《Adventurers' Guild Craftsman [Cozy/Cosy Crafting Fantasy]》


 Chapter 1 – Where am I? Who am I?

    Waking up uncertain where you are is disconcerting. Not knowing who you are, well, that escalates things.


    Sounds of nearby construction set a tempo for the pounding in my head, I took comfort that I was lying on something soft at least. Cracking my eyes open, I flinched as the daylight shot a fresh lance of pain through my eyes. I¡¯d found myself in a whitewashed room with a few well-padded beds like my own. It felt intentionally sparse and sterile - if in a rustic manner - but my stirring did not go unnoticed by the room¡¯s other occupant, resting on the singular wooden chair. I placed the guy as early thirties, dressed in a pale robe with a vivid blue sash, he looked equal parts relieved and concerned. My swirling brain offered a single word without context, sage.


    ¡°It¡¯s good to see you¡¯re awake. How are you feeling? Do you remember what happened?¡±


    ¡°Thanks, I feel like I drank a keg and then my head got used for batting practice.¡± My weak attempt at humour only seemed to make him more concerned, so I figured I¡¯d best get straight to the point, ¡°I¡¯ll be honest though mate, I don¡¯t even remember my own name right now, so any details you could fill in would be great.¡±


    Whatever response he¡¯d been expecting, it clearly hadn¡¯t been that. Thankfully my headache was starting to ease, unfortunately without bringing any memories with it.


    ¡°Damn.¡± He paused, ¡°Well then, I¡¯m Argat the sage. A pleasure to make your acquaintance once again. You¡¯re within the sanctuary by the adventurer¡¯s guild where you normally ply your trade. That may not mean much to you currently, but you are safe here.¡±


    ¡°Sage? Somehow, I knew that...¡±


    ¡°Hopefully it¡¯s a sign your memories will return with time. Take things slow.¡±


    I was already shifting to sit up in bed, the fading headache didn¡¯t resurge, but it did send a wave of nausea. Oddly, I didn¡¯t seem much higher than when I started.


    ¡°Adventurers¡¯ guild? Was I an adventurer then?¡± That didn¡¯t feel right even as I said it.


    ¡°Oh no, you¡¯re a craftsman. Actually...¡± His expression stayed pleasant, but his brow furrowed, and eyes narrowed as if straining to see something through me, ¡°I do believe congratulations are in order, at least once you¡¯re feeling better. You¡¯re now a master craftsman.¡±


    He said it with such weight I knew it was some major milestone. Some part of me also knew it to be true, like it fit. Yet, it wasn¡¯t my immediate priority.


    ¡°So, what exactly happened? And you never did tell me my name.¡±


    For the first time he looked uncomfortable, ¡°I¡¯m afraid I only know you as Vaul. In dwarven culture names are composed of several pieces, and perhaps someone else like the guildmaster could-¡±


    ¡°Wait! DWARVEN?!¡± Giving myself a once over for the first time I found a hairy barrel chest and stocky frame, calloused fingers and old burns and scars that told the truth of my craft. My beard was short, slightly singed but satisfyingly thick. ¡°I¡¯m a dwarf.¡± I breathed, almost hysteric.


    ¡°I... Apologies, it hadn¡¯t occurred to me you didn¡¯t know. If you would like to talk about that we can?¡±


    ¡°Nah, it¡¯s fine. Probably good even if I¡¯m a craftsman, just caught me off-guard is all. I think I¡¯d better find out how exactly this all happened.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid I can¡¯t give a great deal of specifics. You were working with relatively unknown materials sourced from the dungeon monitored by this branch of the guild. It seems there was some sort of adverse reaction as you were processing them, and given your lack of memory it would seem your historical aspect has become severely overstrained.¡±


    ¡°Historical aspect?¡±


    He winced, ¡°You don¡¯t remember about aspects? What about the fundamental resources: spirit, stamina, qi, mana and experience?¡±


    ¡°I mean stamina I¡¯m familiar with, and experience, though a resource wouldn¡¯t be my first way of describing it. I feel like I¡¯ve heard o¡¯ the other terms, but I wouldn¡¯t really say I could define them.¡±


    ¡°Sounds like we should start from the beginning then, but this isn¡¯t something that can be covered in one sitting. For now, let¡¯s start with the widely accepted concept, that sentient life is composed of at least five aspects: emotional, physical, vital, magical and historical. Just as someone can expend stamina to plough a field, or in your case forge a sword, which in moderation will strengthen their physical aspect over the long term in exchange for short term weakness, the same is roughly true for the other four aspects and the resources derived from them. Though they each have their own quirks.¡± His smile made me think quirks might be an understatement. ¡°However, just as overwork where you push too far or too often past the limits of your stamina can harm your physical health, overstraining any other aspect has a detrimental effect on the health of that aspect. In many ways the physical is considered the most forgiving in that regard.¡±


    ¡°So, I strained my historical aspect working with unusual materials, and that¡¯s why my memories are messed up?¡± Only the fact the guy clearly seemed to be trying to help, and I didn¡¯t want to accidentally offend him, prevented me from using air quotes. ¡°From the fundamental resources you mentioned, I¡¯m guessing the historical one is experience? How does one even overspend experience?¡± Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Essentially yes. Experience is the fundamental resource of your historical aspect; however, it isn¡¯t the only resource drawn from that aspect. Getting into exactly what the others are, and how blended resources work, would be a bit much for right now. Despite all the knowledge we sages collect, we¡¯re only scratching the surface of understanding classes, skills and resources. I¡¯m afraid past the fundamentals there are many theories but little consensus. I can however tell you, that skills which use experience typically help with either iterations of the same activity, or applying expertise in one area to related fields. One of the often theorised, but less agreed uses for experience is to advance classes. It would help explain why moments of pivotal breakthrough in stressful situations can feel like a blur after the fact. I¡¯m hopeful your case will be one of short-term strain rather than long-term damage. There are things we can try to help mitigate the issue, and you¡¯re among friends here Vaul, whatever happens you¡¯re not alone. Honestly, given your advancement to master craftsman, you¡¯d be in demand even if there wasn¡¯t a small horde of friends ready to beat down my door wanting to check on you.¡±


    His smile and words were reassuring, but I couldn¡¯t help but think he was forgetting one important thing.


    ¡°But Argat, I don¡¯t remember how to make anything.¡±


    ***


    I¡¯d been doubtful when Argat had decided to bring me to the workshop after apparently passing the word to give me some space, but as soon as we entered it became clear it was the right choice. I was peripherally aware of him giving some warnings about not overdoing things, but my eyes were darting from item to item inside the huge room. I saw the forge and remembered just how the bellows would stoke the flames. I saw treadles and knew how the various grades of grindstone could be connected to one while the other was linked to a sewing machine. I saw a pair of barrels, one overflowing with weapons needing repair, and immediately focused on the bent bronze shortsword lying abandoned on the ground just beside it.


    Everything else faded away as I retrieved the discarded weapon, a quiet anger in my chest at the lack of care and respect. I knew I could fix it. The only question became how? Resting it on a large anvil seemed like the logical place to start ¨C a trivial first step but it lent me confidence. I wanted to fix the warping first, and sure enough there was a hammer nearby, my hand already reaching for it by habit. The heft and smooth wood of the handle just feeling somehow right in my hand.


    In a flash of decisiveness, I brought the hammer down hard on the warped blade. Lifting it gingerly I saw the cold metal had barely moved, but it had moved. It was enough. Over and over, I brought the hammer down, the other arm flipping the blade occasionally as my strikes bent sections a little too far the other way. The clanging metal felt like it reached a constant rhythm, and a satisfied smile split my face as I saw the form return to how I pictured it should be. Pulling the handle close to my face so I could look down the blade I saw a slight kink remained. A few deft blows more and the sword was straight, though the edge wavered.


    Looking over the blade, none would doubt it had seen some repair, but was at least somewhat functional now, if a far cry from good. The edge held several rolls where the soft metal had hit something harder, that would be my next goal. As I was about to step away from the anvil it came to me that the edges of bronze blades were work hardened. It should already be complete, but this would also let me bring the edge back closer to consistently centred. I grabbed a much smaller hammer and carefully picked out more gentle blows along the edge. Raising it to my eye again I was pleasantly surprised with how straight the edge ran down the centre of the blade. With a nod I moved to the grindstone.


    Unsure what grit to use, I kept to the one currently in place, noting I¡¯d have to investigate that later. A thick set of leather gloves and a surprisingly well-made set of glass goggles rested beside the device, and I took the hint and slipped them on. The lazy but steady up and down motion of my feet on the treadle set the stone at a slow spin, but as I carefully pressed the edge of the blade against it, it proved more than enough for the soft metal, work hardened or not. No sparks flew but flakes of bronze were scraped from the edge of the blade. A quick examination once I¡¯d run the full length of each side showed I¡¯d done a thorough job, though it was looking a little wavy. Perhaps a more even pressure or finer grit was needed? Or... suddenly my hand found the dried husk of some sort of plant or vine.


    Flashing through my mind, with a sense of vivid colour none of my memories up till now possessed, images of a reed growing amidst the trees of the wetland nearby flew through my mind. A weed of sorts, I saw it growing through even cracks in shallow stone. It was known by many names, but I knew it best as scouring rush. It could have medicinal uses, though I didn¡¯t know what, but more commonly it was dried and used for scouring as the name suggested.


    ¡°You doin¡¯ alright there Vaul?¡± Argat¡¯s words steadied me, ¡°Looks like you just used a skill. Like I said earlier, probably best to leave that for a day or two, though we can have a chat about your new class if you like?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯m fine. Just suddenly saw all these images and knew all this stuff about scouring rush. Caught me off guard a bit. The rest has been me making best guesses and muscle memory, like my instincts are still there even if I don¡¯t know how I learned them. This was oddly... vivid. Like someone shoved a bunch of information in my head¡±


    It was then I noticed that Argat¡¯s mouth had dropped open.


    ¡°Damn, an appraisal skill. It makes sense for your class now I think about it, and is probably experience based, which mixed in with the memory loss...¡± He seemed to trail off into his own train of thought.


    ¡°Is it good?¡±


    ¡°Oh yes, absolutely. Incredibly useful both for your line of work and in general.¡± He chuckled, ¡°The guildmaster will be thrilled if you tell her. And if you reduce the amount of time Kete has to spend evaluating loot, he might just throw you a parade.¡±


    ¡°You say if I tell her?¡±


    ¡°Ah, I should have clarified, as a sage anything you say with me, I won¡¯t repeat. Part of our role is to be individuals anyone can come to in confidence with questions about their class or life in general. Having said that, I¡¯d be remiss if I didn¡¯t mention the guildmaster¡¯s hearing can be quite exceptional, and while I doubt she¡¯d act on something she¡¯d overheard shared in confidence out of politeness, I don¡¯t have the usual precautions in place in this workshop that I would have in the sanctuary. Regardless I would advise you tell her at least, even if you for some reason choose to tell no one else. This isn¡¯t the sort of skill one would generally hide.¡±


    ¡°Fair enough. Could you fill me in on the basics of classes and skills?¡±


    ¡°Gladly, but might I suggest we do it over some food? That looks just about finished and we¡¯re a little after lunch¡±


    Glancing down I saw I¡¯d been unconsciously sanding the blade through our conversation. It felt like there was a bit more I could do, but this seemed like a good enough point to take a break. Setting the blade down reverently on the workbench and returning each tool to its proper place I followed Argat to see what the food was like here. I had a feeling it was going to be good.

 Chapter 2 – The power of good food

    Strolling through the adventurer¡¯s guild at Argat¡¯s side, I was struck by how empty it seemed. Most of those I saw gave a friendly wave or greeting which I sheepishly returned. Given the sounds of construction outside, and how new - and in a few cases, unfinished - everything looked, I was guessing this guild building hadn¡¯t been here long, despite the variety of tools available in my workshop.


    Passing through what I presumed was the main hall of the building; the ceiling double height with stairs to a balcony above and a thick counter dividing a large section of the space, behind which, a lady leaning on cane was sorting some boxes. I was about to stop and offer to help when with a mutter, a jab of her cane, and something turning to powder in her hand, the boxes all jumped to spots on nearby shelving like children hopping into line.


    ¡°That¡¯s Sarala. You should probably have a chat with her before you try any enchanting.¡± Argat advised.


    Most of the wall opposite the counter was covered in rudimentary hangers, a few of which bore little wooden placards of greatly varying quality. Some were finely carved flat sheets with inked velum stretched across them, while others looked like a hacked to size section of bamboo with information crudely carved onto its curved face. Even without touching the bamboo-like plant, I could feel the pull of another series of vivid visions, so I hastily averted my gaze. I wanted to know a bit more about skills before anything else trippy happened. Besides, I doubted that one was intended to be used while walking and the sage beside me hadn¡¯t slowed. Dozens of questions were buzzing around my head, but before I could interrogate him, we passed through a pair of saloon doors and a woman almost half again my size ran forward to wrap me in a hug.


    ¡°Oh Vaul! I heard you were hurt.¡± She loosened her smothering hold to set me down and look at me squarely, while I was rather dazed. ¡°You always work too hard. We¡¯ll get a good meal into you and that¡¯ll help get you fighting fit.¡± Turning to Argat, ¡°If you¡¯d told me he was up, I¡¯da gotten one of the boys run a meal up to him. Ah well, we¡¯ll get you into a seat for now and I¡¯ll have something out in a jiffy. I think we have some of that broth left that you like so much...¡±


    Her barrage of words and motherly concern showed no signs of stopping, and had me quite overwhelmed. Particularly as the woman seemed around my own age. Though, I should probably add asking about dwarven aging and finding a mirror to my ever-growing to-do list. A quick glance at Argat garnered a helpless shrug in return. It took me a second to piece it together, he couldn¡¯t say anything without breaking confidentiality.


    Awkwardly cutting in mid-flow of well-intentioned concern as she practically bundled me into a booth in what I now recognised was a tavern or inn, ¡°Umm, sorry, I don¡¯t mean to be rude miss but-¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s all this miss nonsense? And a polite gent like you could never be rude Vaul.¡± Realisation seemed to strike, ¡°Oh don¡¯t tell me you overdid things with yer historical? Yer always workin¡¯ too hard I¡¯m tellin¡¯ ye. Well, I¡¯m Eimer, and just you wait right there and I¡¯ll get my husband to whip ya up somethin¡¯ that¡¯ll have ye back te normal in two shakes of a blitzgon¡¯s tail.¡±


    She was behind the bar and into the back by the time I fully processed what she said. The woman was a heap of motherly caring and several kegs of caffeine shaken vigorously inside a chatterbox.


    Turning to Argat he smiled, ¡°Yes, that¡¯s just how Eimer is. Though your recent injury and penchant for fixing whatever get broken in here helps.¡± Sure enough, a quick glance around the room showed that in contrast to the pristine newness of the rest of the building, several chairs and windows showed signs of repeated repair. ¡°I don¡¯t expect this to suddenly fix your memory, though I suspect it will help. Her husband is a very good cook.¡±


    ¡°I have so many questions, but first things first; I officially permit you to tell people about my memory loss. That should help avoid some awkward situations in future.¡±


    Argat chuckled, ¡°I suspect Eimer will pass the word to the few who truly need to know regardless, but thank you. Now I believe you wanted to discuss classes? Or has something else caught your attention?¡±


    My desires warred within me, it felt like there was so much to learn. Classes and skills seemed really important, but after what just happened there was something I realised I¡¯d better check.


    ¡°Do I have family here? Or am I in some sort of romantic relationship that you¡¯re aware of?¡±


    ¡°Ah, no. Apologies, I probably should have covered that. I¡¯m not sure of your relationship with your family, but to my knowledge you have none nearby. Dwarves are fairly rare this far into the Empire, though the guildmaster likely knows something of your origins. Even learning more of your name would provide you some answers, or at least a place to start looking. And to my limited knowledge you were not intimate with anyone. Though I¡¯ll admit that¡¯s an area where I try to be an understanding ear waiting in sanctuary rather than a nose sniffing around.¡±


    Honestly, I felt a little relieved. That was a level of weirdness I didn¡¯t need to deal with right now. Though I felt kinda bad that I might be somewhat estranged. But given Eimer¡¯s reaction, and Argat¡¯s general helpfulness, it seemed like I wasn¡¯t exactly short of a support system.


    ¡°Thanks, we should probably talk about classes then.¡±


    ¡°The first thing you need to know is that classes and skills are the sort of thing people can be quite private about, though it varies from person to person, class to class and even country to country. There are unwritten rules people generally learn as they grow up, so in the short-term exercise caution about what you ask or share. Most people will understand given context, or will assume it¡¯s a dwarven thing, but adventurers in particular tend to be a prickly bunch with this. Some want to share just enough information to get hired or join a group and coordinate effectively, while giving away as few of their tricks as possible. Others want to shout their every accomplishment from the heavens, and will be offended if you don¡¯t know of them and their mighty skills.¡±Stolen story; please report.


    ¡°And I¡¯m guessing there¡¯s everything in between those two extremes?¡±


    ¡°Indeed, but don¡¯t worry, most other cases are simpler. Sages almost always share their class, while someone with a bandit class almost never will for obvious reasons. Soldiers are an example that sits somewhere in the middle. Hiding their class from civilians, sharing their general capabilities with their companions, and disclosing their exact class to superior officers who keep it in confidence. Though of course in that case there is also training to consider, which can help mould a class towards a desired goal.¡±


    While I understood his broad points, it felt like every answer lead to more questions.


    ¡°You mentioned class progression earlier, does that relate to training shaping classes? And what¡¯s the general practice for craftspeople regarding sharing classes or skills?¡±


    ¡°What you do, and how you do it, shapes your class and your skills. Over time one gets better at undertaking whatever their class is about, a craftsman improves at a variety of crafts for example. In that case the class grows to fit the new ability, the craftsman might become a veteran craftsman or even a master craftsman. The class helps them do the same thing they have always done, just better, rewarding their dedication. This is commonly referred to as a progression. If that same craftsman decided to only work on smithing projects, then their class might change from craftsman to smith, or even blacksmith. This would make them much better at smithing, but they would get worse at other crafts. So overall the quality of their class could be said to be about the same, it¡¯s just a shift in focus, weighing more of the benefits towards the activities they complete most regularly. This is generally referred to as a side-grade.¡±


    ¡°So, if you spend too much time doing something your whole class could just shift on you? Can classes regress too?¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t worry about it; side-grades are at a minimum beneficial in the short term, and it¡¯s often easy enough to get another side-grade back to your original direction if that¡¯s what you really want. If class regression is possible, it¡¯s vanishingly rare. However, it¡¯s not uncommon for skills to shift or consolidate after a class change. But I think we¡¯re getting a little off topic, you are known as a craftsman. Most craftspeople keep their skills a secret unless they are needed to advertise a particular service, a tailor might offer rapid resizing for instance. Generally, in the Kaltaran Empire, upgrades and even some side-grades are widely celebrated by craftspeople. Though I should note, I believe the culture in some dwarven holds is to announce and celebrate a new class only when greybeards acknowledge the change in quality of the work. It¡¯s rather like how adventurer grades work now that I think about it.¡±


    This was starting to feel like quite a lot to process, thankfully Eimer chose that moment to return with a small mountain of food. A heady mix of savoury scents washed over me as she deftly unloaded a staggering series of small bowls filled to the brim: mushrooms gleaming in a dark sauce, noodles swimming in a broth that smelt of the sea, rice where every grain seemed individually fluffed, strips of pickled root vegetables promising a satisfying snap, and so much more I cannot do it justice.


    ¡°There you go. There¡¯s a little bit of a lot of things, but they should all help. If ye need anythin¡¯, or want any more, just let me know, alright?¡±


    She slipped away to help a few other customers who had wandered in before I could even thank her. Argat was fervently digging into a bowl of stew, so I felt no need to hold back. Thankfully the muscle memory for the pair of wooden sticks she¡¯d left me was almost as familiar as my hammer. It all tasted as good as it looked, the mushrooms in particular bursting with flavour as I bit into them that offset the saltiness of their sauce. I only slowed down when, finding everything delicious, I devoured beans coated in a red oil which set my mouth ablaze like the forge.


    Argat couldn¡¯t contain his chuckle as heat spread across my face. I felt drops of sweat begin to bead on my forehead and could swear part of my tongue was going numb. A mouthful of cold tea soothed it for only a moment. Yet, it was enough for me to appreciate a pleasant citrusy taste beneath the sharp heat and as I moved to the fishy broth in desperation to quench the fire, I found it was like approaching the dish with a completely new set of taste buds. Satisfying, but in a completely different way. I looked at all the little bowls I¡¯d been sampling from with new fervour.


    ¡°Like I said, he¡¯s a very good cook¡± Argat commented from behind his empty bowl with a hand resting on his stomach. ¡°How are you feeling by the way?¡±


    I hadn¡¯t slowed down as he began to talk, but as I crunched through what seemed like a pickled root which went from earthy and savoury with a sharp bitter snap, to something close to an aniseed flavour, I tried to shift my mind away from how that might now pair with the fishy broth to analyse how I was feeling. My memory wasn¡¯t fixed, but where once there was a giant void where nothing remained, now it felt like there was some cloudiness. Like there were things I knew, I just couldn¡¯t quite bring them to mind. More oddly, I just felt better in about a dozen different ways I hadn¡¯t even noticed were wrong: my shoulder blades felt looser, my breathing felt easier, my eyes felt sharper. No one area was a drastic improvement, but together it had me feeling pretty fantastic, like I could wrestle a troll.


    When I told Argat he nodded sagely (I wonder if they get a skill for that?), ¡°That¡¯s the power of a good cook. There¡¯s a saying that an army marches on its stomach. Not only is good food great for morale, but the buffs a good chef can give across an army can have almost as much impact as a good commander. The same can be said for adventurers of course. Tiring slower, improved night vision, better managing extremes of temperature are all reasons many adventurers take a cook with them on their travels. But give a skilled cook access to a wide range of ingredients and a full kitchen?¡± Argat shook his head, ¡°I¡¯m not surprised if anything made a difference it was this. You might find the fuzziness fades as you encounter things, but don¡¯t try to force it and keep eating here until you feel better. Not that I think that will be a burden to you.¡±


    Polishing off the last of the delicious food, while somehow feeling just shy of overfull, I couldn¡¯t help but laugh. Seeing Eimer seat a pair of what looked like soldiers, through the haze of my mind the faces of her kids came into focus. I remembered her scolding them, praising them, boasting about their achievements and basking proudly as others complimented them. If my mind was an empty jigsaw puzzle, it felt like I¡¯d just stumbled upon a single piece.


    After taking the pair¡¯s order Eimer came up beside us, ¡°Feelin¡¯ any better?¡±


    ¡°Definitely better than I was, that was delicious too. I can¡¯t say I remember everything, but the little bits I did remember were important.¡±


    ¡°Oh? Such as?¡±


    ¡°The glue should be ready to fix the stool that got broken the other night.¡±

 Chapter 3 – A place to rest one’s feet

    Argat hadn¡¯t exactly been thrilled at the prospect of letting me go back to work unaccompanied, but he also clearly had more to do than just looking after me. In the end it was Eimer who suggested a solution I was more than happy with. Setting down the broken stool I gave my new furry companion a good pet, much to his delight.


    The appropriately named Taffy was a honey brown, medium sized hound with floppy ears and a seemingly permanent droopy grin. His tail thumped back and forth as he leaned into the pets and scritches, a picture of derpy excitement that warmed my heart.


    Still, I¡¯d returned to the workshop with a mission. Reluctantly pulling away from my affectionate companion, I trod towards a pitted and charred worktop currently bearing a small beaker of white solution. Given the relative newness of the rest of the room, the charred and pitted bench suggested my attempts at alchemy had been eventful. Perhaps failures in alchemy just left more of a mark? Either way, as I tilted the beaker to better gauge the viscosity of its contents, I was glad to be using a finished alchemical today rather than starting something new. It certainly looked suitably gloopy, and I faintly recalled making it as an adhesive for the stool, but all I could really do was hope it would work. I wished I understood it better, and immediately knew I messed up.


    It was like the world zoomed in on the liquid in the beaker I saw flashes of its components, sap from a tree that oozed out then would harden in to a powder that would blow away in the breeze, bones from a plethora of animals, some familiar others not, boiled vigorously before the water cooled, a tiny drop of venom from a stinging insect that made me shiver, combined and allowed to thicken. Flour could be added if needed but would weaken the strength of the bond, it was part chemical hardening part a reaction with the qi in the wood. This batch didn¡¯t need it. And like a diver reaching the surface I gasped as the vision stopped.


    Giving Taffy a reassuring pet I brought the glue over to the stool before beginning to look for clamps and a brush. Argat had warned me that while I needed to learn to use my skills eventually, I should hold off for a few days. Straining my historical aspect further would obviously be bad, but overtaxing the others didn¡¯t sound much better. Apparently overspending qi could literally shorten one¡¯s lifespan.


    A friendly bark directed my attention to a pair of clogs Taffy had pushed over quite adorably while I¡¯d been searching drawers. Slipping my feet out of the sandals I had on, I found the hard wooden clogs surprisingly comfortable, conforming perfectly to the bottom of my feet and supporting just the right places. They might not be strictly necessary for gluing a stool, but I could suddenly see how the hard wood made for good protective footwear in the workshop. Taffy was a smart one. He certainly had a better idea of what was normal than I currently, and I wasn¡¯t shy about praising him for it.


    The stool wasn¡¯t strictly broken, but one of the legs was precipitously loose and the others would benefit from some attention. One of the crossbars/stretchers near the bottom of the legs appeared ready to fall free at a moment¡¯s notice. Dipping the old paintbrush in the thick glue I got to work. Carefully exposing as much of the tenons as possible without pulling the stool apart I coated them in glue. The ends of the stretcher also got a coat before I pressed the stool tightly together and began placing the clamps. Just as I was thinking I could do with an extra pair of hands, a well manicured set adorned with intricate rings that pricked at my appraisal skill appeared, holding things in place.


    Looking to their owner, if I had to sum her up in a single word it was striking. Delicate robes with intricate embroidery rippled across well defined muscle. A youthful face with high cheekbones and intense eyes that seemed to glimmer with gold. She radiated power. The kind of figure blocks of marble hoped the chisel would reveal within them. Yet her face bore a gentle smile and Taffy nuzzled into her side, a character reference that put me at my ease.


    ¡°Thanks.¡± Not stopping as I placed the clamps, despite her finery, her actions showed she was willing to help. ¡°Sorry, I¡¯m a little foggy on names at the moment, but I appreciate the help.¡±


    ¡°So I heard Vaul, yet you¡¯ve found your way back to your workshop once more.¡± her voice surprisingly soft for someone so physically imposing.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ¡°I guess I did. It just feels right somehow. Calming, I guess. Like when I¡¯m doing something with my hands my mind is clearer. Plus, it¡¯s nice to fix things. Lookin¡¯ forward to making some stuff too. But I¡¯m blabbering on about myself, was there something you needed miss?¡±


    She stepped back with fluid poise as the last clamp was placed, ¡°I suppose I should have reintroduced myself, but I¡¯ll hope you¡¯ll forgive me, it¡¯s not often I get to make a second first impression.¡± She gave Taffy a scratch behind the ears, ¡°I am Su of the Lei bloodline, guildmaster of this branch of the adventurers¡¯ guild. As to what I needed, I¡¯m primarily here to ask how you are, and discuss any support you may need. I was going to tell you there¡¯s no need to rush back to work,¡± her smile turned amused, ¡°but I¡¯m beginning to suspect I might need to lock down the workshop to stop you.¡±


    ¡°OH! Uh, please don¡¯t... lady guildmaster?¡±


    She laughed, visibly relaxing as she did so. ¡°Vaul, I¡¯m the last person who would stop you from following your class, particularly when it helps support this branch of the guild. I just didn¡¯t want you to think you had to rush back to work. Take things at your own pace and listen to Argat¡¯s advice. There will always be plenty of work the guild would benefit from, but adventurers can - and generally should - source their equipment elsewhere.¡±


    ¡°What? Why?!¡±


    ¡°Peace Vaul. I mean nothing against your craft, simply that an adventurer should have appropriate equipment before they stand at the entrance of a dungeon. Much of what we sell are necessities that the inexperienced have forgotten. Moreover, while you craft more impressive pieces, they are often dependent on the spoils retrieved from the dungeon and as such vary in nature and availability. This allows many adventurers to purchase opportunistically as they see something that suits their class, but I would consider it unwise to rely on our small stock having appropriate items for every class or challenge.¡± She took a breath, ¡°The guild¡¯s primary goal in selling items is generating interest in the spoils from the dungeon and discouraging excessive price gouging. Generating a profit is of course a nice bonus, but we make far more by being able to sell the materials from the dungeon and keeping business flowing smoothly. Adventurers rioting because all the rope on sale is five times the market price isn¡¯t good for anyone.¡±


    I winced, ¡°Yeah, a mob of angry adventurers sounds problematic. Would people really be that stupid to... what am I saying, of course they would.¡±


    ¡°Unfortunately, yes. Greed has overcome wisdom on a few occasions in the past, hence the guild¡¯s policy. Part of why the clans permit the existence of the adventurers'' guild is to manage such issues and discourage the formation of larger mercenary companies in favour of smaller adventuring groups.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s why we mostly sell the materials as well isn¡¯t it? Rather than processing all the materials ourselves and having a monopoly, or something damn close, we supply the local economy.¡±


    She gave him an appraising look, ¡°For someone who has claimed in the past to be uninterested in politics and economics you certainly have a fine grasp of it Vaul. Still, I think we¡¯ve gotten a little off topic here. I merely wished to convey my best wishes on your recovery and reassure you that as both a vassal of the Liu clan and an employee of this guild, you have financial and job security however long your recovery. Should you have any issues please feel free to raise them with me. The stamp or seal you created when the accident occurred is in my care and I¡¯ll see about having it properly appraised. Perhaps that will shed further light on how best to restore your memories.¡±


    ¡°Appraised? Actually, I think I have a skill for that now.¡±


    The guildmaster raised an eyebrow as one of her rings glimmered. Taffy on the other hand looked up with a big grin like he¡¯d just been promised a bowl of treats, his formerly wagging tail now almost a blur behind him.


    ¡°Well that certainly is welcome news, though I must apologise for not raising the privacy ward sooner, I wasn¡¯t anticipating a change in skills.¡± She must have read something in my face, ¡°Class too? Goodness Vaul, I¡¯m glad some benefit has come out of this ordeal for you.¡± She peered down to look at the hound, ¡°Now Taffy, I¡¯m afraid I¡¯m going to have to ask you to step outside for moment.¡±


    With an eager bark he trotted off.


