Chapter 37

The collection process was demanding, time-consuming and entirely out of the reach of somebody like me. I asked. Apparently, you’d need something like fifteen Mental Control in order to be able to handle the mana flow needed to use those absorbers properly.

That left me half-naked and bored, with a body that had once again been abused far beyond what anybody could generally consider acceptable. Oh, and bereft of any proper defensive items, of course, bar the few patchwork-like pieces of armor still hanging on, and the small buckler I’d taken from the Adrastian.

I decided I might as well do something with my time, and went about skinning the Rastlers. Even in death, their shapes were cute and fuzzy, trying to make me feel bad for what I’d done to them.

I had to admit to myself that I relished the karma of it. The little fuckers, cute as they were, would’ve delighted in subjecting me to the slowest, most anguished death possible. It was just fair if I got revenge on them after their deaths. The activity earned me twelve acceptable, soft skins, two points to Skinning and an unhealthy sense of satisfaction.

We had to camp out that night. They didn’t finish collecting all the acidic spit until late in the evening, and nobody relished a seven-hour trek back in darkness. Fortunately for me, they’d prepared for the eventuality, bringing along plenty of food, bed rolls and everything needed to camp out. They’d even been optimistic enough to pack extras for me. Also, Lure wormed his way back into my good graces by having packed an extra set of clothes in my size. They were basic clothes, scratchy as hell, made by whatever the local version of burlap was, and didn’t really help with cold or heat. But they kept me from hanging free, exposed to the elements, and that was a godsend.

The night, morning meal and return trip to Last Chance were, by and large, as uneventful as the resulting debate with the high-leveled Crafter. Apart from an additional two increases to Higher Self-Heal and one to Higher Endurance and Stamina Regeneration, nothing interesting happened.

The ensuing discussion with Stalwart was equally uneventful. Oh, he readily admitted that the acid collection task from the Rastlers had gotten a couple others killed. Yet, he also showed a frankly alarming lack of compassion about that fact. He did agree I’d held up my end acceptably and took my measurements in order to start working on the armor and shield.

The most emotion he showed during the whole process was when I tried to unload the fresh batch of Rastler furs on him. He got practically heated, in that his nostrils flared, while his tone stayed bereft of emotion. Yet, he barely listened to what I wanted to trade them for, insisting that the only deal I was getting from him was a trade for proper skinning and fleshing knives, so I would stop ruining materials.

Surprisingly, I think I actually got the best of that deal. Despite his lack of, well, regular people emotions, it did seem like he at least cared about craftsmanship.

That left me back in Last Chance, late afternoon, with few cash reserves to hand, with at least three days of downtime until I had proper equipment that should be able to keep me safe for a while. Being the clever, thoughtful type I’ve always been, I of course decided to take that money and go on a bender.

***

I barely got the chance to get a good buzz going. I was distracted, derailed and drawn elsewhere. It was Kimzi’s doing.

“You need to wise up.” The short, glowing Larian’s words came from behind as I was busy admiring the first of what I hoped to be many wonderful beers to come.

“Says you and every single teacher I’ve ever had.” I drawled. Then I took a good, long drag of the beer and sighed in satisfaction.

“You’re not going to ask?” She plopped down onto a stool next to me.

I squinted at the wall in front of me. There was some sort of chemical process going on within the see-through glass apparatus that I couldn’t quite understand. It was like a wave of golden froth constantly emerged from one side, being contained and devoured by a dark liquid lying dormant on the other side. It was better than a lava lamp. Lava lamps didn’t make beer. “No. I find that people who feel the need to tell me about my flaws are like vegans and those fancy fucks who listen to classical music. It doesn’t matter that I don’t care. They’ll tell me anyway.”

“I don’t know what that means. But I’m not sure I’d agree anyway. You don’t care about your life?”

“Course I do. It’s what keeps me alive. What’s your point? And what’ll it cost me for whatever answers you’ve got hidden up in your sleeves?”

She waved my concerns away. “It’s not about the money.”

“Okay, now I’m scared.”

She rolled her eyes. “Okay, yes, it is about money. But I won’t charge you anything. I’ll just tell you what I know. Then you’ll handle the rest.”

I’d give her that. She knew how to dangle the bait. “Colour me interested. What are you selling?”

“Knowledge.” She tapped her head.

“Erm. I know. You said that last time.”

“Your mouth tends to run away from your head, does it not?” She asked. “Never mind. What you need to consider is this: You listened to me, last time around. Yet, clearly, you did not listen. You need to start learning about your surroundings, ask questions about what you walk into and who you do deals with. Then you might not find yourself half-dead and three-quarters-naked after your next fight.” Her words were light, but her eyes were grave.

I snorted and took another pull. “Word travels fast around here, doesn’t it?”

“Helped along by a few coins, it sure does.” She smirked. “Now, that was for free. So is the next piece of advice: don’t make any further deals around here. Not without coming to me to learn whether the deal is likely to get you killed or robbed.”

I mulled that one over for a bit. “That’s… actually not horrible advice. Paying you a few coins could save me from messing up something fierce.”

She took a deep breath. “Agreed. And that leads us to my final piece of advice.”

“Ah. Now, the bill comes due. What’ll it cost me?” I raised an eyebrow.

“Nothing. This is different. It’s a referral.”

“I am so confused. What’s going on?”

“You went on that trip with Lure. Lure is kind. He’s also observant, fast, and… something of a blabbermouth.”

I squinted at her. Suddenly, I wasn’t sure I was liking the direction this was heading. “What’s your point?”

“The point is that you went into a match-up against Lyrian Rastlers without knowing what they were. Also, if Lure’s estimates are to be trusted, without a single point to Acid Resistance. There is something off about you. You know too little, don’t have knowledge that most people should have learned, and your talents are… weird.”

“This is getting a bit close. Too close, in fact. Do people normally put up with you being all up in their business?”

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.