Chapter Sixty-Four


    Ambrose stood in the town square with Noelle at his side. She had been hurt, but a purchased healing potion helped make her healthy again. She hadn’t been a fan of him sparing the red-headed female warrior, but that was to be expected. Despite current appearances, Noelle was a predator.


    She had a hard time understanding concepts like mercy when it came to taking on enemies. But killing the woman just hadn’t felt right.


    No, that’s not the correct feeling. It hadn’t been honorable.


    Ambrose rubbed his thumb and forefinger together. When did I start caring about honor?


    His father had always told him that honor was for fools and the dead. He taught Ambrose to be ruthless, to exploit every weakness, to cheat and to lie in order to win.


    But Alice had shown him a different path.


    He took a breath, closing his eye briefly, sending his thoughts out like a net, trying to wrap around the memory of her. Every day he felt like a piece of her was fading from his mind. It wasn’t that he couldn’t remember her, but rather that the memories from that night, from when Eric killed her in front of him, were overpowering the others.


    He didn’t want that. Yes, he wanted to keep his goals in mind, and he wanted that rage to fuel him.


    But he didn’t want to forget the good things, either. In their Dungeons and Dragons games his wife had always told the party not to be “Murder hobos,” in that they didn’t need to kill every person they came across.


    Ambrose had killed plenty of people in that forest. Enough that he was about to be announced as the winner of this trial, slash competition. He didn’t need to kill her.


    Yet everything raged at him to do so. For one thing, leaving threats behind was a bad idea. He had no doubt Susanna would pursue him at a later time. That one struck him as the grudge-holding type. It would have been far smarter to kill her to prevent her from coming back later when it was less convenient and she was more powerful.


    Noelle nodded her head at his thoughts, and he suppressed a chuckle.


    But it had felt like that would have been a murder-hobo decision, and Alice would want him to be better than that.


    Some might say she’d want him to give up his crusade of revenge, too. Those people didn’t know his wife. She was a good person, but she could be vindictive if she wanted to be. She would want Eric to pay for what he did, and he would.


    The announcer, or whatever he was, Ambrose didn’t care, was walking onto the stage that had been set up for the event.


    “Here are the results of the trial! In third place we have…” If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    __________


    In the end, Ambrose had won first place, just as he thought.


    He walked up to the quartermasters desk in a small building in the town square to receive his winnings, and his badge.


    It was a small, shiny bronze badge with the words “Bronze Adventurer” stamped into the metal. A simple thing, but he had to put a little mana into it in order to bind it to him.


    “It’s so’s people can’t fake it, ya see?”


    Ambrose didn’t respond. The quartermaster, a portly man with olive skin and a grey beard, grunted and produced his reward for the competition part of the trial.


    Set in a small black silk lined box was a glimmering red stone. It was small, and oddly shaped, like a tear-drop. There appeared to be a flame inside of it, hungrily pressing against the stone, trying to free itself.


    He used [Retributions Gaze] to see what it was.


    [???-Unique]


    “What is this?”


    The portly man shrugged,


    “No’s clue.”


    “No one can identify it?”


    The quartermaster shook his head.


    Ambrose got it.


    “Ah, I see. No one can identify it, and you can’t sell it precisely because of that, so you offer it as a reward. That way, if it’s something worthless, there’s no harm done. If it is valuable, you still win out because it was a legitimate prize, thus earning positive public opinion.”


    The man scratched at his beard, looking confused.


    Ambrose sighed, throwing the item in his infernal dimension. It didn’t really matter.


    “I was also supposed to be able to have custom items made?”


    Paperwork was produced and handed over to Ambrose. He read it over, and found it was a purchase order for to be determined custom work by the townsmith, and enchanter. It said the town would pay for the service up to ten thousand gold.


    Now that was a prize.


    ___________


    “What da ya be wantin’ made then?”


    That was the question. Ambrose sat with the townsmith and Noelle at a table in the smith


    “Well, before we get to that, what are your capabilities?”


    The smith puffed up,


    “Ya be lookin’ at a C-Grade Craftsman, young man!”


    “Okay…what does that mean?”


    The smith’s brown eyes narrowed,


    “Yar not pullin’ my leg, are ya?”


    He shook his head.


    “Hmph. It means that I can make up to legendary gear in the C-Grade. Armour, weapons, jewellery, robes, all of it. I can even enchant it all.”


    The smith smirked at him as if he had just let Ambrose know that he had won the lottery in getting his services. Ambrose stroked his beard, thinking.


    “Before we get to discussing my order, what’s your name? I’m Ambrose.”


    The smith stuck out his hand,


    “Bori Snugerson at yar service.”


    Bori’s eyes glittered like a snake’s, likely waiting to see if Ambrose would make fun of his name.


    He didn’t. He merely shook the smith’s hand firmly. In truth, he didn’t care about being polite. He just didn’t want to keep calling him ‘The smith’ in his head. Plus, his father had always told him to treat people handling his gear well.


    “Last thing you want is some tinkerer deciding to sabotage your weapons because you were an asshole. Good way to find yourself in an early grave, kid.”


    Ambrose waved away his old man’s words with a mental hand.


    “Now then, back ta’ my original question. What is it ya be wantin’?”


    Ambrose sighed.


    It was a question he had been considering for some time now. He just had no idea what to ask for. At this point, he was beginning to think he didn’t need armor. The plate male he wore now was practically useless except for making mana more efficient.


    Everything else about it was redundant, except for looking cool.


    He explained this to the smith, who stroked his own beard.


    “Hmm. Impressive array o’ skills ya got, young man. I could at least make ya somethin’ a little less bulky.”


    Ambrose gestured for him to continue.


    “Half-plate would probably suit yar needs a little better. Ya don’t need all the bulk with yar skills.”


    “Sounds fine. But that doesn’t answer the question of what it should do.”


    Bori shrugged,


    “Could do lots o’ things. I can include mana efficiency easy enough for ya. But that leaves a whole lotta o’ room for other effects.”


    Ambrose sat back.


    He had some thinking to do.