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Tax Fraud in Another World! [LitRPG, Comedy, Adventure]
Chapter 18 — How to lose a priceless dagger in (far less than) 10 days

Chapter 18 — How to lose a priceless dagger in (far less than) 10 days

[Appraisal]

I held the blade before my eyes like someone holding a baby for the first time. You don’t know how you’re supposed to do it, and you don’t want to break it or make it barf.

[Appraisal] only allowed me to see low-level magic, so I unfortunately wasn’t greeted by an overflowing tsunami of swirling blue power.

What I could see, though, was a dot.

It was even darker than the blade itself, and it was intense. A void of something sitting in the center of my new dagger, waiting to be released.

“That’s one hell of a gift. Pen won’t let you back on the Cavern team now — she’ll say you’ll have lost your objectivity. Can’t be getting too close to folk, you know? You’re lucky she isn’t here, or she might take it off you.” Adam said.

“Phwaw, she’d have to try pretty dang hard.”

Adam snorted.

Raid Leader Daniel had given me the blade, accepted my many thanks graciously, then left to take care of whatever stack of paperwork he had to take care of. I imagined there would be a lot of it given the losses, both human and machine.

We’d somehow had no deaths, but there were two Cavern engineers who were so severely injured that the efforts of the Healers wouldn’t be enough — they had to be taken to a hospital in Anpar so that the specialists there could do their thing.

Surprisingly, a good chunk of the loot carts that went into the Gate also came out full to the brim. A few collector teams had made it through to the two incorrect paths cleared by the raid team, allowing them to extract enough gems from the decadent walls to fill four carts.

It was a sub-standard load, but it couldn’t hurt given the expense that would be required to repair or repurchase their machinery.

From what Adam said, giving up my new dagger and throwing it on top of the cart would’ve paid for more than one new piece of equipment, without a doubt.

“Forty-foot Gate, monsters like that and a unique weapon drop from the boss? Hell, you could sell that thing back in Haverbark and you’d never work for Granton again! Actually, scratch that, I still need you there until the Litigation Team gets off their asses and cleans him out.”

Tonight would be another night without attending the cathedral. Granton hadn’t missed two nights in a row since I pillaged his mansion, so it was time to face the music and accept that I would need a very good explanation when I got back.

I got a sense that a ‘sick mother’ or ‘my dog died’ wouldn’t cut it.

Once my legs were not at risk of snapping like twigs, we plucked our way back to Anpar with the rest of the GTA folk that weren’t immediately going to a nearby tavern to ‘settle their nerves’. We were spontaneously put up in a ramshackle hotel on the west of the city, nice and close to the rocky landscape where most of Cavern’s Gates showed up. Given the ‘malfunction’ on today’s raid, we weren’t able to get an accurate estimated value of the raid, so we’d have to go again next time. It wasn’t known exactly when that would be, so for the time being, the GTA purse had its drawstrings as tight as they could pull them.

Watery oatmeal for dinner, and bedbugs for dessert.

Adam and I didn’t fancy the prospects, so we left.

We’d really only been in Anpar as a gesture of goodwill to Pen’s relationship with Daniel and some other members of Cavern, so having done our duty — quite well, may I say — we continued past that dilapidated excuse for four-stars and a buffet breakfast and continued east through the city.

We dropped by the GTA office to deliver some preliminary documents that we didn’t have time to hand off when we arrived. They would likely go through the paper shredder given that the work would have to be performed again, but Adam was stringent, and I was a graduate, so I sat on Donkey and waited outside the building.

A lady approached me with a blank canvas under one arm, and an easel under the other.

“Sir! Sir! Painting for one-hundred dura! Just today offer, quick quick sell!”

I made a cross gesture with my arms and smiled weakly.

“No, no. All good thank you.”

She stepped closer.

“But so beautiful horse! And big strong man, yes? You must let me, you must!”

What a lovely day for social anxiety.

I squirmed in the saddle as she patted Donkey’s chest and my leg. She flitted around me like a halo, but god, she was far from angelic.

“No, please, leave me alone. I don’t want a painting, please.”

“You want a painting? Okay!”

She swung the canvas between the saddle and Donkey’s neck, gave my thigh a slap — ergh — then stepped away, arranging her easel on the dusty earth.

I suppose I’m getting painted now. How lovely. I hope she knows she isn’t getting paid.

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With the easel firmly set on its tripod legs, she poked her head over at me. I hefted the canvas and urged Donkey forward so I could hand it to the artist.

“Wait! No, hold it! I forget my paints, I be back in one minute. You wait, you wait!”

She turned and fled, leaving me staring after her like watching a bad dream fade away.

Uhh, what was that?

Then I noticed a dark fleck at her waist, and instinctively felt for my dagger.

Gone.

No. Fucking. Way.

I kicked Donkey forward, then thought better of it. I’d be faster on foot, especially in the winding alleys.

I crunched into the dirt, wincing a little as I discovered my leg had not fully healed, then sprinted after the fleeing figure with my life savings clipped to her belt.

“Come baaaackkk!”

She did not come back.

[Anaerobic Endurance]

I felt the slight speed increase and knuckled down, leaning forward to force myself into a higher gear. Rounding a corner, I leapt clear of a cabbage cart, almost bolting headlong into the man guiding it.

