In just a month and a half, Arien had managed to achieve a whole number of things.
On the very first day, she saved a group of children from drowning in a lake. These weren't just any children but ones from the families of city council members who had sneaked beyond the wall for a nighttime swim.
She eradicated weeds that had been a nuisance to the local farmers with some sort of poison.
She concocted a new fertilizer based on manure, earning the respect of the farmers.
She "invented" and introduced a wheeled plow, compelling the locals to adopt it, and assembled several examples from available materials.
She aided workers in painting the city hall with a new paint composition and introduced paint rollers as an innovation, for which the workers ordered a service of thanksgiving in her honor at the local Temple.
She assisted local fishermen with a new, simpler yet sturdy net-weaving technique and, within a week, established a semi-automatic workshop for producing these nets. She then gifted this workshop to the fishing guild, asking only for a promise to allocate a third of the profits to her.
She visited the local branch of the Artifactors' Guild and exited a day later, carried out in their arms, officially named a Friend of the Great Guild.
The same occurred at the branch of the Alchemists' Guild, with the same carry-out ceremony and title.
She stopped an imminent war about to start between local branches of the great Guilds over her, declining both.
She clashed with the priests of Elai, insisting they wash their hands during treatment. This confrontation lasted a week, and eventually, the priests caved in! They agreed with her, amending their centuries-old covenants. (Nobody can resist Arien's charisma, not even a holy man, I know that all too well!)
She created a paper manufactory and flooded Katiyer with relatively cheap paper. (I wondered how the owner of a regular inn in a small village could afford the luxury of a stack of clean paper sheets? The secret turned out to be simple. Shards are just Shards. While other earthlings are looking around, adapting, they start acting immediately and, surprisingly, succeed!) Having set up the paper production (In one and a half weeks!!! How?!), she again gifted this manufactory, this time to the city, for the promise of a third of the profits. For this, she was granted the title of Honorary Citizen. (I, having won the Grand Guild tournament in Tries, for example, wasn't honored with such a distinction.)
She met the young son of the king - the prince - while strolling in the suburban forest, and he fell head over heels for her. But she turned him down, doing it in such a way that the prince rushed away somehow uplifted, promising to elevate the girl to noble rank. Rumors around the city suggest that a crown representative, who will bestow knighthood upon Arien despite her not yet reaching the Precious Coil, is soon to arrive. (Most likely, the duke's envoy I met at the gates came to Katiyer for precisely this reason.)
Then, this restless soul achieved an Affinity with Fire.
Next, an Affinity with Air.
And shortly after, an Affinity with Water.
She reached Steel first among the local earthlings, and without setting foot in or clearing a single dungeon at that!
She earned three Adamantium achievements, but Gianni didn't know which ones exactly.
And this is far from the complete list of what she managed to accomplish in just six weeks!!!
Insanity…
But I have no doubt that it's all true. Because this is Arien. Moreover, an Arien who is still hesitant to unleash her full power. A couple more months, and the Pentapolis will shudder when this unstoppable spirit settles there permanently.
When Gianni finished his story, two empty bottles stood on the counter.
"By the way," Armani refilled our glasses with new wine, "the guild that Arien founded has been granted Recognized status."
"Whoa," I whistled.
"Do you know what that means?" Gianni looked slightly surprised.
"It means that all three Great Guilds acknowledge this minor guild."
"Exactly!" Armani snapped his fingers. "Locals say that there were only two such guilds in the whole kingdom of Ilomen before this. And it's a vast kingdom," he added weightily.
The advantage of Recognized guilds over the regular ones is that their members can also belong to any of the Great Guilds. Meaning, one can be a member of both a Great Guild and a Recognized guild without any penal sanctions. There were other advantages for such guilds, of course, not as significant, but present.
"You've been in town for a while," I survey the store's interior, "and I don't see the Ainuminati guild sign anywhere."
"Ha!" Gianni leaned back in his chair, arms folded across his chest. "I am indeed immensely grateful to Arien for subsidizing the opening of my shop, but I've already paid back all the money."
"So you're not in the guild despite being in the 'starting five' with Arien?" Armani had mentioned this detail in passing during his stories.
