“My, my, my, look at that. It’s beautiful.” Hugo’s eyes glittered with undisguised avarice. “Still, you can’t expect five full mantles for it.”
“Of course I can! I’ve been to Correntry too, Hugo, I know what a totem relic is worth!”
Oliver sat nearby on an empty crate and watched the merchant’s exchange with one of the village’s hunters. The man was powerfully built, with his hair and beard alike starting to show a thorough dusting of salt and pepper, and he loomed over the paunchy trader. Oliver took him to be the chief hunter of Barool, the little village they found themselves in.
Despite their difference in builds, Hugo stared stubbornly up at the man without a trace of fear. “It’s worth what you can get for it.” He turned his eyes back to the totem the man held in his hands, an intricate knot of horns that looked as if a stag’s antlers had somehow been woven together. The totem represented the condensed magic of an arcane creature, some kind of magical deer, and was capable of imparting an appropriate relic gift.
“Deer is far from a popular gift, you know,” Hugo continued. “And this totem’s capped at just Initiate. I’d be more likely to get three mantles for it, if I’m lucky.”
The chief hunter’s face clouded over. “Three mantles!?”
“Which means I could only offer you one and a half.”
“Unacceptable, merchant! One of my men was nearly killed taking down this monster, I won’t take less than three mantles!”
“Injured taking down a stag? That must be quite the story.”
The man huffed indignantly. “It was a stormstrike stag! I’d like to see you do better trying to feather a beast what can fry you with a bolt of lightning from a hundred yards!”
“I’m quite sure I couldn’t, which is why I leave such endeavors to you and yours.” Hugo remained unflappably calm, even in the face of the man’s growing anger. “I can do a hundred scepters, that’s my best offer. Look, I’ve got a decent healing potion or two I stocked up on in Correntry, I’ll even throw one in for your injured man, out of good will.”
Oliver arched an eyebrow, intrigued at the mans’ offer. A hundred silver scepters were worth about ten gilts, or two full gold mantles - at least, out in the heartlands. In any major city, a moneychanger would charge closer to sixty or seventy scepters per mantle, as most bulk traders would refuse the numerous, lower value silver coins. Hugo’s company wasn’t large, but the man was impressively shrewd.
“A hundred scepters, the potion…” the hunter licked his lips thoughtfully, clearly mulling over what he thought he could ring out of the merchant, “and my choice of goods from your stock, up to another score of scepters.”
Hugo narrowed his eyes, and quickly countered, “Ninety scepters.”
“Ninety, the potion, twenty-five silver worth of goods.”
“Deal.” Hugo shook the man’s hand brusquely, accepted the totem carefully, and watched with satisfaction as the hunter stormed off.
Oliver hopped off of his makeshift seat and made his way over to the merchant, miming applause. “Quite the deal, merchant.”
Hugo’s dark eyes glittered with amusement, but he replied begrudgingly, “Perhaps. He still had me for over two mantles. I’ll be lucky to make a single gold coin off the deal.”
“Mmm. Maybe.” Oliver nodded thoughtfully. “Of course, our fine master hunter likely doesn’t know what current city exchange rates are like, or that you bought all your goods for twenty percent less than what you’re valuing them for. Or that any skirmisher cadre worth their salt would snatch up a deer gift in an instant to give to a scout, regardless of the low cap.”
The paunchy man’s eyes narrowed, and the fact that he had to look upwards didn’t soften his glare. “If you’re saying that anyone with the gall to barter over their valuables would be best off knowing their true worth, I would agree.”
Oliver laughed, but the sound had a hard edge to it. “Maybe, maybe. I suspect you’ll indeed get five mantles easily for a totem like that. Nearly triple your investment.”
“Seems a bit optimistic.” Hugo had clearly heard the note of warning in the boy’s voice, and his words had become more careful in response.
“Maybe. As you’re no doubt aware, I’m no master merchant.” Oliver gave the stout man a direct look. “Far be it for me to step in the way of your business. But still. I’d expect any man I’m risking my life to protect would at least be generous enough to ensure that the wounded man is fully recovered before we leave.”
