The first item that caught my eye after I began a deeper examination of the more eclectic elements of Dinkum’s Deals inventory wasn’t actually magical at all. Nevertheless it was still a fascinating object that had me wondering how it had ended up in the Dungeon. The device was one of the Knickerbocker Trading Company‘s odd contraptions. The name everyone used for the thing was a Farmer’s Fireball, but I recalled being told by an Alchemist party member who wielded something similar, albeit heavily modified and enchanted, that they were properly called a firearm and specifically a “Shotgun” in the case of Farmer’s Fireballs. Which was of course nothing at all like his fancy magic Alchemist’s Rifle, and that everyone needed to stop calling him Farmer John. I liked Farmer John, he was a fun guy.

The thing looked like two pipes stuck to a crossbow stock and used blasting powder to propel metal projectiles at a devastating speed. Essentially a sort of miniaturised cannon that used alchemy instead of magic to fire.

If I remembered the story correctly they were something of a fad when the Knickerbocker Trading Company first introduced them the better part of a century or so back. Briefly touted as the future of combat and the great leveller between mundane and magical armerments. That was until the first time they were ever actually used in a real conflict. A Baron up north armed his conscript militia with the most advanced rifles the company had on offer before moving to annex a neighbouring territory they’d been feuding with since time in memorial. The unexpected extra firepower finally tipped the scales between the two and allowed the Baron to overwhelm his rival’s forces. For about a week. Then a mage who happened to be a miner's daughter worked out how to modify a cantrip they used to remotely detonate blasting powder into a long ranged area of effect spell. Things went extremely poorly for the Baron after that and pretty much put an end to any mass appeal firearms may have had.

Having to heavily ward all your ammunition somewhat defeats the purpose of them being a cheaper mundane alternative to their equally, if not more, effective magical counterparts, such as magic arrows or basic spell rods.

After the fiasco the trading company attempted to sell off their remaining stock to anyone willing to buy. Turned out farmer’s absolutely loved the things for scaring off wild predators and the like. The company has been making out like bandits in the niche market ever since.

For everyone else they’ve basically just something of a novelty item only really used by the occasional specialist, like ol Farmer John. Just one more unusual weapon in the sea of unusual weapons you see out there.

Here though, I was less interested in the weapon than its ammunition. Even if I somehow could lug the thing around being next to a concussive explosion that flings ricocheting hunks of metal out into the often confined spaces of the Dungeon seemed a less than ideal life choice. However, having some blasting powder to play with could open up some intriguing possibilities.