    ¡°Now where were we? Ahh yes, an appraisal skill and possibly a new class, if you feel comfortable discussing it. I doubt many were close enough to overhear ¨C though I confess I¡¯m hoping you don¡¯t wish to keep your appraisal skill under wraps for long - but Kete at least will know and be overjoyed at the news.¡±


    ¡°Argat mentioned him I think. I¡¯m happy to help out, though I¡¯m still trying to get my head round my classes and skills, but who exactly is Kete?¡±


    ¡°I can give you some guidance, however I¡¯m sure Argat has done so already. Kete is another employee here at the guild, teaching everything from survival skills and harvesting, to basic weapons and combat training. He¡¯ll always be a creature trainer at heart though, with Taffy being one of his companions.¡±


    ¡°Well, if Taffy likes him, then I like him already¡±

 Chapter 4 – Skills and Resources

    Closing my eyes I took a deep breath, trying one more time to ignore all distractions and focus within. To focus on my class and skills. It was oddly difficult. I¡¯d caught glimpses of what might have been text before, but they were too brief to be sure. I focused on the worn smooth handle and familiar weight of the hammer in my lap, trying to recall that feeling of bringing it up and down upon the blade and the joy it brought me. I thought of how Eimer¡¯s face had lit up as I took the stool to be repaired. I thought of the blade once cast on the floor now ready for polishing, soon to be used once more. Fixing things. Bringing people joy. Honest work that turned something people saw as worthless into something to be proud of. I may not have my memories, but these things sang to me. They were what I wanted to do. And as I acknowledged that, patchy text filled my vision.


    Class ¨C ___________ Master Craftsman


    Skill 1 ¨C Passive ¨C _________ ______ Crafting ¨C ______


    \Subskills


    Dependent Skill 1.1 - __________ - ____


    Skill 2 ¨C Active ¨C Insightful Appraisal ¨C ____


    Skill 3 ¨C Passive - _______ ________ - ____


    Dependent Skill 3.1 - _____''_ ____ - ____


    Dependent Skill 3.2 - __________ _____ - _________


    As seemed to be a theme, more information led to more questions: subskills? Dependent skills? And what was up with all the blanks? As I began to try to memorise it the words faded from sight. Thankfully, they somehow stayed in my mind. I didn¡¯t get it, but I was certainly appreciative. Opening my eyes revealed the formidable guildmaster still waiting patiently before me, the faint shimmer of whatever privacy effect she¡¯d set up still present.


    ¡°I finally got it! The hammer definitely helped, though there¡¯s quite a few gaps.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not unsurprising, some sages have described the act of examining at one¡¯s class and skills as the essence of knowing oneself. Personally, I feel that overlooks much of who a person is, but it¡¯s undoubtedly self-reflective. As such, it is impressive you succeeded with such severe memory loss.¡±


    ¡°And you didn¡¯t think to mention that when I failed the first few times?¡± I asked, more curious than frustrated at this point.


    ¡°Sometimes the greatest burden when climbing a mountain is the knowledge of just how high it truly is. Knowing all you can about your class and skills is important. Had I told you from the outset that there was a strong possibility you may not achieve it, your initial struggles may have seemed like validation it was impossible rather than a challenge to be overcome. A hinderance with no benefit.¡± Her golden gaze was intense but her smile was warm, ¡°This guild is likely to be one where many hopeful adventurers will get their start, from farm boys who want you to sharpen their scythes to little noble girls with dreams of punching wyverns out of the air. We may equip, train or even caution them, but doubts they can do nothing about are a useless burden that will only weigh them down. I want them to soar.¡±


    I was a little taken aback at the passion and raw conviction in her quiet words. ¡°That makes sense when you say it. So... do we have something to write this down? With all the gaps it¡¯s probably easier than trying to explain.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t have to share your whole status Vaul. It¡¯s really not necessary. Some knowledge of your skills is appreciated, and I wanted to help where I could, but Argat could advise you if you prefer.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine. This far from complete anyway and I¡¯d rather make sure I¡¯m not misunderstanding anything.¡±


    Possibly an impulsive decision on my part, but without my memories I was flying blind and had to trust people. Besides, her friendliness with Taffy and willingness to get hands on to help, even in a small way, had made a good first impression.


    ¡°Very well then, if you¡¯re sure.¡±


    She blurred as she moved around the room and back to the same spot, a curious mixture of items appearing on the worktop. My jaw dropped open at the casual display of superhuman ability as she began slowly grinding a dark cylinder onto a smooth stone with a carved reservoir. This suddenly made sense as in a practiced motion she began dribbling water from a small pot over where she had been grinding, the water turning dark and viscous as it flowed down and pooled. Once a small amount had accumulated she looked up once again sliding across the inkstone and brush. A wooden slat like those hung in the main hall seemed to be the canvas of choice, and once again I felt the prickle of my appraisal skill eager to tell me more about the wood.


    ¡°Sorry, I just... You moved so fast.¡±


    Her laugh was just shy of a snort, I was guessing some sort of etiquette training saved it. ¡°I¡¯m guildmaster.¡± She stated as if that answered everything. In retrospect, I suppose it did.


    Collecting myself I took the offered brush and attempted not to splatter ink everywhere as I trusted in muscle memory to help with the writing. It wasn¡¯t perfect but it felt far more natural than I expected. A few stray drops hit the worktop but the handwriting itself was quite elegant. I had a sneaking suspicion my craftsmanship skill might be helping. Then again, for all I knew I¡¯d been a scribe at one point. That reminded me, I needed to ask the guildmaster about my full name, but my skills came first.


    ¡°Whatdya reckon?¡± I asked as I filled in the last of the details and spun the slat towards her.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    A sharp gasp and a smile boded well as her eyes darted back and forth impossibly quickly.


    ¡°Firstly, congratulations on becoming a master. As guildmaster, a blood member of the Lei clan, and as your friend, it is a pleasure to welcome you to the rank. Normally I would assume it should be announced, but dwarven culture handles the declaration of masters quite differently, and I appreciate you may wish to give some time for your memories to return first?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. I might have the class, but right now I¡¯m working purely on instinct. I¡¯d like to get a bit of a handle on what I can do before I start bragging about it.¡±


    ¡°A wise choice. It will open a few doors that were once closed when you do choose to declare, but nothing desperately relevant in the short term save for general acclaim. As for your skills, I haven¡¯t heard of insightful appraisal specifically, but any kind of appraisal skill is useful. It may help discern what medium the skill draws from, though I feel unqualified to speculate. Argat should be able to help there.¡±


    ¡°Sorry, What medium it uses?¡±


    She winced, ¡°Ah, that would explain why those were hidden. The last section of each skill lists the resource or medium it draws from to fuel the skill. Sages theorise that these link to the five fundamental aspects of oneself ¨C emotional, physical, vital, magical and historical ¨C though Argat could give better description and there is... considerable disagreement on exactly how everything connects. Perhaps an example of my own might help clarify. I was primarily a combat healer and it¡¯s widely known many of my skills were fuelled by qi. Qi is far from simple, but it is at least widely agreed to be fundamentally tied to the vital aspect of oneself. Literally it is our vital energy, the spark that allows a beaten and broken body to cling to life, even as otherwise healthy people suddenly drop dead without it. By cultivating it my lifespan extends, however I have a skill which consumes it for a burst of healing to those nearby. You will note the resource is linked to the effect. Judging by your expression you also see the danger, while cultivating qi does indeed increase my lifespan, were I to expend all of it I would perish. This is why understanding what resource or medium your skills use is important.¡±


    ¡°Argat had warned me to be careful, but damn that has to be hard.¡±


    ¡°I am well used to the benefits and drawbacks of qi, and it is uniquely effective in a role such as guildmaster given the incentive to stockpile it. Moreover, our vital and physical aspects are closely tied and as you may have noticed I find the difference it makes to my speed quite convenient.¡±


    ¡°Damn, I might need to consider cultivating some qi myself in that case.¡±


    She chuckled, ¡°If you ever truly decide to pursue such, I would be glad to guide you. For now though with only three main skills I would assume most of your abilities have been subsumed by your crafting skill as subskills. It¡¯s possible this happened during your advancement, but is equally possible it was the case before.¡±


    ¡°Not to skip ahead, but what exactly is the deal with subskills and dependent skills?¡±


    ¡°As I understand it the system tries to group relevant skills together, possibly to help them support one another, possibly simply to prevent skill lists getting too long. To take an example I am more familiar with, a mage might know a variety of fire spells: flameblast, wave of fire, scorch, etc. Rather than list each spell as an individual skill, the system might simply list a fire magic skill with each spell as a subskill within it.¡±


    ¡°So my crafting skill likely has a bunch of crafting related subskills like smithing, leatherworking and woodworking.¡±


    ¡°Indeed, some of which may even have their own subskills, just like fire magic could become a subskill of a general magic skill. However, while you can peer into the subskills just as you viewed your main skill list, it does become more difficult for each layer you go down, so you may wish to postpone that. Dependent skills, are skills too distinct to be subskills, often due to utilising a different resource than the main skill, yet also too individually weak or too linked to the main skill to stand alone. Given some of your previous work, I think there is a good chance the dependent skill on your crafting is enchantment related if the main skill doesn¡¯t have mana as a resource.¡±


    I couldn¡¯t help but feel a jolt of excitement at that, it was already incredibly satisfying to make mundane items, but who wouldn¡¯t want to add a bit of magical spice.


    ¡°Argat mentioned Sarala might be able to help me out with that.¡±


    ¡°Indeed, she has an impressively wide range of experience but has a particular knack for anything magic related. I think you two had collaborated previously as well. Overall, we were fortunate that your unknown skills are passive or are dependent on passive skills. You¡¯ll probably pick them up as you try things and are unlikely to overdraw unless you work yourself ragged. Still, be cautious. How are you faring with your active skill?¡±


    ¡°I think I¡¯m beginning to get a handle on stopping it activating unintentionally, though it seems really drawn to some things in particular and I don¡¯t know why.¡±


    ¡°Oh? Can you give me an example?¡±


    I pointed to the slat I¡¯d written on, ¡°That wood. Most things I need to touch, but that draws me in, even from across the room.¡±


    ¡°Ahh of course. Well, I don¡¯t know too much about appraisal skills, but I do know to make the most out of them you want to gather as much information about the item as possible before you use them, though bad information can have a detrimental effect in some cases. That wood is from a qi rich plant originating from the main dungeon in the kingdom.¡±


    ¡°Oh, so my appraisal skill likes it because it¡¯s valuable?¡±


    ¡°I suspect it likes it because it recognises it¡¯s a useful material with some interesting properties. Unfortunately, miracle shoots are anything but valuable in the kingdom. In fact they are a cautionary tale about one of the less obvious dangers of dungeons. The roots grow incredibly quickly, converting mana in the air to qi to fuel their explosive growth, reaching maturity within a few days. Even in areas with little light, they grow thinner and taller to reach sustenance faster, and sleeping animals have been found impaled by their sudden growth. Full grown, the top section produces dozens of seeds within and dries unevenly allowing the seeds to explode outwards. This poses little risk to journeymen adventurers, but the force is sufficient to be a danger to civilians, and the seeds spread rapidly along waterways.¡±


    ¡°Someone took some seeds from the dungeon, and they became an invasive species...¡± I murmured horrified.


    ¡°It¡¯s unclear - and at this point frankly immaterial - if it was intentional or if seeds clung to the perpetrator''s clothes. It led to the fall of one of the great clans when the mistake was traced. Miracle shoots are used for everything from small currency, to writing, to immature versions even being used in cooking. However, while their properties may be useful, they are primarily used because the empire is mostly wetlands, and as such outbreaks of miracle shoots are both constant and culled. The emperor and the clans can ill afford the shoots to overtake land needed for farming or other purposes, thus their harvesting is encouraged.¡±


    ¡°That was... more than I bargained for. At least I don¡¯t need to worry about potentially wasting the wood I suppose. I¡¯m guessing we have steps here to prevent a repeat of something similar occurring from this dungeon?¡±


    ¡°Kete can give you the details once Argat clears you to use your appraisal skill. Assuming of course you¡¯re happy to help with processing the spoils from the dungeon?¡±


    ¡°It certainly sounds interesting and might help with finding things to work with.¡±


    ¡°I appreciate it. Kete has been somewhat overworked of late, and your skill will help ensure we can pay a fair price for our adventurers¡¯ labours.¡± She cocked her head infinitesimally, ¡°I¡¯m afraid I am needed elsewhere Vaul. It was good talking with you, and I¡¯m glad to see your recovery is progressing. I¡¯m sorry I couldn¡¯t stay longer or be more help with your skills.¡± So saying, she picked up the wooden slat and a burst of golden flames rendered it to a fine grey ash in an instant.


    ¡°Oh, uh no problem. Thanks for dropping by...¡± I looked up from the pool of ash and she was gone, as was the shimmer of the privacy field.


    Taffy plodded over and rubbed against me reassuringly as I heard a distant cheer.

 Chapter 5 – Taking Stock

    With the rest of the afternoon to myself ¨C save, of course, for Taffy¡¯s reassuring presence - I investigated the workshop. Perhaps there were other projects like the wood glue already underway. If I could find records of what I¡¯d been working on, it would simplify so much.


    The alchemy area where I found the glue appeared surprisingly clear, if a little charred and pitted. However, within some drawers nearby I found thin strips of miracle shoot bound together with tine, like wooden scrolls. Unrolling them revealed not an order list, but possibly even more useful, recipes. A cursory inspection of the rest of the drawers revealed more for various basic concoctions, tinctures and pills. Some notes on the ingredients list were clearly added retrospectively and I could only hope I¡¯d already begun the process of working out which local ingredients could be substituted into the standard recipe. I tried not to be distracted but couldn¡¯t help a second glance at the various mortars and pestles as well as knives of all shapes, their spectrum of gleaming metals sparking vague memories of testing what was inert with different compounds. There was a surprising amount of glassware, even a still with a frankly intimidating amount of looping glass pipework, though I hoped would make more sense once I¡¯d tried a few simpler recipes. At least it was clean and empty for now. I¡¯d tackle that challenge another time.


    Walking around the large room I was once again taken aback at the sheer quantity and variety of equipment present. It felt more like a workshop for a dozen people than an individual. Cupboards that I thought would be full of materials or ingredients instead revealed more tools, and reassuringly, the occasional wooden scroll. A connecting room led to a vast warehouse where most of the materials were kept, though buckets of clay and sand as well as a few heavy looking ingots rested by the forge. I thought I¡¯d found a partially started project when I spied a circle of wood resting on a bench across the room, however the gleam of a latch and the reveal that it was actually two tightly concentric circles of wood put doubt in my mind. Picking it up, the term tambour floated from a subconscious itch into my conscious mind, along with the knowledge that it had something to do with embroidery. Perhaps used to stretch the fabric? At least I had a place to start and getting this wrong was less likely to accidentally poison someone or cause an explosion. Yet, somehow I doubted embroidery was an urgent project. At least, not in an adventurers¡¯ guild.


    Tools for fabric and wools, one of which looked amusingly like a spinning top, flowed into those for leatherwork. Needles remained throughout, but rounded points to slip between fibres gave way to those sharper and more blade like. There was a wooden board among the leather with sketches for a leather cuirass or bodice. It appeared overly form-fitting for the former yet was clearly designed for protection, so I wasn¡¯t entirely sure how to define it. Perhaps there was a word I didn¡¯t yet remember that could perfectly describe it. Regardless, the design was clearly missing a lot of details. At the very least the lack of sizes was an obvious omission, but in general the design had a feeling of roughness, more like putting charcoal to wood on a concept than writing a technical plan. Though why one would ever want armour with unnecessary convex angles that would draw a blow into your chest was beyond me.


    Checking the barrels of weapons by an open hatch, one overflowing, the other barely half full proved more illuminating. After exploring some documentation nearby (mostly written on miracle shoot slats once again) as well as the labels on the barrels, it became clear this was a drop off point of sorts. The overflowing barrel was for weapons owned by the guild that were rented out or used for practice, or simply weapons so badly broken their owners sold them. The half full barrel was weapons owned by others submitted for sharpening or repair and each bore a small tag of wood noting their owner. The quality of those in need of sharpening varied concerningly, some as sharp as could be expected without a proper grindstone, others dull as a club or pitted and chipped to the point of being barely salvageable. The spots of rust on some of the iron or steel spoke of poor care. Bronze both was less susceptible to corrosion and lost its edge faster, so likely received maintenance more frequently, and yet much of it had faded to a dull brown flecked with green. The patina would protect the metal beneath, unlike rust which would eat through, yet I couldn¡¯t help but feel the lack of waxing to prevent such spoke of a lack of respect the wielders had for their weapons. Tutting to myself I decided the barrels were as good a point to start as any, but I¡¯d give preference to those who had shown the most care for their weapons. From a practical perspective they would also take the least time to bring up to standard, though I wouldn¡¯t pretend pettiness wasn¡¯t the deciding factor.Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    Fishing out the handful of guild-owned blades that just required sharpening to start, assuming it would be less of an issue if I misjudged the grindstone for those, I set to work. Setting the pile by the bronze sword still in need of polishing I took the time to more closely evaluate the grindstone options. It would seem I had been using the finest grit previously, which made sense in retrospect as it would always be the grit one finished on, perhaps I had simply applied too much or uneven force with the sword earlier? It wasn¡¯t bad per say, and was certainly useable, but I wanted to do better. Knowing there was only one way to achieve that, I picked up a bronze axe and set my feet to the treadle.


    ***


    There weren¡¯t too many bronze weapons in need of sharpening, so I was surprised to look up and see the angle of the sun distinctly lower than when I¡¯d started. Savoury smells were also beginning to waft in from afar, no doubt drawing a dinner rush for Eimer. Despite my rumbling stomach, I wanted to try and get the weapons polished and waxed so I could consider them truly ready. I hadn¡¯t found either in or around the alchemy station but given the scouring rushes were near the grindstone, it didn¡¯t seem unreasonable that such things might be too. A short search later and my hope was rewarded. As I began rubbing the rag dipped in polish in small circles that brought a shine back to the sword I started with, I considered what I had learned. Firstly, I should have started with an axe. Axes were substantially easier to sharpen than swords, partially because of the shorter blade length, and partially because it was easier to keep a grip on both sides. Though given how heavy duty my gloves were, perhaps I was being a bit overcautious with my grip on the blades? Bronze yielded deceptively easily to the grindstone, keeping the pressure smooth and even was the true challenge.


    Though as I began to polish the next blade and saw its subtly different shade and sheen another complication became clear, bronze was not all the same. I had thought some felt different on the grindstone than others, but I had not fully considered that bronze, as an alloy, would vary. I had a feeling in the dwarven holds things might be more strictly categorised, metals purer and alloys more precisely mixed. But in a country that was mostly wetlands, even the purity of an ingot of copper was in question. Though I had a sudden recollection that tin impurities in copper were how bronze was discovered in the first place. Ironically, that only served to illustrate how significant the impact of small impurity could be. Feeling a little dumb given the subject of most of the day¡¯s discussions, it finally occurred to me that skills likely played a part as well. Skills of miners, smelters and smiths could all have an impact on the final product. Once I started working with steel, something called finers would too. Utilising the skills of those earlier in the production chain could be a real game changer, and another half dozen questions made the top of my list for Argat.


    ¡°Damn kid, lost all yer memories and yer still back here before dinner, tryin¡¯ to make loaner equipment fit for the emperor¡¯s palace.¡± I might have taken exception to the kid comment, but the grey-haired man in the doorway personified the word grizzled. Crisscrossed with myriad scars, missing an eye, and leaning confidently against the doorframe, I figured this dude called everyone kid. ¡°I¡¯d tell ye the bronze stuff is mostly used by newbies who barely know which end is the pointy one, so ye don¡¯t need te be so pernickety, but it never stopped ye before. I¡¯m Kete by the by, glad to see you up and about again Vaul. Now, let¡¯s grab some grub before you inevitably lose track of time and start workin¡¯ into the night again.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not that bad surely.¡±


    ¡°Oh? How long do you think I¡¯ve been standin¡¯ here then?¡±

 Chapter 6 – Settling In

    The next few days did little to restore my memory, but were a big step in helping me find my feet within the guild once more. For all Kete¡¯s intimidating appearance and gruff demeanour, the veteran adventurer clearly had a caring personality. Where Eimer showed her care through copious quantities of exceptional food, Kete showed his through blunt comments and his willingness to give of his time - not that many of the greenhorn adventurers he led through weapon drills appreciated that. Ironically, he¡¯d be the first to call me out if I was overdoing things. It seemed the requirement of the rental equipment to be of decent quality versus my perfectionist nature was an old argument of ours. Frankly he had a point, painful though it was to admit. This became easier when while dropping off some of the gear, I overheard him lambasting an adventurer, pointing out if they didn¡¯t take care of their equipment, they couldn¡¯t rely on it to take care of them. Though his explanation of the precept involved a lot more swearing.


    With Kete busy between instructing new adventurers and appraising dungeon loot, I only saw him briefly at meals in the few days after losing my memories. He did however ensure I had plenty of company. Taffy frequently joined me, though he wasn¡¯t a fan of the loud grinding or cascade of sparks thrown when some of the better steel was put to the grindstone. Eimer confided that Kete had been the one to find me when I had collapsed, thanks in no small part to Taffy, and I think they were concerned it might happen again. I was even reintroduced to the proudest of Kete¡¯s animal companions, Xiu. To say Xiu appeared to be an ordinary black cat, while in some ways accurate, would do her a grave disservice. The only thing average about her was her size. Her coat flowed, silky and black as the finest ink, always immaculately groomed without a hair out of place. Cats walk or trot; Xiu glided on four paws. People joke that cats think they are the pet owners; as that tiny ball of elegance looked around and sniffed upon entering my workshop, selected her perch atop a workbench, and gracefully curled up before meeting my gaze and giving a nod as if to permit me to continue, I understood. Xiu believes the world hers by right; she simply deigns to allow others to live in it. She¡¯s also fluffy and adorable.


    As I worked my way through the barrel of equipment over a few days I didn¡¯t see the guildmaster again, though that wasn¡¯t really a surprise. I assumed her work and whatever politics the Liu clan stuff entailed would keep her plenty busy, but as Argat filled me in on some of the ¡®fundamental resources¡¯ I discovered cultivating qi requires a lot of time spent in meditation. I fervently hoped that qi wouldn¡¯t be something I had to deal with for that reason. Sure, it might extend your lifespan, but what¡¯s the point if you spend most of your time meditating? I got pretty in the zone when making things, so if that could count as meditation I¡¯d be totally down for it, but I doubted it was that convenient.


    Surprisingly, I didn¡¯t see too much of Argat after the first day. He made time to fit me in where he could, but between adventurers and the construction crew finishing the rest of the outpost, there were plenty of injuries for him to treat, as well as many seeking advice regarding classes and skills. The guildmaster only stepped in to heal injuries that were both recent and major - which were thankfully uncommon. However, while there were plenty of people who could bandage a wound, Argat got a visit for anything that might take more than a day or two to heal. Apparently having a skill that made those who had been under your care heal faster made you popular ¨C who could have guessed? More seriously, Argat told me one of the duties of sages was to help limit the spread of plague and infection. While I didn¡¯t really get how all that stuff worked ¨C nor did I really want to ¨C I was all for stopping it spreading near me. So, when a session got cancelled just as it was about to start by a kid rushing in saying something about a burn and a dropped punty, I left him to it. Though I did wonder what a punty was and why it sounded so damn familiar.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    My memories seemed to be staying stubbornly absent for the most part, though now and then something like the metal ingots would spark a recollection of how things were different here, presumably compared to the dwarven hold I grew up in. Apparently older memories sticking better wasn¡¯t uncommon, and frankly at this point I¡¯d take whatever I could get. At least I was gaining some confidence as I worked with the weapons that a lot of my muscle memories and knowledge were still present; I just had to rediscover them. It might just be my crafting skill putting in a lot of work, but either way the effect was the same. Argat had mostly agreed with the guildmaster that I was unlikely to overdraw anything while just using my passive skills, so tomorrow I¡¯d have the all-clear to join Kete evaluating the spoils from the dungeon and testing the limits of my appraisal skill.


    As I returned to the workshop I passed a young builder running outside, clutching a box of nails. He didn¡¯t even pause as he rushed past jabbering breathlessly,


    ¡°Hey sorry Vaul had to borrow some nails payyoubacklaterbye!¡±


    He was gone before I could even fully process what was said, and I mentally added forging more nails to my to-do list. It would probably be a good reintroduction to the forge, though I¡¯d have to work out exactly how to make them. Maybe casting? If so I¡¯d definitely need to be making more than one at a time.


    Sticking my head through behind the counter in the main hall I managed to catch Sarala¡¯s eye just as she looked up from a document, letting a pair of finely wrought spectacles hang from a chain around her neck. While what just happened was probably fine, I figured I should double check and get a gauge on how common it was likely to be. While I hadn¡¯t had much occasion to talk to the older woman yet, she was happy to help.


    ¡°The workers are in the employ of the Lei clan, so lending some nails should be no issue. However, them wandering unaccompanied into the storeroom sets a poor precedent.¡± The thoughtful purse to her lips disappeared, ¡°Leave this to me. I¡¯ll have a few discreet words to ensure future requests are made to you directly, and that nails were all that was procured.¡±


    She set off at a surprisingly brisk pace despite leaning heavily on her cane, offering a quick apology to the other gentleman behind the desk before heading further into the "staff only" area of the guild. I¡¯d offer to help the man but without any idea what to do I¡¯d be more of a hindrance. Thankfully most adventurers were actively out completing quests or delving into the dungeon at this time of the afternoon, with only a few trickling back in to report completion. Deciding the best thing I could do would be to get back to work, I returned to the workshop.

 Chapter 7 – A Glaive Duty

    The repairs barrel had a few final pieces of equipment I wanted to restore before I was occupied with appraisal tomorrow. Donning my leather gloves I veered into the storeroom. The haft of a glaive had snapped, and while the owner had managed to collect most of the splinters, replacing it would be both simpler and yield a better result. Even in a normal case, gluing something back together would create a weak point, but this glaive had clearly seen plenty of action before it had broken. The haft was filled with chips and gouges where attacks had been blocked. As much as many people didn¡¯t show weapons the care they deserved, others formed a deep connection with them. Sometimes this was simply that they had kept them alive so often, other times they were a gift from a family member or friend, and finally, some even received benefits from their class for using a particular weapon. If the latter was true for this individual, he hadn¡¯t mentioned it. He had however mentioned he was a qi user. While Argat still had plenty more to teach me about classes and resources, knowing my interest was crafting he often approached the topic from that direction. Qi flowed most easily in living things, but failing that, something that had recently been living and maintained a similar structure was the next best thing. Hence, I began browsing through the various timber options in the storehouse for something to turn on the lathe, desperately hoping one of my skills would give me a nudge in the direction of a block about the right size that would handle qi well.


    Unfortunately, while there were plenty of planks - although far fewer than the space allotted would accommodate, which turned my mind briefly to the builders once more - the selection of wooden beams and blocks was somewhat more limited. If I thought there wasn¡¯t a good chance the wood glue would inhibit the flow of qi through the glaive I¡¯d try to put the shattered haft back together again, but my limited understanding from Argat¡¯s descriptions, and more importantly my instincts, were screaming that was a bad idea. So here I was looking at wooden beams, not quite sure past general size what I should be looking for. Maybe the wood grain? That sounded like the sort of thing that could impact qi flow... Not like I knew which way I wanted it if it did. I just squeezed a wooden beam, what exactly did I think that would tell me? It¡¯s hard, go figure. Just as I was thinking I might need to try using a few appraisals I saw it, protruding from a big pile of all different shapes and sizes, with the perfect width, a miracle shoot.


    One of the few things I knew about the plant was it naturally utilised qi. Sliding the bamboo-like rod free from its less usefully shaped kin, I evaluated it critically. This shoot had grown tall to seek light and had been cut down before it could fully widen, the remains of shoots where leaves had begun to grow still visible, but easily trimmed. The hole through the middle of the shoot to draw up water appeared slightly smaller than the tang of the glaive. That the glaive even had a tang felt slightly off to me, though the word naginata echoed softly at the back of my mind. The tone more of a question this time, rather than the usual confidence. Still, only comparing the tang and shoot side by side would lend certainty that the tang would fit, so I returned to the workshop, noting how my hand curled comfortably and securely around it¡¯s girth. The length did make doorframes something of a challenge though.


    Setting the shoot down beside the broken staff, I confirmed it was about half again as long. The original shaft felt a little short, just under 6 feet by my guess, which may have contributed to it taking so much abuse. Lacking the reach to keep foes at a distance, the wielder would be forced to block strikes with the shaft more often, using the weapon more like a quarterstaff when foes closed. Following this train of thought I looked to the base of the old staff noting that it wasn¡¯t butted but a ring of discolouration and sheared wood suggested it may once have been. Still it wouldn¡¯t do to make the new shaft overly long either. If the owner of the glaive was used to a shorter haft, adding too much length could throw off their fighting style.


    Carefully picking up the separated blade I was able to confirm I¡¯d judged the diameter of the shaft for the tang nicely. My care when handling it wasn¡¯t purely a respect for the blade, I¡¯d already sharpened it¡¯s edge. Gripping the tang rather than dealing with the long haft made the sharpening process much easier, but added complications now. In retrospect I wasn¡¯t sure it was a good trade-off, but I could offset it somewhat, grabbing strips of scrap leather to wrap the blade.


    To my knowledge metal wasn¡¯t particularly good at allowing qi to flow through it, but unlike the shaft there were precious few good options that could hold an effective edge. Sometimes it was just more effective to use the best material for the job, the gains lost from resource efficiency more than made up for by material quality. Mages had it rough in that regard. Apparently, there were a small handful of metals that truly hampered the flow of mana, but one was iron, and by extension steel. At least cobalt and nickel didn¡¯t seem so common, though who knows what applications I¡¯d forgotten.


    Returning my mind back to the project at hand as I finished wrapping the blade, I recalled the jet of sparks it had thrown on the grinding wheel. I didn¡¯t remember why but more sparks correlated with better steel in my mind. Maybe it sparked more because it was harder? Something to do with a difference between iron and steel perhaps? It felt like the answer was on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn¡¯t quite find it. What I did find however was that my appraisal skill wanted to activate on the blade.


    It was perhaps not my wisest move, but it tantalised with an answer to a niggling question, so I gave in and let appraisal activate. I¡¯d be using it plenty tomorrow anyway, so once today couldn¡¯t hurt? A circular clay pillar radiating fire flashed into my mind. A bloomery. I was inside it. Scouring flames melting iron and charring bone. So many bones. Yet somehow, even as the bones powdered, the iron was becoming steel. I could feel with certainty that when it cooled it would be harder and that qi would flow slightly easier within it, even if I didn¡¯t know why. Then with a gasp, the vision was gone.