"We parted ways pretty quickly," the earthling grimaced, "in my opinion, she constantly gets involved in some insanities without always correctly calculating the consequences."
"But she wins," I smile broadly, spreading my hands.
"That's true, can't argue with that." After taking a sip of wine, Gianni set his glass on the counter as if distancing himself from the drink. "Alright, I confess. The reason why I'm not in Ainuminati is simple. I'm more of a warrior than a mage, and Arien has a quirk: she only recruits mages into her guild."
"Not the most farsighted choice," I frown.
"Isn't it you who just said that she wins? And as long as that continues, people follow her like a leash puppy." Armani smiles openly. "However, she truly is something. Alone, she has done more for the locals than all of us other earthlings combined." He scratched the back of his head. "Though, for some reason, things don't go as smoothly for the rest as for Arien." Gianni rubbed his eyes and put the unfinished bottle under the counter, hinting that it was time to end the morning libations. "There was a guy here, called himself Neil Beam… Decided to set up a proper steam ferry to the other side of the lake. Made the calculations, adjusted for the local specifics. According to his plans, cargo transportation could be doubled in volume and reduced by a third in cost."
"Was…" I interjected meaningfully.
"Yes, his body washed up on the shore a few days ago," Gianni's smile was filled with bitterness. "Not all innovations are readily accepted by the locals. Especially when it undermines their long-established, albeit imperfect, business," the earthling put it mildly.
"But they seem to accept your fashion," I looked around the room again, "even though for the locals, its manifestations are, let's say, not quite standard."
"Ha!" Armani chuckled. "As soon as I opened the shop, they almost burnt it down. Arien saved it, convincing the locals. Plus, a few sets of underwear, gifted to the right ladies, solved the issue." He rose to his feet. "By the way, since we're talking about work, you didn't just come here to hear the news, right? Or not just for that!" The earthling winked at me.
"Yeah, I've worn out my old ones," I confessed. "I need a few shirts. Two for travel, nothing flowery, but sturdy. Two for the city, preferably also without your innovations, so that in a crowd, if anything happens, I could blend in and not attract unwanted attention." With each of my words, Gianni's face darkened. "But I also need a ceremonial shirt and pants to go with it. Not just any, but something that complements this..." I pulled out the doublet gifted by Larindel, tailored to the latest Pentapolis fashion.
Gianni's eyes turned into saucers, and he exhaled sharply, "I've never seen such a marvel!"
He pounced on the doublet like a hawk, scrutinized it for at least five minutes, then lifted pleading eyes to me, "Sell it to me!"
"I can't; it's a gift, and selling it would be impolite," I declined, not out of spite, but because I'd been carrying this doublet with me for so long that it would be a shame to sell it, even for a fair price.
"Can I make sketches of it? Please?"
"Let's do this. I'll be in town for at least a day, so I'll leave it with you. Draw, take measurements, even sleep with it for all I care," I pushed the doublet towards the earthling. "But first, my shirts and pants. I also need pants, two pairs, one for travel and one for the city."
"I have an offer for you," Gianni states firmly, his arms crossed over his chest. "I'll take your measurements, but I'll only personally make the 'ceremonial attire' for you. However, I know all the shops in the city well. I'll purchase what you need and then tailor it to your size. I won't charge for this service, except for the tailoring, of course."
"That works for me. But I need one set of a shirt and trousers quickly; I'm practically in rags." To prove my point, I show him my much-suffered trousers, repeatedly stitched up with coarse seams.
"Stand up," Gianni commands with a characteristic wave of his hand after hopping over the counter. "And take off the chainmail." In his hands, as if by magic, a tape and chalk appear. "I'm going to take measurements."
After pulling off the chainmail and folding it neatly, I straighten up and stretch to remove my gambeson, but then I hear:
"Stop!" Gianni, walking around me, pokes a finger at the multilayered leather protection sewn onto the back of the gambeson. "I've never seen this before. The local gambesons aren't made like this." He circles me again and pokes the same spot. "What's this for? It adds weight and somewhat hinders bending."
"When a monster or mace strikes your liver, chainmail won't save you from the crushing impact. But this insert can significantly soften the blow."
