The library. I spent much of my time there, last night. Perhaps too much time, as I managed only three hours of sleep before the harsh rays of dawn streamed through the tower's window. To my surprise, I found myself a bit groggy and craving the vices of my past life. I wanted to smoke. Among other... degenerative things. And more exciting things, like guiding my vassals to Grandpa Lich's office.
Inside, the hulking man was standing by the window, looking beyond the terrace to where a massive, scaled, and somewhat zombified creature sat undulating in midair as if to pump the sweet smells of carrion into the office. My eyes traced the curvature of its snaking body around and around the tower as we stepped on. Yet no matter how much I looked, I found no legs or horns or anything other than scales and ribs. So I brought my eyes down to Grandpa Lich's amiable smile to ask. “What is this thing?”
“A sky serpent.” Came his blunt reply. Mine was silence, for I continued my search for arms, legs, or a head until my vassals boarded their oversized saddlebags behind us; wherein a sudden acceleration slammed my stomach, intestines, and other organs against my spine. Both the tower and the lake were gone within the span of a heartbeat. Reduced to a black speck and a slightly larger piece of glitter shimmering atop the whiteboard of Odissi.
“So.” I gasped, turning back to Grandpa Lich through the gray wash of clouds. “Where did you get this… sky serpent?”
“From here.” He replied. “Before this land was ever called Deapou or Odissi.”
“Interesting.” I scratched my chin, peering over the ribs to peer through the pockets to the vast landscape skating by below. “I’ve always been interested in your story.” I turned back to him. “Where you came from. How you became a Magus.”
“My story, huh?” He sighed, scratching his own beard for a few moments. A sort of glaze spread over his eyes as he too stared at the distant horizon.
“Well.” He eventually heaved out a deep breath, his eyes still locked ahead. “I was born in the year one thousand-two. On an island, off the coast of Phaegrath. Jamettus Deapou was born on the mainland around a year after. Like everyone else, we were raised in perpetual conflict. Men fought men just as much as they did monsters in those days. It was through such actions that we met. And from that day forth, we continued fighting side-by-side for centuries. We both dreamed of better days, you see. So we danced between the gates to find our answer. Betrarth. The Inner Reaches. Beyond the White Wall. We've been everywhere but Youtera. And still, no answer.
“That lasted until the twelve-thirties.” He flicked his gaze to me. “When a sudden and intense wave of pure mana appeared. Jamettus and I traced the energy to the epicenter. To here. This snow-capped plateau of an island.” He dramatically paused to spread his arms all around us. “On this untamed continent, we found strange creatures; previously unseen by my generation and heard of only in tales. They were many, but the most important of them were the elves; your kind. Roaming the lands as if they were conquerors. They came to us like generals. Scholars. Architects. They organized us. Educated us in the ways of magic. It was they who taught us to build Core Annexes. It was through their guidance that Jamettus and I were able to create this Empire, for it was they who started this era of peace.” He humbly declared.
“And my mother was among them?” I assumed.
Grandpa Lich quickly shook his head. “She came much later. Only after Emeric was twice your age, did Eved seek him out. Though, it isn’t my place to tell.” He dismissively shrugged.
‘Fair enough.’ I mentally shrugged in turn. “I assume you went to the academy then? In the year... ten-seventeen; if my math is correct.”
“Ah, yes.” He shot an amused look at me before shifting his gaze back just as quickly. “I graduated from the academy at the top of my class, as I am sure you will. Unlike me, though, you won't be going alone. Jamettus attended the academy in my wake and graduated at the top of his class as well. We both began our careers as Guild Masters and left our mark across the realms. All know of the Undying Necro King and the Molten Iron Magus!” He bellowed across the skies.
“And what about the other Magus?” I asked. “James Epeth?”
“Ugh.” He groaned out the pride and nostalgia in ways that left his posture slouched and his eyes filled with something more… bitter. “We met the Barrier Brat just before we came here to meet the elves. We were at war with another guild. Well, he was. Jamettus and I were just having fun, hah! Regardless, after we found the elves, the elves found the barrier brat. From was from a well-established empire of hereditary barrier mystics. Thus James Epeth was always pretentious and entitled. Meeting the elves only exacerbated such traits tenfold. They increased his power and helped him seal Ulai behind an arcane barrier that lasts to this day. Because of that, he became a Magus like Jamettus and I.