    I could feel the sweat running down my face and back. The heat hadn''t hurt, but I¡¯d felt it, felt something absorbed by the blade in the smoke and flame. There was something missing from the bloomery but I couldn¡¯t remember what, and yet the bones felt out of place. Had they replaced what was missing? My skill tickled at me, tempting that there was still more to learn if I used it once more. I was still breathing heavily, the sweat stopped pouring but I felt unpleasantly damp and shivery. I¡¯d be a fool to press further, but I was oh so tempted. I wanted answers. If I could only remember what I had forgotten.


    No. I could work this out. I had enough information, I just had to fit the pieces together. The fire burnt the bones and the iron... became steel! That was it. I was missing what apart from the heat made iron steel, unless it was down in the blazing coals? For now I¡¯d assume the bones replaced whatever it was, they had to be doing something. That would explain why once it cooled the metal would be harder, but steel shouldn¡¯t be any better than iron with qi flow. Bones were once living and so qi would flow easier in them, but in their charred state that hardly mattered. They certainly hadn¡¯t become an integral part of the glaive before me. Perhaps it would come to me later, at least I¡¯d solved one mystery, and confirmed qi should indeed flow a little better in the blade than regular steel. Though as I thought back to that certainty of the blade¡¯s hardness, something felt a little off. Not wrong per say, but like it was a little too focused on one thing. Whatever it was, I didn¡¯t know enough to mess with it right now, particularly on someone else¡¯s weapon. But someday I would.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    For now though, I was measuring. String, ruler and charcoal in hand as I marked out a length a little over six feet in the middle of the miracle shoot. A bit longer than before but hopefully not too much. Setting the measuring tools aside after double checking once more I put saw to wood, hewing off either end to leave a haft with a consistent cross section. Sharp as the saw was, it still took some effort to cut through the miracle shoot. A smile stretched across my face, I wanted this to be durable. There was some flex in the shoot which I suspected was less desirable, and made keeping the cuts straight more awkward, but I managed.


    Now for the trickier part. Measuring the dimensions of the tang and marking out the position of a slot for it. I also took note of the position of the two holes for pins within the tang for later. The gap in the centre of the shoot for the flow of water would make beginning to carve the slot slightly easier, but also meant the wood either side of where I carved would have to bear more load. With the dimensions marked, I locked the shaft in a pair of vices. I took a deep breath, lifting a tiny chisel and small hammer. Slowly I began carving away sliver after sliver of wood, being careful to stay within my marked guidelines. I needed this to be straight and precise, otherwise the blade would be loose or at an angle. Only once I had one side carved did I take another deep breath, allowing my hands to shake for a moment. It looked good I thought, maybe a fingernail too thin or deep but either of those would be better than the alternative. Then I began mirroring it on the other side. Tiny ribbons of wood falling with each blow of the hammer upon the chisel. Each producing a jolt of panic as I wondered whether this strike had strayed, then satisfaction as I confirmed it hadn''t. In my periphery I thought someone might have come to the doorway, but this required all my focus. My strokes seemed cleaner, more controlled. I dared not stop. And then it was done.


    A critical eye compared each side of the slot, identical, straight and aligned. Concern faded to contentment, only for me to realise now was the real moment of truth. I lifted the blade and pressed it to the slot. It didn¡¯t fit. I brought my eye close; it was only a hair off. But If I carved further, would it be central? I probably should have intentionally cut it a little small then adjusted after a check in hindsight. I didn¡¯t want to make it too loose, could I just force it? Trusting the leather wrapped around the blade and my thick gloves, I aligned it as best I could and applied some pressure. It wasn¡¯t working! Keeping up the pressure I shimmied it very slightly and saw fibres on the edge of the slot begin to roll underneath. Then it slammed home.


    I jumped back feeling a prick of pain. Glancing down I saw the very tip of the glaive had worked itself free and managed to pierce my tunic. For a moment I thought Id gotten away with only a minor wardrobe malfunction, before, barely visible through the hole, a tiny crimson blob began to bead. I sighed, it wouldn¡¯t be the worst stain, but I¡¯d need to get it cleaned up before anyone overreacted. By unconscious instinct I glanced by the forge to where a thick leather apron hung. Yup, that would have been useful, but I¡¯d know for next time. For now though, I wasn¡¯t going to let a small prick of pain stop me from enjoying the sight of the tang fully sheathed within the haft. Now I just needed to get it pinned. Deeply glad I¡¯d had the foresight to note down how deep along the tang the holes were, I began to carefully mark the spots that needed drilled. Truthfully, the head may be tightly enough affixed that this wasn¡¯t strictly necessary, but having seen damage accrued by adventurers¡¯ weapons, erring on the side of caution seemed prudent.


    With how well stocked the workshop was, I was surprised to only find three sizes of bit for the u-shaped hand drill after rifling through several drawers. I suppose the theory may have been that I was capable of making more if needed. Not that I had any confidence of managing that particular feat right now. Still, it did make the choice of bit much easier, simply choosing the option that was neither obviously over nor undersized. Careful to locate the tip precisely on the marked point perpendicular to the wood, I applied pressure and began to crank the handle. Wood flaked and yielded easily making me wonder if there was more to those drill bits than met the eye, even as I savoured the intensifying fresh scent. It felt oddly... nostalgic? Something to unpack later as the tip broke through the wood into the gap before the tang.


    Cautiously removing it I took a moment to inspect. The hole was thankfully straight and aligned well with the hole in the tang. Unfortunately, it seemed the bit I had used was slightly larger than that hole. A cylindrical pin straight through clearly wouldn¡¯t quite work, but perhaps something slightly tapered? Unfortunately, the only smaller drill bit was truly miniscule, so I doubted I could have it pass through both sides. Or at least if I did it might be more of a weakness than a benefit. With a plan in mind I drilled the other hole, finding to my relief that it was likewise aligned.


    As I was about to look for something to make the pins with, I noted some of the smaller fragments of the original haft. The wood didn¡¯t prick at my appraisal skill like the miracle shoots or head of the glaive, but it appeared to be a robust hardwood which made the haft¡¯s final state all the more remarkable. Finding a couple of likely sized pieces, I trimmed some of the extraneous material with a knife to get a flat section on either end before bringing them over to the lathe. Where the trimming had been slow, the lathe was fast. I barely had it set up and put my feet to the treadle before I¡¯d carved off a ribbon of material to reveal the cylinder, then added the taper with another pass. Frustum? Much as I¡¯m glad for the knowledge that sparks back to mind as I do things, sometimes I wish it had a little more context. I wasn¡¯t sure if that was the name of the peg, the process, or something else altogether. Whatever it is, I had my second peg made in short order. Ready to finish the assembly, or so I thought.


    I had just confirmed at the glaive that the pegs were indeed about the correct size and was about to pick up a hammer when the sense I was forgetting something hit me. Taking a moment to think of the steps I was about to take I couldn¡¯t think of anything obviously wrong. Hopefully that meant there was something that would yield a better result rather than me missing a necessary step. There was still a small gap visible where the rectangular tang didn¡¯t fill the circular opening of the miracle shoot but that could be covered later if needed. I already felt I was taking quite a few liberties with this repair. If the pegs were the wrong material or the wrong general shape, I felt like I would have been prompted earlier. Did they need to be treated in some way before insertion perhaps? But to what end? Increasing grip would obviously be beneficial and I could add glue to help it bond to the haft but that may interfere with the qi flow. Also, then the pegs couldn¡¯t be removed making any later replacements of the haft or maintenance more difficult. If the alchemical method wasn¡¯t the solution, perhaps there was a mechanical one? Greater surface area would provide more grip.


    Not entirely sure I had found the correct solution; I took my knife and began carving small grooves along the pin. I tried to keep them as straight as I could though I wasn¡¯t sure if there was a better pattern or if that even mattered. I was halfway around the first peg when I considered that I could have simply abraded the surface to make it rougher. Ah well, too late now. Deciding to try hammering in the first before repeating my efforts on the second, I wasn¡¯t sure whether to be relived or worried that my instinct didn¡¯t flare up again as I lined up the peg. On one hand it might mean I¡¯d found the solution. On the other, maybe I¡¯d already got my one warning, or whatever combination of skills and memories gave me these prompts decided that the risk of whatever I might try next wasn¡¯t worth it. Either way, some controlled swings lodged the peg in securely with only a small amount left protruding. It seemed as good a result as I could hope for and the only thing dampening my mood was the earlier unease. Still, with that result I replicated the grooves on the second peg and carefully hammered it home.


    Some personalisation was still possible, but the glaive was complete and functional. It wasn¡¯t as far as making a whole weapon yet, but it gave me confidence that I could do it. I released it from the vices and savoured the satisfaction of a job well done.

 Chapter 8 – Drops & Stitch

    I woke early the next morning, eager to push my skills, try something new, and hang out with Kete. If I was very lucky, one or two of his animal pals might join us. Deciding to put my early start to some productive use, once I was up and dressed, I nipped down to the workshop for a needle and thread. Pulling yesterday¡¯s tunic from the hamper at the end of my bed, I confirmed the thread was a decent colour match. A splotch of crimson made it easy to find the small hole made by the glaive. It didn¡¯t look like it would be too difficult a fix.


    I was wrong. I was very wrong. Relearning to sew was a humbling experience. I wasn¡¯t sure if I was bad at it before, but the many pricks on my chubby digits could attest I was now. My skills and memories kept pointing out that I was doing things wrong, but I had no idea what the right way was. I knew roughly how it should look when repaired, had the right tools and I wasn¡¯t too worried if things weren¡¯t perfect, yet the solution seemed to slip further and further away the harder I tried. Threading a needle has a knack to it, but anyone will eventually manage it. Learning that you need to double thread it and knot one end before you begin is best not done by trial and error. At least forgetting the shears wasn¡¯t much of a problem, but it was still a mistake I didn¡¯t intend to make again.


    Eventually the hand stitch was completed, and even looked quite neat, or at least it would once the blood washed out. I shed more from the little needle than I had with the glaive, but I¡¯d grown and learned and would remember a thimble next time. My early start to the day was well and truly used up, if anything I was running a little late. Not what I wanted when working closely with Kete for the first time. Jogging through the back corridors of the guild I returned the needle and thread to their proper places ¨C giving the needle a quick clean first ¨C and picked up some thick slabs of bread slathered with tart preserves from Eimer to eat on the go.


    Racing past the packed storeroom, I emerged into the early morning sunlight. A weak but constant drizzle made me grateful for the wide awning overhead as I joined Kete and a few others chatting beside a pair of tables with a strongbox and ledgers.


    ¡°Sorry to keep you waiting.¡±


    Kete turned and smiled, ¡°Not at all Vaul, I¡¯ve only just arrived myself. I was just hearing that we shouldn¡¯t have any further issue with builders wandering into the storeroom.¡±


    ¡°Aye,¡± A tired looking man, wearing a blackened breastplate over a dark, long-sleeved robe rather than the lamellar of the other soldiers, confirmed wearily. ¡°The headcraftsman is away but the foreman¡¯s handlin¡¯ it.¡± He yawned and his fatigue seemed to settle like a weight on his shoulders, making me feel guilty for giving the guy more work. ¡°Well lads, as much as I¡¯d like te stay and chat, I¡¯m gonna knock off and get some shut eye.¡±


    This prompted a few of the others to likewise depart.


    One of the guards who remained looked a little awkward and when the group had cleared commented, ¡°Don¡¯t take it personal, they didn¡¯t mean nutthin¡¯ by it, especially the quartermaster. Ye just joined us at shift change and while normally he might chat a bit, he¡¯s run ragged recently between making sure everyone¡¯s payin¡¯ a fair dungeon tax and getting the garrison here and at the keep ready for winter.¡±


    I waved him off, ¡°It¡¯s all good, but I appreciate you lettin¡¯ me know.¡± Turning to Kete, ¡°So, what¡¯s the plan?¡±


    He rubbed his hands together then pointed to the palisade ahead, there was a small gatehouse with a pair of unlucky guards huddled atop, trying not to get soaked. The rain while light was constant, and the wind kept blowing it under the canopy above them. But to their credit, their focus stayed firmly within the palisade where the dungeon entrance resided.


    ¡°When a group comes out of the dungeon, the soldiers will process them and open the gate. After that they come to us. We are here to evaluate everything taken for the dungeon, both so we can offer to buy the loot from them, and so that our friends here can collect the appropriate dungeon tax.¡±


    ¡°Is this a good time to mention I have almost no idea what things are worth? I¡¯ve been in the guild since I got my memories back and everything¡¯s been provided, so I haven¡¯t actually had to spend money.¡±


    ¡°That... complicates things. Not a much to shopping to speak of here outside of the guild unless you want some glassware, though there¡¯ll be plenty more stalls and stores soon enough. We¡¯ll get you a trip into town one of these days, but that doesn¡¯t help much right now.¡±


    ¡°I can get some idea based on my skills of how interesting something is for lack of a better term, though I¡¯m not sure how consistently that translates to real value. It considered miracle shoots really interesting, probably because of its properties, but I get the feeling they¡¯re almost worthless.¡±


    ¡°Small change rather than worthless, but I see your point. Based on their properties alone they should be worth far more than they are, but supply is so high and the clans so incentivised to cut them down, it¡¯s a bit of an odd case. Discuss what you can with me, and we¡¯ll try to come to some sort of valuation together. Start with the more interesting stuff, just in case we encounter something that requires an imperial writ.¡±


    ¡°What sort of stuff is that? And what happens to it?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s sold to the guild, the local clan, or the empire depending on the item. It¡¯s generally stuff that the average person or adventurer has no good reason to have, like poisons with an extremely delayed effect, or items that could mess with the emotions of a large group. They¡¯d be better left to rot in the dungeon, but those who discover them are paid a token amount before they are confiscated. There are also a few luxury items that various emperors and empresses took a fancy to and decided it just had to be theirs whenever more was found, but they are rare and thankfully significantly better paid.¡±Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author.


    ¡°So, what¡¯s the dungeon like? What sort of stuff should we expect to see?¡±


    ¡°Sand.¡± The soldiers chuckled at that, clearly knowing something I didn¡¯t. ¡°Sorry kid, but bags of sand are about the only thing we can be sure of, the dungeon has only been open to the public for about a month, so folks are still exploring. The first floor is a huge desert that seems to shift and change, making it almost impossible to map, though we¡¯re starting to become familiar with a few features. There are some oases, ruins and a couple of rock formations we are starting to suspect are constant even if their position is not. The main exploration team managed to find the next floor through one of the ruins just before the clan opened the dungeon. Apparently it¡¯s a giant swamp! Given they weren¡¯t prepared for that they pulled out soon after, and nobody¡¯s managed to find it again since. Best guess is the dungeon has relatively few but large floors. Not sure what the theme could be to have both a desert and a swamp but it¡¯s gonna be an interesting one to be sure. I¡¯m hopin¡¯ it¡¯ll end up bein¡¯ a good training dungeon for different biomes, but that¡¯s puttin¡¯ the cart before the horse for now.¡±


    ¡°So why sand?¡±


    ¡°Huh? Oh yeah, the sand isn¡¯t too special, but it reacts a bit differently to heat and the local glassmaker likes it. Even paid a premium to set up shop here early because it gives her an edge. There¡¯s basically no reason for each party not to take in some sacks and fill them before they leave.¡± He gestured to a metal plate with a small dial off to the side I hadn¡¯t noticed, ¡°She pays based on weight, so it¡¯s easy to value, but they have te spot check the bags now and then, make sure some idiot isn¡¯t trying to pull a fast one. The guild is understanding about a lot of things, but tryin¡¯ to cheat the emperor out of dungeon tax will get ye blacklisted, forced to face imperial justice alone. Yet, there¡¯s always the odd fool trying to save a few imperials.¡±


    ¡°I take it imperials are the currency of the empire? Do we handle other currencies too?¡±


    ¡°We always do the valuation in imperials but if people want te pay with somethin¡¯ else that¡¯s fine as long as it¡¯s equivalent value. Most o¡¯ the time the tax is covered by money made from selling some of the loot to the guild, so they¡¯re effectively payin¡¯ with loot. We¡¯ll occasionally deal with some metal currency, mostly silver, though why anyone would use Silverveil¡¯s drops when there¡¯s another option I don¡¯t know.¡±


    One of the guards grunted, ¡°Pretty sure most are payin¡¯ with them to be rid of the damn things.¡±


    ¡°Aye, that¡¯d make sense.¡±


    ¡°Pardon my ignorance, but what exactly are drops and why are they so bad?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re Silverveil¡¯s lowest unit of currency. Their money is a bit quirky. Actually it might just be easier to show you.¡± He turned to the guard beside the strongbox, ¡°Would you mind opening it so he can see.¡±


    ¡°No problem,¡± he said pulling out a key, I couldn¡¯t help but notice it¡¯s many dimples, someone didn¡¯t skimp on security. ¡°Are you gonna tell him the story behind it too.¡±


    ¡°Might as well, though remember this is more folktale than history. As the story goes, when Silverveil was founded, however many generations ago, they managed to piss off a group of lycanthropes or shifters. Stories vary exactly which or why. Most think they displaced them as Silverveil began to expand into the forest of beasts. Whatever the case, Silverveil became plagued for years by raids. The shifters unable to stand and fight against their main forces but could fade into the forest and strike with impunity. Obviously, the Immortal council which rules Silverveil wasn¡¯t too happy about this and attempted to exterminate them, eventually luring the shifters into a trap with themselves as the bait. However, while the council were formidable in their own right, they had underestimated the forces against them and their willingness to exchange their lives for the council¡¯s. The council¡¯s own trap cost the lives of two of its members, and while they shattered the opposing force, there was still the occasional raid from scattered individuals or pairs. Moreover, as Silverveil grew, tactics shifted and they infiltrated deeper. Blending in as regular citizens before transforming and slaying as many as they could before they died. How do you fight a force that could be anywhere or anyone? People willing to die just to do damage?¡±


    Kete paused and I held my breath.


    ¡°The immortal council found an answer. Shifting and Lycanthropy both channel aspect to transform, which is disrupted by silver. Pure enough silver will even actively harm those who are transformed, burning through the form like acid. As you might guess, Silverveil has a dungeon with a lot of silver, though it¡¯s unclear whether they chose the name after this story or before. They had, of course, been using silver previously in weapons for their warriors, but the council realised winning a large battle was no longer the issue. It was hindering infiltration and providing a means for their citizens to defend themselves. So, the council chose to make all their currency high purity silver. Once citizens started running around with pouches full of what would essentially be acidic buckshot, the attacks stopped pretty quickly. Silverveil had won, though the heart of the forest of beasts is deadly to this day. Unfortunately for us, since the silver is so pure, Silverveil¡¯s lowest currency, drops, are teensy.¡±


    I turned to see a tiny, slightly misshapen ball of silver being held up by tweezers for my perusal. Calling it a drop was generous; I certainly wouldn¡¯t want to try to keep track of something that small and given the look of concentration on the guard¡¯s face he was struggling to exert just enough pressure to neither deform nor drop it. Thanking him I waved to let him know he could return it.


    A glance in the strongbox had my appraisal skill salivating, much of the contents regarded as low-level special in some way. it only took me a beat to realise it all probably had some effect to prevent forgeries. What really struck me though, was how little of it was metal. There was a section up one side with increasingly large beads, cubes and pyramids of silver until eventually reaching coins which I assumed was all Silverveil currency. There were some bronze, iron and silver coins of various sizes as well as a clear space for what I felt oddly certain would be gold on the opposite side. But most of the box was dominated by wooden coins I recognised as carved from miracle shoots, with the hole in the centre slotted into rods to organise them into neat stacks. Metal rings held strips of leather that had initially what looked like a seal pressed into them and on the larger, more square pieces increasingly complicated patterns embossed. Each had a hole punched in the leather, presumably to allow them to be carried on metal rings, though the fancier ones had what I took to be brass around the edge of the hole to help protect it. Grommets, or maybe eyelets?


    The strongbox thunked closed, and I realised I¡¯d been staring. Somehow, I¡¯d missed a clamour past the palisade.


    Kete just gave me a grin, ¡°We¡¯ll fill you in on the rest later, or Argat will as he reminds you about qi and recall. Sounds like it¡¯s not too big a group to start. Ready to appraise some loot?¡±

 Chapter 9 – Appraisal

    Kete was right, the first group to emerge from the dungeon was small, only three members, but I was woefully unprepared for how eclectic they were. The tank of the group was probably the most normal, covered head to toe in a studded quilted fabric. The gambeson and breeches were expected even if there was a preponderance of straps but the high asymmetric gorget rising halfway up the left side of his head as if striving to become a bevor lent him an unusual silhouette. As I looked a little closer it seemed his padding was slightly thicker on that side in general, adding to his lopsided appearance.


    The archer stood out initially because of her blond hair, something I couldn¡¯t recall seeing before. Black hair was the standard in the area, though I¡¯d seen a few dark-haired brunettes, but certainly nothing close to the golden buttery tresses bouncing free from the chignon with a shake of her head now she was out of the dungeon. It also drew my attention to her slightly pointed ears. But it was the remaining woman who stood out by far the most, I couldn¡¯t even guess what her role was, dressed in a now sandy, spangly dress with no visible weapon it was like she''d been getting ready for an evening out before being dragged on an adventure. Yet as she unburdened herself of her pack and a sack of sand, her eyes never left her surroundings. The curious hum of my appraisal skill told me there was more to those sequins than met the eyes. I¡¯d ask Kete later.


    As they began presenting their loot under the soldiers¡¯ watchful gaze, the group¡¯s experience became apparent. Each item had been meticulously wrapped and stored after careful harvesting. The group barely stuttered as they presented sandshark hide, oasis succulents and a live blue scarab in a jar one after the other. They¡¯d gone in last night, favouring the cool of evening in the desert over the midday sun, explored a bit, found an oasis, and pulled out, not getting greedy but harvesting what they could along the way. But the real tell was the satisfied look on Kete¡¯s face, they¡¯d had a good delve, but that was what he expected from this group.


    The scarab had the guards a bit concerned, as much as they were here to collect taxes, I¡¯d picked up that their primary duty was to prevent another miracle shoot incident. Thankfully the group was upfront about the creature, just wanting to get it out as intact as possible and surprised it hadn¡¯t suffocated in the jar yet. Moreover, where my skills were suited primarily to materials, Kete¡¯s were suited to creatures.


    Taking the jar, slick with condensation, in his hands, Kete said, ¡°Odd one for sure. Like living quartz or glass, though I¡¯m not sure how it got its blue colouration.¡±


    ¡°Vitrification...¡± I murmured without conscious thought.


    ¡°I got no idea what that is, so, maybe? Seems to be using qi...¡± as the guards visibly tensed, he continued, ¡°Hold yer horses, I¡¯m not finished. It doesn¡¯t store qi itself, instead it pulls a miniscule amount of qi and heat from its surroundings to grow. Not dangerous at this size, though given enough time it could grow into a true terror. Might suffocate eventually, but best to just stick it in ice for a bit. It''s probably got a bit o'' use for enchantment but I¡¯d wager ye¡¯d get a better price from the glass maker. What do ya reckon Vaul?¡±


    Taking the proffered jar, I felt a resistance in my appraisal skill. It really wanted to work on materials rather than the creatures they came from. In this instance it was close enough that it would give me something, but it was nowhere near the full colour deluge of images it normally provided, and I got the distinct impression I was pushing my luck. I tried not to think too hard about it and just let my instincts do the talking.


    ¡°I¡¯d be able to steer you better once it¡¯s dead, but like Kete said it¡¯s something close to living quartz but processed with heat and qi to make it glasslike and give it it¡¯s blue colour. A glassmaker or glazier might want this, the colour is pretty and it¡¯s a blue that messes with qi not mana.¡± I suddenly remembered why cobalt interacting poorly with mana was an issue, ¡°But it¡¯s glasslike rather than true glass. It¡¯s going to take someone willing to experiment a bit to use it,¡± I held the jar with the pinky sized beetle up a little higher, ¡°And frankly there¡¯s not a lot here to experiment with. That might make enchantment the safer bet, but I¡¯ve got a hunch it has another more decorative use, though I have no idea what it is right now.¡±Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    The archer gave a low whistle, ¡°Damn, that¡¯s a pity, thought we had something real rare there. But wow guys, between the two of ya that¡¯s more detail than I¡¯ve got from some appraisers in the past.¡±


    I wasn¡¯t quite sure how to respond to that. I wasn¡¯t exactly averse to sharing that I had an appraisal skill, but I also wasn¡¯t in any rush to announce it. This wasn''t its optimal use case, and I was mostly carried by the instincts from my crafting skill, though where one ended and the other began was murky. Thankfully Kete was quick to step in.


    ¡°The advantages of working together, and your own diligence in preservation and relating where you found it. The more we give skills to work with, the more effective they become. That¡¯s why you can¡¯t slack on training just because you picked up a combat class or some skills. Skills like swordsmanship might guide your instincts, but without the muscle and muscle memory to back it up, it¡¯s like walking into battle with a bow without a string.¡±


    From the shaking heads and amused to sheepish chuckles around us I got the feeling this was a regular refrain from Kete.


    The remaining items were thankfully a bit more straightforward, largely because they hadn¡¯t ventured too deep, so similar examples had been evaluated previously. Kete was still keen to see if I could offer a bit more insight into some of them which shifted a few of the valuations slightly, thankfully in the groups favour overall. Some of the succulents were new, but they generally followed the pattern of being good at storing water and containing aloelike gel with properties good for either soothing burns or cooling, useful in alchemy. A particularly spiny plant, identified as some variety of cactus was likewise good at storing water, but to my surprise Kete said it was likely also edible. The party were happy to sell it and see what Eimer¡¯s husband Bartan (I finally discovered his name; after eating for a few days without hearing it, I''d felt too awkward to ask) could do with it.


    The sandshark hide was more supple than tough, it took me a moment to realise I was thinking of its thickness in terms of weight, but I stumbled over that hurdle. Its real value lay in its heat resistance. Even properly tanned and treated, gloves made from it wouldn¡¯t handle the heat of my forge, but it would be perfect for bakers or even tinsmiths. Apparently, the larger specimens had much rougher skin, but while that may raise some issues, it also opened applications requiring abrasion or grip. I was however deeply thankful to discover that we outsourced the tanning process. The teeth were worth something but surprisingly little, though I supposed I had no plans to make a shark toothed sword or club anytime soon. Much of the meat and internal organs were likewise sold being edible if not particularly tasty, though I was able to identify two internal organs that had some alchemical potential. Bartan could already draw out the blood restoration effect from the liver with his cooking, but part of the brain having minor potential for some sort of enhanced sensory effect was news to everyone. I felt productive and helpful, even though I wasn¡¯t making something, though I knew some part of that was because I was anticipating what I could make. It was nice.


    The whole process took some time, a few parties of adventurers entering the dungeon passed us even as we processed this one group. Notably those groups seemed much larger, but from the size of some of their packs I had to assume some members were there primarily in a support capacity. As we moved to the final step of weighing the group¡¯s bags of sand before giving them their payment (they were selling most of what they had recovered and more than paid the dungeon tax already) we heard noise from the entrance of the dungeon. I¡¯d been hoping I could ask Kete a few questions after that group, but it seemed I should have been more grateful for the break at the beginning. Hearing the larger group coming we quickly finished our business and turned our attention to the palisade creaking open as a pair of guards rushed forwards. They immediately moved to aid an emaciated man in soot-stained robes who was practically draped over a pair of his companions.


    "Damn fire mages." Kete cursed quietly. Seeing my confused look he quietly added, "When they overcast, the fat in their bodies is used to fuel the spell. Fine in moderation, though no substitute for building muscle, but I''ve yet to meet the novice fire mage who believes in moderation."


    His focus shifted back to the oncoming group as the mage was guided away, presumably to Argat. Far too many people began talking at once, spinning a tale of a giant scorpion and a bigger fireball. Details varied about whether it was in plain sight or burst from the sands in ambush, and just how close the fireball came to hitting other party members, but judging by the pulsing vein on Kete''s temple, order was about to be brought to proceedings. It was at that moment I was distracted by a warm breath in my ear, making me jump.


    ¡°We¡¯ll do the thing later.¡±


    The adventurer in the spangly dress ran to catch up with her companions before I could process what just happened. Not for the first time, I wished I could ask past Vaul some questions.

 Chapter 10 – Customer Service

    It turned out, most groups of adventurers were not only larger than the initial three, but also much less organised, patient and understanding. On a related note, customer service gets much easier when you have a bunch of soldiers nearby ready to shut down anyone getting too far out of line. The fact that Kete helped train most of the newbies also helped most realise that complaining about the valuations or how long things were taking was as far as they could take their displeasure. The smart ones realised grumbling only slowed things down. The truly dumb one upgraded to threats and pulling his axe, only to find half a dozen crossbows levelled at him as a squad of soldiers double-timed it into the space. He¡¯d been unimpressed with our assessment that the rock he found in the dungeon was in fact, just a rock. It could be knapped but wasn¡¯t anything particularly special. Drawing steel for this indignity led to him being taken to the stocks to cool off and to be reminded what indignity actually looked like.


    I¡¯ll admit, I¡¯d underestimated the guards up to that point. They seemed pretty chill, doing what they needed to get through their shift, but as soon as there was a hint of a threat, that whole demeanour shifted instantly. It wasn¡¯t just one or two of them either; it was so coordinated, their numbers seeming to suddenly multiply. I was damn impressed. After that display and a few pointed comments from the soldier in charge (he had a symbol of rank sewn on his surcoat, but I had no idea what it meant), the group became much more cooperative.


    Not to say all groups were like that by any means. This was a newer dungeon, so it was mostly newer adventurers exploring it. Much of the tension was simply groups not knowing what to expect and not fully appreciating what was expected of them. For every belligerent group there were two who were eager to regale us with the tale of their great adventure. There were also quite a few humorous misadventures, usually caused by underestimating the amount of water needed. One grand multiday adventure was cut short because everyone assumed somebody else was bringing the food. And more than a few had spent a miserable night having not brought a blanket thinking deserts were warm all the time.


    There were of course those who returned due to injury as well, but one kindness of the vast desert of the first floor was that it spread out the combat encounters. You might have to travel further for medical aid or to escape, but you were unlikely to get dogpiled. It was part of the reason why the dungeon was getting the reputation of a good place for beginners to learn. It was also why the guild required delvers to have at least one person in their party who demonstrated effective first aid skills before they entered.


