The relics shop was small, but to Dain, it might as well be a palace.

  Compared to the wagon he used to drag around Corvalenne—that miserable creaking thing—it was almost unfair.

  This shop was a proper shop. All four walls were lined with shelves. Half a dozen aisles were stacked with items neatly labeled in flowing script. Jewellery was strung from the ceiling like rosaries, gleaming as sunlight hit their gems. Even the air smelled just right with oil, parchment, and the faint, sweet tang of mana swirling around the relics.

  He wandered in, wide-eyed, already cataloguing every oddity. Most of the relics were Implement-Class tools: pickaxes, chisels, and lanterns designed for miners. But here and there, an Armament-Class weapon would sit on a shelf, their description scrawled on paper tags tied around them. He even noticed a few of the hanging jewellery were Trinket-Class relics: mainly bracelets, necklaces, and pendants with various amusing effects.

  This shop was exactly as he’d imagined it to be.

  Behind the counter, the old shopkeeper was stooped over a basket of wrapped magic materials. She adjusted her glasses as the bell above the door clinked with his entry, and then she squinted at the three of them, her wrinkles making her look over a hundred.

  “... Well then,” she rasped, straightening her hunched back as best as she could. “Haven’t seen your faces before. Travelers? Adventurers?” She gave her basket a final shove under the counter before folding her arms behind her back. “I’m Marr, owner of this fine establishment. What might I get you?”

  Dain grinned, ignoring the shop for a moment as he skipped to the counter and bowed. “I’m Dain. Also a relic merchant, though my shelves have never been quite as polished as yours.”

  “I can tell.”

  “The merchant part or the shitty shelves part?”

  “What can I get you?”

  He thumbed at the two girls over his shoulder. “We’re about to head out on an extermination request for ten silverplume owl heads, and it’s going to be an overnight job. I need three lantern relics, a heating relic good for cooking and keeping the frost off, and a low-grade beast repellent, preferably a perfume.”

  “What types?”

  “Passive-types for the lanterns and the perfume, but active-type for the heating relic.”

  “Hm.” Marr cracked her neck, turning around slowly. “I think I’ve got a few pieces in the back. Feel free to look around while I fetch them.”

  As she vanished through the beaded curtain at the back, Dain let out a low whistle, returning to the aisles.

  “Never seen so many relics gathered in one place,” he muttered, running a finger along a row of tools locked behind glass. Some of them were clearly set pieces: matching pick and chisel, or a trio of daggers with golden runes that hummed faintly in rhythm. “It’s a proper seeker’s dream.”

  He glanced back at his companions. Anisa was walking the aisles like she was in a garden, polite curiosity in her eyes but no real awe. Yasmin followed her lady with her usual stone face, arms crossed and gaze sharp.

  “... But you two don’t look impressed,” he remarked. “Not dazzled by the glitter? Or have you already been here before?”

  Anisa turned a calm look on him. “I have seen relics of this calibre before. They are well-made, but not exactly unusual.”

  “Then why don’t you own one? At least a weapon to keep a beast from taking a bite out of you. Don’t just let your steward do all the work.”

  Yasmin’s eyes narrowed into a glare sharp enough to shave iron. “I am more than enough to defend my lady—”

  “Why not, huh?” Anisa, however, only smiled. “I suppose I should learn how to fend for myself eventually.” She drifted toward a wall shelf lined with weapons, scanned the tags, then pointed daintily at a shortsword hanging by its scabbard. “This one. What do you think? Do you think it will work for me?”

  Dain peeked over the aisle, ignoring its price tag as he squinted at its label

  ***

  Name: Double Impact Shortsword

  Type: Passive Armament-Class Relic, Common-2

  Attribute Addition: +1 Might

  Ability Description: When the shortsword strikes a target, a second impact of the same force will strike the target after a second’s delay. The passive drain is 0.2 mana per hour.

  ***

  “... No good,” he said, shaking his head. “Pick something else.”

  “Why? I do have a little sword training, you know. I do not think I am terrible at fighting.”

  “Uh-huh. And do you think a monster dies neatly once you give it a fatal wound?”

  “Yes,” she said, blinking at him. “That is why it is called fatal.”

  Dain let out a dry chuckle. “A lot of monsters fight past death. You can stick steel through their heart, and most of them’ll still claw at you long enough to make sure you join them in the afterlife. Unless you can damage a beast to the point it physically can’t move anymore, a little shortsword won’t save you. It’s better to pick something longer, heavier, or cleverer. A longsword that can shrink for travel. A shield with retractable sawtooth edges. If your attributes aren’t high enough to overpower your opponent with any weapon you want, a weapon that buys you distance or defense should be better.”

  Anisa tilted her head at him, smiling faintly as though amused. “You truly sound like an adventurer, Mister Sorowyn.”

  “But I am an adventurer.”