“While we were busy creating our kingdoms in the years after, he returned to the throne that was his birthright in Epethia. An expansive land. But with that vast real estate came a lack of control in the furthest reaches. Eventually, there came a time when he needed our aid to make his lands as prosperous as ours.” Grandpa smugly shrugged. “But he had certain… beliefs Jamettus and I disagreed with. That led to the slander of both our names. Propaganda that bred hate and resentment in the Epethian citizenry as the generations passed. From what I understand, they believe us to be hoarders of wealth. Unwilling to share with anyone outside of our own nation. Though if anyone is to be hoarding, it’s the Epethian monarchy.” He chuckled, shaking his head.
‘How petty.’ I thought. Then fought against the temptation to ask what those values were, if only for the sake of my fragile little ears. Instead, I scanned the expansive horizons around me. A mostly white, speckled sheet of land surrounded by leagues of midnight-blue water. Beyond it was the slim, crescent landmass that had been my entire world thus far. A dewdrop on the inner walls of a well placed on the sole isle of a water world. Deap Ridge. Even further beyond and to the east, however, was the land in question. A wrinkled landmass of greens and browns and beiges that seemed to stretch on to eternity. Yet bleeding in the morning sky above it was a faint tint of green coming from the alleged barrier. Like an aurora was shining so brightly and from so far away, its radiance could compete with that of the sun. And yet, at our left, rising infinitely higher than the endless field of clouds, was a wall of white. The White Wall. A veritable blot on the northern sky spanning the entirety of the distant horizon. Even from here, above the highest of clouds, I struggled to see both the base and the summit; for looking at the former was more akin to trying to push through an interdictive white fog while the gazing at latter felt like looking at the magnificence of Saturn from the surface of Mimas. Such was the magnificence of the Mortal Plane’s scale.
With my Grandfather’s story finished, I got in a bit more sightseeing before sneaking in some meditation; and awoke to a sudden sense of harsh vertigo roughly three and a half hours later. Looking forward, I finally saw the desiccated snout of the sky serpent slowing as it pitched down to the iron cupcake overlooking the southern coast. Minutes later and were dismounted on the city outskirts, following Grandpa Lich to the woodline of the blackwood forests on the northwestern border. Specifically, to a particularly thick tree growing over another one of those volcanic slabs with my family crest on it. Though, unlike or perhaps just like the one at home, the stone turned into a descending staircase of solid shade after Grandpa Lich tapped his belt buckle to it.
They wound up being quite long, those stairs. All to lead to a rather unimpressive subway station illuminated in bioluminescent moss or something of its equivalent. While walking, Grandpa Lich explained this was how the majority of goods were transported across the empire. The tunnels led to a loading and off-loading bay that I was sure sat beneath the northernmost train station in Odissi proper. And while we were told of a similar bay on the southern end near the coast, our destination was the vast, underground commercial hub sitting between them.
With it being located directly beneath the Odissian market, I had to wonder if the place was even a secret at all. Sure, no one spoke of it; as far as I knew, at least. But it wasn’t as if one needed a password or extensive directions to get here, as there were many staircases and lifts connecting the ‘black’ market to the proper one above. All one had to do was enter the underground and follow the sparse stream of people moving into the curtained complex, et voila.
“Buy whatever enchantments or potions you want.” Grandpa released us with a wave of the hand before turning into the shadows. “No weapons, no armor. That comes later.”
Entering the place reminded me of the old subway stations that’d been repurposed after the cities had been abandoned on Earth. Liberated from the harsh temperatures above, the brick walls were lined with paintings, sconces, and tapestries that cast a decrepit and homely feeling onto the many stalls and booths lining the carpeted floors below. Passersby from all walks of life shuffled along, if not to shop then to catch some respite from the gelid temperatures above. Like me, their eyes danced over the wide range of items found within. There were, of course, the obvious things; clothes, weapons, tools, and enchantments. Though the more peculiar wares involved meat advertised to have been cut from various monsters and other monster parts; as well as potions, tomes, and grimoires all arranged like departments in a supermarket; allowing for dozens upon dozens of shop fronts, booths, stalls, and stands to border the comfortably wide aisles. Relatively empty, though they were.
That said, I’d much rather browse an unoccupied market than walk through a crowd of kneeling people.
I decided to make a loop around the place in a counterclockwise motion and thus waddled into the first stall I saw. An open bookstore with six shelves hexagonally arranged around a desk of the same shape at the center. Curious, I picked up an indiscriminate book to study the cover. Like the magic it was advertised to hold, the cover had a rough, powdery texture that left an ashen residue on my fingers as I turned it over in my hands to study the spine. Inside, the cover page had the title of the assumed late owner. The White Hunter, a captain with smoke magic from an age I knew not; for an intricate lock and chain wrapped around the rest of the pages and back cover, locking its secrets away from my eyes.
