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JULES
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Their teacher, Isolda, hurried off through the busied but dispersing crowd, and Jules and Cyrus stared after her.
“Hate to see her go,” Cyrus said, “but love to watch her leave.”
“Come on,” Jules said. He held up the chores list his father had given him earlier that morning. “Let’s knock these out, then we can drop off our applications to the Scholars Guild.” The two walked across the plaza and onto Armorer Avenue.
Metal clanked on metal, sparks rained down, and the smell of hot iron and sweat filled the air. Tradesmen and their shops lined the street, each sold a variety of merchandise. A 1st Rank Farrier pounded away at some horseshoes for some military regiment. A Journeyman Armorer counted a stack of ingots, preparing to smelt them for a commission. Another 1st Rank Tradie—Jules couldn’t tell his Class at a quick glance, though he guessed Farmhand—sharpened a rough scythe in front of the agriculture store. Eventually they came upon The Halberd, home to Liam’s favorite Smithy and Forger.
Jules waved at Hal, the man outside, the man who was always outside. He banged away at crude hunks of iron on the anvil out in front of the shop. Hal lifted up his hammer to the sky and paused to smile and wave it at them. His crystalline tattoos, which extended from his broad shoulders down to his hands, dimmed briefly during the acknowledgement, but he quickly focused again on his task.
Hal was a 3rd Rank Forger. Both a Class and a Faction, members of the Forgers Guild were the only group of people who knew how to create Enchantable items; of course, they had to focus so much on crafting the items that they had to leave the Enchanting to the Enchanters Guild. Hal never spoke to Jules. He preferred to hammer away. But he's at least cordial, unlike Smitty…
Jules walked through the short noren curtains that acted as a door to The Halberd, which was packed with junk. Armor on mannequins; battle axes, spears, and pikes mounted on walls; swords, clubs, and other weapons sticking out of barrels; scrap metal strewn about everywhere and piled into wood crates.
“Whadya want?” Smitty asked without looking at them. “Buy or get out, not time for you today.” He was such a massive man that his stereotypical Blacksmith apron could burst at the seams. His tattoos started at his hands, extended up his arms, and ended somewhere on his chest beneath his apron, and then continued again around his eyes. Smitty was rough, tough, and lived in the dump shop. But he is the best in town. His tattoos still glowed silver while he sharpened a claymore.
“You’ll have time for me today. I come bearing gifts.” Jules admired a Shinsorai blade displayed in a place of honor on the wall. “Well, not for free.” He unloaded some of his Inventory into two piles on the counter. Cyrus stacked a third pile.
Smitty took a single glance at the loot and grunted. “Second Rank? You boys?” He didn’t drop the claymore, but his tattoos receded and he even stood up to inspect the loot. He read their descriptions and weighed them, focusing mostly on the pelts, bones, and fangs.
“Keep all three separate, please,” Jules said, and he explained how the payment should be split. He haggled with the Blacksmith for a while until they agreed on a price.
“Nay, twenty-five 'n fifty apiece,” Smitty said. “Aye, yours’s bigger, lad, but your pa's the better harvester. They’s the same use to me.”
“Fine. Deal,” Jules said. Less than I wanted, but he won’t budge.
“And ₹2,550 for me,” Cyrus said. Ha! Cyrus’ harvest was worse than mine, and my wolf was way bigger. Smitty laughed, too.
“For you, it’s seventeen. Look at the mess ye made."
“No, for me it’s ₹2,550, too.”
“Seventeen.” Smitty's eyes narrowed. Cyrus cocked his head to the side.
“OK, fine. I’ll go see what Ironsalt will give me.” Cyrus gathered his loot up slowly.
Smitty balked. “Comin' into my store and say you's leaving for that Novice. Ironsalt. Pah!”
“He’ll pay more than ₹1,700 for 2nd Rank loot. Maybe he can do more with it than you can.” Cy still hasn’t put it up in his Inventory yet…
“Gah, blast it, you little—Twenty-two 'n fifty. Naught else.”
“I said ₹2,550.”
Smitty pounded the table with a fist. “Not better'n Jules’ or Liam’s, and I just sold thems for twenty-five 'n fifty.”
“Not my fault Jules doesn’t know what his loot was worth. I know his is worth more than what you’re paying, and I know mine is worth ₹2,550.” Ouch.