    I didn¡¯t think I had expectations for what an adventurer party looked like until reality broke them. As odd as the first trio was, in many ways they were closer to what I was expecting than the average group. I¡¯d thought every member of an adventuring party would be, well, adventurers. Able to fight in one way or another and there to do just that. It turned out most groups had at least a few non-combatants (though most of them could fight in a pinch) there to fill a specialised role the group needed. First aid or healing was a common one, but harvesting, cooking, navigation and even just ability to haul around equipment and loot were all valuable skills. During one of the rare lulls, I asked Kete about them.


    ¡°Ah, yer talkin¡¯ about the associate members. They¡¯re linked to the guild too, though many o¡¯ the ones ye see here are probationary. They don¡¯t fight but provide support in exchange for a smaller cut o¡¯ the loot. Most parties bring a few since ye lose out on what loot ye can¡¯t carry anyway. Dimensional bags and boxes change things a bit, but they can get damn heavy once they¡¯re loaded up, so ye don¡¯t want to be carrying one if you¡¯re fightin¡¯.¡±


    Unfortunately, duty called once more before I could delve into the topic of dimensional bags and boxes. Enchanted most likely? To the adventurers¡¯ credit they were certainly inventive when it came to trying to get as much loot out as possible, even if it wasn¡¯t always effective. From the group who tried to bring a cart (with predictable results), to the group who tried to save space by attempting to stuff a giant scorpion with a sandshark like some unholy turducken (why I remembered what that is I will never understand). Sleds were both popular and effective, even if some got broken or had to be abandoned. More than once a less-prepared group improvised a similar solution using their tents.Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.


    The loot itself was interesting and through the discussions I was beginning to at least build a picture of the relative value of the various types of loot to each other even if I couldn¡¯t yet turn that into a more valuable metric like the value of a good meal. I noticed a record was made if a party chose to keep some items like the giant scorpion venom, presumably so pointed questions could be asked if someone was found poisoned to death. I thought it was a little redundant since stabbed to death would leave them just as dead, but they didn''t tell me how to craft so I wouldn¡¯t tell them how to soldier. Though something I needed to prioritise was making antivenoms for the various poisons I had a sample of. Most of them weren¡¯t too nasty, but more than one group had mentioned either having to use an antivenom or pulling out early because they didn¡¯t have one.


    While most of the threats came from beneath, or across the top of the sand, one of the pieces of loot I was most excited for came from above. Ruddy birds circled parts of the sky, territorial and prone to chasing. My true interest came from the feathers they fired at interlopers which revealed their colouring to be due to an odd alloy of bronze. Whether the birds themselves were entirely metallic, or they somehow grew blade like feathers organically, I was curious to know more. I¡¯d hoped my appraisal might give me an image of the birds. I did get the sense of them flying through sandstorms, learning the alloy was highly abrasion resistant in the process, though I was no clearer regarding the alloy''s nonstandard composition.


    Not that this was even the only source of bronze in the dungeon, though the other had a disappointingly ordinary blend. Its shape however, was much more interesting. A group who had managed to find one of the ruins had explored and fought several undead, a few of which were armed with strange sickle-like swords made of bronze. It was known dungeons could draw from the history of the world to create their contents, but no one had yet recognised the weapon''s design. My appraisal didn¡¯t give me much, but I did discover three things that weren¡¯t otherwise discernible. It was called a khopesh. Only the inside curve was traditionally sharpened. It was traditional in the Sepva Dynasty. No one present was familiar with the Sepva dynasty, but the possibility it might have been sufficiently ubiquitous in that dynasty to be an iconic element of it was exciting, even if the confirmation that it wasn''t just a misforge by some apprentice bronzesmith once upon a time held more influence on its current valuation. Add to that, Kete thought it was sufficiently scythe-like that skills for scythes ought to be compatible, and the adventurers walked away with a hefty payday for the otherwise mediocre sword, and I was sent clutching it to go see the guildmaster.


    Neither the weapon nor dynasty were familiar to her either, but she had the contacts to find out more. Rather than being offput by the pile of correspondence that had just been added to her workload, she seemed thrilled to be able to spread the word. Caught up in the general excitement, but wary we might be getting ahead of ourselves, I couldn''t help but ask,


    "I''m glad you''re pleased, but do you really think it will encourage more delvers to come?"


    She glanced up from the note that she was already beginning to pen with calligraphy that I couldn''t help but admire.


    "People delve a dungeon for many reasons. The archaeological implications of seeing what items from a bygone era were like is certainly compelling for some." I couldn''t help but be distracted by how her hand continued its seemingly effortless movements with the brush, despite her intense golden eyes remaining on me. "More delvers in turn bring more wealth and standing to this guild branch, the clan, and even the empire, which of course is my desire. However, more significant than simply greater numbers of delvers, discovering more about this Sepva dynasty may provide insight into the theme of this dungeon, allowing better prediction of future dangers and resources. At the very least, if it has copied one item from that era, there are likely more."


    The implications were rattling around in my head for the rest of the day, I''d been so caught up in the oddness of the sword and what the dungeon might be able to tell us about some obscure part of history, I hadn''t considered what that history might be able to tell us about the dungeon. So, I can perhaps be forgiven that when I returned to my room for the evening, I was surprised to receive a knock on my door. Who should I find when I opened it? The adventurer in the spangly dress from earlier.


    ¡°Do you mind if I come in?¡±


    In my flummoxed state I reflexively stood aside, ¡°Sure.¡±


    She glided in, full of confidence (unlike my uncertain self). I¡¯d been trying to go with the flow since losing my memories, but I really wished I had them in that moment.


    ¡°By the way,¡± I asked as I closed the door, ¡°how did you get up here? I didn¡¯t think adventurers were generally allowed in this section of the building?¡±


    She raised a hand to veil her chuckle, ¡°I¡¯m an assassin. If I let a little thing like that stop me, I wouldn¡¯t be very good at my job now, would I?¡±

 Chapter 11 – Prior Engagements

    I opened my door to reveal the spangly dressed adventurer from earlier that day.


    ¡°Do you mind if I come in?¡±


    In my flummoxed state I reflexively stood aside, ¡°Sure.¡±


    She glided in. Full of confidence unlike my uncertain self. I¡¯d been trying to go with the flow since losing my memories, but I really wished I had them in that moment.


    ¡°By the way,¡± I asked as I closed the door, ¡°how did you get up here? I didn¡¯t think adventurers were generally allowed in this section of the building?¡±


    She raised a hand to veil her chuckle, ¡°I¡¯m an assassin. If I let a little thing like that stop me, I wouldn¡¯t be very good at my job now, would I?¡±


    What does someone even say to that? Particularly after letting them in your room! Personally, I chose blind panic with a side of screaming. Or at least I tried to.


    Before I¡¯d let out much more than a peep, she had me pressed against the door with a hand over my mouth.


    ¡°What are you doing? You¡¯re going to get me caught.¡± She hissed. ¡°Why are you so panicked anyway? You¡¯re the one who suggested this.¡±


    My ever-widening eyes only seemed to frustrate her.


    Just as I was afraid my pounding heart was going to burst from my chest, an owl pecked at the window. That hadn¡¯t been there a moment before, and weren''t owls supposed to be skittish?


    ¡°Ugh, now you¡¯ve gone and gotten Kete involved. If I let you free and open the window, can you not freak out and let him know that everything¡¯s consensual?¡±


    My eyebrows rocketing into my hair was apparently not the answer she was looking for as she stepped back throwing her hands in the air.


    ¡°OK, I give up! I don¡¯t know what¡¯s wrong with you. It¡¯s like you just forgot I existed.¡±


    ¡°Well, uh, sorry I kinda did. I have no memory of anything from before earlier this week. Somethin¡¯ about a strained historical aspect.¡±


    ¡°Oh.¡± She seemed to deflate. ¡°Fuck. That sucks.¡±


    Another peck at the window.


    ¡°Damn, better get that before Kete... Actually, I have no idea what Kete could do to me, but I''d really rather not find out.¡± Sliding open the window jamb she let the owl in along with a gust of chilly evening air. ¡°Sorry about that buddy. Could you let Kete know we had something arranged but I didn¡¯t know about the whole lost his memories thing?¡± She suddenly looked at me, ¡°Kete did know you lost your memories, right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, he did.¡±


    The owl rotated its neck to look at me.


    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s what happened. Thanks for checking. What I don¡¯t actually know is what we had arranged?¡±


    ¡°I was coming to you about a new outfit, left a concept sketch and everything. I¡¯d asked if there was somewhere a little more private than that big open workshop where we could do the measurements, and you¡¯d said I could either get them to you or come to your room one night, and I should just give you a heads up beforehand.¡±If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    I struggled not to face palm. ¡°Maybe lead with that next time. Not your...¡± I suddenly remembered there was an etiquette around classes, and hers was surely one of the private ones. ¡°Never mind. I¡¯m going to go get a measuring tape, your concept and something to take notes on, then we can talk this through.¡± Turning to the owl, ¡°Thanks for your help, but I think I¡¯ve got it from here. Sorry I haven¡¯t caught your name yet. Actually, either of yours.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s Bonji, I¡¯m Ha-Na, and if I''d been working, I wouldn''t have stopped to chat.¡±


    ***


    A few minutes later, with my arms laden with measuring tapes, material swatches, and the charcoal sketch of the cuirass/bodice, I opened my door and nearly dropped it all. Bonji was gone, and the window closed, but my attention was occupied with Ha-Na who was standing in a slip, her spangly dress neatly folded on the bed beside her.


    ¡°Well don¡¯t just stand there! Come in and close the door!¡±


    I jumped to comply. Swiftly shutting the door and moving to begin getting her measurements, starting with the err... safer areas.


    ¡°So, your concept seemed like a cross between a leather cuirass and a tightly fitted bodice, does that sound right? Could you remind me of your requirements?¡±


    ¡°Sure thing. Basically, I need armour for adventuring but I¡¯ve got a variant of the assassin class and some skills that require what I wear to be suitable for blending in in high society. Don¡¯t worry, the guildmaster has a record, but I¡¯d appreciate you not spreading it around beyond that.¡±


    To her credit, once the door was closed, she seemed entirely calm about the situation. For all my attempts at professionalism - hindered somewhat by where my dwarven stature naturally left my eye level - I was struggling to keep my composure during the close contact. Still, she was presenting an interesting problem to solve.


    ¡°So, are you looking for something that can be worn as a visible bodice with a dress or something more like an armoured corset designed to sit beneath another outfit? In the latter case I¡¯m assuming you would want it more breathable than a normal corset for adventuring? What I could see of your design didn¡¯t look like a lower layer of a set of robes but that might be workable with the right materials.¡± I took a breath, ¡°Honestly, I¡¯m working mostly by instinct here and concepts are coming back as I¡¯m talking about them. Most of what I¡¯m picturing as formal clothes are long-sleeved robes like the guildmaster wears, but I don¡¯t know what¡¯s current or local.¡±


    ¡°If this is you working on instinct, those are some damn good instincts. Most clans of the empire stick to robes, although the popular type, cut and colour vary from clan to clan and season to season. Something like a hanfu or kimono would be iconic enough to work for my purposes, but I wouldn¡¯t relish fighting in either and I¡¯d ideally like something I can put on myself."


    "I noticed your concept featured a front busk."


    "Exactly. Thankfully the style in Silvervein is dresses with bodices, usually adorned lavishly with jewellery; I was trying to draw from that for my design. I know it¡¯s not ideal for armour, but the skills make it worth it. Breathability is a concern but I won''t be tightlacing it, so no need for reinforced eyelets. Ideally something more supportive than constrictive.¡±


    ¡°So, something like a cuirass and pteruges or perhaps leather leggings for under the dress?¡±


    I kept working methodically taking measurements, distracted by the outfit coming together in my mind.


    ¡°I have no idea what pteruges are.¡±


    ¡°Like a skirt of leather strips, usually not that long but we can adjust as needed. Maybe dye the whole thing black so it looks like one long outfit rather than two separate pieces?¡±


    ¡°Hmm, maybe. It sounds interesting, more like a fashion piece than formal wear but it could work. Think we could include in some silver highlights?¡±


    ¡°Sure! Though there are cost implications. Actually, if we¡¯re going sliver, could we manage some slivered steel for the same look but better properties? Maybe even work in some mail chausses?¡±


    ¡°If those are what I think they are we might be pushing it. But...¡±


    And so I passed several hours of the evening pleasantly, planning out my first big project since losing my memories. Just to be safe, I checked in with the guildmaster the next morning to make sure everything was above board. Wouldn''t do to accidentally help someone kill a noble. Then again, after my last attempt at sewing, perhaps promising an elaborate outfit for an assassin who knew where I slept wasn¡¯t much wiser.

 Chapter 12 - Nailed it

    The next morning as I stretched and yawned, my grogginess burned away like morning mist in light of the major project emblazoned in my mind. I couldn''t wait to get to work. Grabbing breakfast from Eimer, today some sort for flat bread wrapped around a chunky salsa-like filling perfect for eating on the go. I didn''t recognise the most of the ingredients but a single bite with the fresh crunch of the inside contrasting the soft taco shell and the flavour sour but overwhelmingly fresh to the point of astringency, made me know I''d be asking more about these "nopales" later. A quick check in with the guildmaster confirmed her awareness of Ha-Na''s class and approval of her commission, and I was off to the workshop bright and early despite the late night the evening before. As much as I wanted to make a start on Ha-Na''s armour, I knew it was going to take some time, and I¡¯d been adding shorter projects to my to-do list for days. In addition, some of those tasks would ease me into alchemy and forging which would be needed for dyeing and treating the leather and creating any metal pieces respectively.


    I started at the forge; it was time to make some nails! However, before I got to setting anything alight or melting any metal, it seemed prudent to consider exactly what my steps would be. Unlike with sewing, I couldn¡¯t easily pause in the middle of a process if it felt wrong, and avoiding accidents seemed a touch more serious. Casting might be the quickest method if I could set up a proper mould to make several at once. I¡¯d found plenty of planks and just enough nails to form the box, or cope as my mind supplied, for the sand to rest in. The sand itself was proving somewhat more elusive, as while there was a barrel near my forge, something was telling me that was the wrong type of sand. Maybe the sand from the dungeon would do it, but it had all gone to the glassmaker. I ran my fingers through the grains trying to work out what was wrong with the sand I had, too dry perhaps? Well, that would be easily fixed judging by the intensifying patter of rain against the roof. I had plenty of metal and fuel so all that was left was something like a wooden carving or pattern to press the sand around to give the shape of the nails and runners for the metal to flow into. As I began searching to see if I¡¯d had something similar that I¡¯d used previously, my instincts kept nagging at me. Something was wrong but I didn¡¯t know what.


    ¡°Hi Vaul. Have you got a minute?¡±


    The voice from the door of my workshop made me jump. Turning around I saw a middle-aged man experimenting with a moustache. He was dressed in the practical garb of a builder, but I had an inkling there was more to it, he seemed familiar.


    ¡°Come on in. I think what I had planned needs some more thought anyway. How can I help?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d like to apologise on behalf of my employees,¡± dipping into a deep bow. ¡°You have been very gracious if there was ever anything we needed and one of my employees broke that trust by venturing unaccompanied into your stores. As the craftsman in-charge, I take responsibility.¡±


    ¡°Woah, woah, there¡¯s no need to bow mate. It¡¯s fine, all got sorted. I¡¯da given the nails anyway and the guards checked out that he didn¡¯t take anything else. We just gotta double check these things, I hope you understand.¡±


    He thankfully straightened, though his look was conflicted, ¡°Absolutely, he never should have been in there. I¡¯ll ensure everyone knows better in future.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine then! All sorted. Besides I¡¯d heard the senior craftsman wasn¡¯t even here when it happened.¡±


    He sighed, ¡°It¡¯s still my responsibility, particularly when it¡¯s my nephew at fault. But I appreciate your understanding Vaul. I¡¯d told the kid I was picking up nails on my visit to the city-¡± he must have seen my expression brighten and winced, ¡°Oh did you need them urgently as well?¡±


    ¡°Not urgently, I just figured I should restock in case they were needed.¡±


    ¡°Ahh, then while I¡¯d be happy to restock or reimburse you as needed, if it¡¯s all the same to you, I¡¯d rather do the latter. The nailers and blacksmiths in town were rather low on iron, and there are some places where bronze and copper, or wooden pegs just won¡¯t cut it. Hence why my trip took longer than expected. I¡¯ve arranged for more to be transported from further afield, but that will take some time, and the costliest part of any construction project are delays.¡±


    I tried not to think about the small fortune in metal ingots and blanks lying in the storeroom, but while I would need those, I could help him out a bit.


    ¡°Best double check with Kete or Sarada, but reimbursement should be fine. Like I said, I was planning to cast some new ones this morning anyway.¡±


    ¡°Cast them?¡± His eyebrow raised.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    ¡°Is that not the typical way? I thought it would be fastest, but I¡¯ve had some memory issues lately.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s probably possible, and I wouldn¡¯t doubt you if you said you could do it, but no, it¡¯s not typical. Long narrow shapes tend to be a poor fit for sand casting, since the further the metal needs to travel, and the narrower the passage, the more heat it loses along the way, potentially causing it to solidify early. Air pockets also present an issue.¡±


    Faced with a much more technical answer than I¡¯d expected, I had to ask, ¡°What would be typical then?¡±


    ¡°Usually, they¡¯re fashioned from iron rods which are cut and then hammered into shape. It¡¯s impressively fast if you ever see even a journeyman or master nailer, though I don¡¯t know how they stand the lack of variety. Are you sure you¡¯re okay though Vaul? I know you mentioned some memory issues but as a craftsman myself I can¡¯t imagine you weren¡¯t familiar with the process. While I might make use of the fruit of their labours more often, your work certainly veers closer to their own.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not great, but I¡¯ve been checked out by Argat and I¡¯ve just got to give it time. Honestly, I forgot just about everything, but a combination of a bunch of help, skills, and trial and error are pulling me through for now. I¡¯m just taking things one step at a time.¡±


    ¡°Well then count myself among your helpers. I might not do all the things you do, but I am a master craftsman, so I should be able to offer some insight at the very least. I won¡¯t be here all the time, got to cycle through a few worksites, chat with clients, and ensure supplies get delivered. But if I or any of the other lads can help, just say the word.¡±


    ¡°Thanks mate. You¡¯ve already saved most of my morning, if not my entire day from being wasted.¡±


    ¡°To be fair, it¡¯s also my fault you¡¯re making nails in the first place. I¡¯m sure the guild could order things in or set quests for items if you need time to adjust. Don¡¯t be afraid to ask for help.¡±


    ¡°All good. It should be a good reintroduction to working at the forge.¡±


    ¡°I have heard it¡¯s where a lot of apprentice blacksmiths start. If you¡¯re sure, then the warehouse probably has some round or square stock, your anvil has a hardy hole... ¡± He was rooting around near the forge before raising what looked like a metal puck with a rod attached as a handle, ¡°There we are!¡±


    As soon as I glimpsed the small square hole in the centre of the puck, the name of the tool came to me, ¡°A nail header. Yup, that definitely sounds helpful. I don¡¯t even want to think about how long I would have spent blindly searching for it if you hadn¡¯t pointed it out. Thanks mate. I don¡¯t suppose you could quickly walk me through the process while you¡¯re here?¡±


    ¡°Sure, happy to. Just find a couple of rods of about the right thickness and get them heading up un the forge.¡± He heaved up a block of metal that tapered like an axe head on one side and slid the other into a square hole in the anvil with a clang. ¡°Once they¡¯re hot enough just hammer the end into a point. Then chop it off at the cutting chisel I just fitted in the hardy hole. Finally, drop it into the nail header which will give ya a shoulder to hammer the top flat and yer done. You can check the point in the header before you cut it to make sure you get the right length of nail. At least that¡¯s what I¡¯ve seen anyway, never done it myself.¡±


    Armed with the right tools and a description of what to do, I felt much more confident as he returned to his work outside. I only realised after he left that I never quite caught his name, but I figured I could just ask someone later. Once I knew what to look for, I quickly returned from the warehouse clutching a handful of thin metal rods ¨C or round stock as my variably helpful blend of memories and skills insisted ¨C each about the width of my pinkie. Donning my safety gear, thick leather apron and gloves, safety goggles and clogs ¨C those still seemed a bit odd, but were swiftly growing on me ¨C I felt ready.


    There was something momentous about finally lighting the forge. I¡¯d been feeling something of a fraud over the last few days, being seen as a craftsman without knowing how to make anything. Lighting this felt like a commitment to learn or relearn to be a craftsman, not just do some repairs and look like one, but to actually make something new. Even if it was just nails. The combination of kindling, good coal and pumping the bellows had a flame roaring in short order. I felt sweat begin to bead and I hadn¡¯t even started yet.


    Deciding to take things slow and build steadily, I rested the end of a single rod in the flames. Giving it a few moments to heat I pulled it out with the tongs to see a faint yellow glow. My skills seemed to whisper "not enough," so back into the flame it went. A little longer and it was glowing orange, swiftly fading to yellow. My skills screamed at me to act. Onto the anvil my hammer drew out steel with rapid blows, the other hand rotating the rod with each strike to bring it to a point. The colours shifted as the blows connected, no orange remained and the yellow retreated to the centre. A blow near the tip seemed to bring heat back to that extremity for a moment, but it swiftly faded. Flakes of material scattered with every strike, but I didn¡¯t have time to think about that. Checking the length with the header it passed a few inches up the tip. It would work.


    Swiftly removing the header, I played it safe with my first nail, plunging it back into the flames for a few moments. It barely restored the yellow hue but I decided to press on. Resting it above the chisel on the anvil a few hard strikes separated nail from rod. Plunging the new end of the rod back into the flames I worked with the tongs and header to fit the nail within, only a small amount protruding over top. A firm hammer blow on top and on each of the cardinal directions to even up the mass, and the head was formed. Tipping the header the nail dropped out, clinking against the anvil. I¡¯d made my first nail. My skills were saying something about a rose head and highlighting where the point hadn¡¯t been drawn out entirely evenly, but I was just ecstatic to finally have made something. Now to make more, better and faster.

 Chapter 13 – Production, Productivity & Planning

    I¡¯d made a nail. So logically, I should be able to make more nails. Same process, same results. Life decided to throw me a few curveballs instead. In fairness, I bear some of the blame. I didn¡¯t want to do exactly the same thing again; I wanted to do it better and faster. It took until the third time a nail got stuck in the nail header and I had to hammer it out, ruining the point, before I realised the nails were cooling too much as I worked on them. I¡¯d gotten around it the first time by reheating it partway through, but that would add a lot of time to the process. Not wanting to wait, I added another rod so I could work on one while the other was in the fire.


    I got into a rhythm as I worked, hammer rising and falling in one hand pounding out a steady percussion, and tongs or nail header in the other, adjusting the metal beneath the beat. The heat was fierce, but I noticed it less and less as the process became smoother, less wasted movement, even my breathing syncing up with the pealing. Nails started to pile up. The length of the shafts and the thickness of the heads fluctuated, but they were all functional. As each one was added to the pile my hands moved just a little faster. I drew a rod from the fire and the end was a dull yellow. Not hot enough. I added another two rods to the flames. With more heating at a time, the rods began coming out hotter. I tried forging without a reheat. One time in ten the nail got stuck in the header. Then one in twenty. I added another rod. Nails weren¡¯t getting stuck anymore. I was in a trance of roaring flame, clanging blows and clinking as another nail fell on the ever-growing pile. When did it get so big? Where did the rest of the rods go?


    ¡°WOAH! Did you make all those today, Mr Vaul?¡±


    Broken from my nail making trance by the boyish voice, I looked up to see one of Eimer¡¯s children peering through the doorway. Judging by his panting he must have run here. Now that I thought about it, the only occasion I''d seen him walking anywhere was after his mother explicitly commanded such (and even that hadn''t lasted long). His clothes were good quality, but the mix of tucked and untucked and his wind strewn mop of brown hair with sandy highlights gave him a distinctly ruffled appearance.


    ¡°Hi, you want to watch for a bit?¡±


    ¡°Nah, I mean yeah, but I can¡¯t. Mum says you need to come have lunch.¡±


    I was about to say I¡¯d be there in a bit when I caught the angle of the sun through the window, if anything this was a late lunch. Also, when did the pile of nails get that high?


    ¡°Just let me bank the forge and clean up a little, and I¡¯ll be right over.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll let ¡®em know.¡± Like that he was off. A clattering down the hall suggesting his trajectory was more exuberant than accurate.


    ***


    As it turned out, there was a staff lunch once a week. Ushered into a private room by Eimer as she fussed over her son, muttering that he looked like he¡¯d been dragged through a bush backwards, I found Kete, the guildmaster and Sarala waiting for us around a lacquered wooden table bedecked with tantalising dishes. I hadn¡¯t felt hungry before, but the sight and scent made me ravenous.


    Kete chuckled, ¡°Have a seat lad, we¡¯ll dig in now everyone¡¯s here.¡±


    ¡°Oh, sorry, I hadn¡¯t meant to keep everyone waiting-¡±


    ¡°Peace Vaul,¡± the guildmaster interjected. ¡°The fault is mine. I failed to inform you that we usually meet for lunch at the end of each week to discuss any problems, plans or notable occurrences. But let¡¯s not let the food Bartan and Eimer have so graciously prepared grow cold, eat.¡±


    What followed was pleasantly free of ceremony as everyone dug in. Where Sarada sampled several dishes, eating delicately, Kete clearly knew his favourites and made them disappear quickly. His posture was so laid back I half suspected he¡¯d tried to put his feet on the table before I got there. The guildmaster clearly had etiquette training but still consumed voraciously and widely, at a measured but constant pace. While she was well built, I had no idea how anyone could eat so much. Eimer on the other hand seemed to spend as much time making sure everyone else was enjoying their meal and passing dishes for people to try, as actually eating herself. Over all of this, the goings on at the guild were discussed in a casual fashion, like this was some family dinner and the members of the guild were our troublesome relatives.


    It wasn¡¯t idle gossip however; Kete mentioned a group was intending to make a serious run at finding the dungeon¡¯s second floor. They were assuming the entrance to be in one of the ruins and that would open up all manner of new materials, though it would be an inconsistent route given the ruins¡¯ shifting nature. The party was just waiting on a few more supplies that had been delayed before they made their move. Eimer was able to chip in at that point, apparently there''d been a lot of grumbling about one of the blacksmiths in town falling behind on some of their recent orders. This lined up with what I''d heard about the short supply of steel and what Sarala had seen with a lot of the shorter-term jobs being snapped up unusually quickly. All in all, a problem worth keeping an eye on but one that would probably sort itself as the backlog got cleared or people sought their goods elsewhere rather than wait. We were all rather bemused that the key item they were waiting on was a flaming greatsword for the party''s frontline fighter, an odd choice for fighting in a desert, but apparently she''d always wanted one. It was nice to hear she''d been successful enough to afford it, and given the potential issues with that enchantment, it was better a little delayed than rushed. At least there wouldn''t be any issues with accidentally setting her surroundings ablaze in the dungeon.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    The adventurer who got put in stocks after drawing his weapon on us got a mention, and I spotted the guildmaster¡¯s expression stiffen for a moment. Kete had mentioned the guy got off lightly, his actions deemed more obviously stupid than a true threat, but it was nice to see the guildmaster took such things seriously. That lead to Eimer mentioning that some drunk adventurer tried to bother her husband in the kitchen last night and was currently recovering from his injuries with Argat. One of the few rules of the guild that had been hammered into me was that no one other than those working in the kitchen entered it uninvited. Bartan apparently took it very seriously, and given the quality of his cooking, nobody wanted to upset him. On the bright side, Eimer informed me that the heavy crossbow I¡¯d apparently tuned for her worked a treat. The guildmaster however was not so enthused.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been giving it some thought, but two threats in the one week, however minor the actual danger, is an indication behaviour may be starting to slide. I¡¯ll have a word with the adventurers in question once the military and Argat are finished with them. We¡¯re giving out a lot of membership tokens, reminding people we can also revoke them is important. Finally, as a reminder, if you do feel in danger, make noise or contact one of Kete¡¯s companions if you can. Vaul, when you got your visitor this week you did exactly the right thing, and had I not known her character already I would have intervened. And of course, one of Kete¡¯s companions did investigate and he could have alerted the rest of us had there been an issue.¡±


    ¡°What did our budding assassin want anyway?¡± Kete asked, ¡°She¡¯s gotta know that sneaking into your room looks pretty sketchy.¡±


    Feeling heat in my cheeks I muttered, ¡°A new outfit. Armour.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, the sneaky ones sometimes don¡¯t have much difference between the two.¡± said Kete.


    Sarala spoke next, ¡°So is that your project for the incoming week? While adventurers have certainly appreciated the repairs you¡¯ve made, particularly under the circumstances, there would have been negligible loss of standing to delay most of them. There are however a few staple items we should plan on restocking from further afield if you need time to either recover or for this project.¡±


    I shook my head, ¡°Not immediately, I need to relearn some basics first and I¡¯ve warned Ha-Na it will take some time. I made some nails this morning and was planning to try alchemy this afternoon.¡±


    ¡°Working on antivenoms?¡± Kete asked, having heard the request as frequently as I when conducting the appraisals.


    ¡°Antivenoms are tricky and narrow in application,¡± Sarala cut in. ¡°If your goal is to relearn the basics, start with your basic health and mana potions and qi pills. Sustenance pills are unlikely to be relevant, but general poison and heat resistance potions would be a good next step. Our members might be worried about poisons when they step out of the dungeon, but a few hours later they are begging for aloe. Everyone seems to have to learn the hard way that being in the dungeon midday is best avoided.¡± Shaking her head.


    There were rueful chuckles round the table, but I was taken aback by her casual confidence regarding alchemy. I knew she knew magic and I should speak to her about enchanting, but alchemy too?