‘Interesting.’ I returned the grimoire to its place and continued scanning the wares for any hints of shadow, death, ice, paper, or lightning magic. Unsurprisingly though, I found grimoires for only ice and lightning. However, before I could begin inspecting further, the merchant kindly told me not to unravel the tomes. I simply nodded in acknowledgment and waddled the maze of departments for a bit to tell Toril and Jonet about the tomes and left the matter in their hands. Then, moved on to the next section I was most interested in. Enchantments.
Through my perusing, I was able to gain an understanding of the types of general enchantments available for use. While they only had a few available types from an affinity standpoint, each enchantment; whether it be centered around heat or cold, or shadow, had a variety of options from which to choose. Or rather, conditions. When choosing a water pump, for example, one had to consider if they wanted the pump to run continuously or on demand. On top of that, the flow rate and if applicable, the temperature had to be determined. And even then, they had to be considered for whatever infrastructure they were to be a part of.
In the end, I purchased one standard-capacity water pump of each type and a continuous high-capacity pump for five and ten silver coins respectively; four culinary and two industrial heating elements for eight silver and two gold coins respectively; and my most expensive purchase as of yet, six heavily enchanted rucksacks for twelve-hundred gold coins a piece. Though I still had millions of gold coins left in my Pocket, seeing such a drop in my reserves implored me to be a little more frugal with my spending from here on out.
I still had mana wells to buy, after all. Besides, aside from the basics, I didn’t see any enchantments that fancied my interest. There were many that granted resistances for things like heat, cold, or poison; some increased mana sensitivity while others advertised to provide buffs to certain types of magic. But nothing that did anything like increase the power or capacity of one's mana well.
Following that, I moved on to the potions. Wherein I found Jaimess apparently eying a steel-colored brew like it was his lover; or like he had a brilliant idea. He was paying for the item and had nearly walked off by the time I arrived. He seemed eager to continue exploring, so I quickly gave him his rucksack and watched him store his new potion inside before bowing his thanks and trotting off further down the aisle. Leaving me in a relatively quiet atmosphere in which to peruse the selection. Retracing his steps to the shelves, I saw a single Stone Skin Potion missing from the stock. For what reason he needed it was my biggest guess. And I didn’t particularly care to hypothesize as I moved on to browse the rows of brews. His interests were his interests. As his leader, it was my job to foster them. Not hinder them.
Like the enchantments, there were potions that gave buffs or resistances to certain types of damage or magic. On top of that were the common, greater, superior, and supreme healing potions I learned theories of in Urda’s class. Though, with my variations of Leech Hand, I didn’t feel the particular need to procure any. It wasn't as if I had the means to analyze them, after all. The last category of potions seemed to be a more miscellaneous or versatile selection, though. In there were brews that allowed people to see in the dark or in the infrared, breathe underwater, or even change another part of their physiology for a certain amount of time. The potions I was far more interested in and the ones not found in Urda’s syllabus. While it was fascinating to imagine the effects of the many potions available, I was much more interested in learning how to brew the concoctions myself. Despite how powerful I was and would later become, I was fully aware of the fact that there would be some things I'd never be able to do and that there would always be someone or something that was better than me at something. My hope was that enchantments and potions would bridge that gap, or at least shorten it. That they’d cover any weakness me and my followers had so we could survive whatever challenges Telin had in store for me.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
Operating under the rationalization that I’d either spend too much money or spoil the surprise of learning of a particularly interesting beast, I decided to skip the monster parts section and returned to the curtained entrance of the complex. Looking around, I saw my three vassals huddled around each other; completely ignorant of the wraith-like form of my Great Grandfather looming behind them.
Without a word, I distributed the bags to the other two before throwing a nod of approval to my hidden forefather, then followed him through an innocuous corridor placed adjacent to the underground market. We traveled the entirety of its length; hundreds of meters, before he appeared in his physical form. Just as a massive troll of a man with ghastly, black-ashen skin snapped his eyes to us and emitted a deep growl that jostled the air itself. Slowly; probably at a normal pace from his perspective, the... whatever it was, pulled himself from his recline on the wall and seemed to crawl forth. Crossing the notable distance between us in an instant and filling it with the prostrating form of his massive body.
“My King!” The voice bellowed to the core of my bones, punctuating the powerful gust generated by his simple movements.