“Fuck all, then! Twenty-five 'n fifty you mangy little…” Smitty pointed at Jules. “Already agreed on a price with the likes'a you, so don’t try me.”
“Wasn’t planning on it. A deal’s a deal. By the way, I need a bundle of arrows. Cedar and bone.”
“Fuck’s sake, boys!” He threw the claymore down to the ground with a clang. “Coulda mentioned that when we was haggling before.” He muttered to himself and walked through another set of curtains to the back. Jules and Cyrus exchanged grins. Smitty peaked through the curtains. “Come back in half an hour, need to craft ‘em.” He disappeared behind the curtain again. Once they were at a safe distance back on the street, Jules and Cyrus burst out laughing.
“You got him good,” Jules admitted.
“And he got you good,” Cyrus said.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
“Haggling isn’t everything, and besides, I don’t have Mercantile ambitions like you.” Cyrus gazed off at the horizon, as he often did when he thought of his life goals, without a word.
They proceeded to Apothecary Alley, up to the huge Alchemist’s building with the double-helix piping tower. They entered and saw Sal already at the counter, purifying some mixture. Jules and Cyrus erupted into applause for him. They drummed on the display counters as they approached him and cheered him on. Sal stopped his task, and he grinned and bore the celebration. Some of the Alchemists and Apothecaries from the back popped in to see what the ruckus was about. Once they realized what was happening, they joined in as well.
“Our esteemed recipient, we honor thee!” Jules and Cyrus both curtsied daintily. Sal smiled and shook his head.
“This One deserves not thy respect,” Sal joked back. Then he lit up his tattoos and invoked his new Scroll.
> «« Purify Ingredient Toxins »»
The red mixture in his hand changed from orange to red. The two boys stared in awe. “Seriously,” Jules leaned in and studied the vial, “congratulations on getting your first Scroll so quickly. But they’ve got you back to work just like that?”
“Yeah, the Hydromages and Royal Navy put in enormous orders recently.” Sal handed the vial to Jules. “And thanks, I appreciate it.”
“We’ve got some loot for you to purify,” Cyrus said. He emptied the rest of his Inventory onto the counter. Jules handed the vial back to Sal and did the same. Wolf hearts, livers, other organs, smaller teeth and bones, pairs of eyes—all an Apothecary's dream.
Jules leaned in to Sal again. “And they’re Rank 2, so we know what they’re worth.”
Cyrus bit back a smile. Sal inspected, weighed, and put them in pickling jars. Then he pointed to a sign below the counter.
> [No haggling. Set menu prices.]
Oh, come on. “Fine. I need mine split in two payments. But don’t forget—they’re 2nd Rank.”
“Yeah, I get it. You told me.” The Alchemists in the back invoked some Script, and red liquid flooded through the distillation glass piping that looped through the shop. “Alright, Jules, here’s what I’ve got for you today. And thanks for watching the Ceremony today. I’ll give you both a discount next time.”
“Thanks, Sal, but actually I need to buy some things today.” Jules handed him a list.
Sal scanned it, and then his eyes bulged. “Uh, does your dad know you’re buying this?”
“Yeah… I mean, I think so. He gave me the list, but that's Evelyn's handwriting.”
Sal burst into laughter. It was so funny he slapped his own forehead and keeled over. “Yeah, I’ve got this one in the back. Let me wrap it up for you.” Sal walked through the curtains to the back.
“Nothing unusual about that,” Cyrus said.
“No idea what's so funny,” Jules said. “And I'm pretty sure I want to keep it that way.”
Sal returned smiling and handed Jules a parchment-wrapped package. “Right, taking that out of your dad’s share, I owe you ₹2,250 and your dad—” he shook his head and smiled again “—your dad, ₹1,300.”
“Oh, wow, he’ll appreciate that discount—”
“Shh—Don’t mention it.” He looked toward the back, where the Alchemists and shop owners were. “Seriously, don’t.” Jules reached into his bag and placed two purple, roughly cylindrical crystals onto the counter next to a third, the store’s crystal. The Apothecary’s eyes glowed a deep shade of purple and he invoked a Script.
> « Exchange »
A stream of purple energy emerged from the store’s gem and into Jules’ crystals, and the Ryoku exchange was complete. “You’re up, Cy,” Sal said hurriedly. Cyrus hesitated.