“I don’t think your master would appreciate you abandoning this job, if that’s what you’re implying.”
“No. No, she wouldn’t,” Oliver admitted with another small laugh. “But I doubt she’ll have much to say if I accidentally insert myself into more of your business dealings going forward. I expect she’d approve of me broadening my education.”
Hugo stayed silent for a moment. “I suppose I can spare another potion or two for the poor man. Out of fairness.”
“Most generous of you. Sir.”
Hugo rolled his eyes and stomped away, grumbling under his breath. Oliver reflected that he looked little more pleased than the hunter had.
“The first principle of compromise,” he muttered to himself, remembering a book of diplomacy he had studied years before. “No one should leave the table happy, just satisfied.”
This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.
#
“I found it!” Oliver claimed, abruptly standing from his seat in the back of the wagon and pointing at a passage in the The Travels of Elben Trellay.
Rose turned from the driver’s seat of the wagon, where she was sitting with Beryl, forehead resting casually against the larger girl’s arm. “Found what?” she asked, her voice sleepy.
“Oh… were you sleeping?”
“Dozing,” Rose answered, lifting a delicate hand to cover her yawn. “So this better be worth it.”
“It is. I think I figured out what we’re hunting.”
That got both girls’ attention. Oliver eagerly scrambled forward along the wagon bed and held the book out to Rose, using a thumb to hold it open to the right page.
“‘Hexhunter cats,” Rose read from the passage he pointed her towards, “are an exceptionally rare lesser monster, generally produced by the magic of a sufficiently arcane hunting cat becoming hunger-aspected…’ Interesting...”
“You’re gonna need to slow down for me,” Beryl groused. “Not all of us spend our time reading magic books for fun. What exactly does ‘hunger-aspected’ mean?”
“It’s referring to ambient life magic that’s been altered by the intrinsic nature of an arcane beast,” Rose explained absently, still reading the passage on the hexhunter cat.
Oliver grinned at the cross look Rose’s offhand reply drew from the other warden trainee. “Okay, so you know ambient magic, right?” He asked.
“Yeah. The magic that’s, y’know, everywhere.”
“Exactly. So that ambient magic is tied into life on an intrinsic level. Some scholars actually claim that life couldn’t exist without magic, while others claim it’s the other way around. Either way, most mages agree that magic is life-aspected by default, right Rose?”
“Hmm?” The petite girl looked up, suddenly noticing she was being addressed.
“Life magic. That’s your whole field of expertise, right?”
“Oh. Yeah. It’s why low level animism is so easy. Life magic is everywhere.”
“But what does that mean? You keep saying ‘aspected,’ I don’t get it.” Beryl complained.
“It’s like… the affinity of the magic. Most ambient magic supports life, so it’s referred to as life-aspected. I don’t know, I was only ever taught it at a high level.”
“No, you’re pretty much right. For your purposes, at least.” Rose gave Beryl a sidelong look. “Just know that most magic supports life by default. It’s part of living things being born and growing up. My healing magic, animism, uses life-aspected magic to accelerate healing, and all gifted use it passively to empower our attributes.”
Beryl nodded slowly. “Okay. Let's say I understand that. What does that have to do with monsters?”
“Well,” Oliver continued his explanation, “native magical beings, or monsters, use life magic similarly to our attributes. They absorb life magic, and channel it into a specific form to improve themselves. But because animals and plants don’t have souls like humans do, the process has a couple key differences. First, it takes a lot more time for most animals to absorb enough life magic to become arcane beasts. Decades, even, since they don’t have gifts to soak in the magic actively. Secondly, because they don’t have a soul or gifts to guide how the magic works, their changes tend to be simpler. It makes them better at what they already do. A lot of arcane beasts just get bigger, stronger, tougher.”
“So this cat is some sort of super old hunting cat?”
“Not at all.” Rose shook her head. “You’re not very good at explanations, Oli.”
Oliver pursed his lips. “I wanted to make sure we had a good starting point!”