“Talos.” Grandpa Lich gave a greeting nod to the hulking figure peering above its hands. Then gestured to me. “This is my Great-Grandson, Amun.”
The... giant, I supposed- Talos shifted his bow to me at the first syllable of my name. “Son of Emeric, Blessed by the Shade. Amun, another sovereign of death; touched by the abyss.” He bowed to me. “I am Talos. Death Giant. Guardian of the Royal Armory.”
I tried not to groan from the sheer intensity of his booming voice as I responded to his surprisingly well-mannered greeting. “Pleasure to meet you, Talos.”
In silent thanks, Talos knocked his head against the ground. The simple act nearly knocked me off my feet both then and now, as he rose from the ground to erect himself to his full ten meters. The cavern we were in was by no means small; much like everything else on the Mortal Plane, I’ve come to learn. Still, though, the death giant had to duck his head just to stand against the wall. And even then, the stalactites above scraped against his scalp and neck while his head tracked us across the room. The great set of doors at the far end; huge when compared to myself, hardly rose above Talos’ ankle. Craning my neck above, I saw only a school of pale-blue spheres of reflecting off the gray-on-gray, wrinkled, fanged, pig-like face surrounding his deep-set eyes.
“Kneel for the Royal House of Cole!”
The order rang out as soon as I crossed the threshold behind Grandpa Lich. Snapping my eyes down from Talos, I saw a scaled-down version of the market from earlier, occupied by a single individual rising to the call of her own demand.
“We have everything prepared for His Imperial Highness.” She skipped forth. She was a tall and slender woman with pasty skin and brown, heavily greased hair that’d been combed straight back over her head; all but showcasing a prominent widow’s peak. “Spears, daggers, axes, maces, needles, and armor for His Grace and his vassals.” She gave a presentational bow towards the many display cases bordering the walls before snapping upright to approach me with beaming eyes and an introductory bow. “And you are undoubtedly His Grace in the flesh. I am Manilia Cumana, the royal armorer.” She bowed again before rising to her full height. “I’ve been long awaiting this day. Today! When His Imperial Majesty would bring His Grace, Amun of Odissi here to be fitted for his royal gear. His Imperial Majesty has said much of you, Your Grace. Please.” She bowed again. “Allow me to give you all that you will need to succeed in your march across the realms.”
“Very well. I am in your care, Manilia.” I held my arm out to my side, signaling her to begin.
Manilia immediately spurred forward, guiding us to the cases. “Since this land was founded, the finest crafters and artificers in the Empire have been enthralled in an endless competition to make the finest weapons and enchantments for the noble and royal families of Deapou and Odissi. Thus it was deemed necessary for this centralized location to be established. An armory where merchants could deposit their greatest creations and have them appraised and closely inspected by other merchants. And myself.” She paused to give a prideful wink. “Here, you’ll find only the finest creations the Empire has to offer!” She proudly threw her hands towards dozens upon dozens of weapons neatly arranged behind the glass cases.
Me and my vassals were veritably astounded as our eyes fed on the displays. While most of them were filled with the weapons we favored, the cases straddling the center were filled with nearly every type of weapon one could think of- war hammers; every type of axe imaginable; staffs; flails; scythes; swords; clubs, chains, and sickles. Even slings; bows and crossbows were available for selection. Any and every tool used to end the life of another was on display here in the armory. Made in every model and style one could possibly want or need.
“For Lady Jonet Fischer; His Grace’s eyes and ears, I recommend this set of wear.” Manilia brought us to a wall of gear dedicated entirely to Jonet and gestured to what appeared to be a plain, black under-suit draped over a mannequin. “Light. Inconspicuous. Reinforced and enchanted to defend against both physical and magical attacks. I say it will give you ease of access to any place you wish. But the choice is yours.” She took a final bow before stepping back, allowing Jonet to freely peruse the selection.
Her eyes first fell on the array of needles- nothing more than oversized sewing needles or perhaps a glorified shank. Of which, there were six that stared back at her; three enchanted with ice, two with shadow, and one with both. Naturally; I assumed, her hand reached for the latter. A pair of slim, black wedges that appeared more like large hairpins than weapons. Instruments no bigger than a pencil, fashioned with two jewel-like enchantments on the bulbous handles that gave some unknown power to the needles. After reading a small pamphlet hanging from the handles, Jonet clutched them and the garb Manilia pointed out to her and turned to the armorer, smiling as she said. “These are the ones.”