"Hmm!" After another circle, Gianni freezes in front of me. "So, you understand why each detail of your gambeson is there?"
"Of course, it was made according to my design!"
"Your design?" Gianni's voice reveals a light surprise.
"Yes, back on Earth, I was into medieval times, and I was also a biker and a gymnast in my youth." My words are a mix of both deceit and truth. "So everything here is well thought out!"
"Okay, I understand the insert along the spine, but what about this? What's it for?"
For about ten minutes, Gianni hops around me, demanding explanations for each detail of my gambeson. Why are there two or three times more layers of sailcloth in one place than another, or what the numerous leather inserts are for? From what I gather, unlike Arien, Gianni earned his Bronze not only for business achievements but also for dungeon clearing, so his curiosity was rooted in practical knowledge. Apparently, being a decent designer and having gained combat experience, he catches my explanations on the fly. And I'm not against it. Quite the contrary, I'm very pleased. My version of the gambeson is almost half a year ahead of anything that will be made in Ain, even considering the earthlings' progressivism in many areas. Katashi will create something better only a couple of months before the final battle.
"Ah, thanks for the explanation!" Gianni stepped back after scratching down notes on several sheets of paper. "Take off the gambeson and leave it here."
"Why do you need it? You've already taken all the measurements."
"Don't you need it fixed up?" The earthling smirked. "Don't worry, I won't charge much for this job. By the way, what's this belt of yours? Let me have a look!"
"Hands off!" I shouted. "Be careful! And a piece of advice for you: don't go touching other people's belts and wallets without asking. It might hit you so hard that you'll be soiling yourself the rest of your life."
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"Yeah, encountered that before." Gianni quickly pulled his hands back and stepped a couple of meters away. "Thanks for the warning. I was just intrigued by the design; it has something alien, strange to it..." He waved his hand uncertainly in front of his face.
"You can immediately tell a stylist," I laughed. "You're right. This belt wasn't made by humans but by orcs."
"Let me see!" The earthling's new bout of curiosity seemed even stronger than all the previous ones. "Please!!!"
I put the belt on the counter and allowed him to examine it while forbidding him to touch it. The charcoal stick in the earthling's hands flew like a poet's feather touched by inspiration, sketching the finest details of the belt into a notebook.
"Raven, the gods sent you to me!" Closing the notebook, Gianni looked up at me with a smile. "I thought I knew everything about local fashion. You won't believe it, but I completely forgot that besides humans, there are orcs, gnomes, Sidhe..." He rolled his eyes. "And each race has its own perception of beauty!" He looked around his shop as if seeing it for the first time and cringed. "What a fool I was to open this 'best fashion house in all of Ain.' How can I claim this if I haven't seen what other races consider beautiful?"
"Forget it!" I waved my hands. "Don't even think about approaching the orcs, gnomes, and especially the Sidhe! I don't want your death on my conscience, even indirectly!"
"Do you think I'm crazy?" Gianni stepped back. "I've heard enough about the Sidhe! But I opened this shop too early. I should first take a look at the world, and then, in a year or so..." He rolled his eyes and lost himself in thought.
"You'll still have time to explore the world," I corrected him carefully. "To see all the diversity of Ain and traverse all its paths, a lifetime wouldn't be enough. But there is a much easier way."
"And what's that?" The earthling inquired.
"Pentapolis, and especially the city of Deytran, which is not without reason called the trading capital of the world. You can find everything there. Literally everything. Just like in New York. And you don't have to go somewhere yourself, into the conditional jungles of the Amazon or the Great Swamps of Patanga."
"The trading capital..." Gianni murmured even more dreamily.
"Just don't rush off there right away." I snapped my fingers in front of his nose. "First, settle down here, and when Arien decides to move to Pentapolis, you can follow her, but not before."
"Will she decide to move there?" Armani seemed a bit surprised by my confidence.
"If she really has as fiery a character as you described, she'll soon feel cramped in this province."
"You're right, you're right..." The earthling drifted even further into his fantasies.
Clapping my hands, I asked, bringing him back to reality:
"Are you going to work?"
"Eh, what?"
