, I will dedicate my life to you if you give me this chance. Any request you make in the future for work orders, and I shall make it to the best of my ability for you. Please, if I can reach the next tier, I’ll finally make enough to pay for the treatment!”
Smacking her lips, the old elf tailor shook her head from side to side but did not comment.
“We can talk about it after I sell everything. I’ll assume to craft a piece, the other hides may help. Use what you must, but the rest is to go. I’m too strapped for cash to hold on to them.” Luke stated.
Dejen stayed rooted to the floor. He continually shivered, and his claws dug into the wood beneath him; Luke could see tears dropping.
“You stubborn cat, do your job first and negotiate with this young man properly after. If I didn’t take pity on you for your family’s circumstance, I’d fire you on the spot!” She turned to Luke, “Master hunter, please forgive my employee for this farce. His young daughter is undergoing medical treatment for an illness that he’s going into severe debt to afford. He received notice from the loan officers last week that they’d stop lending to him. I’d pay him more, but…” the woman sighed in defeat.
Luke took his time before responding; he remembered the cost of potions and bandages. He imagined direct treatments, magical or not, would be prohibitively expensive for the majority of people. In the depths of his mind, he additionally recalled Yumna hinted the bulk of non-combat citizens struggled to make ends meet.
I’ve already started to become out of touch. Luke worriedly thought.
Exhaling, the Reaver patted the Dejen on the back and forcibly lifted the man’s head up to meet the tora’s eyes. The yellow sclera and circular black iris stared back voraciously.
They were full of hunger for a better life, for a chance. Desperate eyes belonging to a man hunting to find a way out for his daughter.
Luke could respect eyes like those. He’d wear the same ones for his dad’s sake. He pointed to his knee.
“Promise me you can produce an item that makes the leg piece I’m currently wearing look like trash, and I’ll entrust Onelius’s hide and horns to you.”
Releasing a tiger’s roar, Dejen said, “I swear it to you, master hunter. Leave the rest to me. By tomorrow morning, I’ll have a pair of legs that will never fail you in your battles.”
“I’ll look forward to it.” Shifting attention to the old elf woman, Luke said, “I’ll leave all these materials with you, use what you need for the crafting job, and sell the rest to this store as long as the rate is fair. These may give an extra edge.”
The Reaver took out the Cinder web pieces, Cinder sacs, as well as Asani’s poison sac, and gently placed them on the holding table. The old elf leather worker softened her eyes and sagely nodded.
Luke turned around, stopping at the threshold out of the store; smiling, he said, “I’m not a master hunter, by the way, Dejen, I’m Defier Luke. Your little girl is lucky to have you as a father.”
Defier Luke stepped out the leather worker store, planning to avoid any other dramatic events while offloading his loot for sale.
After Luke left, the elf woman brought Dejen off the floor, “I’ll go visit your family and let them know you’ll be away from home tonight. Grasp this chance, Dejen; your daughter is running out of time.”
The elf woman returned to the back, preparing to close the store and give her employee a quiet place to create.
Sylen’s eastern quadrant heard a ferocious bestial roar that day.