    ¡°Aye, I wasn¡¯t thinkin¡¯ about what would be easiest.¡± Kete conceded. ¡°We can do without the specific stuff for a while yet.¡±


    I shrugged, ¡°Works for me, thanks for the advice. I know we have a recipe for those at least. If I run into problems, would you mind if I ask you for a few pointers?¡±


    Sarala smiled, ¡°I¡¯m happy to help if I can, but I¡¯m no expert on the subject.¡±


    Kete rolled his eyes while Eimer unfazed passed a platter of gyoza around. The guildmaster deftly procured a few with her chopsticks before adding,


    ¡°Sometimes even a second opinion can be helpful. You¡¯re managing remarkably well under the circumstances Vaul, but remember we can order things in if needed. Focusing on projects that restore your foundation seems sensible, but each of us here have our own specialities and have seen plenty besides, so if you need a second opinion or some advice, ask.¡±


    ¡°Thanks. Actually, the foreman saved me a bunch of time this morning with some advice. I think once I put my mind to something I get laser focused on it, which isn¡¯t always a good thing.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve been trying te tell you that!¡± Kete grumbled, ¡°No awareness of your surroundings once ye get stuck into one of yer projects.¡±


    Eimer paused, hand about to slip below the table, ¡°It could be a skill.¡±


    Everyone needed to take a moment to process that, though the guildmaster was the fastest, ¡°It¡¯s worth looking into. It¡¯s certainly not uncommon for skills to have downsides, hyperfocus would be a trade-off I could envision you being at least subconsciously open to Vaul." I could only give a half shrug half nod to that. "However, if it is a skill, it may be extreme enough to raise some potential safety concerns. Explore it with Argat. Let us know if you need any support.¡±


    Taffy¡¯s head suddenly appeared from beneath the table, consuming the morsel from Eimer¡¯s hand. I hadn¡¯t even realised she was in the room. Like that the tension was broken with a round of chuckles and our pleasant but informative meal continued.

 Chapter 14 – Alchemy & Magic

    The meal stretched on longer than my usual lunch break, but I enjoyed it, learned a lot, and as I pulled a stool in front of my charred and pockmarked alchemy bench, I was feeling oddly refreshed. How much of that was a result of Bartan and Eimer''s skills rather than the more standard benefits of taking a break for a good meal with good company? I didn¡¯t know, but it sure felt like magic.


    Speaking of which, as I scanned through the recipe for a simple health potion, a reassurance that only a minimal amount of mana was required stood out. I briefly considered whether this was one of those areas I should ask for help with, but it said the cost was minimal and I couldn''t imagine that Sarala wouldn''t have known mana was required when she recommended health potions as a good place to start. It definitely wasn¡¯t just that I was excited to try magic. That would be irresponsible. Any haste as I rushed to acquire the ingredients or one of their many possible substitutions was purely coincidental.


    As it turned out, it was a good thing there were so many substitutions noted on the recipe as it quickly became clear that while we had those at the bottom of the list in abundance, the original ingredients were completely absent. I felt a surge of gratitude for my former self who had the foresight to catalogue both the substitutions and a few pairs of ingredients that interacted poorly. The potion itself was relatively simple, composed of an element to encourage blood clotting, something to promote regeneration, and finally an indicator to ensure the two were in the correct balance. The indicator was the one part of the original recipe that hadn¡¯t changed and had no known substitutions, but thankfully we had a little in stock. Only a few drops of the proprietary mixture were needed for each batch anyway. Not only would it reveal the potion was properly mixed and not a blood thickening poison, but it also gave potions their distinctive pink colouration. Without even looking at the recipe for the mana potion I was convinced the same would be true for its indicator and distinctive cerulean hue.


    In this instance for the coagulant, I was distilling the blood of a furred quadruped about the size of a horse that skittered across the sands of the dungeon. Its short sandy fur hid spines that drew moisture from adventurers that it slammed into or smothered beneath it. Its blood solidified incredibly quickly in the hot desert air to conserve as much moisture as possible when injured. Thankfully it was a relatively ¡®simple¡¯ distillation with the desired coagulant having a much lower boiling point compared to the rest of the blood.


    The regenerative element was somewhat more complicated, and was where the magic would hopefully happen. I began chopping a web of roots that stretched as long as my arm into more manageable chunks. It came from a small cactus that rapidly grew roots to entrap creatures if jostled. Less an antagonistic monster and more of a naturalistic trap, particularly as they often grew in clumps and were paired with predators that would use their distraction. The top of the cacti was even edible, if not particularly appetising despite the miracles I was assured Bartan could work with other cacti.


    I wasn¡¯t being too precise, just hacking away with a cleaver to get everything down to a more manageable size. It didn¡¯t have to look pretty, it just needed to be small. Preferably similarly sized small but when some roots were as fine as hair and other sections were as thick as my wrist, I didn¡¯t think that particularly achievable. Scraping the diced mixture into a large cauldron in a move reminiscent of cooking, I filled it with water and set it on a hook in the banked furnace. I needed it to stew low and slow for properties to seep into the liquid before it drained. locating a long wooden stick I gave it a quick stir. I¡¯d need to do that periodically so it wouldn¡¯t burn. I the next step for this half of the potion would be to use magic to encourage as many of the beneficial properties as possible to infuse into the water, but first I should get the other half started.


    Approaching the still I gingerly disconnected most of the swirling connectors until only a single glass tube remained, spiralling off the main vessel. I doubted it was the optimal setup, but I figured it should be functional. One thing I knew for sure though, properly cleaning it afterwards would be a pain. Well, nothing for it. I uncorked several vials of the blood, a coppery scent rushing forth with every pop, and upended them above the main vessel of the still. To my surprise the blood didn¡¯t pour out so much as slowly glomp down, thick and viscous. I suppose that was the reason I was using it after all, but I was suddenly worried about whether it would boil properly. I briefly considered adding a little water, but gravity and a few judicious thumps on the base of each vial did a decent enough job of getting the blood out, even if it was a little slower than expected. I didn''t want to mess with things too much. I''d follow the directions exactly the first time and navigate in future based on those results. Besides, I''d be keeping an eye on it.


    Once six vials were emptied save for a congealed film of crimson around the inside, I ducked back to give the cauldron a quick stir then set a lump of coal upon the brazier beneath the still. The finer heat control of a magic source rather than the raw heat of a well stoked blaze was often preferred for alchemy. Thankfully the brazier was just such a source and Sarala had given me a few quick directions how to operate it over lunch. Placing a finger on the outer rim of the small bronze bowl, I thought of flame and with a pop a small blue flame appeared around the coal, I recoiled in alarm. Of course, despite the shocking abruptness, a closer look proved everything was working as intended. There was no sign of the coal smouldering or smoke, just a thin blue corona of flame around the coal. Placing my finger back on the still cool rim, I slowly swiped it around the edge, thinking of the flame slowly growing as I did so. More clear and distinct the flame grew around the coal, tapering into a point that licked the underside of the still. A slow burn, just what I wanted. A quick check of the glassware revealed everything was in its proper place. Now all that was needed with this half of the potion was time, as the thick blood slowly began to burble. A glance back down at the flame showed the coal within, still unburning but perhaps just a little smaller than when it started. Time and fuel I amended as I turned most of my attention back to the cauldron, vowing to check the still occasionally to make sure the flame hadn''t gone out and wondering if, for my first time, doing the steps in series rather than parallel wouldn''t have made more sense.


    Sighing, I gave the cauldron a stir with the stick once more. It was bubbling consistently now; it would soon be time for me to attempt the magic portion of making this potion without any tool to help guide the mana. Thinking back to Argat''s lessons I recalled what he said about magic and mana. The aspects were thought to exist in a wheel: historical, then emotional, physical, vital and magical before returning to historical. However, where the other aspects mostly influenced and were influenced by their adjacent aspects, for example physical health and memories having an impact on a person''s emotional health and vice versa, the placement of our magical aspect was apparently based more on what it opposed. The more Argat talked, the more I got the sense the sages were really still just working things out and taking their best stab at how our aspects and their various resources interacted. But I''d happily take their best guess over having no clue, at least for now. That meant magic was primarily defined as being opposed to physical and emotional, which made sense since it required not just mana to be spent, but also the consumption of both a strong desire for that effect and a physical object related to it. The brazier was an enchanted item, basically functioning like training wheels, drawing in ambient mana for the small spell rather than forcing me to use my own reserves and providing an inbuilt picture for the output, allowing my desire to be much weaker and vaguer while still providing control. Only supplying the coal as the physical element was like harnessing magic without the tool, but that was obviously the easy bit, provided you had time and resources to prepare. Even there though the brazier helped, having a failsafe to end the spell if the physical component ran out. While a spell might do this normally, apparently more often it looked for suitable material within the spellcaster themselves, with predictably harmful results.This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    Double checking the instructions once more, I confirmed what I had to do. The slow boil of the cactus root was infusing the water with some of its soluble elements. Where magic came in, was to ensure that the water absorbed as much as possible of the wanted properties (rapid regrowth and minor anti-inflammatory potential), while reducing the contamination from unwanted properties. Some impurities shouldn''t be actively harmful in this instance, save for making the finished potion less effective, but I could imagine that wouldn''t always be the case. Thankfully there was a steady supply of a material on hand famous for absorbing what was nearby and growing rapidly, even particularly attuned to qi, the fundamental resource associated with vitality and lifespan, that I could use as the physical element to offer to the spell. Miracle shoots. A cynical part of me wondered as I picked up some of the offcuts from my work on the glaive, how well the empire would manage if it actually got rid of the miracle shoots. They were undeniably a problem with how they spread barely checked despite phenomenal effort, disrupting farmland and even growing through structures on occasion, but so many things from currency to magic in the empire had adapted to their abundance, it was hard to tell how it would fare without them.


    I glanced back at the still, smiling as a few dewy droplets began to coalesce in the spiralling tube. Soon enough they would drop into the beaker below. The coal was noticeably smaller now, but I wasn''t worried about it going out any time soon. I took a deep breath as I turned back to the cauldron and gave it a stir. Time to stop stalling and do this.


    Stirring with one hand and holding the miracle shoots in the other I instinctively closed my eyes. Trying to imagine the healing properties of the root seeping into the water with every stir leaving a husk behind. I thought of the vast latticework of fine roots and tried to picture an open wound being knit shut as skin regrew in a similar fashion. Of redness and fever fading just as the aloe from the plants that grew near it soothed burn wounds. I could feel something stirring within me, but whether if it was mana or just nerves, I didn''t know. I really wanted this to work, to do magic, to make a potion, to help people. Did the miracle shoots feel lighter? Opening my eyes I saw most of the shoot above my grip powdering and dissolving into the air as the liquid in the cauldron seemed to shimmer like it caught the moon''s light.


    I gasped concentration broken and felt it all stop, the remains of the shoot fell like ash through my grasp. No longer dissolving into thin air but lacking any cohesion or structure became a drifting powder I hastily wafted away from the cauldron. I was stunned it had worked so quickly. I might have cut the magic a little early but that was better than the alternative, then I remembered I needed to act. Hurriedly donning my thick gloves, I lifted the cauldron off the heat and over to a large strainer. Pouring through successfully separated the larger chunks of the remaining root from the imbued liquid. The directions suggested it was important to separate the two quickly after the magic lest the roots begin reabsorbing some of the properties magically drawn from them as the usual balance tried to reassert itself. With the larger chunks removed, the now cloudy liquid was poured through a fine metal sieve and then a cloth to ensure no solid matter remained. Wiping some sweat from my brow, one half of the potion was ready.


    A glance at the still showed a steady dripping of liquid into that beaker and the coal about half the size it started. For a moment I thought I could see a few flakes swirling briefly in the azure flame before disappearing, but perhaps it was just a flicker. This gave me a little time to clean up some of the mess I''d made before the next step, the steady dripping staccato a pleasant background to the task. Possibly foolishly, I decided to hold onto the powdered remains of the miracle shoot I''d used. It might not have much further practical use, but it was a memento of the first magic I could remember casting, and I guess I''m a bit sentimental. As I was finishing, I realised the dripping had slowed significantly. I watched as one ponderously made its way down the bottom of the spiral, before with aching slowness dropping into the beaker. It hadn''t quite slowed to a stop, I could get a little more from the materials, but I also risked introducing impurities if I continued too long. Deciding caution was the better part of valour on this occasion, I placed a finger upon the unnaturally cool metallic rim of the brazier and with a thought the flame extinguished. Replacing the beaker quarter full of pearlescent liquid with a smaller fresh one to capture any stray drops that remained, I was ready to combine the two halves of the potion.


    With a pop I pulled free the top of an innocuous looking little bottle with a well-worn tag proclaiming it to be the required indicator. Inserting the dropper, I extracted a small amount, having to tilt the bottle since it was mostly empty. Into the beaker containing the pearlescent coagulant from the still I added one drop, then a second and finally a third. It was supposed to change in colour, but nothing was happening. Desperately trying not to panic, and resisting the urge to add more than the recommended amount of indicator, I gave the beaker a swirl. Like a curtain opening on a stage the slightly shimmering off-white colour pulled away to reveal a perfectly colourless liquid. Returning the remaining indicator from the dropper to the bottle and resealing it, which required a surprising amount of force, I placed the beaker under a tall thin piece of glassware. It was a tube as long as my arm with markings evenly spaced along its length and a nozzle at the bottom controlled by a small glass valve. The words burette and titration were floating around in my head, as well as memories of some sort of test, but like jigsaw pieces jumbled on a table I couldn''t quite place them for now. Still, knowing they went in the same general area was progress. With the aid of a funnel, I filled the long tube with the slightly cloudy yellow, almost broth like cactus water, realising quickly just how narrow the tube was as the small amount of liquid filled most of its impressive height.


    I was about to open the valve at the bottom of the tube to start slowly adding the solution which hopefully bore regenerative properties to the coagulant below when I got the feeling something was off. Double and triple checking the instructions, I couldn''t find what the issue was, so with some trepidation I proceeded. The valve gave great control of how quickly the liquid in the tube was dropped into the beaker below, not just allowing for a narrow stream but also a stream of drops at different speeds or even drop at a time with carefully opening or closing the valve. I knew none of this, and immediately turned the valve ninety degrees producing a thin stream from the bottom of the nozzle that shot into the colourless liquid below in a purplish pink plume. Hurriedly closing the valve, I feared I''d drastically overshot the amount needed to be added as the goal was to add just enough to have the solution change colour. Thankfully a swirl of the beaker had the solution changing back to colourless once more. It couldn''t be far off however. Much more cautiously adjusting the valve I managed to get it dripping like a leaky a tap. Each drop turned from dull cloudy yellow to the distinctive purplish pink as it entered the clear solution, so I reached a rhythm of drop, swirl, check to see if it changed colour, drop, swirl, check the colour, until eventually I swirled and the whole liquid turned that translucent purple/pink. In my shock I barely remembered to turn off the valve before the next drop. I''d done it. I''d made a potion. Carefully decanting it into a handful of small bottles I''d left out earlier that I quickly sealed with cork and a few drops of wax, all that was left was to appraise it and see how I got on. But first, I had glassware to clean.

 Chapter 15 – Feedback

    With the glassware painstakingly cleaned, and healing potion freshly decanted into half a dozen stoppered vials I pocketed one and went to see if Sarala was still at the reception desk. Her professional tone provided the answer even before I got there, attempting to placate and de-escalate.


    "Your weapon had suffered considerable damage; I can see such from the remains of the haft here - "


    "I wanted a repair not a replacement! And a shoot of all things."


    "Our craftsman used his best judgement in accordance with the information you provided, and you have the remains of your previous haft. Now I must ask you to lower your voice." Her tone stern.


    As much as I didn''t want to walk into an argument, if I messed up, I was the one who deserved to get shouted at, not Sarala. The irate young man was quick to notice me.


    "You!"


    "Lower that glaive this instant!"


    Sarala''s grip on her staff was white knuckled and Xia lying on the countertop nearby gave a low hiss as the boy sheepishly lowered the glaive he''d gestured with in my direction. Attempting to diffuse the situation I raised my hands,


    "Hey, hey, let''s take it easy, I take it that wasn''t an intentional threat?" From the look Sarala was giving him I didn''t reckon he would get far if it was.


    "What?! No, sorry, I didn''t mean... It was just in my hand... and I pointed..."


    I almost felt bad for the guy. A quick look at his clothes which seemed more patches than original fabric at this point and I got an inkling what the problem might be.


    "OK then, that''s good. Now I didn''t intend to eavesdrop, but I take it you have some issues with the replacement haft? Would you mind walking me through what they are?"


    He seemed to puff up ready to get indignant again before deflating, "Everyone said if there''s one place you can''t afford to cut corners it''s your weapon. My parents got me the blade, the bones of some bird monster burned in the flame that forged the steel to make it more compatible with qi. I saved up to get the haft. With them going all out I wanted to get a good hardwood, not a miracle shoot like some drafted levy."


    "Ok, I didn''t know you had an aversion to miracle shoots when I replaced it, but as durable as that hardwood was, it had reached the end of its effective lifespan. I could have glued it, but that would have messed with the qi flow and it would be easy for it to break again. We can work on another solution if you like, but first of all, would you mind testing it? Preferably not in my direction of course!" I added hastily.


    "What?"


    I could practically hear Sarala''s eye roll, "Point it over there and try passing your qi through it."


    As he settled into a stance facing an empty section of the room, I could see a faint golden corona shooting up from his hands to the top of the glaive, apparently coming as even more of a surprise to him than me as he almost dropped it.


    "WHOA! What! How?"


    Sarala chipped in, "Miracle shoots may be plentiful, but qi flows exceptionally easily within them. Levies may favour miracle shoot spears for their ubiquity and ease of construction, but many qi and prana-based archers favour miracle shoot bows purely for their superior properties. Vaul isn¡¯t one to change parts of your weapon without good reason, and he certainly wouldn¡¯t leave you with something of poor quality."


    The young man pulled his ring of imperials from a pocket and with almost indecent haste began removing some of the few embossed leather strips of currency from it to place on the counter offering me a deep bow as he did so.


    "I''m sorry for doubting your work."This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    "It''s fine, no harm done. Really it''s Sarala you should be apologising to for shouting." After he hastily gave a similar bow and apology her direction which she accepted with grace, I continued, "The qi handling of your staff may be improved but you''ll have to get used to a slightly longer length and less rigid haft. The durability of the haft won''t be as high as the hardwood was originally, but as we''ve established miracle shoots are replaceable, though the tang on the head of the glaive is somewhat unusual."


    "If he''s paid up, he can come work out the finer points on the training grounds with me." Kete gruffly cut in as he entered the room, moving to give Xia a pet. The guy''s instant enthusiasm at the offer vanished as he added, "I hear we need to refresh when it''s appropriate to point a weapon at someone anyway."


    "Thank you, Kete. We''ll leave him in your capable hands." Sarala answered for both of us, and I could only give the guy a sympathetic shrug as he trailed forlornly behind Kete. She whispered, "Better to get that ironed out by a chat with Kete now, than with the guildmaster later." Then at a more normal volume, "Now Vaul, did you just come in because you heard the raised voices, or did you have something you wanted to discuss?"


    "Ahh, yes," fumbling in my pocket I pulled out one of the potions, this particular vial corked but not sealed with wax. "I wanted to get your opinion on how this batch of health potions turned out. I could use my skill but I was told it''s best to find out all you can first..."


    "So you came to me, very wise." Holding the glass vial up to the light she gave it a quick swirl. "It looks a good colour, still translucent and quite a faint pink. The closer to clear it looks while still having a blush of pink when properly mixed the better. Of course, that means nothing if the right ingredients weren''t used..."


    A quick run-down of my ingredients and method later and Sarala looked pleased.


    "The only way to find out more, barring an appraisal skill or the like, would be to test a drop on an injury. But I believe you mentioned having a skill of some sort, didn''t you?" Her affable demeanour didn''t hide the sharp intelligence in her eyes as she spoke softly. "Why don''t you see what it can tell you of your creation?"


    Taking a deep breath, I relaxed letting the visions that had been quietly rapping on the door of my mind since I picked up the vial flow into me. I saw an androgynous figure get raked across the chest by the talons of a huge bird only to down the potion and the flesh to knit and seal before my eyes. The figure looked a little pale but after a few moments there was barely even any scar to speak of. Next, I saw a man bleeding from is shoulder, one arm gone. The potion managed to seal the injury and even regrow a small stump, but the man was unconscious in the moments it took to complete its work. All manner of injuries flashed past from hands pieced with nails, to burns, to crushed digits. The moon made three full cycles, and the images repeated but the potion''s pinkish lustre had faded. Where before the potion was shown mending even major injuries, now it could only manage minor ones, took minutes, and left scars. The moon cycled another few times and the effects were barely noticeable.


    Coming back to my senses I felt Sarala''s steadying hand on my sweat drenched back.


    "Let''s get you a seat in here Vaul," Sarala guided me into my workshop and out of potential public view. "Sorry I never expected your skill would take such a toll; I had wondered why you hadn''t revealed it, but now it makes sense."


    "I''m fine, really. I just wasn''t expecting it to be so intense is all. I don''t normally get so much detail. Just give me a moment to process it all."


    "Take your time, shall I get you a cup of water?"


    Feeling suddenly parched, "Please."


    The few moments respite and the tepid but surprisingly refreshing drink had me quickly feeling better and I related as best I could everything I saw. Sarala was a good listener, not interrupting. I could see her eyes scanning back and forth as if scribing notes in her mind.


    "Three months before their efficacy drops to minor cuts and bruises, and even some capacity to regrow lost digits? My, you haven''t lost your touch Vaul. If anything, we could sell these for more given they''ve been properly appraised."


    "With some of the crushing injuries amputation was necessary before taking the potion and the older the potion or injury the more it''ll scar."


    "Don''t worry dear, that''s standard for healing potions, though there are some specialised varieties specifically to deal with crush injuries. It has to do with dealing with the impurities built up from a lack of circulation and muscle dying, but some injuries will always be more problematic than others. A healing potion might buy you some time to deal with a toxin, but it won''t address the root cause, and burns are better handled by more tailored remedies. You''re expecting too much; a standard healing potion was never meant as a panacea but it''s a solid, broad option for adventurers of all but the highest levels to carry at an affordable price. And anyone getting into adventuring needs to be prepared for more than a few scars." Her cane seemed to rap particularly hard against the ground at that point.


    "Thanks, so will you just sell them at the counter?"


    "Yes, I cleared some shelf space for them after lunch, though we may need to look into getting a separate shopfront as we expand. But first you need to add tags to the bottles. Note standard healing potion and the date brewed, then starting as major and fading to minor over three months, then a two-month fade on that. So, we mark it like this..."

 Chapter 16 – Shroud & Precision

    The soothing scent of tea wafted upwards as Argat poured from an ornate teapot into matching cups. With a nod of thanks I retrieved my own steaming cup, savouring the warmth seeping into my hand as rain pounded the roof above.


    "You mentioned receiving a commission?" Argat prompted.


    I snapped my attention back to the conversation at hand, the combination of early morning drowsiness and the comforting scent proving a smidge too relaxing.


    "Yes, an unusual kind of armour. The person in question shared which resources fuelled their skills, and I wanted to confirm the materials I was using wouldn''t conflict..." I trailed off, realising I might be about to commit a faux pas.


    "But you don''t know how to ask more about the resources in question without inadvertently revealing details about the commissioner''s skills once they receive their new armour and people inevitably put two and two together."


    "Exactly."


    Argat smiled, "Well then, I''m glad to say I can help. Sages'' confidentiality includes what is mentioned about others'' classes and skills." Seeing my surprise he explained, "Consider that most of those first learning about their classes and skills do so with their families as well as speaking to a sage. It''s quite common to follow a similar path to one''s parents or older siblings, and often family members discuss classes and skills more freely with one another. As a result, many young people first speaking with a sage share details of their family''s paths, using them as a guidepost for how their own might progress. It''s easier to simply accept this and include it in the confidentiality, than to attempt to ensure no young person slips up while discussing a momentous change in their lives."


    "Huh, that makes a lot of sense. The resources I need to know more about are shroud and precision."


    "Ahh." He sipped his tea as if to fortify himself for what was to come. "Remember when I told you that each fundamental resource: stamina, qi, mana, experience and spirit is thought to be associated with a singular aspect: physical, vital, magical, historical and emotional respectively? That''s the broadly accepted explanation for those resources. There''s a substantial amount of supporting evidence, but it''s a theory none the less. Everything gets much less certain from here on out." He rested his cup in front of him, the wafting steam adding - a likely unintentional - air of mystery. "It is generally thought that the other resources are based on a combination of aspects. Whether that combination is always even, or what aspects produce which resources is heavily debated, but the most popular theories posit precision as a dual resource, and shroud as a triune resource."


    I leaned a little closer.


    "Specifically, precision is generally regarded to draw on both the physical and historical aspects. For example, a craftsperson might have a skill utilising precision that allows them to complete a repetitive task with the same finesse as when they first gave it their full focus. Alternatively, it can often fuel skills to accelerate learning the motions required for physical tasks, particularly those involving manual dexterity. Once again useful for craftspeople, but also performers who are either learning new tricks and sleight-of-hand, or have moved on to juggling things like knives and can''t afford a slip. For adventurers it is often associated with more roguish sorts, trap disarming and acrobatics often needing to be learned quickly and done with consistent quality. But while that might be precision''s stereotypical use in an adventuring party, single skills fuelled by it are actually quite common. For example, many weapon handling skills utilise it, though it tends to favour lighter weapons. The same principle loosely applies to materials, flowing better through lighter, more supple material. Though it should still be able to bear an impression rather than being totally amorphous. As an extreme example it doesn''t take to liquids very well, but even then, potions to restore precision are possible. While some materials will be more optimal than others, it is much less stringent than something like mana''s aversion to iron. More important is to ensure that the construction does not impede the motions required for the skills; gloves might work better as fingerless or thin, joints should have a good range of motion, that sort of thing."


    "I getcha. Any chance with the weapons that it prefers lighter ones because they''re generally more nimble than strictly due to being lighter?"


    "It''s certainly possible." Argat mused stroking his chin, "I''d have to do a little reading and possibly send a few letters to find out, but it would be worth testing if it hasn''t been investigated already, or if a good opportunity arises. But let''s return to its implications in armour for now. Someone who utilises precision is more likely to avoid or parry blows than block or endure them. It''s often regarded as the resource that adds consistency. When adventuring, a little sloppiness, fatigue or distraction is the sort of variance that leads to injury. Precision can massively mitigate this. You can still get unlucky, and you still have to be physically capable of the action, but a precision skill won''t fail just because its owner is having an off day."


    "You almost make it sound like an adventurer who heavily uses precision might be better off without armour weighing them down at all."This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    "Some do believe so, but any resource can run out. It''s also conventional wisdom in adventurer circles that sooner or later you''ll encounter a threat that you simply can''t avoid, deflect or prevent. Whether it''s wide-ranging, or catches you unaware, everybody gets hit sometimes, so you have to be able to take it." He paused to sip his tea, seemingly finished. But just as I was about to respond, he added one final thing with a faraway look in his eye, "Though grandmasters focused on precision may well be the exception."


    The weight of that statement seemed to hang in the air for the moment. Given Argat''s proclivity for caveats and measured words, that was a strong statement for what precision was possible of at the highest levels, and I couldn''t help but get excited. I doubted Ha-Na was quite there yet however, so I''d have to find suitable compromises for her armour.


    "So, keep the weight down and don''t restrict movement too much, even if I have to give up a bit of strength. There''s probably going to be some sort of leather so I''ll keep that more supple rather than rigid where possible. Dodging rather than blocking fits what she told me of her fighting style, but it''s good to get confirmation. What about shroud? You mentioned it was a tri-resource? I assume that means three aspects."


    "Triune resource is the most popular theory, and yes that would make it based on three aspects but this is where things get murkier once more. I mentioned previously that we generally think of aspects in a ring with the placement of each being based on how they are influenced by and influence the pair beside them, excepting the magical aspect. Mana consumes a physical object and an emotional desire to create a spell so it is instead placed on the circle opposite to those aspects."


    He must have seen me looking a little unsure, in my defence I''d been learning a lot and the arrangement of the aspects hadn''t seemed immediately relevant. Pulling a sheet of vellum from a scroll case beneath the table, he began unfurling it and weighting the corners, revealing the words: physical, vital, magical, historical and emotional arranged around a circle with lines connecting each of them inside forming some sort of odd star shape.


    "Don''t worry, we can refresh on the logic behind the arrangement another time. The important point for now is that each aspect has two adjacent supporting aspects and two opposing aspects. So, every resource formed of three aspects is either an aspect and its two supporting aspects, or an aspect and its two opposing aspects. We call them triune resources because while they are three in one, the central aspect tends to have the most influence on the nature of the resulting resource. Of course, some theorise that indicates it isn''t a uniform mix, but what really matters right now is that shroud is associated with the emotional aspect and its opposing pair vital and magical."


    "The three aspects that don''t comprise precision?"


    "Correct."


    "Is that normal?"


    "It''s not too uncommon, and there are trade-offs inherent to it. Having too many skills drawing from a singular aspect makes it much easier to strain, but also stimulates the growth of that aspect. The individual in question is likely to have the opposite problem, each of their aspects sharing the load meaning they are much more resilient to strain, but will have slower growth, though the growth should at least be relatively even." He waved a hand, "Diversity of resources can be fascinating but the possible permutations and their implications are almost endless. Suffice to say for now every mixture of resources has its challenges and a large part of the guidance I and my fellow sages offer is related to managing them in a way suited to each individual. We will undoubtedly return to the topic another day, hopefully once we know more about the resources of your own class."


    "Yeah, that makes sense. What does shroud do? Something based on emotions?"


    Argat sighed placing down his tea cup with a firm clink, "Shroud has some troubling effects, excelling at projecting emotions of the user to reinforce those feelings within those around them."


    "Damn, mind control? Surely that''s gotta be restricted?"


    "Not quite, it''s emotional bolstering. And while it''s not restricted, it''s certainly something those in power keep an eye on. The typical example of its use is for banner carriers. It can''t induce patriotism or bravery, but a skill that helps maintain the morale of those who see the banner can give a decisive advantage."


    "So, no causing soldiers to swap sides I take it?"


    "Definitely not."


    "That''s a relief."


    "Indeed. It can project unwanted emotions such as terror, or to take a non-combat example, some food vendors project auras of hunger carried by the scent or sight of their food. Thankfully shroud tends to be most efficient when it''s linked to the user''s own feelings."


    "So, the food vendor can make people feel hungrier if they are hungry themselves?"


    "Yes, particularly if they have a craving for that item. However, in the long term that''s not practical for most food sellers, a confidence in the quality of their goods is an inferior, but more sustainable substitute."


    "Yeah, I can see that. So, for the terror example, the skill user wouldn''t have to feel terrified themselves, but instead would need to have confidence that they are scary?"


    "Yes, but if that confidence were shattered, such as by a wyvern landing in front of them, the effectiveness of the skill would drop sharply, if not vanish altogether. Flag bearers'' skills sometimes offset some of this to the visibility or condition of the flag and how far forward it is in the battle, so other factors can play a role, but I think that''s enough for the basics."


    "What materials work best for shroud then?"