"You've taken all measurements and sketched everything except the main thing. Who's going to measure me?"
"Ah, yes, exactly," Gianni said, snapping his fingers in the air. Unfazed, he stepped towards me with a measuring tape in his hands. "We'll get right on it!"
I left Armani's shop closer to noon. Not because he took measurements for three hours, of course, such a thing didn't even take ten minutes. Nonetheless, I stayed with him for a while. I asked him about this and that and told him a bit myself. I learned that Gianni had four Talent Stars in long swords - he got the fourth one from the Stela during the second group test - and the same in Illusions. I also found out that the earthling was really bothered by the fact that he didn't know where and, most importantly, how to apply Illusion magic. Locals used this school of magic bluntly, without imagination, and didn't consider its combat application. And because of the specificity of Illusion magic, which depended not on learning certain techniques or spells but on the caster's imagination and skill, it was quite difficult to master this section of magical Art independently. More precisely, it was hard to start learning it: without understanding the basic principles of weaving spirit and mana, achieving something sensible alone is almost impossible. But later, after mastering the basics and not being limited by certain spells, you could create whatever you pleased, as your imagination and talent allowed. And for combat, as distraction magic, this subdivision of the Art works wonderfully.
Having demonstrated what I achieved in a month of training in Illusions - showing the earthling a small animated cartoon on my palm - I fully captured Armani's attention. Then I explained to him the basic things that the locals knew literally from the cradle but which the earthlings themselves would not realize soon. I also gave him some instructions, explained certain weaves, and showed breathing practices that facilitate the process.
Instructing Gianni, I didn't consider it a waste of time. Besides the fact that I simply liked this person for his incredible harmony of enthusiasm, bordering on obsession, and simultaneously the ability to make calm and balanced choices. It was precisely such people, running their own shops, who were very useful to others in the Last Cycle. They offered not only unique products for Ain but also served as information centers where one could learn all the news concerning earthlings. Everyone visiting such a shop would share something with its owner, and over time, these little stores became something like information hubs for us.
Initially, I wanted to minimize unavoidable expenses and stay at the Tunnellers' Guild branch inn. But now, stepping back into the street, I changed my mind. The thing is, visiting the Guild would require me to touch the Book mandatorily. This divine artifact would instantly read my current rank and change my Guild Sign to Wootz. I wasn't yet ready to show everyone around my true level. Especially to the earthlings, as I anticipated that it would raise many questions I wasn't willing to answer at the moment.
While chatting with Gianni, he didn't waste any time. He had several local servants working for him, and he commissioned them to assist. For just a silver, they cleaned my chainmail and, after oiling it, hung it up to dry. Also, a young apprentice, supervised by Armani, got my gambeson in order. However, Gianni asked to keep the gambeson until tomorrow, which I agreed to, not bothering to take the chainmail either, as it was useless without the gambeson. A very young boy, no more than twelve, at Armani's command, ran to several local tailors with my measurements in hand. Their assistants brought samples of their products directly to Gianni's shop. The earthling immediately rejected some items but paid for and kept others. He quickly tailored a shirt for me and hemmed the trousers, which fit me well at the waist but were clearly made for someone taller.
So, I left the shop not in my patched-up rags but in all-new attire. Gianni even lent me his moccasins, throwing my boots in the trash. The earthling's foot was only a size smaller than mine, and given that his moccasins were made of soft leather, I preferred wearing them over my old boots that chafed until blisters formed. Additionally, Gianni gave me the address of a good bootmaker, which was my next destination as soon as I left the earthling's shop.
While walking those two blocks, I encountered several other earthlings, a couple of whom I even recognized, thanks to the "memory of the future." Passing by this group, I purposely didn't give any indication that I was one of them. They glanced at me indifferently, and none identified me as an earthling. Only one stood up to ask me something but immediately sat back down upon noticing the Steel Sign of a tunneller on my chest. This nuance amused me a bit. I indeed looked like a local at the moment. Dressed just like them, with whatever on my head instead of a hairstyle, wearing ill-fitting shoes. And I walked like the locals, meaning unhurriedly and a bit waddling, unlike the earthlings who, perhaps out of habit, were always in a rush and almost always literally ran wherever they decided to go.
