The Pinnacle Warrior

Astrid blinked several times, surprised at how perfect of a fit this Olafson could potentially be for what they needed. After all, a Mithril tier Craftsman was perhaps not as skilled as a Blacksmith or Tailor of that same level, but they could, supposedly, do anything that the other Classes could. It was a higher tier of Class, and she hoped that he would have specialized in equipment manufacturing. Instead of saying anything to him, though, she looked to Benedict, who looked positively thrilled at the prospect of bartering.

“We are a party who recently evolved to Steel tier and are finding that our equipment isn’t holding up to our standards. We’re looking for a couple things specifically, but if you have anything that might fit with a Guardian, Ambusher, Warrior, Bard, or Wizard, we are happy to take it off your hands, so long as it is Steel Tier, and of moderate quality.”

Olafson raised his eyebrows as he raised his pinky to his mouth to pick up his teeth. His fingers were surprisingly long, the nails almost clawlike as he picked between his teeth. There was something animalistic about the teeth inside of his mouth, further confirming to Astrid that he was a Kin, though she didn’t know what his heritage would be.

“I’ve got plenty of pretty basic Steel tier stuff laying around,” he shrugged. “Leftovers from before I evolved. Even so, most people who are new to a tier don’t have anywhere near the financials they need to buy things that suit their new tier. What have you got to use to buy from me?”

“We’ve got plenty of money,” Benedict shrugged. “Then, of course, the equipment we’re currently wearing can serve as additional collateral. If we have to choose between keeping what we’ve got and getting something better, of course we’ll throw in what we have to sweeten the deal to get better equipped.”

Olafson looked at each of the delvers, his eyes seeming to flash as he nodded. “For people who recently evolved to Steel,” he reiterated, “there usually isn’t any way you can afford more than one piece of Steel tier equipment. Usually, with each evolution, things get about ten times as expensive as what they were before. Bronze tier equipment? A couple silvers to a couple gold. Iron tier, so long as it isn’t too expensive? Ten to a hundred gold apiece. Steel tier equipment will start at the very least at a hundred gold apiece, and you aren’t likely to find what you want for that low of a price. If you have something worth five hundred gold, we can probably figure something out for you, otherwise, we can have a conversation about what kind of things you might be able to do for me in exchange for the equipment.”

The man spoke gruffly, but there was a certain tilt to his head that made Astrid think of a predator, something looking for the slightest weakness to seize on. Even so, she wasn’t the negotiator, and she had no reason to do anything other than trust Benedict, so she listened as he shrugged.

“We can afford a couple things I’d think, we’ve worked hard. We can probably get a couple hundred gold together, if you’ve got something that’s really worth our time.”

“Nobody around here buys things for gold, except me,” Olafson said. “Everyone else deals in favors and materials because I’m the only one who maintains contact with people outside of the Sanctuary. You’re not going to be able to make more money than what you’ve got in your pockets. You are Steel tier, so you should be competent enough to get most of the materials that people are looking for, though the few branches around here aren’t easy and the entrances to the Dungeon itself nearby aren’t either. So let’s negotiate, shall we?”

“Then what kinds of materials are there that a Steel tier might find themselves in possession of around here?” Benedict asked, engaging in negotiations like Olafson asked. “At least, materials that would be of worth to trade with you for a Steel tier weapon? Nothing too fancy, just a blade more focused on chopping that’s forty five to seventy centimeters long. The more durable the better.”

“How mana conductive do you want it to be?” the Craftsman immediately answered. “You say it’s focused on chopping, so it should be pretty heavy. But about how many points in Power are going to be behind this chopping? Do you want it to be enchanted for cutting better? Going off of the size, the intention is to be a more nimble weapon, so any enchantments that deepen the wounds it inflicts would be better. Just for your information, around Steel tier is when people who use smaller weapons start to realize that they need enchantments to strengthen their regular attacks to pierce deep enough.”

“Genuinely, the sturdier the better, the better at cutting the better. Everything else is relatively unimportant,” Benedict cut off the Craftsman from continuing to throw himself into more explanations. “Muti here has some Skills that help her pierce through defenses pretty well, so we are focused just on getting a weapon that can hold up to being wielded by a Steel tier.”

The long limbed man squinted up at Benedict, who kept a placid smile on his face.

“Do you at least have an example I can look at to see what kind of thing you might be looking for?” Olafson asked.

“Sure,” Benedict nodded while Muti summoned her seax and handed it over.

Immediately, the Craftsman’s attention faded on the six visitors in his shop and he started muttering to himself while he felt the blade’s edge and inspected the subtle enchantments along the hilt and down the center of the blade. After about a minute, he’d done everything short of licking the thing and seemed to have a pretty good handle on what exactly made the weapon. Finally, he looked up at the Wanderers and there was a look in his face that Astrid couldn’t quite place, though his voice wasn’t nearly as casual when he spoke again.

