The revenant in the dark robe gazed down at the grimy ninja impersonator, shaking his head. “For a parkour master, you’re really terrible at dodging.”
“I’m still practicing!”
The third member of the group, a warrior armed with a longsword, a wooden shield that still resembled the barrel lid it was crafted from and shoddy leather armor, didn’t look much better. The leather was marked with etched lines. He held the longsword in one hand, struggling to clean a sticky substance off the blade with a cloth without getting it on his hands. He inhaled sharply and quickly wiped his hand on his armor, where the leather briefly smoked and discolored. Looking up, he said, “I expected more from you, master of the dark arts.”
“Hey, dark osteopathy requires cartilage and joints to work. You didn’t give me enough time to prepare my alchemical elixirs.”
The woman kicked a stone down the alley. “We should complain to the guild. This quest was supposed to be easy. ‘Slugs plague the dwarven garden.’ For crying out loud! They could have mentioned that the slugs are as long as my forearm, leave a trail of corrosive acid, and move like the wind!”
The Master of the Dark Arts shrugged. “Recommended for heroes level 4 and above. That should have been a warning. We’re all just level 3.”
A person in a gray woolen cloak stepped around the corner, his hood pulled low over his face. In a conspicuously disguised deep male voice, he addressed the group, “Dear heroes, are you lacking essential equipment for your quest? Look no further. The Mystical Wandering Emporium has everything you need.”
The woman rolled her eyes at him. “You’re just trying to avoid getting a trading license.”
The mysterious merchant placed a hand over his heart and swayed dramatically as if struck by a mortal blow. “How dare you! The Mystical Wandering Emporium has a long and venerable tradition! For centuries, heroes have sourced their most vital equipment from our secret branches. Only this new plague… took us by surprise.” His voice grew sheepish as he took a box from his backpack, set it on the ground, and opened it. “Our trademark, the mysteriously appearing portal store door, requires considerable preparation. So, for now, we can only offer a mobile service. But rest assured, our quality remains unchanged! Our motto stands: What heroes need, where they need it!”
He pulled out a short staff with a crystal at its tip and pointed it at the warrior’s leather armor. Brown and silver lights flickered across the material. The warrior tightened his grip on his sword but otherwise stayed still. Slowly, the etched lines in the leather faded back to the dark brown of the rest of the armor. The surface rippled and gradually regained its original texture. The warrior relaxed, and the others gathered closer, intrigued. Just before the armor was fully restored, the merchant halted the spell. “I see you’re interested. This artifact can restore your clothes and equipment between battles. You’ve seen what low-level monsters have done to you in beginner quests. Imagine the damage at higher levels! In the Age of Legends, no hero ventured out without a full toolkit of spell-foci—simple little artifacts that replaced an entire mage dedicated to support spells. Even non-mages can use them, and they help train your mana channels, making you quicker and more effective with mana-dependent skills at higher levels.”
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The hero in the black outfit gave a slow clap. “Excellent. That’s the best sales pitch I’ve heard in a while.” He extended his hand. “I am Darken O’Mighty, master of the dark arts. These are my companions: Fleetfoot, the thief—”
The woman jabbed him in the ribs and grudgingly corrected him. “Parkour master!”
Ignoring the interruption, Darken pointed at the warrior. “—and Bernd, the warrior. We’re not well-known yet, but soon, the bards will sing of our deeds. It would be good for your business to count us among your customers.”
Weylan pulled his hood even lower to hide his grin and bowed deeply. “In that case, you’ll, of course, receive the traditional hero’s discount. This masterpiece of arcane magic, crafted from rare ginkgo wood from the Dryad Forest and set with a perfectly cut tourmaline—the elemental ore stone, created by a hidden master—is yours for only…” he paused dramatically, “…five hundred gold pieces.”
Darken choked, then spluttered. “What! That’s a minor utility artifact, not a Blade of Destiny! How much is the hero discount?”
“Well, it doubles the price. True heroes have gold in abundance.”
Fleetfoot put her hand on her face. “Of course. But dear merchant, we’re just starting our careers. Have some pity. Even if we sold most of our equipment, we could only scrape together about fifty gold pieces. Even if we had finished the quest with the snail plague, we’d barely have two hundred.”
“The quest rewards you with 150 gold pieces? For such a high bounty, you’ll need significant investments. You’ll have to prepare expensive materials, conduct research at the mage academy, or expect to lose equipment. Acid slugs are brutal on weapons and armor. Look at your warrior’s sword—the blade is still rusting as we speak. If anyone needs this artifact, it’s you, and you need it now.”
Darken narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “You didn’t happen to know this quest would ruin heroes’ equipment, so you waited here, did you?”
The young assassin stifled a laugh since that’s precisely what he had done after checking the current quests with Trulda. Instead, he raised his hands defensively. “The magic of the Mystical Wandering Emporium guides me to where my goods are needed most. Legendary fate magic far beyond my understanding.”
Darken sighed. “We still can’t afford it. We didn’t complete the quest. We were supposed to clear a dozen snails from the herb garden. We managed two, and look at Bernd’s equipment. I stayed in the background, and Fleetfoot spent most of the time rolling in the mud.” This earned him another jab from the parkour master.
Weylan looked at the group and sighed. “Fine. Here’s the deal: I’ll repair all your equipment and then help you destroy the slugs. In return, you buy the artifact for 150 gold pieces now and another 50 in a month. Deal?”
Darken stared at him in astonishment. “You’re helping us with the quest? What kind of sales pitch is that?”
“We need to get the store back in business. For that, we need specialized magicians, and they’re costly. If we don’t reopen soon, we’ll miss out on the best deals—a unique opportunity.”
Darken pondered for a moment, then agreed to the deal.