To my relief, the shoemaker was not busy and accepted my order immediately. I ordered two pairs of boots from him. One pair for traveling, made of soft leather, and another for dungeons, with metal studs and multilayered reinforced leather protecting the shins. On Earth, an experienced master making footwear by hand would take at least a week to complete such an order. But thanks to magic and ranks, this local Bronze shoemaker promised to have everything ready by the next dawn.
Since Katiyer was a free trade city, it had a plethora of taverns and inns catering to any budget and any demand. But, thanks to Gianni's stories, I already knew where I would stay. Just a week ago, the foresighted Arien, preparing for her upcoming exam, had bought a half-share in one of the local inns that boasted a large backyard. She had transformed that yard into a training field. Also, that inn offered a significant discount to earthlings. Although, I was still doubting whether to take advantage of this discount or continue pretending to be a local.
Reaching the central square, I asked a guard for the location of the Artifactors' Guild branch and learned it was just on the next street, so I headed there immediately.
The Artifactors' Guild had earned the right to be called Great not just because its masters crafted or conjured magical items. There were plenty of guilds on Ain engaged in similar activities. However, this Guild stood out for one significant difference. The Great Artifactors' Guild was the only one on the entire Ain to offer banking services, including the safekeeping of valuable items.
Upon entering the Artifactors' Guild branch, I rented a small safe, connecting its lock with my unique Tunneller Sign, and placed the Avalonium found in Magevra's temple inside it. Of course, stealing one and a half kilograms of magical steel unnoticed isn't that simple, but I breathed a substantial sigh of relief when I put the precious metal in the secure safe.
Since most of my heavy belongings were temporarily at Armani's shop, I felt quite light and decided to wander around the city. However, I soon realized that walking around with a spear on my shoulder drew unnecessary attention. Moreover, attempting to appear relaxed while armed wasn't convincing. So, recalling Gianni's story, I quickly found the inn with a freshly painted sign overhead that read "The Prancing Pony." Given Arien's fondness for fantasy literature, I wasn't surprised she renamed the establishment after purchasing a share in it.
Crossing the threshold, I had hoped to see an interior akin to the original "The Prancing Pony" from the renowned "Lord of the Rings." Alas, if Arien intended to remodel the inn to mirror Peter Jackson's depiction, she hadn't got around to it yet.
"We only have rooms overlooking the courtyard left," a pretty local maid informed me as I approached the counter to book a room.
"That will do," I nodded. "And the second floor is fine too," I added, accepting the key. "Please bring a basin of warm water for washing feet right away."
"It will be done," she nodded and explained the way to my room.
I ascended the slightly creaking yet sturdy staircase, found the right door with ease, went in, immediately took off my moccasins, and collapsed on the bed. I stared blankly at the ceiling for a few minutes until the maid awakened me, carrying a basin of warm water. I leisurely washed my feet, simultaneously massaging them, and diligently brushed off the thought that things were going surprisingly well at the moment! I considered it might be a good time to grab a bite. I was torn between ordering room service, heading down to the inn's kitchen, or visiting any of the city's taverns. My musing was interrupted by escalating noise coming from the direction of the window. I opened the shutters slightly to take a peek outside.
Five earthlings were on a relatively large platform, involved in some dispute. More precisely, four of them had surrounded a dark-haired girl with a short bob haircut, attacking her all at once. From the staff in her hands, it was clear she was a mage, not a warrior. All earthlings in the yard were of the Bronze rank and fought "with clean weapons," meaning magic was off the table.
"Well, who's the klutz now?" The mage's staff swept low, targeting the knee of an incautious guy holding a training axe.
The axe-wielder lost his balance from the sweep and was sent to the ground by a confident staff poke to his chest.
"One down, losers!" the short-haired girl yelled out.