    "That depends entirely on the application. The best materials are those that stir the desired emotions. A flag might use gold thread to emphasize the glory of the empire, but a helmet for someone with a terror skill might use more primitive materials like the skull of a predator to tap into some sort of primal dread. A rich merchant might wear gleaming gems to project an aura of wealth and power, wanting to be noticed, while a more skullduggerous individual might wear something drab in darker colours to project the feeling that they are no-one special and not worth noticing, or simply one with the night. Best to liaise with the commissioner, you''ll need a good understanding of what effect or effects they wish to achieve, and what they associate with those feelings."

 Chapter 17 – Pattern

    My chat over tea with Argat made a great start to the day. My head swirled with possibilities to improve the armour design; I''d need another chat with Ha-Na soon. There was no chance I''d be able to focus on the pill making I''d had planned, so on my way to the workshop I ducked into the storeroom for a heavy roll of thick, plain-woven cotton.


    Hefting it onto a clear workbench with a huff, I considered what I knew of the minimally processed material. My hazy memories gave it a few names, chaliyan or calico being foremost among them. Perhaps it was a regional thing? Either way the coarse, unbleached cotton textile possessed a singular incredible quality; it was cheap. While that may sound more akin to a cruel barb than an honest compliment, its low price point is what makes it irreplaceable for seamstresses, tailors and above all dressmakers throughout the empire and beyond. While paint and skill can elevate the otherwise mundane material with floral designs to elegant chintz, it''s main use was in pattern making. An odd sounding term to be sure, but a vital one when making complex garments. You see even a simple tunic is made of several pieces stitched together, the dimensions of which can be tailored to the individual. Drafting a pattern is all about designing the shape and size of those pieces and ensuring they fit together correctly. Then when it comes time to make the real thing, the pattern can be pinned atop the more valuable material and cut around as a guide.


    Retrieving Ha-Na''s measurements and sketch, charcoal, a straight rule, a compass and a few other tools I thought might come in handy to have close at hand, I stared at the off-white canvas before me. I couldn''t help but feel intimidated. My little adventure in sewing was simultaneously the most minor of projects I''d attempted since losing my memories and the closest to outright failing. In fact, had the tunic been someone else''s I certainly would have considered it a failure. More frustratingly, I didn''t know why it had been such a struggle. Perhaps I was never good with textiles even before my memory loss? Now here I was trying to make the pattern for a custom tailored, protective bodice from scratch. Was I overreaching? Getting an adventurer''s armour wrong could get them killed.


    I loosened the collar of my tunic that suddenly felt uncomfortably tight, the workshop feeling like an oven despite the unlit forge. Should I wait until I had more experience or more of my memories returned? As I was, I''d be almost guaranteed to get something in the design badly wrong. But then it hit me, that was the point!


    The pattern was drafted from cheap cotton so I could try things, make mistakes, and fix them. I could always be more qualified, but my fastest most effective way to get there was to try and fail, and keep trying and failing until I succeeded. Putting charcoal to fabric with the rule laid beside for reference I began sketching out the preliminary shapes for the panels. They''d probably be wrong (and they very much were), but sometimes the fastest route to success is through failure. Besides, calico was cheap enough I could afford a few mistakes, that was what made it so special.Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    ***


    I repositioned one of the legion of pins holding my calico creation around Ha-Na.


    "That certainly feels more secure, like I could actually walk around in this thing without it all falling off, but for my usual acrobatics I''d want it a little tighter."


    I gave it a critical glance; it was much better than when I started but still too loose in some places and too tight in others. I had too many straight lines in the panels and not enough sloping curves, and they still didn''t fit together neatly.


    "Best to leave that until the next version, if the pattern is too big, I can mark on the pattern piece how much smaller to make it, but too small is a bit trickier." Were she not wearing an undershirt beneath the prototype it would be so ill fitting as to be scandalous from some angles, and that was after I''d done what I could to take things in. "Remember the final leather version won''t have as much give, even if we are keeping it as supple as possible."


    "Does that mean we''re done for now?"


    The hope in her voice stung, but when I cornered her at lunch about visiting the workshop this evening, I hadn''t exactly prepared her for just how much there was to adjust in the initial fitting. At that stage I''d rather underestimated it myself.


    "Yes, I''ve got what I need for now. Give me just a minute or two to get all those pins off you."


    "Thanks. Sorry, it''s not that I don''t appreciate all your work, I''m just used to seamstresses resizing ready-made dresses. And any other time I''m faced with this many pointy objects I get to fight back."


    I chuckled, "It''s fine, I''m figuring out things as I go and the next one should be a lot closer to the final design. I''m surprised you haven''t had anything custom made before though."


    She shrugged, wincing as pins shifted, "I''ve moved in fancy circles for a while, but I haven''t always been as flush as I am now. This dungeon has been a real boon for my party and I always figured if I was going to get a dress custom made, better to save a while longer and make it practical." She winked at me, slipping out of the calico as I diligently plucked the final fastening pin. Her glance towards the closed door hinting at the reason for her coded speech.


    "Expecting company?"


    "No, but one should never assume no one is listening. There''s more than a few adventurers and soldiers with listening skills from all their time spent on guard, and that''s before we even consider those who might be trying to eavesdrop. You should be a little more vigilant Vaul, you were so absorbed with that outfit when I came in that I had to speak three times to get your attention. I know you''ve got a lot of talented people looking out for you, but don''t underestimate what others are capable of."


    "Thanks Ha-Na, I''m working on it." Internally cursing myself as I realised I never did ask Argat about my tendency to get tunnel visioned. "By the way did you have any more thoughts on what we were discussing before? Sticking with the black look? And what about the silvered steel to add strength and disrupt mana?"


    "Let''s keep it pure black since that goes with anything. It''s a pity, but that level of polish would be a nightmare to maintain on the road and might get me caught if I need to sneak around."


    "Hmmm, I might have an alternative. You see, I was reading through some alchemy recipes..."

 Chapter 18 – Interruptions and Odd Jobs

    The day seemed to have flown by, one minute I was drafting Ha-Na''s outfit, the next she was trying on the pattern pieces and offering feedback, and then it was suddenly late and she had to go. She warned me her group would be travelling into town and she''d be unavailable to check the fitting for a few days, but when I woke to the sound of wind and rain battering against the walls and roof, each gust eliciting an ominous creaking of wood, I dared to hope her plans might have been delayed. Breakfast in the overcrowded tavern dashed that hope. While it seemed like almost every other adventurer was packed in there either drenched or drying, Eimer confirmed Ha-Na''s party had left early despite the storm.


    While I could work a little more on the pattern, there wasn''t much left to change without someone to test the fitting. I''d need to order the leather soon since that would take some time to be tanned and delivered. Given the intention to stain it black and that I''d put off making the qi restoration pills, I figured I should work on alchemy for the day.


    No sooner had I resolved what I was doing and moved to leave the uncomfortably crowded room than a particularly powerful gust burst a shutter open. Several adventurers swiftly pressed the shutter closed but the latch was splinters. Awkwardly gathering a few quick measurements past the adventurers determined to keep out the cold and wet, I promised to return swiftly with a temporary fix. The carpenters working on building the outpost could do a better job being more specialised, and none would deny Eimer if she asked, but everyone involved in the building work was busy making sure everything was tied down outside. My fix was quick and dirty, a small plank of wood, that didn''t quite match the rest (but was pretty close considering my haste), nailed across the shutters. Given how the shutters were creaking as the adventurers pressed against them, I didn''t reckon they were surviving this particular storm anyway, so I prioritised reinforcement over aesthetics. A quick glance around at the other shuddering shutters, many of which were now supported by adventurers, had me running back to the storeroom. A few offcuts and some frantic sawing later and wedges were placed in the shutters to hold them firmer. Now I just had to hope the hinges were stronger than the latches.


    Buoyed by a few words of thanks I made my way to the workshop, ready to start on alchemy. I pulled out an alembic ready to boil down some qi rich liquids into powders only for someone in a dented helmet to clatter in. His voice was distorted by the full head helm, and given the large dent was by his jaw it may also have been dislocated. Thankfully he was followed by another adventurer who managed to shout over the first¡¯s panicked din and ask for my help to remove the helm.


    Once I got a proper look at the issue I saw the problem, though the man''s seeming inability to sit still and the bit of blood pouring from within didn''t help matters. A few precise blows from my hammer eventually adjusted the warped metal enough to slip his head free, but his understandable claustrophobia when trapped within made it an arduous process. In the end his friend hand to hold the panicking man still for the strikes lest I make things worse. They rushed away for Argat''s ministrations before I found out how it happened, not that I blamed them. Sighing at the dented and bloody helm in my hand I took a little time to hammer out the worst of the warp and clean and polish the thing. I wasn''t sure he''d be wearing a full helm again, but there was no sense in leaving a job half done.


    I''d just begun to pick up the recipe for the qi restoration pills to remind myself what the first steps were when Sarala appeared in the doorway asking if I could cover the front desk for a few minutes. Of course I complied, though I took the recipe with me hopeful I''d get a chance to look it over. She gave me a few quick instructions about where things were and what to expect before heading up the stairs with a group that looked like they''d been dragged through a swamp.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    The main hall was almost as busy as the tavern, filled with adventurers nominally considering quests, but mostly just loitering somewhere warm and dry. Xia prowled along the countertop with her head held high as if inspecting troops. I of course made the most of the opportunity to give her a few good pets which seemed to soothe her somewhat.


    I didn''t have to interact much, but so many people chatting nearby who could come to the counter was quite the distraction from the recipe. I did get the chance to sell some of my healing potions, the first to a half elf who figured he might as well take the opportunity to stock up, and then another two to a party following his example. The sudden depletion of over half of the potions I''d made was a stark reminder how much I needed to step up production. Glancing around the packed hall full of grumbling adventurers I wondered if I could ever make enough. Though the challenge was more invigorating than concerning. The guild didn¡¯t normally seem so busy, but then most adventurers passed through it briefly rather than loitering within. I was surprised more people weren¡¯t escaping the weather by delving the dungeon, but I figured they must have their reasons. No doubt Sarala could clue me in if I asked when she returned.


    Handling the money and recording the transactions was an experience. I now knew broadly how imperials worked and the relative value of each, but my inexperience, or at least lack of remembered experience handling them, made both transactions take significantly longer than they should have. Not that my double checking I''d properly recorded them in the appropriate ledger helped. I got the feeling I didn''t much like handling money, particularly when it wasn''t my own. There was a sense of responsibility and a fear of messing up, even when logically I knew everything was fine, that just felt uncomfortable. Sarala had suggested previously that eventually the guild should get a separate storefront for my wares as it continued to grow, and I agreed with her. But even this brief bout of selling made me confident I did not want to be handling the shopfront, even disregarding the fact it would take me away from my workshop.


    Before Sarala returned, one of Eimer''s sons came running to ask for my help with a recently returned wagon. Just as I was wondering whether to ask him to man the counter, the guildmaster appeared and took over the role so I''d be free to assist. With a sense of urgency, I jogged to the stables. The wagon itself looked remarkably intact, but extremely muddy and the cargo being unloaded was completely sodden. Kete finished a conversation with a drenched teamster who had a mug of something warm shoved into his hands by Eimer as she dragged him off towards the tavern.


    Figuring Kete was as good a place to start as any, I made my way over and asked, "So what are we lookin'' at? Crazy to drive a wagon in this weather but it seems to have held up well considering. I assume he took the cover down?"


    "Aye, he knows his business. He runs on contract with the guild once a day back and forth to the town pickin'' up any orders we need. Not that I''da blamed him for holdin'' te see if things cleared up a bit today, but I guess he didn''t wanna risk losin'' the contract. The cargo''s boxed and wrapped well enough that with his skills it should be fine, stuff for adventurers has to be hardy after all. The real problem is one of his horses threw a shoe. A soldier based here was a farrier, and normally he''d handle it. But today of all days, he''s sick. So, we''re the next best thing. If I can keep it calm, think you can handle the shoeing?"


    "I got no idea. I think I saw a couple horseshoes in the forge, so I guess I might have done it in the past? Let me get it one in my hands and see if it comes to me."


    "I''ll do better than that, we''re moving the horse to the military stables, it''s got the necessary gear for shoeing."


    I looked out the large entryway at the driving rain and sighed.


    Kete laughed, "Come on lad, a little rain never hurt anyone!"

 Author update

    Hi everyone, just a quick update to say while I''m in the area affected by storm Eowyn, I''m fine. I hope all of you are keeping well too.


    I don''t have any bonus chapters ready to post, but as a content creator in the region, I''d like to use my small platform to provide what pleasant distraction I can. So, I''ve released a little post about some of the books that most influenced me over the years on patreon (its set to public, you shouldn''t need to be a member or anything to read it), and I''ll try to provide some other bonus content if possible.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    In a similar spirit, while it is rather poor timing to be writing about the effects of a storm in Adventurers Guild Craftsman while a major storm is happening locally in real life, I''m intending to keep to my regular weekly posting schedule. Obviously I had no idea about Eowyn when I first started writing a storm into my story, and I hope my tale is a dose of cosiness for those who need it.

 Chapter 19 – Shoeing

    As it turned out, the draught horse shared my reluctance to return to the rain. But through some combination of stroking, soft words and bribing with sweet treats, Kete managed to get it moving. As we stepped out the first gust cut through any foolish hope that my jerkin would offer any meaningful protection from the chill. It was awful, invigorating, and very, very, wet. My heart pounded as wordlessly we rushed through muddy streets past construction sites covered in tarps. The rain pelted down and ricocheted up from turbid puddles, soaking me through in an instant. Their panoramic percussion a backdrop to the howling wind. Builders dashed in and out of cover, lashing things down as gales blew them free, but I could barely give them any mind as a particularly strong gust almost knocked me off my feet. How someone had driven a carriage in this I had no idea.


    We quickly reached the military section of the outpost and a pair of stoic guards waved us through after confirming our identities. The tell-tale glow of a fire poured from a nearby structure they no doubt wished they could return to as they stood resolutely under a small overhang. I could only hope as I heard muffled chatter from inside that they were being swapped out regularly.


    Thankfully Kete seemed to know exactly where he was going. Approaching a large wooden structure, the whinnying of other mounts disturbed by the storm became just barely audible over the howling wind. A moment later we were under blessed cover.


    An impressive array of stalls lined out before us, the closest ones filled with leaner, sleeker steeds than the bulky draught horse that accompanied us. A soldier in a nearby stall who had been soothing a troubled horse looked to our dripping forms, recognition quickly forming on his face.


    "Kete? Here te help us out?"


    "This lass here threw a shoe, gotta fix that first, but I''ll do what I can while I''m here." He kept leading me further into the structure, seemingly immune to the chill as I shivered.


    "Thanks, much appreciated. We''ve got the forge lit already, takes the edge off the chill. Can''t do much better in a space as large as this, but it should help dry you out some. Just keep goin'' te the end of the stalls and you can''t miss it."


    Kete gave him a quick nod of thanks and kept leading us forward. I offered a quick bow ¨C unsure of his rank and more concerned about feeling warm and dry again ¨C before hurrying after. Now that I knew what to look for, the far end of the stables was better lit and the relative warmth more than just the absence of windchill. The stalls ended in a small open area where the dinky little forge came into view. Only then was the comforting scent of burning coal noticeable over the aroma of wet horse.


    A selection of horseshoes lined the wall behind the forge and a small anvil rested beside it with a few tools. The hammer, tongs and steel file were all familiar, a large set of clippers threw me for a moment, but the slowly tapering metal spike looked downright ominous. Perhaps some sort of odd poker? Nope, the poker had fallen by the forge. Given the well contained blaze reacquainting me with the concept of heat, it had probably fallen the last time the soldier hastily stoked the flame. Pritchel. The word came unbidden as I picked up the odd spike, now noticing the point was oddly rounded.


    "You good there Vaul? Got everything ya need?"


    Kete''s voice snapped me out of my near trance evaluating the tools. He had acquired a large brush and tapped the horse''s rear leg. As if by reflex, the horse lifted that hoof, and with complete confidence his hand shot out to support it before he deftly flipped round to hold it between his thighs.


    "Yeah, just need... Ah, there they are, nails. I take it you''ve done this before? I knew you had a knack with animals, but that was smooth."


    A handful of fervent brushstrokes cleared the worst of the mud and Kete was scrutinising the unshod hoof as he responded.


    "Knack? Nah, like most beastmaster types I use bond. Never had an equine myself, but checked out plenty over the years. Good skill te have, but it''s only goin'' so smooth because she''s bein'' a good sport about it. First time I tried somethin'' like this I was green as grass and broke a couple ribs."


    "Oof, hopefully you can help me avoid that particular experience. Also, is bond a resource? What about knack?"


    He gave me a quick look before turning back to the hoof in front of him, "Argat hasn''t gotten that far yet? I suppose there''s a lot te cover and he''s the type te make sure ye have a firm grasp of the fundamentals first."


    He went quiet for a moment, brows furrowed staring at the hoof, before muttering softly, "The frog looks healthy but might as well even things up a bit..."


    He pulled a small thin knife that lacked a point but instead the end curled around to face towards the handle then began carefully carving out slivers of the hoof revealing pristine white beneath as he continued at a normal volume.


    "I''m not going to stick my oar into Argat''s lessons, he knows his stuff, but I can tell ya a little about me. Bond is a dual resource. I can''t tell ya what it''s limits are, but it helps me form connections with animals. It let me make friends with this lady here quicker, learn if they feel something is wrong, that sorta thing. I can do some more interestin'' stuff with my longer-term companions, but the heart of it is still the same, forming a connection. To do that you''ve gotta care. That''s where most people lookin'' for an animal companion come a cropper, they want a weapon, not a friend." He scrutinised the hoof and I noted the triangular shape near the back did look more even now he was finished with it. "Could ya pass the nippers?"The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    Caught off guard I glanced around, my gaze landing on the set of clippers by the forge. They seemed to have exceptionally long handles compared to the extremely short length on the other side of the joint, so I supposed nippers fit.


    "These?"


    "Aye"


    With practiced movement he snipped into a raised rim at the leading edge of the hoof. The material cracking as he gave it a slight shake before repeating the process at two other points along the edge, a thin crescent of hoof material cracking free. Once again revealing pristine white beneath.


    "Rasp." He held a hand out expectantly.


    I''d been wondering why the steel file was present and dutifully passed it to him. Rough edges from the shoes would have been removed long before they reached here, this set-up focused on fitting rather than creation. A few confident strokes from Kete around the edge of the hoof removed any sharp edges and helped ensure a flat surface. Kete took a beat and evaluated his work contentedly.


    "Welp, not like it needed too much doin'' to it, but it should be good to go. You ready for your part?"


    Wincing I realised I''d been caught up in his actions and the conversation.


    "Just give me a second, I''ll check the size of shoe."


    I trusted my ability to eyeball a pretty close match, but there was no reason not to double check. Despite the selection, none of them seemed quite right so I''d have to make some adjustments. Picking up the pritchel by instinct, I noted there were small holes in some of the horse shoes I''d assumed were for nails. These without them had dents in similar spots where the metal was thinner. Looking towards the forge I noted it didn''t have a hardy hole but did have a much smaller hole offset from the centre that I felt was connected. Still, might as well keep it simple for this outing.


    Spotting a shoe of close enough size with holes already punched, I stabbed the pritchel towards one of the holes, wedging it on the end to pick it up. The whole motion felt far smoother than it ought to be, and I was weirdly confident that the shoe was the right mix of secure enough but easy to deliberately dislodge. Lifting it over beside the hoof confirmed my suspicions, it was just a little too wide. So, I plunged it into the flames.


    Not letting it get too hot, not even beginning to truly glow I shifted the shoe to the anvil and gave a few decisive blows from the hammer, careful to curve each side inward equally. Raising it near the hoof once more (though careful not to touch), I gave a pleased smile to see it looked perfect. Then trepidation set in. My instincts were telling me the temperature was perfect. Cool enough there was no visible sign the metal was even hot, yet I knew it could blacken wood. I didn''t want to risk hurting this horse.


    "What are ya waitin'' for? Press it against the hoof!"


    Like a switch was flipped I complied. Only to want to flinch away as steam started to rise, but Kete kept talking and my instincts agreed.


    "A little longer, nearly there. Now! Get the nails."


    Almost unconsciously I disconnected the pritchel, the shoe staying in place. I pulled a square nail and positioned it in one of the holes in the shoe, three precise blows hammered it flat to the shoe. A second nail went in the opposite side, two blows did it this time. The shoe had eight holes, but once I filled six a feeling of contentment washed over me. Kete seemed to agree letting the hoof drop.


    "Fine work as usual Vaul." He said examining how the horse stood on the hoof and I noted the tips of the nails were protruding from the side of the hoof as it sloped. Strangely I felt calm, and Kete nonchalantly raised the nippers and snipped off most of the protrusions. "There, now we just cinch them, I''ll give it a final go over with the rasp, and we''ll be done."


    With sudden clarity as Kete had the horse raise its hoof once more, this time onto a small stump, I stood ready with the hammer. He carefully carved tiny grooves below the remaining nub of each nail and with a few meticulous, low power hammer strikes I bent the nub to sit within the groove. Once it was completed for all six, he moved the rasp across the outside of the hoof in wide motions before stepping back and turning to me.


    "I know today''s busy, but could you hold on while I check the other couple of hooves? She doesn''t feel anything wrong but best to check after conditions like that."


    I chuckled, "Spend a little longer in the warm rather than rushing out into that again? Consider me convinced."


    It got a chuckle from the grizzled adventurer too, so I guess maybe the rain bothered him more than he let on.


    "Thanks, this''ll just take a moment."


    "No problem. While we''re here, I intended to ask, why aren''t more adventurers riding out the storm in the dungeon? Avoiding the weather and making some coin seems like a win-win?"


    "Some are. A few young ones had the same idea, even figured turning up to the dungeon soaked would help them deal with the heat." Kete said brushing mud off another hoof. "Unfortunately, it ain''t that simple. While dungeons are a separate realm from the world outside, big events near their entrance can mess with the dungeon. While we''ve got a storm out here, inside the dungeon is a sand storm."


    "Damn, that''s a problem."


    "It is and it isn''t. Sure, a sandstorm is rough, but consider, the best loot and path to the next floor lie within ruins hidden by the shifting sands."


    "You think more of them will be accessible?"


    "Might be." He said with a grin.


    "Seems like a lot of risk for a maybe?"


    "For adventurers, risk and reward go hand in hand. Gotta learn which ones are worth taking, but if you don''t take any you''ll never make it. Most groups are waiting for the storm to start to peter out before rushing in."


    "Smart, minimise risk while maximising reward."


    "Aye. But that means we''re stuck with a bunch of bored adventurers cooped up in the guild ready to rush off to violence at a moment''s notice. There''ll be plenty of jobs to keep the vets busy, but there''s not much we can do with the newbies until the storm lets up. Still, mark my words if this goes on till tomorrow the guildmaster will cook up something to blow off everyone''s steam. We''ve also gotta come down hard on anyone causin'' trouble, can''t have them settin'' everyone else off."


    "I''ll keep an eye out, though I''ve gotta admit I''ll be relying on the rest of you if something does happen."


    "That''s fine, that''s what we''re here for. If it comes to it the soldiers will - " His jovial face turned thunderous and he took off sprinting, calling over his shoulder. "Gotta go. Some jackass just kicked my dog."

 Chapter 20 – Ire of the storm

    Taken aback by Kete''s sudden departure and not eager to rush to... whatever was going to happen to the scum who earned his ire, I took my time putting the tools back in their proper places. The draught horse shuffled around, clearly less comfortable since Kete rushed off. I tried to offer some gentle reassurances and soothing pets, but I''m not sure it helped much. At least I didn''t get kicked in the ribs.


    The soldier in the stables made his way over as I decided it was about time to leave and the difference was plain to see. After offering some sort of treat from a pouch on his belt he began combing out the matted hair from the suddenly steady animal. The horse even gave a little snort as if to say ''this is how it''s supposed to be done''.


    I departed with a few pleasantries, which quickly became muffled curses as I made my way through the storm once more. I hadn''t felt like I''d dried out at all before I stepped outside, yet the driving rain soaked straight through my clothes, introducing me to new levels of drenched.


    Unfortunately, as I rushed towards the guild, buffeted by gusts like waves, I was stopped at the exit to the military section of the outpost. The guards wanted an answer to why Kete had rushed through. If their swearing was any indication, they didn''t much like my answer.


    Shouting to be heard over the wind the soldier in charge replied, "Alright, tell Kete not to make a habit of it. Also try not to let him kill the moron, however much he deserves it."


    I offered a quick bow, that between a gust of wind and my shivering was embarrassingly shaky. It might have been more polite not to bow at all. Then the world felt heavier. It was just for an instant, but I was almost driven to my knees. The air in my lungs like a steel weight. But as suddenly as it began, it ceased.


    The lead soldier swore, even as his companions were regaining their bearings, "Now someone''s gone and pissed off the guildmaster."


    Giving another hasty bow I set off before I got held up in the rain any longer. As unsettling as... whatever that was had been, I shouldn''t need to worry if it was caused by the guildmaster. None of the guards tried to stop me but overheard some fragments of concerned chatter between gusts of wind.


    "...if the Great Lady requires..."


    "...don¡¯t call her that here!"


    "...commander will increase the state of readiness..."


    The voices trailed off quickly, though whether that was because someone cut the chatter or simple distance I didn''t know. Nor did I care as I rushed towards the guild.


    Rounding a corner at pace, I had to swerve to avoid crashing into someone. My foot squelched into a deep puddle, and there was an icy rush as my clog filled with muddy water. The adventurer - if the mace at his side was any indication - was even worse off, stumbling to one knee. Yet it seemed he¡¯d already taken a tumble as he was covered in mud. He shot me a furious look as he quickly found his feet.


    "Watch where you''re going, bloody runt."


    Before I could decide how to respond he was already gone, heading away from the guild. I wasn''t sure what his problem was, seemed like he wasn''t having a great day, but I wasn''t about to chase him through the storm to correct his rudeness. Besides, I didn''t like my odds if things turned violent. Sure, Kete or the guildmaster might come save me, but I doubt they''d be too impressed.


    Soon the entrance to the guild was in sight. I¡¯d normally describe the large wooden doors as imposing or intimidating but in the overcast light of the storm they appeared incredibly inviting, a firm bastion against wind and rain. Turning the handle had the door wrenched from my grip by the wind, flinging it open with a bang! Before I could even process what happened, strong arms grabbed me and pulled me in, slamming the door behind me. In retrospect, those pulling the door were significantly more fervent, I was simply in the way. So, I found heat returning to my body as I was pulled into a crowd of oddly quiet adventurers.Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on.


    Rubbing my hands together and blowing into them as feeling began to return as pins and needles, I thanked them and apologised for the draft but they waved it off. Now that my wits were returning to me, I looked around the main hall and the atmosphere was almost morose. Everyone was standing around waiting for something to happen, yet no one wanted to draw attention. Even the group who pulled me in shuffled quietly away from me as all the eyes in the room turned back to their respective parties after my noisy entrance.


    Did Kete kill that guy? Or was this just a result of whatever the guildmaster did?


    Well, I wasn''t getting answers by standing around here. I forged my way towards Sarala, one for the few pairs of eyes that hadn''t left me. I winced as I left a dripping trail along the floor but there was already plenty pooling from others¡¯ excursions and it was designed for worse. Wordlessly she threw me a towel as I approached. Just the act of rubbing the dragon¡¯s share of the water off my face and beard made me feel like a new dwarf. Before I could ask anything, she gestured for me to follow her into the back and I noted the recipe scroll I''d left earlier cluched in one of her hands. I wouldn¡¯t dare handle it until I''d dried off.


    "So, what happened?" I asked without preamble as soon as we were out of sight, careful to keep my voice down. Most people here seemed to prefer directness, and while Sarala certainly valued manners and propriety, I was wagering she wouldn''t see my urgency as disrespect in this instance. "Kete ran off after mentioning something about Taffy being kicked and then I felt the guildmaster do something, but otherwise I''m in the dark."


    She nodded, "The guildmaster intervened before Kete could break the perpetrator''s legs. He was only a probationary member of the guild so she determined that a more fitting punishment would be to revoke his membership." She took a deep breath as if steeling herself for the next part, I knew it couldn''t be that simple. "Unfortunately, this all occurred in the main hall and there was some outcry at the judgement, many feeling it too harsh for what they regarded as a minor crime. This in turn prompted those who felt Kete was justified to begin arguing. The matter was likely to turn into a brawl before the guildmaster flexed her cultivation. As you might imagine, that silenced everyone. The guildmaster gave a short warning about how the guild was no place for casual cruelty and disrespect for guild staff or their bonded companions was disrespecting the guild."


    "And people haven''t quite recovered from the shock yet I take it?"


    "I''d give it a few more minutes and we''ll be back to the usual chatter. Most of them are new, so they haven''t felt something like that before."


    "It was certainly disconcerting. I can''t imagine trying to fight in that."


    "You get used to it. Class quality and having a combat class help, though there are a few other factors. It''s almost never directly utilised except against large groups of much weaker foes. Killing intent is somewhat similar and more commonly utilised, though I''m not sure if it has any direct connection. The guildmaster could tell you more, but I''d save that question for another day."


    ¡°Yeah, doesn¡¯t seem like the time. Today already feels like it¡¯s been simultaneously busy and unproductive. I keep trying to start on those qi pills and end up distracted by something.¡±


    She smiled, ¡°Some days do feel like that. Did you manage to get the horse shod before Kete ran off? Or do you have to venture into that downpour again?¡±


    I chuckled, ¡°We managed to just about get it finished thankfully. That really would have been awful. What happened to the guy who got his membership revoked? He up with the guildmaster? Also, pardon my ignorance, is it that big a deal? I expected more fuss from Kete tryin¡¯ to break the guy¡¯s legs than him being booted out.¡±


    There was a pause and I could see her choosing her words carefully. Internally I cursed my frankness. Yet, I was curious for Sarala¡¯s take on proceedings. Between her general experience and work on the front counter, Sarala seemed to have a knack for seeing not just how things actually were, but how they were perceived.


    ¡°Kete removed the individual in question from the building after his membership token was revoked. As to their foolish reaction, there are some factors you should consider. Tempers were high from waiting out the storm - not that it excuses such a shameful display. Kete was regarded as punishing someone who hurt his dog, while the guildmaster was rendering judgment between guildmates on guild grounds. The two are held to different standards. Finally, almost none of those adventurers have experienced a bond binding, and most those who have are bonded to their weapons or armour. No one who understands what that is like would view the guildmaster¡¯s judgement as anything other than merciful.¡± Her gaze was direct and intense, almost a challenge. ¡°But yes, revoking membership is a big deal. Give it some thought and I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll realise why¡±


    Murmuring started to pick up from the main hall.