“Sure you did.” Rose rolled her eyes. “Oli’s technically right, but the vast majority of monsters don’t actually form like that. The most common types of monsters are minor monsters, after all. Dire vermin and bramble-spawn are made respectively from small animals, large bugs - rats, spiders, bats, that kind of thing - and from weeds. Because they have much shorter lifespans and grow much more rapidly than most animals, they are more prone to absorbing enough life magic to quickly trigger a transformation into a monster.”
“But in the course of changing them, the little buggers change the magic right back. That’s what we call aspecting - changing magic from one affinity to another. In the case of dire vermin and bramble-spawn, they tend to be ruled by one overwhelming urge: hunger. And so, we get hunger-aspected magic.”
Beryl nodded thoughtfully, and Rose traded a triumphant grin with Oliver. He rolled his eyes. If Rose had just explained clearly in the first place, he wouldn’t have needed to stumble through it by himself. Beryl wasn’t as learned as her companions, but she was far from slow, and he could see the wheels turning in her head.
“So if this cat has hunger-aspected magic… it caught and ate a bunch of dire vermin right? The magic is all about eating, so by getting eaten, it changed the cat?”
“Exactly!” Rose said excitedly. “Even mundane hunting cats with no impactful magical buildup are dangerous predators. If one is clever enough, it can still successfully catch and eat dire vermin. If it catches enough of them, that hunger-aspected magic it’s consuming is able to transform it and,” she jabbed a finger at the book, “we get a hexhunter cat.”
Beryl’s eyes went wide, and she looked from the book to Oliver. “So what makes you think this is what we’re looking for?”
“Like I said, magic generally changes an animal by emphasizing their pre-existing traits. Hunting cats are already ambush predators, so getting sensory and stealth magic would make sense, and it would line up with the attacks we’re seeing. It would be smart enough to avoid attacking an overpowering foe, and skilled enough to avoid pursuit. But what really settles it is where the name ‘hexhunter’ comes from.”
“‘I’ve decided to name the creatures hexhunters,’” Rose read from the book, “‘after an interesting dietary preference I’ve noted in their hunting habits. As their transformation was prompted by killing and devouring magical creatures, they are drawn to do the same in their new state. Pre-Novice and Novice level gifted suit it perfectly well when it can get them in isolation, but its favorite fodder is totem relics. These items have enough concentrated magic to serve as a veritable feast to the hexhunter, and have proved fantastic bait to lure them out of hiding.’”
“I read it weeks ago and didn’t think anything of it,” Oliver explained, “but back in Barool, I watched Hugo haggle over a deer totem. That made me remember the entry, and I started thinking about it. It fits perfectly.”
“Any trader worth their name would make sure to pick up a totem relic if they had the chance. It’s easy money when they get back to a city.” Beryl's eyes went wide as she experienced the same realization as Oliver.
“Meaning that any trader that did pick one up would be like a beacon to this thing,” Rose concluded.
“Exactly!” Oliver nodded enthusiastically. “That’s why the attacks have been so inconsistent! It’s probably stalking up and down the Flax Road, looking for suitable prey. Minor monsters, gifted when it can catch them alone, and any totem relic it can sink its teeth into.”
“Not just totems either,” Beryl added. “Some of these villages have artisans capable of making ensouled items. The traders would snatch those up to, and they’ve got just as much innate magic as totems.”
“So what does this mean?” Rose asked, rereading the passage on the hexhunter.
“We have a good idea of what we’re dealing with, and Hugo just picked up its bait. That means we can prepare for it to attack sometime soon, and we know where it’ll go.”
“Hugo’s wagon. He’d never let a totem out of easy reach,” Beryl agreed.
“It should be easy enough. Beryl holds it off, Rose keeps it from running away, I take care of it quick. Lesser monster or no, with this many special abilities, it can’t be too resilient.”
“Assuming it’s still only lesser,” Rose pointed out.”This book of yours speculates that if a hexhunter was to roam free for long enough, it might be able to develop into a moderate monster. There’s no way three Novices could take on something like that.”
Beryl huffed a bemused breath. “It assumes you’re even right in the first place! Just because it makes sense doesn’t mean it’s the only possibility.”
Oliver shrugged. “It’s a step closer than we were before.”