“And he was all like, ahhh!” Abby said, miming a person running with her two fingers. Then, she swung an imaginary club in an overhand strike. “Just jumped through the air like some kind of idiot! And you know what happened?”
“He got batted out of the air,” said Mags, standing over them, her hands on her prodigious hips.
“He got batted out of the air!” Abby exclaimed, slapping the table with gusto. Laughing, she added, “And he didn’t just do it once, either! That’s, like, his go-to move!”
“Never leave your feet,” Mags said, shaking her head in disappointment.
Zeke crossed his arms, enduring the teasing. He knew it wasn’t meant in a mean-spirited way, just like he knew that however he responded, he couldn’t win. Still, he wanted to explain that the reason he’d leapt into the air was because the monsters were so damned big. Sure, it had proven a mistake against the drachnid queen, but that was only because the monster was so much more powerful than him. Every other time, it had worked just fine. Not that he was defending the move – just that he thought that his reasoning was at least moderately defensible.
“Oh, don’t pout,” Abby said, reaching across the scrubbed wood table and giving him a playful slap on his upper arm. “I’m just messing with you. I know I wouldn’t even be here without you.”
That made things a little better. “I guess it was kind of dumb to jump at the giant spider monster,” he allowed. Then, he held up a finger, “But I stand by it.”
Shaking her head once again, Mags muttered, “Men.”
Abby tore a bite of meat from the rib, then, still chewing, she said, “Mags, these are amazing. New recipe?”
“New sauce,” Mags said. “Some of the ingredients here are a little different from back home, but I’m slowly dialing it in.”
“You’ve been dialing it in for five years,” Abby said.
Mags shrugged. “Great art takes time,” was her response. She glanced back to the kitchen, then said, “Suppose I should head back there, or the place is liable to burn down. Let me know if you need anything while you’re here, yeah?”
“Of course,” Abby said.
Then, Mags pointed at Zeke and said, “And you. Keep your feet. And take care of this girl. I’d be pretty damned pissed off if anything happened to her.”
“I don’t need anyone to take care of me, Mags!”
“Yes, ma’am,” Zeke said, almost concurrently with Abby’s objection. For some reason, that prompted her to glare at him.
Mags knocked on the table, then gave them both a smile before retreating back into the kitchen. That gave Zeke a chance to look around the crowded inn. It was packed full of rough-looking warriors, traders, and teamsters, though all of them seemed to relax a little the moment they walked through the doors. And for good reason, too – Mags’ barbecue was just about the best Zeke had ever had, which meant that it was in a different category altogether from the food he’d been eating for the past couple of years.
“I don’t, you know,” Abby said, pointing at him with a mostly-clean rib.
“What?” he asked.
“Need you to take care of me,” she elaborated. “I can do that myself just fine. If anything, you’re the one who needs to be looked after.”
Zeke shrugged. “Probably,” he said. “But we’re partners, right? Doesn’t that mean we’re supposed to look after each other? Otherwise, what’s the point?”
Abby didn’t respond, instead choosing to tear into another rib. Zeke understood the compulsion; he’d already eaten most of a rack himself, and he still wanted more. So, for the next few minutes, the pair dedicated themselves wholly to the destruction of their meals. Meanwhile, Pudge was out back where he was steadily eating his way through a mound of discarded pig guts. Zeke wasn’t sure if it was good for the bear cub, but Mags had insisted that he'd be fine.
“So,” Zeke said, leaning back and trying not to think about how full he was. “What now?”
Abby, who looked just as stuffed, wiped some sauce from her mouth, then said, “We need to get you geared up. Nothing fancy. Just basic stuff. Maybe some rough furniture for the cottage so we don’t have to sleep on the floor anymore. Clothes. Hygiene items. That kind of thing.”
“Can we find everything here?” Zeke asked.
Abby grinned; there was a strand of meat stuck between her teeth. “I know a guy,” she said. “Plus, I think he can help us liquidate some of your wealth so we don’t make a big scene in Beacon.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, if somebody comes in there with two-thousand beast cores and twice as many drachnid eyes, it’s going to draw a lot of attention,” she explained. “If you were a higher level, it wouldn’t be that big of a deal, but being only fourteen, it would just put a target on your back.”
“Do I really need to care about that?” he asked, thinking about how easily he’d dispatched Julio. According to Abby, the man had been fairly strong, and Zeke had taken him out without breaking a sweat. He’d only gotten stronger since then.