But her joy was premature. The remaining three fighters exchanged looks and, nodding to each other, silently encircled the girl. She immediately found herself in a tight spot. Nevertheless, she spun like a snake on a frying pan, managing to parry attacks from all sides. However, her success was not so much due to her great skill but rather the mistakes and inability of her opponents to work as a team. From the shouts on the training ground, I understood that I was witnessing the final part of a dispute about the notion that "magicians can't use weapons, and their staffs are nothing more than a third leg." The female mage had taken it upon herself to prove otherwise. And it must be said, she almost succeeded. Almost, because she still overestimated her strength. She managed to knock another opponent out, and he, following the rules of the dispute, left the field. But that's where her success ended. The remaining pair of fighters finally got serious and eventually pushed the girl out of the training circle, which apparently meant defeat in the dispute.
"Ha!" One of the victors triumphantly raised his wooden sword. "Got you! You sure yelled, 'I'll take you all down by myself,' but when it came down to it, what happened? You backed down?"
"If I had used magic," the girl retorted, her nose in the air, independently and proudly, "you all would have been lying here!"
"Alright, let's drop it!" The guy who was knocked out first stepped forward. "The dispute was about whether a staff in the hands of a mage is a weapon and not just for show, and I think she won it."
"I always win!" the brunette snorted.
"So, care to try again with us?" New players appeared in the yard. "There are three of us and only one of you." A long-haired girl, familiar to me from the Past Cycle, laughed. "And we don't have to stay here! I have a huge bed in my room - if you know what I mean."
Her words were echoed by the boisterous laughter of two sturdy men who were also "familiar" to me. Well, well, this trio of clowns, just like last time, apparently got "stuck" together. Last time, we realized too late how dangerous they were. We dismissed them as dumb jokers with idiotic pranks, but they quickly escalated from verbal taunts and insults to far more brutal "entertainments." Had I encountered this trio on a deserted forest path, I would have buried all three under a stump without engaging in conversation. In this Cycle, they had taken different names, but their faces remained the same. The most dangerous of the trio was the one who called herself Molly Moon; she was their ringleader and, in the future, a skilled Mental mage. This seemingly beautiful creature dedicated her entire talent to harming other people. Her group especially loved to set up earthlings. Now, this trio was just sizing each other up, testing one another, but soon, people would start dying due to their actions - certainly within the next six months. By the way, they disappeared in the Last Cycle, and nobody knew where to. Although, now, I seem to understand that they vanished into the "nearest woods," not farther. Because before their disappearance, these three evil clowns chose Scully as the target for their joke. And now, knowing who Scully is, I'm completely certain about their unfortunate fate in the past.
"To bed?" the short-haired mage girl sneered as she turned in place. "With you and your two sidekicks?"
"Look, she's smart too," said the one who called himself Bushe George, playing the fool as he elbowed his accomplice.
The four earthlings involved in the initial dispute were apparently familiar with these "jokers" and hastened to leave the courtyard, leaving the dark-haired girl to deal with them alone. But she seemed unfazed, gripped her staff in a combat stance, and gestured invitingly.
"Come on then, show what you're made of." Her wicked smile made her look even more striking.
"No problem," Molly Moon smiled, turned to her accomplices, but then made a hand gesture that threw sand into the eyes of the girl standing in the center of the training ground.
The short-haired girl was not prepared for this unexpected attack.
"I haven't started yet!" she yelled in rage.
"But I have!" Molly Moon laughed and waved her minions on.
My leap downward is silent; the heads of Bushe George and Pyotr Grotter meet each other with a loud clunk. I could kill them both with one movement, but that would raise too many questions about me. So, I simply knock the pair out. At the sound of the two fairly large men falling, both girls turn around. I, lifting the unconscious bodies by the scruff, shake them in the air and, with a sweet smile, say:
"Two brutes thought to interrupt two ladies settling their differences honorably, and I couldn't just walk past such injustice."
"Who the hell are you?" Molly Moon angrily shouts, turning to me.
The fact that she turned around, thereby exposing her back to her opponent, was her mistake. A heavy training staff immediately came down on her nape.
"You shouldn't have!" says the beautiful, short-haired girl with an absolutely fabulous bust, stepping over the fallen body. "I could have handled them myself!"
"And I'm glad to see you, Miranda." I let go of the two bodies so that they fall at my feet and spread my arms to the sides.
"And I," the girl says, unusually for herself, sniffling a bit childishly, "am glad to see you, Raven!" She jumps onto my neck.