“And you’re all wearing fine armor as well. Dusksteel, Dungeon silver, the Wizard’s wearing cloud fleece and storm wolf fur. Everything you’ve got is heavily enchanted and has seen good use, but the enchantments are still pretty fresh. Either you all recently upgraded your equipment or…”

As the Kin drifted off and tapped his chin thoughtfully, Benedict spoke back up, “I get it, you’re thinking about things. To get back to the question at hand, what kind of materials are you looking to get to use in exchange for some equipment? We might need a little direction to get to whatever you’re wanting, just for your information.”

“High-quality equipment, young for your tier, driven, and somehow have a relationship with the Verdant Walkers already, enough to get here,” Olafson said as a smile stretched across his face, completely disregarding Benedict’s question. “ It’s about that time as well. You just got out of the Wandering Trials, didn’t you?”

“I don’t see how that’s relevant,” Benedict replied, his tone dropping. “However, I don’t see any reason to lie either. It’s been about a year since we left the Bronze tier entrance of the Wandering Trials.”

The Craftsman in front of them thought for a moment then seemed to come to a decision.

“You don’t have to answer, and if you don’t, I’ll deal with you the way that I was planning to, giving you equipment at a fair price. However, if you’re willing to be honest with me, and what I suspect to be true is true, then we can have a better relationship than what I was expecting to with some run-of-the-mill Steel tiers.” Olafson didn’t wait for a response before he asked, “How well did you finish in the Trials and what rarity are your Steel tier Classes?”

“That first question is harmless and public enough,” Astrid stepped in before Benedict could say anything, “but the second seems to be looking for information that isn’t in our best interest to share. With regards to the first, we were the winners of the Wandering Trials for the Bronze tier.”

“If you confirm that, I don’t need anything else right now to make my offer,” Olafson grinned widely as he slapped the counter in front of him and jumped over with a strange grace. “If you won, that means your Iron and Steel tier Classes have to have been at least very rare and rare, respectively, if not very rare or above. That means you can have equipment at the peak of the Steel tier right now, although you might not be able to keep it equipped for longer than an hour or two at a time. How long are you supposed to be sticking around here? Will you make the Neverwood your base of operations for the long term? I’ve got plenty of experiments that you five will be better suited for than any of the fogies around here.”

“You’re jumping from topic to topic faster than a rabbit,“ Astrid said, raising her hands in an attempt to silence the excited Craftsman. “Maybe in the future we’ll have a good enough relationship to talk specifically about our Classes with you, but that’s a pretty fair estimation you have there. Regardless, we appreciate the idea of having to pay less for our equipment, but I don’t believe in free handouts. What do you want in exchange?”

“I want to measure the performance of my equipment that was constructed at the peak of Steel tier that was stretching the limits of what I could do,” Olafson immediately answered, bustling past Vera to take Astrid‘s hands in his own.“Your Classes are all higher tier than mine, but I spent a lot of time specializing in the construction of equipment, just because I could. I want to see what it was like before and what I’m able to achieve now, and what, if anything, is impeding me from being able to progress further while within Mithril. Your insight will allow me to strengthen myself, and I will still require some measure of payment from you, so that will largely be in whatever materials you find. With how strong you are, I’d gather that you’ll end up killing that dragon in the wyvern nest before too long, and dragon materials are always useful, even if they’re a tier lower than me, so it’ll definitely be affordable for you. This isn’t a handout, this is a partnership.”

The gruff voice had grown more excited by the moment, until he was almost bouncing in excitement. At that, Astrid shrugged and looked at the rest of the party. Each face looked willing enough, but she looked back at Olafson and said, “We’ll need to confirm among ourselves before we give you a solid answer. Is that acceptable?“

“I’m just an old monkey going gray,” he said, waving her off with a smile. “If you need a couple days to think it over, that’s no problem with me.”

Astrid nodded her thanks and guided the rest of the party out of the trading post as they all gave their goodbyes. Outside, Vera waved a teasing goodbye to Olafson, who shooed her away with one of his long arms.

“So that’s a Simian Kin,” Skandr was the first to speak. “I never would have known until he said he was a monkey. Aren’t they almost never found outside of their country?”

“The Tribes are all different,” Astrid shrugged, “and that’s about all I know. I’ve never heard of a monkey, but I don’t think that’s really the point right now. What do you all think about what he offered?“

“Sounds like a really lucky deal to me,” Skandr said straight away. “I am not sure how much we can trust him to have our long-term benefits in mind, but every instinct I have says that he was being pretty truthful, even as I used Acumen-aligned mana to read his body language. His heartbeat didn’t change in a way that seemed to be him lying, only once he realized that we might have pretty rare Classes, and after that, everything about him seemed totally honest, though genuinely excited.”