“Kill a few drachnids, and you think you’re invincible,” Abby muttered, shaking her head. “Listen – people are different than monsters, okay? A lot different. They’re tricky. And anyone can have a ridiculously overpowered skill. Even if they’re not actually stronger than you, they could still stab you in the back. Slit your throat in your sleep. Poison you. There are a million ways someone can kill you.”
“Sounds like going to Beacon might not be the best idea,” he said.
“Anywhere with enough people is going to be like that, Zeke,” she said. “Sometimes, I forget you’re only twenty years old. You’ve never had to deal with real life.”
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
“I’ve dealt with plenty,” Zeke responded, his tone one of annoyance.
Abby looked at him for a long moment before saying, “We’ve all got our scars. Fine. My point is that people suck. Royally. Not everybody, of course. Not even most. But there are enough assholes out there to spoil the bunch, if you know what I mean. So, our only option is to stay alert.”
“Keep our heads on a swivel,” Zeke agreed. “I can do that.”
The pair made small talk as they finished up, then left the Brick Pit to find Abby’s other friend, a man named Cort. Bastion wasn’t a huge town, but it was big enough that it still took a few minutes’ worth of walking before they ducked down an alley and found a non-descript door labeled Cort & Sons. Abby knocked, and only a few seconds later, the door opened to reveal a diminutive, old man with bushy, white eyebrows. He barely had a fringe of hair above his ears, and his nose seemed about two sizes too big for his face.
“What is it?” he growled, scowling as he opened the door. “I’m a busy – Abby? Is that you?”
His face changed, going from curmudgeonly old malcontent to a kindly grandfather in the space of a breath. He threw his arms around Abby, his head only reaching her shoulder. Abby patted his back, saying, “Good to see you, too, Cort.”
The small man held Abby at arm’s length, then gave a harumph before saying, “You haven’t been eating enough. And when’s the last time you had a proper bath, eh? You smell like the backside of a troll.”
Abby cleared her throat. “Been out in the field,” she muttered, adding under her breath, “But I bathed yesterday…”
“No excuse for bad hygiene, my girl!” he exclaimed, his voice rising an octave. He glanced at Zeke and said, “And who’s this one? Replace that hairy Russian, did you? Or did he finally wise up and –”
“Uh…this is…Zeke,” Abby said. “And I need to tell you something…”
Seeing Abby’s expression, Cort invited them into his shop, which Zeke quickly decided was the most disorganized and cluttered place he’d ever seen. The walls were covered with various items; some were familiar, but just as many were a complete mystery. There were knives, swords, axes and other weaponry, and right beside them were racks of worn armor, satchels, and a host of other curios Zeke couldn’t identify. There was even a glass case containing jewelry. To Zeke, it looked like nothing so much as a medieval or magical pawn shop. The only thing it was missing was used power tools and handguns.
Once inside, Cort led them to a desk in the corner, where he bade them sit. Then, Abby broke the news about Vlad’s death. The short, old man took the news stoically, but Zeke didn’t miss the tears gathering at the corners of Cort’s eyes.
“You made Vlad’s killers pay,” Cort said, wiping his cheek. “There’s that, at least. Small comforts, I suppose.”
“Not really,” Abby breathed.
Cort just shook his head, but Zeke could tell that he was in agreement. Not for the first time, Zeke felt like he was an intruder. He hadn’t known Vlad, so he remained silent while the two shared their grief. After a few moments, Cort sniffed, then asked, “Okay. So, what’re you here for? You didn’t come all the way to Bastion just to tell me about Vlad.”
Abby answered, “We’ve got a lot of loot to get rid of. Discretely. And Zeke needs some essentials. He’s…new.”
Cort cut his eyes at Zeke, then said, “Level fourteen, huh? Doesn’t seem new.”
“I…uh…I had a rough tutorial dungeon,” Zeke stated.
“Whatever doesn’t kill us makes us stronger though, eh?” the short man said. It was clear he didn’t want an answer, so Zeke just shrugged. Cort added, “Fine. What’ve you got for me? Mind you, just because you’re Abby’s friend doesn’t mean I’m going to take a loss, though!”
Abby asked, “You have a container? Like, a crate or something?”
