I woke early the next morning, eager to push my skills, try something new, and hang out with Kete. If I was very lucky, one or two of his animal pals might join us. Deciding to put my early start to some productive use, once I was up and dressed, I nipped down to the workshop for a needle and thread. Pulling yesterday’s tunic from the hamper at the end of my bed, I confirmed the tread was a decent colour match. A splotch of crimson made it easy to find the small hole made by the glaive. It didn’t look like it would be too difficult a fix.
I was wrong. I was very wrong. Relearning to sew was a humbling experience. I wasn’t sure if I was bad at it before, but the many pricks on my chubby digits could attest I was now. My skills and memories kept pointing out that I was doing things wrong, but I had no idea what the right way was. I knew roughly how it should look when repaired, had the right tools and I wasn’t too worried if things weren’t perfect, yet the solution seemed to slip further and further away the harder I tried. Threading a needle has a knack to it, but anyone will eventually manage it. Learning that you need to double thread it and knot one end before you begin is best not done by trial and error. At least forgetting the shears wasn’t much of a problem, but it was still a mistake I didn’t intend to make again.
Eventually the hand stitch was completed, and even looked quite neat, or at least it would once the blood washed out. I shed more from the little needle than I had with the glaive, but I’d grown and learned and would remember a thimble next time. My early start to the day was well and truly used up, if anything I was running a little late. Not what I wanted when working closely with Kete for the first time. Jogging through the back corridors of the guild I returned the needle and thread to their proper places – giving the needle a quick clean first – and picked up some thick slabs of bread slathered with tart preserves from Eimer to eat on the go.
Racing past the packed storeroom, I emerged into the early morning sunlight. A weak but constant drizzle made me grateful for the wide awning overhead as I joined Kete and a few others chatting beside a pair of tables with a strongbox and ledgers.
“Sorry to keep you waiting.”
Kete turned and smiled, “Not at all Vaul, I’ve only just arrived myself. I was just hearing that we shouldn’t have any further issue with builders wandering into the storeroom.”
“Aye,” A tired looking man, wearing a blackened breastplate over a dark, long-sleeved robe rather than the lamellar of the other soldiers, confirmed wearily. “The headcraftsman is away but the foreman’s handlin’ it.” He yawned and his fatigue seemed to settle like a weight on his shoulders, making me feel guilty for giving the guy more work. “Well lads, as much as I’d like te stay and chat, I’m gonna knock off and get some shut eye.”
This prompted a few of the others to likewise depart.
One of the guards who remained looked a little awkward and when the group had cleared commented, “Don’t take it personal, they didn’t mean nutthin’ by it, especially the quartermaster. Ye just joined us at shift change and while normally he might chat a bit, he’s run ragged recently between making sure everyone’s payin’ a fair dungeon tax and getting the garrison here and at the keep ready for winter.”
I waved him off, “It’s all good, but I appreciate you lettin’ me know.” Turning to Kete, “So, what’s the plan?”
He rubbed his hands together then pointed to the palisade ahead, there was a small gatehouse with a pair of unlucky guards huddled atop, trying not to get soaked. The rain while light was constant, and the wind kept blowing it under the canopy above them. But to their credit, their focus stayed firmly within the palisade where the dungeon entrance resided.
“When a group comes out of the dungeon, the soldiers will process them and open the gate. After that they come to us. We are here to evaluate everything taken for the dungeon, both so we can offer to buy the loot from them, and so that our friends here can collect the appropriate dungeon tax.”
“Is this a good time to mention I have almost no idea what things are worth? I’ve been in the guild since I got my memories back and everything’s been provided, so I haven’t actually had to spend money.”
“That... complicates things. Not a much to shopping to speak of here outside of the guild unless you want some glassware, though there’ll be plenty more stalls and stores soon enough. We’ll get you a trip into town one of these days, but that doesn’t help much right now.”
“I can get some idea based on my skills of how interesting something is for lack of a better term, though I’m not sure how consistently that translates to real value. It considered miracle shoots really interesting, probably because of its properties, but I get the feeling they’re almost worthless.”
“Small change rather than worthless, but I see your point. Based on their properties alone they should be worth far more than they are, but supply is so high and the clans so incentivised to cut them down, it’s a bit of an odd case. Discuss what you can with me, and we’ll try to come to some sort of valuation together. Start with the more interesting stuff, just in case we encounter something that requires an imperial writ.”
“What sort of stuff is that? And what happens to it?”
“It’s sold to the guild, the local clan, or the empire depending on the item. It’s generally stuff that the average person or adventurer has no good reason to have, like poisons with an extremely delayed effect, or items that could mess with the emotions of a large group. They’d be better left to rot in the dungeon, but those who discover them are paid a token amount before they are confiscated. There are also a few luxury items that various emperors and empresses took a fancy to and decided it just had to be theirs whenever more was found, but they are rare and thankfully significantly better paid.”
Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.
“So, what’s the dungeon like? What sort of stuff should we expect to see?”
“Sand.” The soldiers chuckled at that, clearly knowing something I didn’t. “Sorry kid, but bags of sand are about the only thing we can be sure of, the dungeon has only been open to the public for about a month, so folks are still exploring. The first floor is a huge desert that seems to shift and change, making it almost impossible to map, though we’re starting to become familiar with a few features. There are some oases, ruins and a couple of rock formations we are starting to suspect are constant even if their position is not. The main exploration team managed to find the next floor through one of the ruins just before the clan opened the dungeon. Apparently it’s a giant swamp! Given they weren’t prepared for that they pulled out soon after, and nobody’s managed to find it again since. Best guess is the dungeon has relatively few but large floors. Not sure what the theme could be to have both a desert and a swamp but it’s gonna be an interesting one to be sure. I’m hopin’ it’ll end up bein’ a good training dungeon for different biomes, but that’s puttin’ the cart before the horse for now.”