  He turned sharply, examining a rack of mining tools so she wouldn’t see the stupid grin creeping across his face. Gods, if only she knew he’d stolen every word from The Tales of Seeker Orland. And he was hardly one to lecture: his only real weapon at the moment was his prosthetic arm, and while it packed a punch for how small the mana cost was, he should take his own advice and get a weapon himself.

  So he let his eyes wander past the Implement-Class mining tools, the Trinket-Class jewellery, and eventually, he landed on something interesting.

  An Implement-Class walking cane rested across a rack near the back. It was plain blackwood, but capped with an iron handle polished smooth. At first glance, it looked like nothing more than an old man’s prop, but the label caught his eyes.

  ***

  Name: Oreblade Cane

  Type: Passive Implement-Class Relic, Common-2

  Attribute Addition: None

  Ability Description: The holder can transform the cane into a silver oreblade at will. The passive drain is 0.1 mana per hour.

  ***

  Just to see if the description was true, he grabbed the handle and willed it to transform. To his delight, a silver oreblade about the length of his arm really did unfold out of the cane, allowing him to twirl and flourish it around as he tested its weight.

  It’s not too heavy, and the passive mana regeneration drain is also super low.

  But, well, considering it’s a cane first before it’s a blade—and it also doesn’t give me any attributes—I guess the mana regeneration cost is just about right.

  Better yet, it was a weapon he could carry in plain sight, not drawing too much attention but ready to be unfolded at any moment.

  And it’s also a walking aid. I might need it if I’m going to be nauseous and limping all the time.

  He balanced the whole cane in his palm, testing its full weight and length. In a room full of obvious murder-sticks, he preferred the one that lied politely about its intentions, so he made his decision promptly and glanced back at Anisa.

  The young lady was now cradling a blackwood crossbow that’d been on the window display. It had a massive black cord drawstring, and it didn’t look like something she could lift, but her hands were placed correctly, and her cheek settled to the stock like someone who’d practiced more than once. She lifted the weapon, sighted on a ceiling beam, and held it steady as she pretended to aim down the sights.

  … Huh.

  So she does know how to handle a few weapons.

  “You know how to shoot that thing?” he asked, strolling closer with his cane tucked under his arm.

  “A little,” she said, without looking away from the sights. “It fits me, no? The label says it is a passive-type Armament-Class relic with a point-five mana drain per hour, and… oh!” Her eyes lit up like she just remembered it. “Its ability is quite unique! It says any projectile I nock on the string will be turned into a bolt on the draw, so I will never run out of bolts!”

  He raised a curious brow. “That is a versatile ability. Go for it, then, if you can carry it around.”

  “I can.” But then she made a face as she peeked at the label on the wooden stock again. “Passive-type, passive-type… what does that mean, anyways?”

  “Active-type relics only cost mana when you use their ability, but passive-types cost your mana regeneration for as long as you’re carrying them,” he said idly, checking out the rest of the shelves. “The average adult has a mana regeneration of one per hour. If you have, say, a passive-type barrier necklace that automatically deploys a barrier against anything flying faster than an arrow, it might chew your mana regeneration down to point-five or point-four an hour. The stronger the effects, the higher the mana costs.”

  Stolen story; please report.

  She nodded heartily. “What about Armament-Class, then? What does that mean?”

  “... Do you know nothing about the seven classes of relics?”

  “Only their names and the Curator Gods they are linked to, as they were taught to me. What they actually do in the context of adventuring, I am not certain.”

  To that, she gave a sheepish smile. Immediately, he wanted to question just how sheltered and spoiled a life she’d been living up until now to not know what the relic classes that ruled the world did, but… he supposed she might just be a more powerful Minemaster’s daughter than he’d thought.

  I guess to people like them—surrounded by relics all the time—relics aren’t anything worth learning more about compared to… politics and business and diplomacy.

  Leave the relic handling to scholars and adventurers and the common folk, eh?

  He didn’t mind explaining, though. He’d had to clarify the differences and details to many less-learned buyers over the years, so he was just glad she asked before she got herself killed wrongly classifying an opponent’s relics.

  “Implement-Class relics usually have clever, practical, and versatile mechanisms. Think your Chain Gauntlets, Manalock Chests, Storm Compasses, and Clockwork Automatons. They’re not explicitly made for battle, but more often than not, they end up being used creatively in dangerous contexts,” he said, lifting his cane as an example. “Armament-Class relics, in contrast, are almost always weapons and equipment with simple and straightforward abilities designed for battle. Think swords that drain stamina, shields that reflect projectiles, and armor that increases resilience. They often give a handful of additional attribute levels when they’re equipped as well.”

  “Oh. Like this crossbow that gives me…” She had to take a peek at its label again. “One clarity when I equip it.”