Cort nodded, then disappeared into a back room only to return a few moments later with a sizable wooden box. “Big enough?” he asked, clearly confused by Abby’s request. It wasn’t surprising, given that neither of them carried a container, what with Abby having left her satchel back in her room.
“That’ll do,” Zeke said. To Abby, he asked, “All of them?”
“Just the lesser cores,” she said.
Zeke nodded, saying, “Don’t freak out.”
Then, without further hesitation, he held his hand above the crate and summoned the loot from his spatial storage. In an instant, a cascade of marble-sized beast cores tumbled into the crate. They twinkled in a rainbow of colors, with a rough texture that most closely resembled jagged crystal. Soon, when the crate was almost entirely full, the stream of cores winked out.
“That’s most of them,” Zeke said. “Maybe eighty percent.”
“W-what…”
Cort’s eyes were bulging out of his skull.
“Oh, you won’t tell anybody about any of this, right?” Abby said. “Zeke has a skill that lets him store things.”
“But how did you get so many?!” Cort croaked. “There must be a thousand in there!”
“Probably closer to fifteen-hundred,” Zeke said.
“I can’t buy this many,” he said. “I don’t have the liquid capital.”
“I don’t expect you to buy everything right now,” Abby said, leaning against the edge of the desk. “But we can come to an agreement, right? You get two-thousand, but you pay us in installments. Say, four of them. One installment now, three over the next year. We’ll even do a discount. So long as this whole deal stays between us, of course.”
It was what Zeke and Abby had agreed upon, and it made perfect sense. However, subterfuge didn’t really sit well with Zeke. He didn’t want to hide who he was or what he’d accomplished. He trusted Abby, though, and if she said it was necessary, he would go along with her plans.
Cort readily agreed, and the two started haggling. Zeke had no notion of what anything was worth in the new world, so he kept his mouth shut. Instead, he focused on his bond with Pudge; the bear cub had finished gorging himself and was currently lying in the sun digesting his meal. Utter contentment flowed through the bond.
“Deal!” Cort said, slapping his hand into Abby’s. “Four-hundred marks now and three more payments of four-hundred within the year.”
“And the items,” Abby said.
“Yes, yes – of course!” Cort said. “Let me get another crate so I can see the other cores.”
It didn’t take them long to sort the beast cores out, and soon, Cort was storming through the store and grabbing items off the walls, from the various cases, and from the back room. It took him almost twenty minutes to gather everything.
Most of it was fairly mundane. Soap. The new world equivalent of toothpaste. A comb. A toothbrush. A straight razor. That sort of thing. However, Zeke also acquired a few pairs of clothes, some new boiled leather armor, and an enchanted ring that would, with a thought, clean his clothes. It was only usable twice a week, but it was far better than trying to wash his clothes by hand.
Abby also insisted upon buying necessary housewares, like a few wooden bowls, some tin cups, a skillet, and a real, metal spit, as opposed to the makeshift, wooden one they’d had already been forced to replace a handful of times. In addition, Cort supplied them with a pair of small cots and the bedding that went with it.
“C’mon,” Abby said, holding out her hand. She curled her fingers. “You know why I really came here. Give it over. The good stuff.”
Cort complained, “But I don’t have much supply!”
“We could just take our cores back…”
“Fine!” the old man harrumphed. Then, from under the counter, he pulled a large, burlap sack, which he slammed onto the counter. “Take it! Ruin me, why don’t you?!”
Abby leaned over and gave the bag a long, lazy sniff. “Oh, God – I’ve missed you so much!” she breathed.
“What is it?”
“Coffee,” Cort said with a wistful look. “That bag cost me close to eighty gold marks, right by itself! It was intended for the Watcher! Now, I’ll have nothing to sell her, and she’ll go to one of my competitors! I’ll be ruined!”
Abby snorted. “You’re getting those beast cores for close to half-price,” she said. “I think you’ll be fine.” She glanced at Zeke, asking, “Anything else you can think of you want?”
Zeke had looked around the shop, and though some of the items were interesting, he hadn’t seen anything he really needed. In fact, he was afraid to spend too much because he wanted to buy some real armor when he got to Bastion. Not knowing how much things cost made him hesitant to commit to any large purchases. Besides, he’d made it so far without any supplies at all, so he felt good about their purchases.
Except one thing.
Running his hand through his hair, he said, “Know where I can maybe get a haircut? It’s been more than two years…”