“So why sand?”
“Huh? Oh yeah, the sand isn’t too special, but it reacts a bit differently to heat and the local glassmaker likes it. Even paid a premium to set up shop here early because it gives her an edge. There’s basically no reason for each party not to take in some sacks and fill them before they leave.” He gestured to a metal plate with a small dial off to the side I hadn’t noticed, “She pays based on weight, so it’s easy to value, but they have te spot check the bags now and then, make sure some idiot isn’t trying to pull a fast one. The guild is understanding about a lot of things, but tryin’ to cheat the emperor out of dungeon tax will get ye blacklisted, forced to face imperial justice alone. Yet, there’s always the odd fool trying to save a few imperials.”
“I take it imperials are the currency of the empire? Do we handle other currencies too?”
“We always do the valuation in imperials but if people want te pay with somethin’ else that’s fine as long as it’s equivalent value. Most o’ the time the tax is covered by money made from selling some of the loot to the guild, so they’re effectively payin’ with loot. We’ll occasionally deal with some metal currency, mostly silver, though why anyone would use Silverveil’s drops when there’s another option I don’t know.”
One of the guards grunted, “Pretty sure most are payin’ with them to be rid of the damn things.”
“Aye, that’d make sense.”
“Pardon my ignorance, but what exactly are drops and why are they so bad?”
“They’re Silverveil’s lowest unit of currency. Their money is a bit quirky. Actually it might just be easier to show you.” He turned to the guard beside the strongbox, “Would you mind opening it so he can see.”
“No problem,” he said pulling out a key, I couldn’t help but notice it’s many dimples, someone didn’t skimp on security. “Are you gonna tell him the story behind it too.”
“Might as well, though remember this is more folktale than history. As the story goes, when Silverveil was founded, however many generations ago, they managed to piss off a group of lycanthropes or shifters. Stories vary exactly which or why. Most think they displaced them as Silverveil began to expand into the forest of beasts. Whatever the case, Silverveil became plagued for years by raids. The shifters unable to stand and fight against their main forces but could fade into the forest and strike with impunity. Obviously, the Immortal council which rules Silverveil wasn’t too happy about this and attempted to exterminate them, eventually luring the shifters into a trap with themselves as the bait. However, while the council were formidable in their own right, they had underestimated the forces against them and their willingness to exchange their lives for the council’s. The council’s own trap cost the lives of two of its members, and while they shattered the opposing force, there was still the occasional raid from scattered individuals or pairs. Moreover, as Silverveil grew, tactics shifted and they infiltrated deeper. Blending in as regular citizens before transforming and slaying as many as they could before they died. How do you fight a force that could be anywhere or anyone? People willing to die just to do damage?”
Kete paused and I held my breath.
“The immortal council found an answer. Shifting and Lycanthropy both channel aspect to transform, which is disrupted by silver. Pure enough silver will even actively harm those who are transformed, burning through the form like acid. As you might guess, Silverveil has a dungeon with a lot of silver, though it’s unclear whether they chose the name after this story or before. They had, of course, been using silver previously in weapons for their warriors, but the council realised winning a large battle was no longer the issue. It was hindering infiltration and providing a means for their citizens to defend themselves. So, the council chose to make all their currency high purity silver. Once citizens started running around with pouches full of what would essentially be acidic buckshot, the attacks stopped pretty quickly. Silverveil had won, though the heart of the forest of beasts is deadly to this day. Unfortunately for us, since the silver is so pure, Silverveil’s lowest currency, drops, are teensy.”
I turned to see a tiny, slightly misshapen ball of silver being held up by tweezers for my perusal. Calling it a drop was generous; I certainly wouldn’t want to try to keep track of something that small and given the look of concentration on the guard’s face he was struggling to exert just enough pressure to neither deform nor drop it. Thanking him I waved to let him know he could return it.
A glance in the strongbox had my appraisal skill salivating, much of the contents regarded as low-level special in some way. it only took me a beat to realise it all probably had some effect to prevent forgeries. What really struck me though, was how little of it was metal. There was a section up one side with increasingly large beads, cubes and pyramids of silver until eventually reaching coins which I assumed was all Silverveil currency. There were some bronze, iron and silver coins of various sizes as well as a clear space for what I felt oddly certain would be gold on the opposite side. But most of the box was dominated by wooden coins I recognised as carved from miracle shoots, with the hole in the centre slotted into rods to organise them into neat stacks. Metal rings held strips of leather that had initially what looked like a seal pressed into them and on the larger, more square pieces increasingly complicated patterns embossed. Each had a hole punched in the leather, presumably to allow them to be carried on metal rings, though the fancier ones had what I took to be brass around the edge of the hole to help protect it. Grommets, or maybe eyelets?
The strongbox thunked closed, and I realised I’d been staring. Somehow, I’d missed a clamour past the palisade.
Kete just gave me a grin, “We’ll fill you in on the rest later, or Argat will as he reminds you about qi and recall. Sounds like it’s not too big a group to start. Ready to appraise some loot?”