“So you won’t buy them.”

I drum my fingers against my forearm as the shopkeep–a Paindne with an eyepiece like a jeweler and a fitted suit–runs his fingers along one of the destroyed robots. He clicks his tongue, then sighs dramatically and pulls a handkerchief out of his breast pocket to clean his hands. Illumisia growls from outside of the store, and he glances over at her for the shortest of split seconds.

“I’m afraid not. You do not have the right to sell these particular things, and I do not have the right to buy them.” He states simply, as if it is an unarguable fact. “Mechanical puppets of this quality are rarities. To buy them for the pittance the system seems to think they are worth… it hurts me as a collector of curiosities.”

Great. I managed to find the one shopkeeper that doesn’t want to rip me off. “Alright. Say I don’t want them. Point me to somewhere that has way more flexible morals than you do.”

The shopkeep looks appalled at my suggestion. “No! I can’t allow you to do that–not with these mechanical marvels. I–I’ll tell you what, let me get my friend down here quick as can be. She runs a lab in another district that studies post-shellraiser machines such as these, and I assure you she will properly compensate you for your findings. Even if they are a little… beat up.”

I hold back a laugh as the Paindne gingerly picks up a metallic arm with gloved hands. An arm that I almost shattered by pushing the robot into a wall. The way he so daintily touches it, as if blowing on the robot would send it scattering to the wind… it’s honestly pretty amusing.

“He’s touching it like it’s some kind of treasure. Can’t he see that it’s pure trash?” Pearl mutters to herself. “Post-shellraiser. That’s an insult to everything we’ve ever built.”

“Hey, this might mean I get more Worth for them. And I see that as an absolute win.” I whisper as quietly as I can as the shopkeep gently sets the arm down and hurries off into a back office. “The less I have to worry about meeting that thousand Worth mark, the better. Even if it means setting some researcher’s work back a few decades by letting them study this garbage.”

Pearl harrumphs and crosses her arms. “More like a few centuries.”

“Whatever you say; you’re the expert.”

A hushed voice seeps out of the back office. Pearl and I both go quiet at the same time, and I press my elbows to the glass case underneath me to lean in. It’s definitely not the shopkeep’s voice; it’s tired, a little excited, and more than a little reluctant to believe whatever he’s telling her. It sounds like there’s a history between the two; one that involves a very overeager shopkeep and a researcher who’s dropped everything to come see the ‘valuable artifacts’ more than a few times.

“...Fine. I’ll be there in a minute. But this better not be another blotmarsh situation.” The researcher reluctantly agrees. “And my funding is tight for the month. If this is worth it, you’re not getting your finder’s fee.”

“I know. But I can’t just let the young human walk away to sell the machines for scrap.” The shopkeep says, then pauses. “...Nibble? Did you hang up on me?”

After a few moments of silence, he clears his throat. “Why, yes, Nibble, I will wait here with the human. She will be delighted to see you. No, no, thank you for your time. I am merely the middleman here; no need for such praise. Yes, of course, I will see you in a moment.”

Pearl snickers as the shopkeep ends his call with a quiet beep, then strolls back into the main shop with his chest puffed out and his pride artificially intact. He takes one look at my smirk and coughs, then gestures at the door where Illumisia stands guard with her hackles raised.

“...I probably should have warned my colleague about the painted dane. Oh, well; there is nothing I can do about it now. She is on her way, and she has more than enough Worth to properly compensate you for your donations.”

Riiight. Does this guy really not know that we overheard a bunch of his conversation? I mean, we were just outside of his door. One that he didn’t even close when he started the call. It’d take a real moron to not realize at some point.

A horrific growl rips free of Illumisia’s throat. It’s met with a terrified scream, doors being thrown open, and the heavy breathing of a Paindne woman in a simple outfit underneath an oil-stained lab coat as she catches her breath from being scared to hell and back. Two teeth hang from a silver string around her neck, each encased in a clear resin that sparkles when it catches even the slightest bit of light.

“Lords and ladies, warn a girl next time!” She says through deep breaths that seemingly do nothing to calm her. “If there’s a wild painted dane on the loose in the district, I need to know that before I use magic to come here!”

The shopkeep shrugs effortlessly. “Don’t blame me; I didn’t even know it was there.”

I shoot him a look that could curdle milk, but he doesn’t even blink. Then I turn the glare into a pleasant closed-mouth smile and offer the researcher a hand.

“Sorry about that. Illumisia doesn’t really like Paindne, apparently. The name’s Shelby–how about you?”

She eyes my hand for a second, then clasps it eagerly. “Nibble. But you can call me Nib–it sounds a lot less childish. Give me a few seconds for my heart to start beating right again, and then we can get down to business.”

I nod a little as I help her steady herself. “No problem. If you’re the one that’s going to help me get past the thousand Worth threshold, I’ll wait all day. But, uh, no more than that. Time limits, you know?”

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“Ah, time limits. The eternal plight of everyone with a Class.” She chuckles lightly and pulls a folding chair out of her inventory, which she promptly unfolds and falls into. “If you don’t mind me asking, are you on your first visit here? Or are you starting to make this world your home away from home?”

“First visit still.”

“Oh, really? You have a… confident air about you that usually only comes with repeaters. Candy?”

She offers me a colourful piece of waxy paper wrapped around something spherical. I accept it without thinking, and that seems to make her smile for some reason. Another pops into her hand, and she pulls on both ends of the wax paper to reveal a pure white sphere in the middle. She bends down and licks it out of the paper, then stuffs the paper in her pocket.