“Excellent choices.” Manilia bubbly bowed before taking Jaimess by the arm and guiding him across the room to his department. “A duel-wielding financial and political adviser who uses his magic to mimic animals. His Grace’s left wing. For you, Jaimess, A. Corey, I recommend this set.”
Jaimess’ gaze followed Manilia’s outstretched hands to the center-most shelf where a rather dull set of medium splint armor sat between a rather unremarkable pair of sticks and a plate-sized disk studded with pale, blue gems. Seeing them for what they were, I took an unconscious step toward the case, muttering. “Those enchantments are unprimed.”
“They are.” Manilia nodded. “It seems someone was considerate of the fact that paper magic is a rarity. Each piece within this set contains three unprimed enchantments for you to imbue your paper magic into; and whatever affinities you’ll later awaken as well.” She added with a regal wave of the hand.
“I’ll take it.” Jaimess grinned as he quickly reached into the case to stuff the gear in his rucksack. Triggering Manilia to race to the next wall and continue her performance.
“His Grace’s Right Wing. The chosen knight of the tempest, Toril O’Connell. For you, I recommend this axe and set of armor.” She threw her arms to what appeared to be nothing less than a gladiatorial set of armor made of the same green-hued black metal as Jaimess' armor. Toril's, however, was a Roman-style galea with a mohawk plume the same color as the electricity flowing within its intended owner. Crested on the brow and along the cheek guards were the noble symbols of equines, dragons, and griffons artfully ingrained inside a border of Lichtenberg figures. The upper portion of his armor consisted of a curiously thick manica for his left arm with a prominent enchantment placed on the forearm and a large breastplate over his heart that was etched with the image of a towering mountain, backdropped by fierce storm clouds. In comparison, his lower torso was unguarded and remained so until his belt: A thick leather band supporting a small pouch on the small of the back and a loincloth made of chevron-pointed leather straps, leaving a long greave similar to the arm brace to cover Toril’s right leg from the base of the hip to the top of a pair of high-topped sandals.
“Outstanding,” Toril muttered to himself, placing his hand on the glass. Then turned his gaze to the weapon. Much like everything else, the axes on display came in every style and fashion one could think of. Some were crude, yet beautiful; others were so finely crafted I felt it would have been a crime to dull their blades against flesh and bone. The one accompanying the set, however, was somewhere in the middle. A fine piece of craftsmanship. Simple, yet elegant.
It was an abnormally long, one-handed axe with a wide, leafed head like that of a Dane axe; albeit with a fat hammerhead on the opposing side. Gunmetal-black in tone and adorned with gilded Lichtenberg figures, it created a beautiful contrast against the shimmering, polished blade. And even more so with the finely carved handle and spiked, gilded hand guard. Most interesting of all, both to Toril and myself, were the four enchantments in the axehead, arranged in the same design as the crest over his heart but with a grayish-blue eye at the mountain peak and a cobalt-blue stone in place of the sun, straddled and framed by two unprimed enchantments.
I couldn’t even be mad watching Toril secure his gear in his bag. Sure, they’d been robbed of the ability to make their own choices, but I would’ve made the same decisions, being in their shoes. Manilia's eye was just that good.
“And for the royal, half-drow sorcerer; His Grace, Grand Duke Amun of Odissi.” Manilia beckoned me to the center of the room. Wherein a particularly wide set of cases sat beneath a black sheet. “I recommend this set.”
I arrived at her side just as she revealed the contents and stepped aside. Two cases were straddling a larger third, each with its own distinctive set of armor and weapons.
To the left was a short spear, like an Iklwa made from blackwood or some type of ivory. The pommel was gilded and enchanted, and two more enchantments sat within the blade and hilt. Behind it, was more of a monk's fighting garb than a traditional set of armor. Somewhat baggy pants; dyed a gray-black color, were tucked into a pair of black, minimalist hiking or military-style boots and tied off with a gilded sash at the waist. A sash that a half-Cassock robe with the same color scheme was tucked into and topped with a black-on-black skeletal half-mask. The daggers, on the other hand, were more like the needles Jonet and my Father supposedly used. Things I had no particular interest in using, so I went on to peruse the case on the far right.
Held in a brace alongside the frame, was what one would normally think of when imagining a spear: A long, blackwood haft, textured in barbershop ribbons of gold and black with a leaf-shaped blade; also with three enchantments in the same places as the first. Behind it was a gladiator-esque suit of armor much like Toril’s. A vibrant helmet and ornate breastplate with mismatching greaves and arm braces that’d serve as the only protection for my already fragile body. Conversely, the daggers were an ornate pair of jambiya. With beautifully curved, double-edged blades of what appeared to be this world's version of wootz steel but with a greenish hue; and a handle made of some type of ivory that’d been inlaid with two enchantments. So too were the sheathes made from the same type of ivory, yet they'd been ornately wrapped in the fur of a black kid goat.
