Auroravia was such a city, ruled by the ducal family of the kingdom. Being a ducal city, it enjoyed the privileges that usually came with being the economic capital of the territory. The mercantile district, being my first destination, allowed me to experience that privilege firsthand. I was struck by the sheer variety of goods on display. Stalls lined the streets, selling everything from exotic spices to finely crafted weapons. The air was thick with the scent of freshly baked bread and the sound of haggling merchants. I made my way through the crowds, keeping an eye out for anything that might serve my needs.
Finding furniture that suited my needs was relatively easy. There were plenty of vendors offering sturdy, travel-friendly pieces that would make my journey more comfortable. I selected a few items, making sure they were of good quality and could withstand the rigors of travel, then moved on.
With my first objective complete, I turned my attention to finding a healing artifact. Now, I understood that I wasn’t going to find that on a random stall in the marketplace, but instead in a very precise place, which from my first interaction with the city, suggested I had two potential places to check. This second objective became a pending one for me, one that I decided to pursue once I was done with my third, which involved finding someone capable of fixing Misfortune. Again, I knew it wasn’t something I was going to find on a corner of the marketplace, but surprisingly, the marketplace wasn’t a bad place to begin searching for someone with such proficiency.
If you possessed a proficiency in repair, it was obvious that to make a living from it, your target customers wouldn’t be "random peons." They’d most likely be "very special" peons or not peons at all, in other words, either Verdenkind or Highbreed. Unless you failed miserably to find your target base, the ones most likely to know about you and your craft would be among these groups. Of the three, the ones I would have the easiest time reaching out to were Verdenkinds, specifically Handlers. They weren’t particularly hard to find, often just waiting in a corner of the marketplace for their clients to hire them as escorts to the next city.
After asking the right questions and bribing the right amount to the right person, I was given some tips about the road to the next city I planned to head to. I was also easily directed to a workshop across town.
The workshop I was referred to was quite a surprise to me. I had expected something grander, more fitting of a place that handled delicate and powerful artifacts. Instead, I found myself standing before a rather quaint and charming establishment. Tucked away in a remote corner of the city, it was a modest building with an air of enchantment.
The structure was large, with intricately designed wooden walls and a sloping roof adorned with ornate shingles. The windows, although fogged, allowed a warm, inviting light to spill out, hinting at the treasures within. The whole place seemed almost out of a fairy tale, standing out amidst the bustling streets of Auroravia.
At the entrance, a simple wooden sign hung above the door, with the words "At Charlie's" painted in faded letters. There was nothing to suggest what the workshop specialized in. For a moment, I questioned if I had been sent to the right place. The name matched what I had been told, but the appearance didn't inspire much confidence.
Nevertheless, I took a deep breath and decided to enter. As I opened the door, a small bell chimed, announcing my presence. The sound was soft, almost melodic, and it echoed briefly in the quiet space. The interior was dimly lit, with sunlight filtering through the foggy windows, casting a warm, golden glow.
The room was cluttered but organized. Shelves lined the walls, filled with an assortment of items, tools, trinkets, and various materials. A large wooden table dominated the center of the room, covered in more tools and half-finished projects. The air smelled faintly of metal and wood, mingling with the scent of some unidentified herb.
I stepped inside, closing the door behind me. The bell's chime faded, leaving a serene silence. I stood there for a moment, taking in my surroundings, feeling a mix of curiosity and apprehension. The shelves held jars of many shapes and sizes, some containing strange, preserved specimens. The air had a metallic, almost blood-like smell, mingling with a hint of something herbal.
As I surveyed the interior, I wondered if perhaps things not being as I had expected might actually be a good thing. Perhaps the surprise was a testament to the workshop’s uniqueness.
Behind a table, a man had been reading a book. The chiming bell instantly drew his attention to me standing at the entrance. He appeared to be in his fifties, with long black hair streaked with white. His long, tapered ears pierced through his hair, straight and elegant in a way that would make many women jealous. It might have surprised me under different circumstances, but I’d been warned beforehand about the workshop’s owner, who bore the unexpected name Charlie, a name that didn’t quite match either his distinctly eastern features or the creature that he obviously was.
"Erm. Hi," I gret the pointy-eared humanoid creature, not sure if I should have included a bow. He looked like he would appreciate a sort of bow along this greeting.