  “Yep. Giving additional attribute levels is the main difference between Implement-Classes and Armament-Classes,” he said, thumbing at Yasmin’s swordstaff as he did. “Then there are the Elementum-Classes, which are relics that manipulate the worldly elements. Earth-types, wind-types, fire-types, lightning-types… you know the deal. Celestial-Class relics specifically deal with time and space, like Prophet Orbs, Skypiercing Telescopes, and Gravity Staves. These two classes are the rarest and strongest relics, so you don’t usually find them for sale on shelves.”

  What he could find on the shelves, though, were tons of empty glass bottles lining one particular aisle down the middle. He picked one up and held it over his head for Anisa to see.

  “Apotheca-Class relics are typically consumable-types, which is the third type of relics apart from active-types and passive-types. They’re typically one-time-use relics that deal with life itself, so think Rejuvenation Potions, Stamina Potions, and other magical foods,” he said, lowering the empty bottle. A shame there didn’t seem to be any potions on sale here. “There aren’t any Cognitum-Class relics here, either, but they’re relics that deal with the mind. Think… uh, Lie-Detecting Crystals, Mind-Soothing Stones, Memory Lockets, and Morale Banners.”

  “Like the banners they used in the war.”

  “Mhm. Finally, there are the Trinket-Classes, which are relics that don’t really fit into any of the other classes because of their peculiar effects.” He pointed up at an overhanging rosary chain. “Like this one. It’s a Fortune Rosary Bracelet, which slightly increases your luck. Other examples include Portal Mirrors and Whisper Pins that carry your voice across long distances if the other party also has a Whisper Pin.”

  Anisa listened with a polite, intent stillness that made him feel like a professor for half a heartbeat.

  His heart did thump a cheerful, excited beat. When was the last time he got to gush so freely about relics like this?

  “Each class of relic is tied to a specific Curator God and their specific Altar, and if I recall correctly, Elementum-Class and Celestial-Class Altars are very strictly controlled by the crowns, which is why those relics tend to be difficult to obtain,” he said, glancing around to avert her attentive eyes. “In terms of rarity, Implement-Class has to be the most common class of relics you can find on an adventurer, followed by Armament-Class and Apotheca-Class, then Trinket-Class, then Cognitum-Class, and then—”

  “Elementum-Class and Celestial-Class,” Anisa finished. He dipped his head. At least she was a good listener compared to some of the buyers he’d had to explain relic classes to. “I hear Anzar and Ninazu—the Astronomer of the Celestial Observatory and the Master of the Elemental Ward—are also known to be very reclusive and quiet Curator Gods. Is that why they refuse to open portals sometimes even if the correct Altars are made in their honor?”

  “... Do they refuse to open portals sometimes?”

  She nodded enthusiastically. “My father tried to make an Altar to Anzar once. He said he had the right offerings and everything with dozens of scholars from the Hall of Artificers with him, but no matter how many times he clapped his hands, the portal simply would not open.”

  “Huh.” Did that mean even if I’d followed the right recipe to make an Altar to Ninazu back in Corvalenne, he might not have opened a portal for me? “I suppose that’s something they don’t teach you in the books.”

  “You are most welcome.”

  “Yeah, yeah. What kind of lady doesn’t know about the seven relic classes in this day and age, anyways?”

  “I will have you know my father and elder sister are even worse than me in that regard. They believe as long as the relics work the way scholars say they would work, they are less magical wonders and more just another set of tools to rule,” she said, shrugging. “But with another war looming over us all, perhaps that is not the correct mindset to have. Perhaps we all need a little bit of the seekers’… childlike enthusiasm for relics to truly understand them. That is why you are being paid to educate me, no?”

  “You’re most welcome. If you pay me even more, though, I’ll be glad to lecture you on the history of relics from the beginning of time to…”

  He trailed off as he caught a flicker of familiar golden light from the corner of the shop.

  … No.

  It can’t be.

  He didn’t bother finishing his sentence. Instead, he moved towards the corner like a moth drifting to a lantern, and there he realized he wasn’t just seeing things: tucked behind four dusty jars were four rectangular slips of plain golden parchment. They were plain. Deceptively plain. But he’d recognize them anywhere, because he had an identical one tucked under his cloak right now.

  Tags.

  He immediately checked the handwritten placard beneath the jars, and he had to grab the shelf with his only hand to stop his knees from buckling.

  Ten. Thousand. Curons. Each.

  And even that was a steal.

  “Mister Sorowyn?” Anisa’s voice hovered at his shoulder. “What is it?”

  “These things,” he breathed, “can you pay for them, too?”

  She angled him a sideways look of sly mirth. “Oh? Were you under the impression that I was going to pay for everything you picked out—”

  “I’m not joking around, Miss Anisa. I’ll kneel and kiss your boots if I have to,” he said, eyes still glued onto the Tags. “Exhibit me damned, I didn’t think I’d find one all the way out here in a border town, never mind four of them. I guess I’m not cursed after all.”