    "Anyway, I had best return to my post." She raised the recipe, "Shall I return this to your workshop first? I believe Eimer saved you some lunch."

 Chapter 21 – Drying out

    Sitting in front of a crackling forge sipping hot tea, I sighed contentedly. The empty bowl and a smoked miracle shoot that until recently was filled with sticky rice, had done much to make me feel better after my excursion in the wind and rain. Where the fire heated my extremities, the meal seemed to pour down and wrap my core in pleasant warmth. Even my sinuses cleared, banishing any fear of a cold as a consequence of my excursion. I''d have to ask Bartan about the rice later. The miracle shoot seemed to have been wrapped in leaves with the rice inside, producing a thick, sticky consistency with a pleasant smoky flavour, perfect for a cold day. I wasn''t sure if the rice was treated beforehand or what he''d smoked it with, but it tasted great! I''d also be willing to bet he knew some great tips and tricks for drawing out the beneficial properties of his ingredients that I could apply to alchemy, and possibly more besides.


    The tavern had been packed and unpleasantly humid despite the fire raging in the hearth, so Eimer had graciously had Bartan''s wonderful creations delivered to my workshop as I cleaned up and dried out. I liked people, but just the thought of that crowd was physically exhausting. As I reached down to stroke Taffy who was lounging across my feet, I couldn''t help but feel this was just the perfect amount of interaction for right now.


    Kete had called in briefly - clearly still rather worked up - to drop Taffy off. He explained he needed to go back and do what he could for some of the other animals around the outpost, but didn''t want to leave Taffy alone or drag him through the rain. I was happy for the companionship, and adventurers would need a good reason to come to my workshop. Not that a few hadn''t already tried to make their way in to loiter around the crackling forge. When asked they cited weapons needing sharpened. I''d added them to the appropriate barrel and sent the adventurers packing.


    I wasn''t unsympathetic to the desire for heat, but I did actually need to get some work done. Normally I wouldn''t have lit the forge for such a minor task, even at a gentle burn but it was currently pulling double duty. I had various reagents clipped to lines running near the forge to dry out as I ate. They might turn out a little smoked, but for a pill that was preferable to damp.


    Taking the last sip of my tea, I noticed the alembic I set up earlier was just about finished boiling off the sap I''d added to it. Soothing Taffy with a few pats, I gently excavated my feet from beneath him and more closely examined the slowly bubbling residue. The sap came from a scrawny looking but incredibly resilient cactus. It was actually on a watch list for species that would be particularly bad if they were removed from the dungeon, as while it didn''t spread quickly, it could regrow from almost nothing.


    The sap had qi preserving properties and could be reduced to a gloopy, honey-like consistency, perfect to act as a binder for the pills. However, failing to reduce it sufficiently could have severe consequences. The clear distillate, despite appearing so innocuous, was primarily a mix of an irritant and a mild hallucinogen. Together they''d make a mediocre poison, if only because the hallucinogen was so fast acting once it reached the blood stream. If I could separate them... Well, then they''d have other applications.


    The treacly liquid slowly bubbling above the flame appeared just as the recipe described, but I wished I could be sure. Then I realised, maybe I could. Focusing on the residue I tried to activate my appraisal skill. I got the sense that only very faint traces of the unwanted substances remained, but also that the mixture was starting to crystalise and burn, despite the low heat.


    I pressed my finger to the rim of the brazier beneath and extinguished the magical flame with a thought. The coal within was notably smaller now, I''d have to replace it for the next project unless it was brief or called for a very weak flame.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    I stoppered the flask of distillate and was careful to clearly mark it with a wooden tag - it wouldn''t do to accidentally poison someone. With my thick leather gloves on I gave the flask with the gloopy residue a quick swirl. I was hoping the movement would stop any crystallisation and help disperse the heat more evenly, but it proved too viscous for that to be very effective. For now, I returned it to its place above the heating element, while I shifted focus to processing the other ingredients.


    I began collecting the various materials from around the forge. Clipped to a line to dry were various leaves and even pieces of jerky, there was also a bowl of miracle shoot seeds. Most of these items had been dried previously, but any moisture trapped within would reduce the longevity of the pill. Interestingly enough, it could also increase effectiveness very slightly. Did water contain qi? A question for another time. Regardless, it seemed prudent to ensure the items were fully dried out prior to creating the potion, particularly on such a wet day. Plus, it gave me an excuse to light the forge. I''d have felt wasteful using it just to dry out, even if no one else would bat an eye. However, my drenched state upon returning to the guild proved ample motivation to find an additional reason to justify it.


    I placed the gathered ingredients in a large mortar and pestle, opting for the round mortar rather than the long one with the rolling pestle like those used for tea. The recipe called for quite a variety of different ingredients, but wasn''t too particular about their relative ratios. I''d like to investigate that more in future, but for now I was more concerned that it was very particular that they all be reduced to a very fine powder. Given the disparate mixture, I thought a hand pestle would give me more control.


    It started easily enough. The miracle shoot seeds cracked beneath the pestle as I put my weight behind it. The jerky didn''t powder easily, but would tear and flake as it was ground against the bottom of the mortar. The leaves almost instantly disintegrated, apart from one that seemed to float around the mortar half intact for the longest time. Each attempt at grinding it only shifted its position, until at last, it succumbed. At that point everything had been reduced to a powder, but was it a fine powder? I didn''t think so. I ground and ground until my arm started to ache and I couldn''t distinguish the flakes of powder from one another. I probably hadn''t been working that long, but the process was more physically demanding than I expected. I could hammer away for hours, but I was used to hammering. I got the feeling I was less used to this. Maybe I should have used the rolling mortar after all?


    I poured most of the powder on the workbench, keeping some in reserve as the recipe suggested. I couldn''t help but note it would have been much easier to pour the powder in a neat pile from a long pestle. I''d know for next time. Next, I moved the sticky sap residue, still slightly warm, and drizzled it over the pile. The viscous liquid poured frustratingly slowly, but eventually I''d added as much as I thought I could coax from the flask. Then with my bare hands I began mixing the two. The heat of the liquid may have caused issues for some, but the combination of my dwarven heritage and time spent at the forge meant it would have to be much closer to molten to trouble my thick digits. Instead, the process of incorporating the thick liquid throughout the powder felt almost like making dough. Which I presumed I must have done before as I certainly hadn''t done it since regaining my memories. I guess that was one more thing to talk to Bartan about once things calmed down. Maybe repeating the experience could unlock some more memories?


    I was trying to bring the whole mixture together into a ball, but it still felt a bit wet. Scraps of mixture were sticking to my hands. I smiled, seemed like I needed all the powder after all. Adding the little bit of powder I''d kept in reserve from the mortar did the trick, and I brought the mix to a slightly elastic ball. From there I rolled it into a thin cylinder. On my first attempt the thickness varied horribly, so I brought it back into a ball and tried again. The next attempt went better, forming a long thin, even cylinder. Taking a knife, I cut the cylinder into small, uniform sections, then rolled each section into a single small pill.


    I looked at the few dozen pills in front of me with a sense of satisfaction. All that remained was to leave them to bake in front of the forge to form a stiffer outer shell. Yet, as I turned to do so, there were half a dozen adventurers in my workshop! When did they get here?!

 Chapter 22 – Setting boundaries

    I turned to leave the freshly-made pills to bake in front of the forge, and almost dropped them as I saw half a dozen adventurers! When did they get there?!


    "Whoa! What can I help you all with?" I asked, setting the tray of pills down carefully. Narrowly avoiding dropping them once was more than enough.


    As for the adventurers, they were clustered in a group of three, a pair and an individual who was engrossed peering at the equipment around the edge of the room. Taffy was keeping a firm eye on them all with ears pinned back.


    The youngest, and by far the least experienced looking of the group of three, waved a hand dismissively from within the folds of his long-sleeved robes, "Worry not, we are simply here to avail of the heat. There is plenty of room so feel free to carry about your business and pay us no mind."


    I glanced around at the valuable equipment scattered around, the vial of poison not yet put away after processing the sap and most importantly Taffy''s disturbed state.


    "I''m afraid if you have no business here you need to leave. That goes for all ¨C DON''T TOUCH THAT!"


    I wasn''t sure if my shout or Taffy''s low growl did the trick, but the individual jerked back before he touched the current prototype for Ha-Na''s armour, currently held in place only by pins.


    "You, out, now!" I pointed from him to the exit.


    "But, but, I-"


    "Now."


    Something in my countenance must have convinced him as he trailed forlornly out. Which was just as well as the young adventurer who first spoke was practically spluttering with rage.


    "Well, I never, such rudeness. Do you even know who I am? You should leave and count yourself fortunate I''m in a forgiving mood." The petulant folding of his arms did nothing to make me take him seriously, though I did note his robe was a fine weave and - given the prickle of my appraisal - possibly enchanted.


    His teammates, whose equipment was well cared for but showed the telltale scuffs of actual use, seemed to have a better idea how this encounter was about to go. The scarred woman stepping forward and softly suggesting, "Young Master, perhaps on this occasion a more benevolent approach may be prudent. This workshop is where he makes his livelihood, and he is in the guildmaster''s employ." She looked to me, her gentle measured tone taking on a probing quality, "I''m sure in the spirit of harmony among the clans, there would be room in such a large space for all of us?"


    Before I could really consider the potential politics of it all, the Young Master declared,


    "He should have thought of that before he attempted to evict us, and on such an unpleasant day no less. A servant of the guildmaster should understand the order of things, lest he bring shame upon her. I will not seek punishment for his disrespect, so his actions will neither tarnish guildmaster or guild on this occasion, but I shall not further tolerate his presence."


    It had been a long day, and I was pretty well done with dealing with people at this point.


    "The order of things is this, you''re in my workshop and you need to leave. I won''t ask again." I turned to the other pair as he attempted to process my latest outrage. "Now, you two, what business have you here?"


    The man of the pair, who was bare-chested and apparently oiled, took the lead, "We''ll keep out of your way and stay quiet." He was stroking the stubble on his chiselled jaw as he spoke and flexing his chest. "I know you might not normally let people stay in here, but surely you could make an exception for us? Just until the weather clears?"


    Did he just bat his eyelashes at me?


    "No. Please leave."


    His companion rushed forward, hastily searching through her bag. "Wait, wait, we need your help with - "


    "You had your chance. Come back tomorrow if you have work you actually need."


    That seemed to be enough for the pair to cut their losses. I did overhear some muttered discussion as they left over whether the man having a ''proper beard'' would have made a difference, but the uppity young adventurer had resumed his diatribe and I decided it was time to stop ignoring him.


    "-and when the guildmaster hears of this disrespect she''ll have your job."


    I sighed. "Enough!" There was a blessed moment of silence. "Am I to take it then that you will not peacefully remove yourselves from my workshop?"


    The two bodyguards ¨C for at that point I''d realised it surely must be what they were ¨C glanced at each other and grimaced, but stood resolute by their Young Master. The Young Master himself inhaled to begin berating me once more, when the sound of pounding feet reached our ears. A soldier burst in. I''d been expecting Kete given Taffy''s agitation, but this worked too I supposed.


    "Vaul, your presence is urgently requested by the dungeon entrance."


    Today just kept throwing me surprises.


    "Soldier, arrest this man! He has disrespected me and in so doing has disrespected the Tian branch of the Duan Clan."


    Everyone stared at the Young Master before our gazes moved back to the soldier, who clearly hadn''t been expecting this complication. I could see him thinking quickly before settling on a time-honoured solution.


    Offering a quick salute, slamming fist over heart, towards the Young Master, "Honoured member of the Duan clan, my orders currently require me to bring this man before my superior, who also hails from your clan. Might I request that you accompany us so he may ensure honour is satisfied?"


    "Gladly. It''s good to see the disciple of the Empire''s forces is resolute even on its fringes."


    I saw the soldier hide a grimace. I knew the fort nearby protected the Empire from the wilds beyond where monsters roamed. I could only imagine the guard here was more hardened than those who lived a comfortable life in the heart of the Empire. The Young Master just wouldn''t shut up, but I tuned him out again as I quickly banked the forge. The pills would just have to bake in the lesser heat, I wasn''t about to risk burning down my workshop. With cooler coals smothering the flame and a ladleful of water distributed round the edge, I turned to Taffy.This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    "Want to come with or stay here?"


    A short bark as he jumped to my side was enough of an answer.


    One of the bodyguards slapped a hand over the young master''s mouth, holding it in a vice-like grip. I hadn''t been listening to the Young Master''s ranting but that caught my attention. As did the bodyguard''s explanation.


    "Sorry my Lord, but your father''s orders were to keep you alive. I believe that hound is the bonded companion of a particularly dangerous individual. Should he feel it slighted, I''m ashamed to admit we could do nothing to prevent your death."


    "Let''s go. And yeah, today''s not a good day to piss Kete off."


    I didn''t wait for their reply, setting off with the solider at a brisk trot. Taffy loped along beside us, easily able to keep up. Tail wagging.


    Windbreaks had been placed around the covered area where items were evaluated and the emperor''s tax collected. There was a constant creaking as gusts howled back and forth, carrying the torrential rain through the gaps between them. Both soldiers and the large group of sandblasted adventurers were having to project just to be heard. I spied the blackened breastplate and long-sleeved robes of the quartermaster leading discussions long before I could make out his words. His frustrated look relaxed as he spotted us.


    "Vaul, thank you for coming. Your insight would be appreciated on a few items."


    "Happy to help if I can. What am I looking at?"


    The large tables bore an array of corpses, samples and artifacts. That they weren''t blowing away was evidence that the windbreaks were doing their job, though plenty of people were keeping a nervous eye, or (more prudently in my opinion) restraining hand to the items just in case. A huge sandy crate on the adventurers'' side roused the interest of my appraisal skill and was filled near to the brim with other loot. While there was a much smaller sled beside it, I was tantalised with the mystery of how, even such a large group, had retrieved such a haul. Yet, I was also undeniably curious about the new materials. Unfortunately, distraction arrived.


    "Sir!" The soldier beside me saluted with hand over heart and near bellowed to be heard over the wind. "When I was requesting craftsman Vaul''s presence, an individual claiming to be from House Tian cited the craftsman had caused insult and should be detained. I requested they bring the matter here to verify the claim and-"


    "Verify the claim! You would doubt my word?!" The Young Master gasped incredulously from behind me. "Uncle this-"


    "Enough!" The Quartermaster''s brows tightened, appearing distinctly unamused. "Yes nephew, a good soldier does not believe every claim without verification and passes matters to their superior where appropriate."


    I couldn''t help but feel he was tactfully leaving out that it sucked being the superior receiving those issues when he had so much to do already, but that was perhaps more telling of my mood than his. Regardless, the guy looked tired. I noted the adventurers were edging away from the conflict and despite their own fatigue, seemed curious to see how this played out. One of them even started nibbling from a small bag of nuts.


    "Very well then Uncle. I demand that-"


    The quartermaster cut him off, "Before you risk bringing further shame to our family name, think very carefully about what you would demand of me."


    A fierce howl of wind cut off any further remark, though the nut toting adventurer took the opportunity to nudge his neighbours and proffer the bag.


    "Now then, Tian Huang, do you believe you suffered sufficient insult to invoke family and clan and seek remedy through the might of the imperial military for the stability of the Empire?" The quatermaster''s face was stony as he intoned the words with all the gravitas of law and tradition.


    "I do."


    He sounded, less petulant, less whiney, more official - but he still said it. Though the quartermaster''s expression didn''t change, I could feel the weight of resignation sink into it with those two simple words.


    "Very well then, state your complaint."


    "This dwarf refused to acknowledge my status, and though I permitted him to continue with his work in my presence, had the audacity to order me to vacate a well-heated room in this weather."


    The irony of making this complaint to soldiers who had likely been working outside all day, albeit under cover, was apparently lost on him. While the quartermaster''s expression remained steady, I could see in his eyes each word landed like a blow. When he spoke, it was with controlled calm.


    "This well-heated room. It wouldn''t have happened to be his workshop, within the guild, perchance?"


    "Yes, I believe it was. I did not wish to affect his attempts to be industrious to the guild, hence why I initially permitted him to continue his work."


    "You may not have been aware, but not all areas of the guild are freely accessible, even to members." The quartermaster attempted to throw his nephew a lifeline.


    Of course he didn''t take it.


    "Yes, Yes, but surely to a member of the clans, in extreme circumstances such as this storm, exceptions must be made."


    "Were you deathly ill of chill when you entered?" The mixture of hope and extreme doubt from his professional facade was rough to listen to.


    "No, but the other rooms were quite overcrowded. Unfitting with one with a status such as-"


    "Nephew!" Waves of rage were figuratively pouring off the quartermaster now, but his stony face remained resolute.


    "Wait, wait!" Panic, as finally it was sinking in that he may have messed up. "He threatened violence against me! Your soldier arrived just afterwards."


    The rage shifted focus to me, "Is this true?"


    Despite my heart rate increasing, fear and threat mixing with impatience and anger that made something in my blood sing for gory satisfaction, I kept my words measured and steady.


    "I believe, he is referring to when I asked, after they refused to leave the third time, if I should assume they had no intention of leaving of their own volition."


    "He said peacefully rather than own volition," one of the bodyguards offered.


    I shrugged, keeping careful rein on the emotions swirling inside, "Same intent. It seemed clear at that point the only way to get them to leave would be to have them removed."


    "See he threatened-"


    "I''m a damn craftsman!" I snapped. My patience with the idiot was done. "Do you really think I was itching to pick a fight with a group of combatants? No. I was going to ask one of my colleagues to drag you out of there, or maybe just post a quest. There are certainly more than enough adventurers hanging around itching for somethin'' to do. Now all due respect, I am tired of bein'' berated and treated like I need te beg fer permission te use me own workshop! If I see you in there again consider yer guild membership revoked." I was puffing with rage by the end, not thinking through what I was saying. But given Bartan''s arrangement and the guildmaster''s words at the last meeting I don''t think I overstepped.


    "You don''t have the authority to-"


    The bodyguard''s hand slammed over the Young Master''s mouth.


    "Actually, I''m fairly sure he does, though that would be an internal guild matter." The quartermaster commented, before dropping into a deep bow that earned gasps from our audience. "I am deeply sorry for the inconvenience a member of my family has caused you Master Vaul and for the slander of your good name." There were also some sharp intakes of breath at the term master, though I was slightly distracted by the garbled mumbling coming from the young master.


    The heartfelt apology, even if it hadn''t been from the person who should really be giving it, cut much of the wind from the sails of my anger. I just didn''t want to be bothered by that idiot or his bodyguards again, and it looked like I was getting my wish.


    "You have no need to apologise, I appreciate you carrying out your duty with diligence and impartiality."


    "Thank you for your kind words Vaul." He rose from his bow and turned to his nephew''s bodyguard. "You couldn''t have done that earlier?"


    She looked distinctly uncomfortable, "My apologies, I was unaware of Master Vaul''s status and position within the guild."


    I reached down and stroked Taffy who remained loyally by my side, giving the idiot the stink eye. "Actually, she did." No reason a loyal bodyguard should suffer because of a bad boss, "I''m not sure quite what he was going to say, but given the context I can roughly guess the subject." I gave a significant glance towards Taffy and when I looked back up the quartermaster was pale, his composure finally broken.


    "Tell me you weren''t... No! Don''t say anything, to anyone. You''ve done enough damage this day..."


    As the quartermaster''s focus turned fully to his nephew, I decided it was time to move on and distract the peanut gallery.


    "I believe you all had some items for me to evaluate?"

 Chapter 23 – Risk & Reward

    A particularly rugged looking gent, whose gloved hands made even my thick dwarven digits look dainty, stepped forward for the adventurers.


    "Hi, I''m Srijan, an associate member with skills for finding loot. Been helping out this lot for a few months now." He jerked a thumb back at the others in a teasingly longsuffering fashion earning a few light-hearted jeers in return. "Between the Quartermaster and I we''re fairly sure the stuff left on the table is valuable, but we''re not exactly sure what for. While I''ve got some idea what parts are most worth harvesting, given the rarity of some of the creatures and having porters with a dimensional box, we mostly just tried to grab as much as we could and sort it out here."


    I nodded, "Yeah, I can see how tryin'' to carve stuff up in a sandstorm might not be ideal. I''ll take a gander and try to work out what some of this might be suited for."


    "Great, then we can sort the taxes, get packed up, and hit the tavern," his eager grin was matched by many of his companions. "I''ll start you off with the one we were having most trouble with. This snake was damn near invisible in the sand, and as you can see, we had to pretty much impale the thing to stop it. Not that we could hit it with much, it was a slippery little bugger."


    The snake itself was small as monsters go, only about as long as my wrist to elbow with a gaping wound near the centre that looked surprisingly clean of blood. The mouth was closed but given its size, it seemed a good bet the thing was venomous rather than a constrictor, though of course magic, qi, and the like, presented other options. The mottled terracotta of its scales suggested its camouflage was at least partially mundane, and combined with its small size and a sandstorm I certainly wouldn''t want to be trying to spot it in time.


    Taking a breath, I stepped nearer and focused my appraisal skill upon it. Only to be surprised as I felt resistance. I''d felt something like this once before, but that was because the scarab-


    "It''s still alive!" I shouted jumping back.


    Everyone around me was reacting quickly, drawing weapons, but snakes were practically designed for sudden strikes, and given how little I knew about dungeons, perhaps literally so in this case. The snake''s eyes flashed open, a brilliant gold and it lunged off the table towards me, fangs wide. In sheer panic as the world seemed to slow down, I inanely noted that the fangs were indeed impressive for its size. The points dewy and rapidly approaching. None of the adventurers or soldiers reacted in time, but Taffy, moving like a blur, batted it out of the air.


    The deep growl that rumbled from Taffy''s throat as the snake smacked and tumbled against the ground, felt like it belonged to a much, much larger creature and about half of those present took an instinctive step back. The other half practically minced the snake with axes, spears, bolts of fire and ice and practically any other weapon or offensive skill that could reach.


    I bent and gave Taffy some soothing pets, though how much of it was for him and how much was to steady my own pounding heart I wasn''t sure. "Thanks buddy, I''da been in a real mess without you." He just nuzzled against me in response, keeping one eye out for further danger.


    "Is it dead?" someone asked.


    "Damn well better be after that." Another replied.


    I had to admire the caution; the thing was practically a bloody smear and everyone still stood tense with weapons ready. Steadying myself with Taffy''s reassuring presence, I focused my skill once more. There was no resistance this time which confirmed it, and little response in general, though given how little remained I wasn''t surprised.


    "Yeah, you got it, thanks. From what little I could tell the thing was qi and stamina based, which is probably how it held on so long and could still attack. Not going to be able to do much with it now."


    "Damn, I get its focused on both vital and physical attributes, but to survive with a hole in it for that long? It must have been real potent." one of the adventurers commented.


    "Aye," Srijat cut in, "that would explain its value. Unfortunately, we''re going to need a way to kill the damn things without totally destroying them first." He turned to me, " Are you sure it''s just the fundamental elements? Venom breath can get nasty." The last was said with a shiver from the weathered adventurer.


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    "Not this time, but beware of variants." The guildmaster said with utter confidence causing most of us to jump having not noticed her arrival and still being on edge.


    One adventurer nearly threw a dagger before stopping himself at the last moment and turning pale as a sheet, though the guildmaster was unphased. Only after passing her scrutinising golden gaze over the table as well as the assembled soldiers and adventurers she finally broke the tense silence that followed her announcement.


    "Nothing else is alive, but I expect greater care in future from all parties. I should not need to remind you, but anyone who allows a dungeon species to take root within the Kaltaran Empire shall surely die, such is the emperor''s will."


    There was an uncomfortable weight to the statement spoken as simple truth. No one responded, I doubt anyone dared. The storm raging outside the sheltered area, an annoyance in proceedings up till now, suddenly felt ominous. The quartermaster had returned somewhere in the kerfuffle and the guildmasters gaze lingered on him a moment longer, some silent conversation playing out between them.


    "Still, you all reacted admirably once the danger was revealed. Good job on that Vaul." She bent down beside me and in a sudden relaxation of her official manner gave Taffy a good pet as she added, "And of course Taffy, you were brilliant as usual. Quite the growl you had going there, need something for your throat?"


    Taffy shook his head and gave an enthusiastic bark before relaxing into the scritches. With that, the spell seemed to be broken, and murmuring broke out. The guildmaster soon departed, presumably returning to whatever work she had been doing before her sudden appearance.


    Catching Srijan''s eye I said, "I suppose I should probably take a look at the rest of the stuff, if you don''t mind walking me through it?"


    ***


    The rest of the items while valuable, proceeded smoothly. Most notable for me were the corpses of some desert tigresses, or more specifically their pelts. While the skin was unusually dark, their short hairs were specially designed to trap grains of sand between them to help the tigresses blend into their environment. Better yet, the pelt was surprisingly difficult to cut for its weight, and the creatures seemingly had little difficulty regulating their temperature in the hot environment. I had high hopes that once properly treated, they might be the perfect leather for Ha-Na''s armour.


    Of course, all that would mean nothing if the adventurers were unwilling to sell, though I could try posting a hunting job for the creatures I supposed. Thankfully as soon as I expressed an interest, they were quite eager. Partially, because it was such a big group with so many auxiliary members both regular and specially brought on for this delve, so money was just easier to split than loot. However, they were also eager to thank me/apologise for what happened with the snake. That, I had more mixed feelings about. It wasn''t like they had intentionally endangered me, and I doubted the snake would have gotten too much further regardless of its skills. However, it would mostly benefit Ha-Na rather than me anyway, and it was easier just to roll with it.


    It also helped that there was so much loot to go around. Even the small percentage I helped evaluate (though it was on the more valuable end of the loot they collected) was worth almost as much as many parties brought back from a regular delve. Clearly the combination of unusual conditions within the dungeon and talented auxiliaries with the right equipment was highly lucrative. Though of course the party had to be plenty skilled themselves to not just end up dead, given how much of their loot had been trying to kill them. They''d taken a risk, and for this group, the gamble had paid off handsomely.


    However, not everyone was so fortunate. As I was about to leave, another party stumbled from the dungeon, battered and bloody. The conscious members'' speech was slurring and disjointed to the point of being near incoherent as they mumbled something about flying, flaming, sentient stones. The guildmaster swiftly reappeared, stabilising them with a burst of golden light before rushing them to Argat.


    Finding out if those stone monsters were still present in the dungeon once the storms calmed would be a priority. Hopefully once the other party recovered, we¡¯d get a less garbled account. A few members of the successful team wanted to go back in immediately and hunt the creatures, but their leader was firm that they need rest and their cook was quick to add that they¡¯d feel the difference once the buff he gave them for the last push out of the dungeon fell off. Sure enough, as I looked around the group, while they all looked as if, well, they''d fought through a sandstorm, a few of the members were visibly flagging, almost falling asleep on their feet.


    It got me thinking, I''d gotten so used to the benefits of Bartan''s food, even in such a short time, I had to wonder what it would be like to try and live without it having experienced it. Then I decided I''d much rather think about all the delicious things he might make with the many potential ingredients the party brought back from the dungeon. Mm-hmm, leopard would be tough, so maybe he''d slow roast or broil it with some kind of spice blend...

 Chapter 24 – Crowded Tavern

    The next morning the tavern was merely bustling rather than full to bursting. Chattering patrons drowning out the pounding rain, though the humidity was a constant reminder of its presence. I still didn''t feel fully awake just yet, having had to practically drag myself out of bed that morning, and the whole place felt just a little too energetic.


    To my surprise, Eimer sat down to join me. Placing steaming bowls of some sort of rice porridge in front of us. It wasn''t the most enticing looking food, but I''d learned to trust Bartan''s abilities. Sure enough, the first spoonful was warm and hearty, chasing away the morning chill and filling me with energy. Eimer was digging into her own bowl with a satisfied grin, as her children scurried around serving the customers. I spotted with pride the recently repaired stool returned to operation, though its companions were sparser than I recalled.


    "Need some more stools repaired?"


    Eimer grimaced, "That''s very thoughtful Vaul, but I''m afraid those damaged in the dust up last night are only fit for kindling. I''ve put in a request for more, and with the wind dying down, the wagon will be back on the trail as soon as the scouting group confirms its clear."


    "There was a fight here last night? Are you OK? What about Bartan and the kids?"


    "Oh, they''re all fine." She brushed off my concern though her tone was back to its usual warmth. "The place was packed, and a couple of adventuring parties had a disagreement after a few drinks. It was late enough the kids were already done for the day. Bartan and I were never in any danger, I just wish they''d taken the fight outside. They took out a few stools and six tankards before the guildmaster broke things up, but they''ll be paying that back before they see a single imperial through the guild."


    "You seem surprisingly relaxed about the whole thing."


    She shrugged, "I sell alcohol to adventurers Vaul, things get broken. They weren''t actively threatening me or mine, and I knew the guildmaster would intervene if things went too far. And now they do too. The kids are covering the morning rush to give me a break, by lunch I''ll be ready to get back to it. Sarala''s got the tough job, trying to mediate between the parties. Gotta make sure any lingering resentment doesn''t cause a problem for the guild in future."


    I winced, "That does sound rough."


    "Normally the guild will let parties sort things out between themselves, but a brawl on guild premises forces the issue. It should work itself out this time though, neither party are bad sorts, just burnt out. Speaking of, when''s the last time you blew off some steam Vaul?"


    "Uhhh, well I don''t really remember..."


    "Let me guess, since you lost your memories you''ve been doing nothing but work."


    "Well, uh... yeah. But I like my work! It''s fun figuring things out and makin'' things people need."


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    "Maybe you need to take an afternoon and just do something for you, eh. Go fishing, or whittle, you used to that a lot."


    "I''ll think about it, but I honestly do enjoy my work."


    "And that''s great; but there''s got to be more to life than work." The sound of chatter heralded another large party sloshing through the door, large muddy puddles lining their wake, "Though speaking of work, it looks like the kids could use a hand. And it seems like someone else wants a word with ya."


    I was starting to suspect Eimer must have some sort of skill for knowing the goings on in her tavern, or perhaps the inn part of the guild as a whole, as she never looked around as she spoke. Scooping up our empty bowls as she departed, I gave her a nod of thanks. Glancing around I spotted the guildmaster gliding towards me.


    "I hope the morning finds you well Vaul?" Her soft voice seemed so in contrast to her muscular physique as she smoothly slipped into the seat Eimer just vacated.


    "Yeah, I got a nice chat with Eimer, Bartan''s cooking, and I''m out of the rain. What''s not to like?"


    She smiled.


    "I heard last night was eventful?"