Now, I admit my reaction to a first interaction with a completely new species, might not have been the most graceful. But in my defense, since I died and was reborn as a sentient entity within a dungeon, I've encountered many strange things. Yet, ever since I was reborn as a "human," and the keyword here is human, I've only ever interacted with other humans as sentient beings. I know there are dwarves, as well as angelic and demonic races out there equally sentient, but I've never actually met any of them. To me, they remain as abstract as concepts can get. So, I'm pretty sure if I were to meet a dwarf right now, I would have the same reaction as I did upon seeing that sentient being who is very obviously an elf.
It took me a moment to actually gather myself, but once I did, I took several steps toward the silent him, asking the very awkward question, "You're Charlie, right?"
I was standing there waiting for a very obvious answer when I saw the warning appear in text form in the corner of my vision before I promptly felt it, hitting me like a bus would. It's been a while since I was last subjected to it, but that unpleasant sensation of being defiled from all possible directions. Though it's been years since I last felt it, it still felt like yesterday. Staring at the one causing the highly unnerving sensation, I saw him step back from behind his desk. I wanted to order the pointy-eared asshole to stop what he was up to, but before I could issue my warning, he, most likely aware of the effect his skill had on the appraised target, deactivated the skill.
"I am...I'm Charlie," he said, finally confirming that the not-so-elvish-sounding name was his, not that I know what elves’ names typically sound like. "And sorry for that, I didn't mean to...what can I do for you?"
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
It took me a moment to finally calm myself down and try to understand what just happened. I wasn't able to do that fully, but wanting to be done with this already, I reached into my wand holder to retrieve what was left of the shaft of my wand, Misfortune, and placed it onto his table. Then I reached into my waist to retrieve a pouch out of which I poured the shattered gemstone shards of Misfortune.
"I was told you knew how to repair catalyst-type artifacts. I need repair for my wand," I tersely explained.
The man, no, the elf, stared at the shattered item, then apprehensively approached. "Can I?" he said, pointing at Misfortune.
I nodded and took a few steps back. As I did, he began examining the wand. And just like that, he was done. It was quick, so quick in fact that I began to question if he did it right.
"Can you repair it?" I asked, apprehensive of the answer he might have for me.
He nodded. "I should be."
Though surprised by that answer, I couldn't deny being happy to hear it, prompting me to ask the second most essential question, not that I, with how rich I was now, cared how much it would be. "How much?"
As if being asked the most complicated question ever, the elf began scratching his head, displaying a whole range of frowns before telling, "370 ?."
Did you decide to build yourself a mansion off my back or something? While 370 ? was nowhere near unaffordable to the current me, it was still a bitter amount of money. With that much, I was confident it would be the price of a brand new wand. Not that I was familiar with the price of a new wand, having never purchased one in this incarnation or any previous one, but if I were a merchant and were selling a wand, that's about the price range where I'd sell it. So yes, while that amount was affordable, I was sure going to bargain that price down, but I didn't even get to say anything before the elf added, "I know that's a lot, but that's what it's worth. The wand might look unassuming with its handle and shaft, but the shattered gemstone is a high-grade one, providing quite the magic enhancement...I mean, I know you already know with your identification skill, so…" I wasn't sure if he was smart or not by reminding me that he had just used his appraisal skill on me, but on those words, he added, "but if that price doesn't sit with you, we can get to an arrangement."
Curious, I asked, "What arrangement?"
"I will do it for free in exchange for that," he said, pointing at my waist. Out of which I, easily able to guess what he was pointing at, retrieved an item that I'd more or less guessed was the cause of that initial exaggerated reaction of his, it was the damaged dagger known as the "D?rmalkrin's Blade."
"You want this?" I asked, reaching for the blade.
Considering the dagger's both imprinted abilities, the reason I could immediately think of for an elf to wish to acquire such a dagger would be to destroy it. I don't think any sane, non-kin-murdering elf would want such a blade in the wild.
"In exchange for it, I will have your wand ready by next month," he said, most likely intent on making his offer sound more interesting than it actually was. However, by doing so, he made a cruel mistake.
"Wait, how long will it take you to get this wand ready when you said you can fix it?"