Sadly it was not to be, Dinkum only had the weapon itself and didn’t know where I could get my grubby little paws on any of the ammunition or blasting powders in general for that matter. So, I just made a mental note to bug any miners I might happen to cross paths with on the subject of alchemical explosives and moved on.

~~~~~

I actually knew what the first magic item I wanted was. It was in fact probably the cheapest (Relatively speaking) and most commonly seen true enchantment. A Firestarter. The things came in endless shapes and styles, but they all did the same thing. Channel in a touch of mana and they produced about a candle flame worth of fire for you. There was at least one person in every party who carried one, usually a ring, pendant, or other innocuous little knickknack they could pull out of a pocket whenever a fire needed to be kindled. They were just too useful not to have around.

However the only Firestarter I managed to spot among the items marked as magical was a chunky brass monstrosity clearly meant to sit on a desk. It took the form of a gotti and more than a little tawdry figurine of a busty Dwarven maiden with her hands cupped in front of her to hold the flame. It also had a bunch of extra nonsensical sigils and runes carved around the base. The kind less reputable enchanters like to add to make an item look all fancy and particularly magical to try and drive up already steep prices for rich idiots with more money than sense. You know the sort, the ones who want nothing more than to impress all the other rich idiots with how rich they are. Even putting its aesthetics aside it must have weighed at least half as much as I did, so hauling it around wasn’t really an option.

It was strange though as I was almost certain I’d spotted a couple likely looking Firestarters among the miscellaneous oddments I’d seen in passing while searching up my basic gear and weapons.

I went back to a large bowl of assorted rings and began sifting through them. Between having the experience to know what to look for and all the practice I'd put into my fine Mana control I’d gotten pretty good at feeling out the subtle aura of a magic item. An ever so faint reverberation of my own mana reacting to any lingering traces of power in the enchantment. Handy trick for just this kind of bargain hunting. More of a talent than any kind of proper skill, but I was still happy to be able to put it back to use all the same.

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It didn’t take me long before I had a plain steel thumb ring gripped between my paws. It widened out to one side with a concave circular impression at the centre for the flame to sit. A very practically designed Firestarter. I’d seen ones nearly exactly like it before. I’d almost channelled in a little mana to test it out when a thought occurred to me.

I took a mental step back and looked over the various items on display being advertised as magical again, then I realised the thing they had in common. They all had the trappings of being obviously and recognizably magical like the gotti statue of the buxom Dwarven maiden had been. Sigils, runes, elaborate decorations, odd shapes, and strange designs without an immediately discernible purpose. Like whoever organised the inventory, presumably Dinkum, didn’t actually have a way to separate the magical from the mundane beyond the superficial signs.

Then I noticed another oddity. Some of the highest priced items, the stuff in cages behind lock and key, were well in a word to my eye, crap.

I recognize the markings for an Inferior Helm of Swift Dodging, an overly decorated Cooking Knife of Lasting Sharpness of the sort I’d seen on display at posh merchants, what seemed to be a handful of lesser trinkets of protection, etc.

The kind of thing produced by green apprentices, dabbling amateurs, and hucksters.

All the weakest sort of magic items with the most basic of charms slapped onto them. Not even really considered true enchantments. Items that don’t require attunement or needed mana channelled into them to maintain and operate. Getting by on whatever little chunk of Mana they had managed soak up.

All together it was starting to paint a very interesting picture in my little ratty brain.

However for my guess to make any sense there was a missing piece to the puzzle I’d been trying to put together. So, It was a good thing I had someone on hand who might just have a few of those missing pieces squirrelled away in their pockets. From my perch on the shelf I waved for Gig to lean down and in a low tone so Dinkum wouldn’t be able to overhear I queried my goblin companion.

“Hey Gig, stupid question for you. Can dungeon spawned folks use magic items?”

That was a stupid question because yes, they could. I’d seen them using magic items first hand, and in fact been killed by one using a legendary magic sword.

She shook her head. “Naw.” Then thought for a second “Well, yeah actually.” Before adding “Not really though.” finally settling on “Kinda?”

That was actually about the answer I’d been expecting but I asked her to elaborate the best she could anyway.

In retrospect the missing piece of the puzzle was pretty obvious. Perks. Costly ones that were only really available to the higher ranks of title holders at that. For example a dungeon boss might have a perk that would grant them just enough of a Mana reserve to attune an item, thus letting them make proper use of it. Honestly it meshed with what I’d just learned about the dungeon being Mana hungry, it would only hand out a perk that used mana like that to someone it expected to be able to get a return on its investment from.

I was suddenly glad I hadn’t casually lit up the ring with my Mana. It Probably wouldn’t have given away the game entirely, as I could likely pass off the ability with my changeling story, but it could have still opened me up to a whole line of awkward questions I might not have been prepared for. A near miss I’d have to keep in mind from here on out.

Avoid obvious use of magic items in public.

The completed picture also explained the price disparity I’d been seeing in the shop. The charmed items behind the bars were so expensive because dennisons could actually use them. An extra tough smith hammer or particularly sharp dinner knife might just be a fancy gimmick on the Outside but in the Dungeon they could give the wielders a notable edge. Whereas the genuinely enchanted items were basically only useful as Adventurer lures to the vast majority of the Dungeon’s population. Still valuable, sure, but not truly desirable.

This was all hugely to my advantage in numerous ways. I had to hold back a giddy laugh as schemes skittered through my mind. I carefully put my greed on hold. There would be time to cut deals later. For the moment they were just a distraction. I still needed to see what I had to work with there and then

~~~~~

I’d quickly run into a bit of an issue I really should have foreseen. Despite all my experience for every two magic items I could somewhat confidently recognize there was at least one that left me completely baffled. No Guild Appraisers here to cover the gaps in my knowledge.

In the grand scheme of things it wasn’t a huge problem, just mildly frustrating. I felt deep down that I was gonna miss out on a thingamabob which would fit my needs perfectly and solve all my problems. Totally irrational I know, the vast majority of the items on offer were useless to me, too big, meant for use with Skills I didn’t know, required more mana then I had, and so on. There was no reason all of that wouldn’t hold true for the items I couldn’t identify. It just niggled.

I wished I had something like [Delver’s Insight] but for magic items. Then again I hadn’t tried [Delver’s Insight] on any yet, which was definitely an oversight on my part.

I turned my gaze to the gotti Firestarter figurine and triggered the perk.

[ Dungeon Marked Item: Firestarter ]

[ Type: Magical Loot ] [ Rarity: Common ]

[ An enchanted figurine that emits a small flame when Mana is channelled into it. ]

I chittered to myself in glee.

This little shopping trip was turning out to be chocked full of useful revelations.