    She bobbled her head minutely in the closest thing her refined etiquette permitted to a sigh, "Indeed. It was quickly dealt with, but the storm keeping everyone indoors inevitably lead to conflict. Simply too many people in too small a space. The sooner more of the outpost is built, the better. However, we must work with what we have, and a little rain won''t keep adventurers inside for long."


    Glancing at how utterly drenched the latest batch to slosh into the tavern were and the pounding that was just audible over the din of conversation, I thought calling it "a little rain" was a touch disingenuous, but she had a point. She was also my boss and could probably beat the entire room in a fight, so I wasn''t inclined to argue the point.


    Projecting her voice with the obvious intent to be overheard, she continued, "Though I am surprised now that the wind has lessened, how many supposedly enthusiastic new adventurers remain inside. I''d have expected them to venture into town. It no doubt has plenty of quests following the storm."


    I decided to play along as adventurers began to shift in their seats, "Did I hear you had a group out scouting the route?"


    "Indeed, they just returned having cleared the trees blocking it."


    Like a flag was dropped, a few groups of adventurers scattered a handful of imperials on their tables and dashed towards the door.


    I leaned in and asked more quietly, "What about parties entering the dungeon?"


    "The risk is still rather high for new groups, but there''s a steady flow entering. I expect that''s about to increase sharply."


    Before I could ask why, Kete burst through the saloon style doors declaring, "I need associate and below level adventurers. Who''s free?"


    Immediately hands shot into the air and people were clamouring to offer their services, but I also noticed a few of the more experienced adventurers huddle deeper into their seats as if trying not to be seen.


    Kete gave a feral grin, "Right, all of ya! Join me in the training field for some poor weather drills!"


    The once eager volunteers let out a collective groan as he began ushering them out, meanwhile a few of their companions chuckled.


    "Well, that''s one way to handle the crowd." I whispered discretely to the guildmaster, though given some of the amused smirks from the handful of patrons remaining, perhaps not discretely enough. Ha-Na''s words about listening skills came to mind and it was mostly the higher rated adventurers that remained. Though a few of those who had attempted to hide from Kete were already slinking out even before the guildmaster replied more loudly,


    "Yes, I thought it quite effective. I''m sure Kete would appreciate a few experienced assistants with a group that large. Eimer do let me know if you think of any good candidates. I''ll be up in my office. Kete, would you mind joining me?"


    With a nod of ascent, I stood and stretched, feeling my back loosen up as the last vestiges of grogginess faded. I was kickstarted and ready to face the day.

 Chapter 25 – The Office of Guildmaster

    Even when you get along well with your boss, there''s always something nerve-racking about being asked unexpectedly to step into their office. The energy that filled me and hearty breakfast that supplied it shifted to butterflies in my stomach as I stepped through the door. Only the guildmaster''s presence ahead of me stopped me from hesitating at the threshold, but her bearing gave nothing away as to what this meeting could be about. I didn''t think I''d done anything wrong, but perhaps I''d overstepped with that adventurer from the clans yesterday. I was beginning to overthink things; I''d find out soon enough.


    For someone with such a striking appearance, supplemented by fine robes and rings that made my appraisal skill practically salivate, the guildmaster''s office was quite spartan. Each of the individual elements were clearly crafted with love and attention to detail from the matching set of heavy, lacquered wooden desk, cabinet and chairs, to the plush settees that we settled into now. I could only hope that indicated a casual chat. Yet, nothing adorned the walls. The neutral tone of a tatami mat helped delineate the area with the settees as separate from the desk and consequently less formal, but most eyes would miss its intricate weave. The room felt open and airy, and were the large window not currently being pelted with rain from dark, cloudy skies, it would likely seem much more so. However, it also felt somewhat empty. Impersonal. Like it had been furnished, but the occupant had yet to arrive.


    The guildmaster adjusted one of her rings and it pulsed, the walls, ceiling and floor subtly resonating with it in a way my skills could barely catch. I hadn''t even noticed they had some kind of enchantment, or whatever that was.


    Catching my gaze she explained, "Now we can speak freely. Would you mind if we eschewed formalities for this discussion?"


    "I mean, you''re the boss... But that works for me."


    "Thank you." She smiled and I could see her visibly relax like a weight had been removed from her broad shoulders. I hadn''t noticed her tension before, but its absence was palpable. "One of the things I miss most from my adventuring days, it''s not often with my positions in the guild and clan that I can relax with the formalities. It''s so stuffy."


    "I''m sure most of the other staff wouldn''t mind either."


    "With most its less a matter of whether they would mind, though it does make Sarala uncomfortable so I try to avoid it with her, and more a question of the security of the setting. While I have tools to help prevent eavesdropping, nothing is absolute, and it would be rather poor recompense to those who have supported me to cause loss of face to guild or clan. Also, much as I hate to admit it, the guild members being intimidated by me cuts down on their more stupid antics, and I''d rather not have to achieve that by regularly flexing my cultivation or crushing some uppity idiots."


    "I get that. Wouldn''t be a great look and could put off new members, not that that seems to be an issue at present. This, ''flexing your cultivation'', seems like a useful tool to prevent violence."


    She bobbed her head, "It has its uses, but it affects everyone nearby and most will feel it more strongly than you did given your class quality."


    "Sarala had mentioned something about killer intent, I take it that has the same problem?"


    She brought a fist to her mouth and I got the feeling it was only because of a lifetime of etiquette training that she didn''t snort, "That would have been overkill. Given how green the guy was, he would have soiled himself and fainted. If he had a weak heart, it might have even killed him outright. Besides, the mob needed the reminder that just because they can hunt some scorpions in the dungeon, doesn''t mean they can act with impunity. There''s always someone more powerful, more experienced or more connected."


    "Or all three."


    She conceded that with a shrug and a slight upturn at the corners of her mouth. "But I didn''t call you here to talk about myself." Her expression turned serious, "Firstly, I wanted to apologise for the level of danger you were put in yesterday. While I doubt there was true risk of death, you could have suffered painful injury, and for that I am sorry."


    "It''s fine! It wasn''t your fault! Please don''t bow your head!"


    "As guildmaster it was my responsibility, but I can see this is making you uncomfortable which was not my intent."


    "These things happen. I had Taffy with me anyway, and apparently he''s even more talented than he appears."


    "Yes indeed. Bond can provide a variety of benefits, and for all the rumours of Kete''s exploits, many still greatly underestimate what he and his companions can achieve when truly pushed. Taffy may be getting on in years, but he adventured with Kete the longest of his surviving companions."


    ¡°He¡¯s certainly a good boy,¡± I offered as I tried not to consider what may have befallen some of Kete¡¯s former companions. It was hard to imagine a fresh-faced, naive version of my grizzled friend. I knew his blunt gruff came from the best of intentions, but it was sobering to consider what it meant for him to learnt ''the hard way'' the lessons he imparted freely to new adventurers. ¡°I hadn¡¯t thought of Taffy as much of a fighter by nature though.¡±


    ¡°I believe his personality mellowed over the years, and his role was often tracking and foraging. There¡¯s plenty of ways to be an effective part of an adventuring team, and not all of them are focused on combat - though it certainly helps to be able to pack a punch in a pinch. Kete and his companions brought plenty of muscle to any party, but the utility of Taffy¡¯s sense of smell, Bonji¡¯s aerial reconnaissance and low light vision, and Kete¡¯s affinity with creatures are a potent combination. You should ask him about their adventuring days sometime. He usually understates his own contributions, but you''ll get the gist.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll have to do that. Out of curiosity, what was Xia¡¯s specialism?¡±


    It might have been my imagination, but I thought she paused for an instant. Choosing her next words with her usual care, rather than how freely she was speaking previously.


    ¡°Xia and Kete bonded at the end of Kete¡¯s years actively adventuring. The guild was happy to gain a staff member with his talents, and we interacted quite bit when I was first starting out. So, when I got tapped to be guildmaster, I was determined to bring him with me.¡±


    ¡°Did you know Sarala, Eimer and Bartan from your adventuring days too?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯d met, or in Bartan¡¯s case I remembered his food, but I must admit, for the rest of the full-time staff I mostly have my brother to thank for locating them. It¡¯s not always straightforward to identify where the problems are if an organisation is running badly, but if things are running well, it''s much harder still to identify who is contributing most to the smooth operation. Thankfully, my brother has a knack for finding competent people. Eimer and Bartan I might have recruited on my own eventually, but Sarala''s talents are more subtle, though no less potent. I''ve lost count of how many times she''s solved problems before they start or had unexpected experience with something.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m guessing the branch she was in previously is feeling the difference since she left.¡±


    She chuckled, ¡°Yes, last I heard they¡¯ve had to hire two people to replace her, but Sarala also helped train the staff she worked with, so they''re managing.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, she¡¯s pretty great at giving me some guidance when I come to her with problems. I hate to imagine where I¡¯d be with alchemy without her input.¡±


    ¡°She''d make a good tutor, though I hope she''s not seeking to change profession anytime soon. Of course, you were the biggest surprise of all Vaul.¡±


    ¡°Wait, me?!¡±


    ¡°The others I¡¯d at least met previously. With you on the other hand, my brother returns from discussing trade agreements in the dwarven holds less than a year ago, somehow with a dwarven craftsman added to his retinue. Leaving aside how rare it is for dwarves to practice their crafts away from their holds and greybeards, most guild branches don''t start with an in-house craftsman."


    "How do they manage then? Surely there''s still a need for potions and weapon repairs?"


    "They build up relationships with local crafters and import items in bulk where needed. It''s not unusual for a promising blacksmith''s apprentice to work a few days a week in the guild in hopes the job grows as the branch does."


    "That sounds like a lot of travelling back and forth between town and the outpost. Wouldn''t it also cause problems if something was needed urgently?"


    "Normally dungeon towns spring up around the entrance to a dungeon alongside the guild branch. This outpost is a little different, since the dungeon was found less than half a day''s walk from a small town and there''s the fort to the North. While I suspect we''ll still have plenty of traders in time, most guild branches have a smaller military presence but a much larger commercial one from the outset. Remember, the goal is not to outcompete local business. The boom to the local economy and growth of the town is meritorious; we simply wish to ensure essentials are provided, highlight the applications of dungeon loot, and keep merchants honest."


    "Because adventurers who feel cheated or desperate are a recipe for trouble." I nodded along recalling our previous discussion of the topic. "I must admit I think I lose sight of that in my excitement to improve my craft and work with new techniques and materials. It''s also just nice to be able to solve problems for people, to fix things that are broken, or know that if things go wrong in the dungeon, they''ve got a health potion I made to help them out."


    "That''s all admirable, and you''re doing a fine job. You may have missed it, but at least one person who stumbled out of the dungeon last night only did so because of health potions you brewed. Your passion for your craft is causing you to excel in your role. And it''s that, as well as some of yesterday''s events, that I wish to talk to you about."


    She opened her hand palm up to reveal a round pill sitting atop it. I wasn''t sure where she''d been holding it, but I had a fairly good idea what it was.


    "Is that one of the qi restoration pills I made yesterday?"


    "Indeed it is. I may not have your talents for appraisal, but I''ve used enough of these over the years to tell the batch you made yesterday is better than the norm. Did you use any unusual ingredients?"


    "There were a few substitutions to fit what I had in stock, but they were noted on the recipe..."


    "So you''ve at least used each substitution individually in the past, if not that particular combination."


    "That would make sense. I chose ingredients that had either been harvested from the dungeon or the area nearby, such as miracle shoot seeds."


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    That put a grin on her face, "Excellent. Then it''s likely either a strong local combination or the growth in your class and skills leading to the increased efficacy. Either way is a boon for local adventurers. Incidentally, I''ll be keeping this pill to try myself."


    She withdrew her hand, the pill upon it vanishing as she did so. It all appeared so effortless, I couldn''t tell if this was some extreme sleight of hand or some sort of enchanted feature or her room or clothing. My bet was one of her many rings, but I had no idea how they''d handle the weight. After all, even the enchanted crate I''d seen yesterday only provided a minor weight reduction (in retrospect I''d realised that the enchantment on the crate must surely have been to shrink it and its contents to fit on the sled, Kete had even mentioned previously that there were groups here that used such equipment). Still, that didn''t really matter right now. There were a few things I wanted to discuss while I was here.


    "There''s probably some room for improvement in my methodology as well that I can iron out over time. I was generally happy when I made them, but there was something about the rolling out that didn''t seem quite right in retrospect, though I got a little distracted at the end. Still, I feel like there''s much more room for improvement in the health potions."


    "Well, I can''t help you with the health potions, and we''ll circle back to your unwelcome visitors in a moment, but I was a little surprised you hand rolled the pills. I assumed you must have had your reasons at the time, but there should be a pill roller in your workshop."


    I let out an undignified combination of a snort and a chuckle, "That would do it. My skills or subconscious, or whatever, tend to be real good at telling me something''s wrong or could be better, but when it comes to how, they''re light on specifics. It''s nice to get a straightforward answer without a bunch of blind guesswork."


    She raised an eyebrow, "Sounds frustrating."


    "It can be. But it''s also satisfying to find an answer and to have room to improve. As much as I''m glad I''m still apparently good at what I do, I think it would all feel too easy if I was just perfect. It already feels like a cheat when I''m benefiting from experience I can''t remember, but at least with all the tryin'' and failing, and tryin'' and improvin'', and iterating, I feel like I''m earnin'' some of my success. I also feel like I understand each craft a lot better once I''ve gotten hands on with it. Sorry, I''ve started to ramble. Was everything fine with how I handled those adventurers? I want people to be able to come to me if they need something, but I can''t have them underfoot. It''d be dangerous when I''m forging, or with some of the alchemy or the like. Also, I figured Taffy needed some space yesterday."


    "You handled the whole matter quite well. It would have been ideal if it were possible to avoid shaming the Tian family in front of the soldiers, but Tian Huang was responsible for his own shame."


    "That''s a relief. I was frustrated in the heat of the moment, and while I didn''t think I acted unreasonably in retrospect, I wasn''t sure if I had overstepped."


    "You showed admirable decorum. While it is best to try to avoid escalating things, it''s also important not to be mistaken for someone who can be pushed around. You are a staff member of this guild, a vassal of the Lei clan, and a master of your craft. That gives you significant standing and places you under both my, and my brother''s protection."


    Her normally soft voice was filed with such conviction that I couldn''t help but contrast her with the young master of the Tian family. Where his conviction was brash arrogance and unsubstantiated threats, hers was a quiet implacability. A confidence that it would be so because she willed it and could weather any challenge.


    I swallowed, my throat oddly dry, "Um, thanks. I really appreciate the support."


    She offered a reassuring smile, toning her intensity down a few levels as she continued, "That''s kind of you to say. Now, I believe I owe you an explanation for why no one intervened. Simply put, while my presence would have ended the matter swiftly, it also would have brought much greater shame on Tian Huang, and the Tian family by association, for him to be rebuked by one of my station. His uncle''s presence was a major consideration upon his being sent here, the hope being his uncle would be sufficient to keep him out of trouble. I was inclined to let him attempt to do so unless the matter was about to turn violent. Kete probably would have intervened sooner, his lack of clan connection making such intervention less politically troublesome," She looked like she''d bitten into something sour as she talked about the politics of the situation. "However, he and Sarala were aiding one of the mares who was giving birth at the time."


    "I figured he must be busy, but I can''t say I was expecting that. Also, Sarala too?"


    The guildmaster had an enigmatic gleam in her eye, "They are both people of many talents. The foaling was premature, likely due to all the noise, but there was some hope and concern that due to the unusual birth, the foal may have absorbed some of the storm''s elemental essence." Seeing my confusion she asked, "I take it your discussions into dual resources haven''t touched on elementalists yet?"


    "No, Argat has only mentioned precision, and I picked up a bit about bond from Kete."


    She nodded, "A good choice. Argat might be able to give you a broader view on the topic, but Kete has a deep understanding of his chosen application, and plenty of tricks besides." She took a deep breath at my expectant look, "Elemental essences are both tricky and remarkably simple in concept, though I''m no expert. In retrospect, it makes sense Argat hasn''t touched on it yet, since it they are almost impossible to neatly fit in a box as so many of the sages would like. They are thought to be the combination of physical and magical aspects. The pure physicality of an elemental concept charged with mana, or something similar ¨C the exact description varies from sage to sage. Actually, rather than try to give a garbled mixture of the assumptions of what it is, why don''t I just explain what it can do? Do you know what a mage needs to able to cast a spell?


    Caught a bit off guard at the abrupt change of pace I muttered, "Uh... Mana! And a strong emotional image of what they want the spell to do to guide it, and something physical related to the effect to fuel it. Like a pyromancer might use lamp oil or something, and if they run out, the spell burns their fat as fuel instead," I regurgitated, remembering the emaciated, sooty figure draped over his companions as they exited the dungeon.


    "Well done, though remember, it consumes whatever will burn best through the caster''s body indiscriminately. That''s mostly fat, but I''ve seen more than one pyromancer pass out because the air in their lungs got burnt up, which amidst a fight or a fire, is a problem. Most healing skills don''t fix asphyxiation. Then again, the same could be said for dehydration with cryomancers and hydromancers I suppose..." The tangent tinged with personal frustration felt like a rare insight into combat medic, adventurer Lei Su, past the office of guildmaster and her clan connections.


    "Why do they specialise on a particular element anyway?"


    She tickled off on her fingers as she recited, "Cuts down on the amount of materials to carry and organise, specialising one''s class gives more power within that specialisation, training has more overlapping application, and attempting to switch their resources - usually to elemental essences - are all the common reasons given. The more sensible ones at least."


    "I''m guessing the less sensible ones are along the lines of, ''because fire''s awesome!''" I suggested in my best ''I''m the cool kid voice''.


    She chuckled, "Yup, I''ve heard that one more times than I can count. Or to lose weight. Aeromancers always mysteriously end up with capes that billow behind them, though it was a hydromancer who told me it was because ''it matches my eyes''." She said in a deep gravelly voice that caught me totally off guard. Her cheer dimmed for a moment as she added, "I''ve encountered a few electromancers who claimed it was because it matches my eyes, which was significantly less endearing, but yes, silly reasons abound. However, many seek adventuring for the freedom to plot their own path in life and be who they want to be, so I''ll not begrudge anyone a little vanity."


    "Aesthetics matter to people. If people are investing their hard-earned savings in armour, they don''t just expect it to be impressive, they want it to look impressive too. Or to be reflective of who they are. It makes sense those who are investing time in their class and skills want a similar return."


    "Exactly, but much though I''d like to ask how your armour project is going, we''re getting rather off topic. The draw of elemental essences is that they comprise both the mana and the physical component, so those who use them only require the elemental essence and the strong emotional image to shape and guide them. In the case of a pyromancer, if they use elemental essences, their pyro doesn''t restore over time like mana, instead it is restored by absorbing flames. Similarly, cryo is restored by absorbing ice, hydro by absorbing water, and so on."


    "Wait, wait, so pyro, hydro and so on are all elemental essences? There''s a bunch of different physical-magical dual resources?"


    "Hence why they are so frustrating to the sages trying to categorise everything. But in practical terms, it''s pretty simple. Elementalists absorb their element, up to a maximum amount, and can release it with their spells or other skills. If they are out of that element, they''re done until they can absorb some more, there''s no overcasting, but they also don''t have to lug around physical components to sacrifice."


    "I''m guessing that the ability to absorb an element can be useful defensively as well."


    She nodded, "There are limits to how much or how quickly depending on the individual, but yes. For example, absorbing all the wind from yesterday''s storm would be too much, but an aeromancer did help reduce the amount beating on the framing of the partially completed structures as the builders shored them up. I''ve also got a few hydromancers and geomancers out today to deal with any mudslides, or areas that are primed for such. Of course, the mana-based versions of those classes are still useful, but each has slightly different strengths."


    "I knew there was a lot to being guildmaster, but I don''t think I appreciated just how much there was to learn. You need to know everyone''s strengths to be able to approve the right people for the right quests and pick people out in an emergency."


    "You''re giving me too much credit. It is important to have a broad idea of what the adventurers in your area are capable of, but I just set the general difficulty level of each quest and let each group determine their strengths. Knowing who to call in an emergency is usually more about knowing your most capable groups. For example, sending out all the novices to look for potential mudslides is more likely to cause one than to prevent it. Better to get those not pushing themselves out from underfoot, with Kete hammering some skills into them for next time. Most of the knowledge of others'' resources comes from adventuring in the guild, working with different people and finding their strengths and limitations. It''s also important as a veteran adventurer to start anticipating the capabilities of whatever you might be facing."


    "Like with the foal that was born during the storm," I spoke slowly with dawning realisation. "Could it have absorbed some of the storm as it was being born? That would be aero and hydro right?"


    "Electro was the biggest concern, however unlikely it might have been. Too much chance of it shocking the mother or whoever was helping with delivery. Thankfully, it ended up absorbing aero instead, and while the birth wasn''t straightforward by any means, they were successful in the end and both foal and mother are healthy."


    "That''s good to hear. I''ve got to imagine the garrison will be pleased to add a wind horse to its ranks."


    "Very."


    "With all that going on I can understand why thing played out the way they did with the guys in my workshop. I felt a bit bad for the quartermaster, he didn''t do anything wrong but his nephew just kept making things worse. I shouldn''t have lost my temper, but after all the little interruptions of the day, I just couldn''t handle him anymore." I could feel a little of the exhaustion seep back into me even as I said it.


    "You were justified in doing so and brought no shame with your words. In fact, you wisely gave face to Tian Ki¨ºn by acknowledging his fair and impartial handling of the situation. However, it also sounds like you could do with a break and less distractions."


    "No, no, things are busy with the storm and such, and I''m happy to help out. I also enjoy my work."


    "I understand, and should there be some emergency such as a fallen bridge I may still call upon you. Once again, I''m not going to try to lock you out of your workshop. I''m simply going to suggest for today, forget about what is most needed or urgent, take a break and work on something else that sounds interesting. If you wish to work on Ha-Na''s armour you may do so, though I noticed you had sent leather off to be tanned for it so now might be an opportune moment for a short break."


    "There''s still some bits and bobs I could work on for it, but it probably makes more sense to see how the leather turns out first."


    "Excellent, now I have another favour to ask that would cut down on your distractions for the day, but is something of an imposition. The storm has rather disarranged the work schedules, particularly those of the part-time staff commuting from the nearby town. Would you mind covering the night shift tonight? You should of course, get some sleep before and after. And there''s no issue with working on your projects during the shift, provided they aren''t too loud. You would simply need to be available should someone ring the bell on the front desk."


    "Huh, sure I could do that. I''d need to get a bit more of a run through what to do on the front desk should someone need something, but I''m happy to help."


    "That can certainly be arranged. Thank you Vaul, your help is very much appreciated. Xia likes to curl up on the counter, so if you encounter any issues either come get me," gesturing to the connecting door to her quarters, "or gently wake her up if it''s urgent."


    "Thanks, hopefully it won''t come to that, but it''s nice to know the option is there. I''ll have a think about what I''m going to work on and try to get a bit of a kip between now and then."


    I began to rise from the impressively comfortable settee, but she cut in, "Apologies Vaul, there is one final matter before you get on with your day. Now that Tian Ki¨ºn has publicly acknowledged you as a master of your craft, we need to discuss upgrading your guild token."

 Chapter 26 – A Question of Rank

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 Chapter 27 – A gift for Taffy

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 Chapter 28 – Napping & Classes

    With the frisbee assembled and just needing some time to cure, I set about tidying up my workshop. There was something gratifying about returning each tool to its proper place, knowing they''d be there when I next had need of them.


    It was also a great opportunity to notice little details around the workshop, like a horn filled with some sort of greasy off-white substance serving as a needle holder. The needles were simply embedded point first in whatever the substance was, a series of holes suggesting how often they''d been moved about. I gave it a sniff and was none the wiser. My best guess was some sort of tallow, and given these needles were all iron or steel, it was likely to keep them from rusting.


    As I was brushing up the sawdust, each sweep echoing softly in the large room, it dawned on me how quiet my surroundings were. With so many people hanging around the guild recently I''d gotten used to a certain amount of ambient chatter drifting in over the pounding rain and howling wind. Speaking of which, the sun was shining in through the window, each sweep of my broom creating swirling eddies in the shaft of light. A quick peak outside revealed it was almost noon, the sun blazing higher in the sky than expected. Boundless blue supplanted roiling grey, as the storm had well and truly dissipated.


    Much though it was nice to see the sun, I still needed to grab some shut eye before the night shift making the timing a little awkward. But first, lunch!


    ***


    "Mr Vaul?!" Eimer''s kid greeted me with utter incredulity as I walked into the tavern. "What brings you here?"


    "Uhh, lunch?" I said, somewhat mystified as to what the issue could be.


    "You actually remembered for once?!"


    "Manners young man!" Eimer appeared behind him - was that some sort of skill parents unlocked? - chastising her son before turning to me in a conciliatory fashion, "Sorry about that Vaul. Come with me and I''ll get you a seat."


    Her son hastily offered an apology, obviously unsure of the rationale behind the action but entirely convinced of its necessity.


    "Don''t worry about it," I waved him off before following Eimer. Sheepishly scratching the back of my head, "Sorry, I guess I am pretty bad about noticing the time when I get into the flow of things. I do appreciate you sending one of the boys to remind me, I hadn''t considered the extra burden I was placing on-"


    "No, no, none of that now." She cut me off firmly. "Extra burden, really." She shook her head with hands on hips as if the notion was patently ridiculous. I had the sinking feeling I''d gotten her kid in more trouble. "Those two are glad for any chance to sprint out of here after the lunch rush, so don''t you worry a bit about it. I know how creative types can get when you''re working on a project, Bartan''s the same. The building could be burning down around us and he''d standing there wondering why all the flavour profiles were so smoky."


    The tavern itself was unusually empty, most of the adventurers having cleared out with the weather, so it wasn''t long before Eimer had me seated with a bowl of rice topped with some kind of fatty meat in a sticky glaze. Somehow Bartan had managed to keep the crackling crispy, and the sprinkling of seeds and finely sliced onion tops adhered to the glossy glaze and sticky rice. There was a symphony of textures across the dish, with the batons of marbled meat melting in the mouth after the initial crunch. The glaze was sweet with deep savoury notes and assured each pass of my chopsticks brought with it a clump of gently steaming rice, the freshness of the thinly sliced onion greens and the toasty, nutty pop of sesame.


    It was food created to be savoured, so I took my time watching the sparse comings and goings as I did so. Eimer called her son into the back for a quick word, and I tried not to feel guilty about the abashed expression he returned with. A party of adventurers discussed a recent trip into the dungeon, the unexpected failure of a navigation skill as they spotted chunks of rock flying around the sandstorm up ahead, at the forefront of their discussion. Thankfully they''d pulled back and the skill resumed operation, but it was a tense moment that would no doubt become a drinking story - and a source of ribbing for the individual in question - for years to come.


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    As I neared the bottom of my bowl, a bundled-up adventurer carrying a long, sturdy case that had clearly seen some miles stepped in and had some sort of discussion with Eimer. I didn''t overhear much, but when she opened the case to reveal dark wood with strings running across the top I was sorely tempted to move in for a closer look.


    Perhaps thankfully, she closed the case quickly. I wasn''t sure if I caught the term guzheng from them, or if it was a whisper in the back of my mind, but either way I was certain that was what the instrument was. Moreover, even from that brief glimpse, I had a suspicion it was a fine example of such. My interest piqued; I gave her my full attention as she abruptly turned to leave. I failed to get a good look at her face, but I did notice a pair of jade earrings that didn''t quite mesh with the weary traveller look. Still, nothing wrong with having or wearing nice things, I just kinda wished I could get a closer look at that instrument.


    All too soon I reached the bottom of my bowl and could eat no more. Hopefully a full belly would help me drift off to sleep.


    ***


    A full belly was not helping me drift off to sleep. Well, that''s unfair. It might be helping, but if so, it was wildly insufficient.


    Cracks of light streamed around the tiny gaps in the closed shutters, diffusing to a penumbra that might as well be full light to my dwarven eyes. I rolled over for what felt like the hundredth time, failing to find a comfortable position on my usually cosy bed. The hustle and bustle of the guild drifting up seemed to magnify the longer I listened, yet the chatter remained tantalisingly indistinct. The sensible part of me knew I probably wouldn''t care about whatever was being discussed, but as I lay there with nothing else to focus on, it was impossible to shake the sense of missing out.


    I sighed. I knew I''d need the rest for later, but straining to sleep was fatuous. I needed a new plan.


    Getting up was a dumb idea, however attractive the prospect seemed right now. Just resting with my eyes closed would be more effective, if damn boring. I needed something to distract me from the frustration of not being able to drift off. I could think about projects to build, but that might be a little too stimulating.


    I could just nip back to the workshop for a little while longer...


    No! I needed to sleep. I needed something relaxing to focus on that wouldn''t lead me back to the workshop before it was time for the night shift. Then I remembered the perfect topic, something I''d been rather negligent about since the guildmaster showed it to me. I''d meditate on my class and see if I could read any more of it. A perfect way to feel productive without getting up. If it turned out to be a good way to drift off, that would be perfect too.


    Lying flat on my back, hands resting on my chest feeling my steady breaths in and out, I tried to relax and focus. Text drifted in and out of focus before my eyes. I wasn''t sure how long it took, but I had nothing but time and found my status once more.


    Class ¨C ___________ Master Craftsman


    Skill 1 ¨C Passive ¨C _________ ______ Crafting ¨C ______


    \Subskills


    Dependent Skill 1.1 - __________ - ____


    Skill 2 ¨C Active ¨C Insightful Appraisal ¨C ____


    Skill 3 ¨C Passive - _______ ________ - ____


    Dependent Skill 3.1 - _____''_ ____ - ____


    Dependent Skill 3.2 - __________ _____ - _________


    Now for the hard part. I''d been told reading one''s status was a form of self-reflection. That even reading as much as I had with such severe memory loss was impressive and that I should be patient, but I wanted some of these blanks gone. I didn''t really have a strategy, but I was feeling stubborn so I figured I''d try to focus on and poke at everything until something gave. Eventually my focus gave out and I drifted into unconsciousness, but not before I''d made a little progress.


    Class ¨C ___________ Master Craftsman


    Skill 1 ¨C Passive ¨C _________ _ast_r Crafting ¨C _o__


    \Subskills


    Dependent Skill 1.1 - Enchanting - Mana


    Skill 2 ¨C Active ¨C Insightful Appraisal ¨C _o__


    Skill 3 ¨C Passive - __ss___ _r_j__t_ - _o__


    Dependent Skill 3.1 - _____''_ ____ - _o__


    Dependent Skill 3.2 - __________ Focus - _________