“Eh, I was hoping for more for these eyes. I think I’ll shop around first.”
Sal rolled his eyes and sighed. “Salvos,” he whispered. Then he shouted towards the back, “Don, ten-plus on these eyes? 2nd Rank wolf.”
“What for?” Don shouted back.
“Cy…”
Some not-so-muttered swearing erupted from the back. “Eight,” the voice shouted back.
“Eight each,” Cy shouted at Don.
“Hell. Five each.”
“There’s my extra ten. Deal,” Cyrus said, this time to Sal. ₹2,300!? You son of a bitch.
“Thought these were fixed prices,” Jules complained.
Cyrus clapped him on the back and squeezed his shoulder. “Everything’s negotiable.” He leaned in and whispered in Jules' ear, "They gave it all to me on the eyes because they knew I'd negotiate every single item. This is a valuable life lesson, Jules—You just need to start asking the right questions."
Sal laughed and transferred the Ryoku to Cyrus’ crystal, which was much rougher than Jules’, which in turn was much rougher than Liam’s.
The trio said their farewells, and Jules and Cyrus headed back to grab the arrows from The Halberd. Smitty sat fusing rough bone chips to cedar strips. His Scripts allowed him to craft them by hand—the Ryoku he poured into them allowed the Script to transform rough bone into an arrowhead and attach it to a strip of wood that the magic carved into a smooth arrow shaft—all in less than a minute each. He huffed and puffed and threw the last arrow into a rucksack.
“Oi, me heart’s gonna give out one of these days, lads. Fear you boys won’t want to come to me funeral.” Always nicest when working on weapons. With all his might, Smitty stood up and waddled to his counter. “For the furs ‘n’ such it’s twenty-five-fifty apiece, less a grand for them arrows.” Wish he would just say it's ₹1,550…
Once again, Jules and Cyrus exchanged Ryoku with their crystals. “Thanks, Smitty,” Jules said. “And of course we’d come pay our respects.”
“Course ye would. Cy’d be there to see how much he can buy me store for.” He laughed heartily, which caused him to cough. He rushed them out the door.
Jules transferred the arrows in the rucksack to his newly empty Inventory. Well, nearly empty, anyway. There's always that one grayed out spot…
He left the sack in front of Hal outside, who still hammered away at some Forged metal. As they strolled to their last stop, the food markets, Cyrus whistled a triumphant tune.
“₹3,550. For you anyway. Is this the most you’ve ever had?” Jules asked.
“Most I’ve ever made in a day, move I’ve ever had at once. Hell, most I’ve ever seen at once,” Cyrus said. “Today was a good day.”
“It’s barely started. Let’s get some food.”
“Can’t you do that by yourself? No offense…” Cyrus stopped and stared off at the horizon again. “Actually, I should repay your father's kindness." Always careful not to mention Evelyn. Perceptive as ever.
“Won’t work until the list is complete.” Jules pulled out the chores list from his father, and Cyrus grabbed it.
“What kind of magic is this, anyway?”
“Never thought to ask. But Dad’s always had it.” They looked at the list, which magically had the Blacksmith and Apothecary items checked off.
“Well, I’ll have to ask him about it,” Cyrus said.
“Tonight. Come over for dinner. We can celebrate our Trophies.”
“Eh, I don’t know… Well, OK. You sold me.”
> [Pang! Persuasion increased to Level 3.]
Finally, I got somewhere with my haggling today.
They walked past fruit stalls with peaches, lemons and limes, bananas, pineapple, coconuts, even mango; every fruit imaginable grew in the Shattered Isles. They passed stands with spicy peppers—a local favorite—and cucumbers, avocados, olives. Artisanal breads, cuts of meat large and small. Open-faced fish on ice with beady, lifeless eyes next to gray shellfish. Vendors sold rice balls and sushi, sweets and nuts, and saltwater taffies. Kegs and kegs of lager and mead. It was all so overwhelming to Jules, but irrelevant. His family stuck to buying the cheaper foods with longer shelf lives—sweet potatoes, day-old breads, onions, and garlic. Liam provided the meat and fish. Sometimes they splurged on some berries and fruits, but not today. Not even for his Trophy.
“Mother of Salvos,” Cyrus said. “Is that what I think it is!?”
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8
BONUS CONTENT BELOW
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