‘Interesting.’ I nodded, facing Manilia’s suggested set. Positioned in much the same way as the other two, was a naginata with a solid black ivory haft or a similar material as the daggers to my right. A thick tuft or collar of ink-black, gold-laced feathers, and quills sat at the base of the curved, sword-like blade at the head; made from the same wootz-like greenish metal as before and boasting a triage of enchantments in the same areas as the others. The singular dagger, on the other hand, was an ornately forged seax with a midnight-blue handle and a slanted sheath meant for the small of the back. Behind those, however, was an overbearing, dominating suit of abyssal armor. From the neck to the toes, the mannequin was covered in beautifully curved plates of midnight-black metal with silvery tones that spurred into jagged points on the feet, knees, elbows, and shoulders. Making a domineering frame for the black, abyssal horned skull of a helmet poised above it.
It looked like something my Great-Grandfather would wear. Something that people would see and call a death knight. Like it needed a desiccated horse of violet flames to be made complete. All things that I didn’t want in my life.
So, ignoring the expectant gazes of the others, I calmly reached into first the left case, followed by the right, and lastly the center. Then methodically secured my gear in my Shadow Pocket amidst the increasingly shocked and disgruntled gazes of Manilia and Grandpa Lich.
“Interesting choices, Your Grace.” Manilia nodded just as slowly as she spoke, a satisfied and amused grin spread over her face. Grandpa Lich on the other hand.
“Take the Abyssal Armor, Amun.” He spat.
I took a deep breath and bit my tongue. While I was free to ‘talk back’ in privacy, I was certain that he’d be more than displeased if I openly disrespected him before one of his subjects. Besides, I was far more tactful than that. So, I bit the bullet and stashed the hulking set of armor in my shadow without another word.
Despite my aggravation, I felt giddy at the thought of returning to the Tower and putting my toys to use against my Great-Grandfather. Or at the very least, at the idea of reading through the associated pamphlets and testing their features. But for now, there was other business to attend to. So I turned my gaze back to the Royal Armorer and held up two fingers. “There are two other things that I’m looking for, Manilia.”
“And what would those be, Your Grace?” She rubbed her hand together as her grin spread wider than otherwise possible. “If it is in our stock, I shall point His Grace in the proper direction.”
“I need mana wells and the potions associated with them.” I bluntly stated, looking her close in the eyes. Causing a stir of shock to arise from the curious woman.
“Mana wells?” She rocked back on her heels, chuckling in bemusement.
“Yes.” I nodded. “The highest grades you have.”
Hearing my words seemed to create a mix of excitement and disbelief in her. More than once, it appeared as if she wished to say something. Only to close her mouth and look off into the distance before turning her gaze back to me once, twice, and thrice before guiding us to the center of the room.
“I must tell you, Your Grace.” She paused to kneel and reveal a trapdoor beneath a rug, then turned back to me with apologetic eyes. “I am unable to simply give you these mana wells. They come at a great cost, you see.” She again paused to descend a modestly long spiral staircase and gestured around to a moderately-sized, pentagonal room covered wall-to-wall with thick cases of glowing, cylindrical shells. “The highest grade we have is a 9th Grade Diamond. Diamond wells fetch for one-hundred-thousand gold per.” She gestured to a half-filled case to our sides.
“That is fine.” I nodded, approaching the case. “As long as they’re compatible with Ice Wells of the Eighth Grade or higher, I’ll be purchasing six of them.” I turned to show her the cluster of wells gathered in my hands before placing them in hers. In turn, depositing the coins to her was a simple matter of closing a chest to pit the interior in darkness and simply spawn the corresponding gold inside. Making me 600,000 coins poorer. Not that it mattered, with my more than exuberant allowance, I made a little less than half that a year. And that was just what my father was giving me. Knowing him, he was probably matching whatever he gave me in a separate account. In short, I was still a millionaire. And yet I still held little knowledge about the value of currency in this realm. But I digress, I received everything I came for and more. Thus after giving thanks to Manilia for her time and excellent service, our party was huddled back in the corridor; the four of us practically skipping behind my Great-Grandfather.
‘And now we wait.’ I internally sighed in both despair and hope upon our return to the main underground complex. ‘And wait and wait and wait.’