“It’s good.” She assures me with what looks like a genuine smile. “I make it in my spare time. Oh, do you like mint? I’ve met a lot of humans that either love mint or hate it due to a flavor of toothpaste that is common on your planet.”

“Love it.” I assure her as I follow her motions exactly to extract the candy from its wrapper, down to stuffing it in my pocket at the end. The thing is so minty that it makes my eyes water, but it’s horrifically refreshing at the same time. “It’s a little strong.”

Nib laughs and pats my forearm. “Our tastebuds aren’t quite as strong as yours, so our flavors are either way more intense or way blander. There’s no inbetween, I’ve been told. But I can’t hear my blood in my ears any more, so that means it’s time to get down to business.”

The shopkeep eagerly rubs his hands together. “Perfect! Do you need me to do anything?”

“No. Just stand there and look presentable.” Nib says kindly, then gestures for me to put a robot in her lap. “First thing’s first–they have to withstand the move test. If they disintegrate the second I touch them, they aren’t worth studying. We’ve already got plenty of those back at the–”

I grab one of the scap hunks and dump it in her lap without a second thought. It stops her mid-sentence, and she looks up at me like I’ve got two heads. But then she looks down at the robot. Which is exactly as destroyed as the moment I destroyed it, and nothing more.

“It’s… holding its shape.” She says with disbelief. “Even after the traumatic movement you just did, nothing has fallen off. Except for the battle damage that I assume you found it with?”

“Uh, no. I’m the battle that damaged it.”

Her eyes and smile noticeably brighten. “Even better! That means they were combat ready just a few short days ago. These… are they all like this? Barring whatever damage you inflicted on them to render them inert, I mean.” She sits up straighter to study the bots on the counter, then lets out an excited hum. “This is perfect. We have a wonderful example of actual shellraiser machinery back at the lab, but these functional replicas of questionable quality never show up in this good condition. I’ll give you five hundred Worth for the lot.”

Pearl laughs out loud at Nib’s offer. I stick out my hand before she can repeal it and offer me way less. “You’ve got a deal.”

“Wonderful! Here.” She pulls out a stone card that looks exactly like everything else in Palastia. “This should have just enough to cover the transaction. And if you ever–and I mean ever–run into anything like this ever again, please don’t hesitate to contact me. I’ll even give you my personal Class Card contact so we don’t need to use a middle man.”

The shopkeep clears his throat. “That middle man can hear you.”

We both ignore him. I tap my Class Card to Nib’s stone one and nod as the Worth rolls in, then pocket it as I swipe away the notification for my level up. Another one appears right after, and before I can ignore this one, I catch a little of its contents in the corner of my eye.

Quest Update: Forgeries Made In Shell

You have recruited a researcher with promises of technology and secrets.

Further involving her will make her aware of this quest. If you do not wish for this to happen, do not further your relationship with her.

Quest progress on the robots, huh? That’s probably cool. I don’t really want to share the rewards with anyone else, though, so maybe I’ll have to think twice about involving Nib in this. But that’s a problem for months down the line when she actually gets some results. Maybe. Probably not. I’m way too lazy to do all that research on my own–especially in a language I can’t read. I’ll be the boots on the ground, and Nib can be the eyes locked on the books.

“Hey, Nib, can you tell me if you find anything useful?” I ask as I move to leave the store. “I’m not as invested in the tech as you are, but I’d like to know the story behind whatever I bring you.”

“Sure, no problem.” Nib agrees easily, then frowns. “Actually, one problem. My contract is really lenient, but it explicitly states I can’t bring sensitive information outside of the university. If you’re willing to come visit the lab, then I can tell you everything in person. Does that work?”

I nod and shoot her a toothy smile. She tilts her head in curiosity, but doesn’t actually say anything.

“It works perfectly for me. Shoot me a message if you ever find anything out, and we’ll set a date. See you whenever.”

“Yeah. See you whenever.” She repeats with mild confusion at my choice of words.

I push open the door, then pat Illumisia on the head before she can get kill-y. “She’s useful. Just like Clutter. Why do you have such a hate-on for them?”

“Genetics.” Illumisia growls. “And something far more complex that the system will undoubtedly censor. It also seems like you will be leaving us soon enough. Do you know for how long?”

I snort and shake my head. “I know as much about that as you do. But I’ve got contacts with two people now–is there some way we can do the same?”

“There is no need. When you return, I will know.” Illumisia states. “If the system attempts to cheat you once again, I will be there. This I promise you.”

“Thanks.”

Illumisia harrumphs, then points her nose at the store entrance that’s overlapping with quite a few buildings. Nobody else even pays it a single second of thought, so it must be exclusive to me. And Illumisia, and Pearl, but I don’t really understand how that works.

“Are you going straight there, or are you going to attempt to double all of your Worth beforehand?”

I pull at my Worth, and this time, a slightly different coin comes free. Instead of glass, this one is made of simple grey metal. There are five tally marks on one side, and a simple empty pentagon on the other. The system informs me that it’s an Iron Quint, and that it’s worth exactly five glass lones.

“Well, I suppose that will speed things up significantly.” Illumisia notes, then nudges me towards an alleyway. “I will put up a barrier so that you do not expose your skill. Hopefully no children or false descendants will interrupt us this time.”