My cabbages!

Focus.

I could see the woman ahead of me, her dark hair streaming behind her. She turned, smiling back at me with a cheeky grin telling me I’d lost.

{Anaerobic Endurance : Level Up! Current Level: 3}

{Aerobic Endurance : Level Up! Current Level: 3}

I ran on for a few more alleys, steadily coming to terms with the trade I’d made.

One priceless dagger in return for one blank canvas and a rickety easel.

She was too quick. I had spent all my time praying for Granton and working at the GTA rather than improving my own skills, and now I paid the price.

A couple of hours were all it took for me to lose Daniel’s gift, and now the thief peeled away as I faded to a stop. She flashed one last mocking smile then adjusted her course to avoid a passerby in a top hat.

Top Hat Guy lifted his cane, and absolutely clotheslined her.

I’m not talking like a ‘knock the bar over at limbo’ kinda deal, I’m talking straight up ‘Mortal-Kombat-inspired-run-into-a-brick-wall.’

It was beautiful.

Top Hat Guy leaned over and plucked the blade from her hip, then tapped her forehead. A golden pulse ran through her body, and she sat up, dazed.

I jogged up to the scene.

“Give that back, it’s mine!” she yelled.

“I think not, my good lady.” replied Top Hat Guy.

He turned to me. I blinked, and he had covered the distance between us.

“I believe you dropped this. Fine weapon, might I add.”

I held out my hands and he placed the dagger across them, then closed my fingers around the dull edge.

“You may want to hold onto that a bit tighter, next time. You might not have noticed, but it contains some very powerful magic.”

“I will. Err, thank you. What should I call you?”

“My name is Ernest. I’d love to stay and chat, but duty calls. Perhaps I’ll see you again someday, but in the meantime, learn how to recall that dagger!”

He tipped his hat, then turned a corner into an alley leading back to the GTA office. I needed to travel the same direction, but when I followed his path, he was already gone.

The thief had recovered, and now gazed at me with malice. I gripped the dagger and pointed the tip at her, and she hissed.

“Stay the hell away from me. You can have your stupid canvas and easel back, but don’t come get them until I’m gone.”

Another hiss.

Such lovely folk in Anpar, eh?

Getting back to the GTA was a bit of a maze, but after a few backtracks and dead ends, I sighted Adam standing next to Donkey, the canvas in his arms. He saw me as I approached.

“I thought you’d been turned into an art installation! Would’ve been a dull one, I admit.”

“Thanks. And no, my dagger got stolen.”

He guffawed.

“You’re kidding? Lordy lord, it really doesn’t end with you, you know that? Just one thing after the other. Damn! Looks like you got it back, though?”

“I didn’t, this bloke with a top hat caught the thief as easily as picking daisies. Told me to learn that [Dagger Recall] thing you do.”

Now Adam was interested.

“A top hat? Did you catch his name?”

“Yeah, Ernest.”

“Ernest?! That might’ve been the goddamn Man of Hell! He’s supposed to be on the frontlines though, what’s he doing in Anpar?”

I shrugged.

“He didn’t say. Left pretty quick though. ‘Duty calls’ was how he described it.”

“Fancy that. Well, I’m glad you had an exciting time, cos mine sucked. Had to explain to a panel of Quality Control folk why nine GTA employees would be coming back on stretchers. It’s not even my frickin’ job, man.”

I nodded sympathy. Quality Control sucks. Like Risk Management but even more itty-bitty with everything.

“Anyway, let’s get going. I wanna be back home at a reasonable hour tomorrow.”

We hopped up on Donkey and Fart Machine 3000 and got going. Though I was disappointed that I wouldn’t get to go dungeon-running with Cavern again, I was happy to leave Anpar. It was pretty, but it was also dusty, hot, vicious and confusing.

Not an appetizing combination of traits.

Our journey home was as interesting as the first time round. I leveled up [Keen Hearing] and worked on [Observation], though I didn’t receive any vibrations for that one. Given the slow EXP gain, it felt like level 4 would unlock an ability.

I swear we even camped in the same crop circle.

You’ll be glad to know that I remembered to pray. My culinary senses weren’t tingling that night, so Rendar received a rather unimaginative feed, but I’m sure it wouldn’t have hurt Granton’s levels that much — Rendar is a forgiving God when it comes to his most dedicated disciples.

On that note, I wonder if, from Rendar’s perspective, the prayers came from me or Granton? If such a being as the God of Knowledge existed and was more than just a figment of the Navigator, would he look through the person receiving his blessings to where they actually stem from?

Little old me?

The more time I spent in this world, the more I realized that getting myself waist-deep in business with Granton was a poor choice. In this world, wealth and material things were far inferior to power. A dragon hoard of treasure should not be spent on an expansive mansion, but instead on potent weaponry and magically imbued armor.

As usual, I should’ve listened to my elders — on this occasion, Church Man.

At least I could fall back on the explanation that I was doing it for the GTA and my...career.

Oof.

I wonder if Man of Hell had to put up with shit like this when he was younger. I didn’t like the chances. His refined look and perfectly twirled mustache just shouted, ‘When I was a baby, I said please and thank you to my mother whenever I asked for my pacifier.”

A gross generalization for sure, but to hell with it, no one was reading my mind.

I thought.