“The Kin do not lie,” Muti said. “They will twist what they say to be to their own benefit, but they do not lie. Perhaps this one does not live among the Tribes because he is a deceiver, but in business, the Kin can be trusted to do exactly what they say.”

“That holds with everything I’ve ever heard,” Benedict shrugged. “There was that prig from Kznietch, though. What was his name? The one who you got into debt with?“ He said as he turned to Skandr.

“Aarta,” the Wizard answered. “He never lied to me, but he definitely made things sound like they were a lot better for me than they were. Constantly pressuring me to spend more, and bringing up things that I’d agreed to only when they benefited him, but never outright lying.”

“So that seems to be true,” Benedict said. “How about you all? How much trust do we want to extend to this guy?“

“Take from this what you will,” Vera said, interrupting the party’s conversation with an annoying casualness, “but even though he’s the only one of the people who lives here who has any real contact with the outside world, there’s a reason why we are all here. Nobody lives in the Neverwood because they have a whole lot of friends and close contacts where they come from. I don’t see how he could damage you in all this without just giving you bad equipment, in which case you still have your own, right?”

“Thank you,” Astrid answered with a grimace, “but we were trying to get this figured out as a party. Thank you for your help, if there’s anything we can do for you, let us know, otherwise, we’ll probably come visiting when we would like to buy some potions.”

“So prickly, you really don’t need to be,” Vera laughed. “After all, flowers bring pollinators with their nectar, by being sweet. Not by bludgeoning them over the head with their petals.”

“Then it’s a good thing that I’m not a flower,” Astrid replied dryly. “I’ve got my hammer and shield, and they do all the bludgeoning when my words can’t do it by themselves.”

“I like you,” Vera tittered as she stepped forward with a surprising speed, booped Astrid on the nose, and jumped back. Then, she grabbed her skirts in a deep curtsy, and then said, “I’ll be anxiously awaiting all of your arrivals at my shop to discuss what kind of potions you might have need of.“

Without another word, Vera walked away and left the Wanderers alone.

“She’s a bit of a whirlwind, isn’t she?” Skandr said to the rest.

“I think that’s a good way of putting it,” Astrid agreed before forcing them all to refocus. “I was already leaning towards saying yes, and despite it all, I think that Vera is relatively trustworthy. I can’t see how much damage Olafson would be able to do if we trust him like this, and the Verdant Walkers trust the people who live here to be at least not actively harming the Sanctuary, so that’s a bit of a vote in favor of trusting them.”

“I disagree with that last point,“ Benedict said. “I don’t think that we should trust somebody’s ability to live here as something that makes them trustworthy or not, but I say we give it a go. Worse comes to worse, we’ll be exactly where we are now.”

The rest of the party seemed to agree with that, and it wasn’t long before they were back in the trading post and asking Olafson for his best replacement for Muti’s blades.

“Yes! I know you won’t regret this. Finally, some real delvers here to put my things through their paces again!”

At that, he disappeared into the back of his shop, and as the rustling noises filled the trading post, Astrid wondered just what they’d gotten themselves into.

***

Brighid

“The noble faction is making moves,” the Viscount told Brighid in his office. “They’re looking to build greater support before they march on the capitol, and I’m being forced to make a decision since they’ll be moving out in the next two months.”

“Yes, sir,” she answered. 

“I don’t think that any of the options I have is particularly good, though, so if you have advice…?” he trailed off, looking at her with hopeful eyes.

“Side with them, throw in with the Duchess, or expect that the support from the military will allow you to stay uninvolved,” Brighid reported. “You know why each option is dangerous. Engage with the violent coup, defend against it, or hope someone stronger will take care of the problem for you. You can only make the decision you’ve prepared for.”

“Damn the wench,” the Viscount said, not for the first time. He’d never hidden his distaste for powermongering so common among those with his same Class type. “And everyone she’s managed to get to fall in line. But we don’t have the strength to defend ourselves against the people she’s managed to get to submit to her. Basically every noble’s following her path.”

“No, we don’t,” Brighid answered. “We’re in a bad place.”

“Do you have anything useful to say?” he said, groaning. “Any real advice?”

“Make the choice you can live with. Standing against her will absolutely result in deaths, going with her will do the same. It’s up to you.”

“Alright, go home. Get some rest,” the Viscount dismissed her with a wave of his hand. Brighid bowed her head and walked out, wondering just how long she would have before open civil war broke out within Humanity’s Bulwark. For now, she was just grateful that Astrid wasn’t a part of it and she could go home and enjoy Savraba’s cooking. War against her fellow man could be worried about another day.