  Both Anisa and Yasmin frowned at the sudden reverence in his voice. “Are these things really that important?” Anisa asked, leaning forward so she could get a better look as well. “They’re just… pieces of paper.”

  “They’re Tag relics. With them, you can see the description of any item you slap them onto, but their arguably more important function is allowing someone to get a Title or an acquired skill.” He glanced back at her, unable to stop the grin from taking over his face. “Think about it. You’re pretty defenseless without any relics, right? If you have a good Title, though, never mind just the raw base attribute levels you’d immediately get from it—you’ll have a title ability you can always rely on even without your relics.”

  “I am aware of Titles and title abilities, yes.”

  “Then you gotta buy these. You have to buy these, but just let me keep one. One’s all I need to get a Title Tag, and then you can use the other three for yourself—”

  “I do not need a Title, though?”

  He blinked. “No, you really should. A Title is invaluable. Get a good one, and your life will—”

  “I already have a Title.”

  He blinked again.

  “... Hah?”

  In response, Anisa tilted her head at her steward. “Yasmin has one, too.”

  “Hold on,” he said, hand going up. “You have a… and the steward also has…”

  His words stumbled on themselves, so he decided to stop talking and start thinking.

  … Oh shit.

  His eyes narrowed on the two girls standing perfectly still in front of him. Maybe—just maybe—they were a bit more important than he thought, if Anisa could afford a Title without even knowing the basics of relic classes or even what a Tag looked like. She had to have gotten her Title at a very young age.

  But no matter how wealthy a Minemaster’s family may be, can a ‘normal’ Minemaster’s daughter really afford a Title for her steward as well?

  Is she some really, really powerful Minemaster’s daughter, then?

  He wet his lips, then asked carefully, “So… what are your Titles?”

  Anisa immediately opened her mouth with glee, but Yasmin was quicker. She clamped a hand over her lady’s lips, glaring straight at him. “My Title is ‘Guard’, and my title ability is Oathbound. I can designate one person as my ward, which will increase their resilience by my base resilience no matter the distance. Naturally, that person is my lady. Do not ask any further questions.”

  Dain blinked.

  He let the silence hang a moment before a sly smile tugged at his mouth, and he leaned a little towards Anisa.

  “Yours isn’t a combat-related Title, is it?” he whispered. “Let me guess: it’s a diplomatic Title with a social-type title ability?”

  Her answering smile was infuriatingly composed as she pushed Yasmin’s hand away from her mouth. “You sure sound like you really, really want to know.”

  “Maybe I’ll slap my Tag on your face and check it right now.”

  “You shall lose a hand to Yasmin, then.”

  “... Fine, fine,” he said, shrugging the question off. “As long as you’re not holding back anything useful for the extermination request, we’ll manage, but seeing as neither of you need these Tags…” He turned back around and poked the glass jars with a delighted grin. “Buy all four for me, will you? Or can you not afford them?”

  Yasmin’s lips parted like she meant to cut him down for his insolence, but Anisa spoke first. “Why not? You have already taught me more than I could have ever imagined.” Her tone was so smooth it nearly startled him. Then, with a faint mischievous lilt, she added, “In fact, I can buy you everything in the shop if you like. How about that?

  He blinked at her, half-stunned, until she broke into laughter.

  “Kidding. I do not have that much coin… not on hand, at least.” She punctuated that with a playful wink.

  Just then, Marr shuffled back through the beaded curtain, carrying a tray with her knobby fingers. She set it on the counter: three lanterns with brass cages, a flat heating stone wrapped in cloth, and a squat glass perfume flask with a belt hook.

  “Seven hundred curons for these,” she said briskly, then peered over the counter at the weapons and tools they were holding. “The cane and the crossbow add another five hundred and one thousand respectively, and…” She adjusted her glasses and peered at the glass jars Dain was still poking at. “You want the Tags as well? They’re ten thousand apiece. They’ve been sitting there for years because nobody ever had the coin to pay for them.”

  “Perfect!” Dain said without hesitation, sweeping a hand towards Anisa. “The young lady here will graciously take them off your hands, then.”

  Anisa didn’t even flinch. “Yasmin, my purse.”

  The maid grimaced but produced it, and the two girls began counting pouches of silver curons onto the counter. Meanwhile, Marr gave Dain a long, searching look, as if trying to see what sort of game he was playing.

  “You said you’re heading out to exterminate the silverplume owls, aren’t you?” she asked at last.

  “Yep.” His smile was all sharp teeth, mind already racing ahead to see what he might do with the Tags. “What about it?”

  Marr’s expression grew sober. “I walk those woods with my brother sometimes, hunting for magic materials. Just last night, I swear on the Curator Gods themselves—I heard footsteps. Steps too heavy for any owl. Best be careful out there.”

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