"...One month. Why?"
"I can't wait that long," I said firmly. "If I agree to your offer, how fast can you make it be done?"
Charlie hesitated, his brows furrowing. "Four weeks at best," he finally replied.
"That's too long. I can wait a week at best," I stated, my tone leaving no room for negotiation.
Though I still had hundreds of days before what I was headed to the city of Miriandelle for, I was still thousands of kilometers away from it. I didn't see myself spending more than a week in a single city, so there was no way I would stay in Auroravia for four weeks.
"A week..." Charlie murmured, clearly troubled by the timeline. "It won't be possible," he admitted, pointing at the wand's shattered gemstone. "I don't have a manacyte of this quality, so I have to have it supplied. That’s the part that takes a long time. If I had that material, I would have repaired it in less than a day."
His confidence in his abilities was evident, and while it was somewhat reassuring, it didn't change my situation. I couldn't wait that long.
We were now stuck in a stalemate. I couldn't see myself waiting for a month, and he didn't have the means to make it happen sooner. There seemed to be no escape from this predicament, it was then that Charlie the elf suddenly seemed to have an idea. He went to retrieve something from behind his shop. When he returned, he carried a box that he placed on the table. Within was a wand very similar to Misfortune, just with a slightly larger gemstone.
---
Identification: ???[Status]
Name: ???
Object: M.C Amplifier
Material: Unmeltable Iron, Manacyte
Core Gemstone: Refined Manacyte (+3.000 years)
Origin: Unknown
Age: 7 year
Creator: Unidentifiable
Owner: N/A
Condition: Pristine
[Special Attributes]Infused Skills
Recommended Use
Best suited for mages specializing in water-based magic or those seeking to enhance their spellcasting precision.
Warning
Value
Estimating…-
---
"Being an Identification skill wielder, I don't think I have anything to say about this wand that you can't already see," he said.
I nodded. "How much?"
Looking once again at the blade at my waist, he said, "Just the D?rmalkrin's Blade plus your wa—"
"I'm not giving Misfortune away," I instantly cut in, seeing where he was going with his offer.
Frowning at my immediate refusal, he began considering another offer. After several more seconds of contemplation, he said, "Alright... I'm making you another offer you can't refuse. This wand in exchange for the D?rmalkrin's Blade."
I suppose it was indeed an offer one couldn't reasonably refuse.
After all, it was a working wand in exchange for a chipped dagger. It sounded like an offer in my favor, right? Well, that's what most would think, but right now, if there was one thing that offer managed to do, it was to reveal how desperately he wanted to acquire the blade. That made me even more interested in keeping the chipped dagger. While it was damaged, it had not one but two imprinted abilities: Bane Elvish and Wound Binding. The former granted increased damage against elf races, and the latter provided some self-healing. If I had to guess which ability interested the elf, it was likely the former.
Since [Bane Elvish] was an imprinted ability, not an infused one, it meant that the wielder was the first to possess the Bane Elvish ability, and over time, the repeated use, the ability eventually imprinted onto the dagger itself.
Though I never acquired that title in this incarnation or any previous one, I knew a lot about that ability as it was one of the most recognizable ever, being a bane-type ability.
These bane-type abilities were title-granted abilities, obtained upon acquiring a [Slayer] title. In this case, it was an elf-slayer title that granted the wielder the Bane Elvish ability, which eventually imprinted itself onto the blade. How that title was acquired and how it eventually imprinted itself on that dagger wasn't very hard to guess—by killing a ridiculous amount of elves.
Now comes the question, why would an elf want so much to acquire a chipped blade with such unique imprinted abilities? I had a few running theories, but they were irrelevant to my answer to his offer.
"What do you think?" he asked, pushing the box toward me. "It's a much better enhancer than your...Misfortune. But it can be yours, I just wan—"
"No," I simply refused.
Obviously, I wanted the wand, which was, as he said, a better enhancer than Misfortune.
Though it was still far less potent than Impotence, which came with more infused skills and attributes, it was a wand, which naturally makes it much easier to wield than the full-blown staff Impotence was.
Had I been a mage, I would have always prioritized a staff over a wand, but being the "versatile" sorcerer that I was, in casual battle, I always preferred a wand. That's why I found it essential to repair Misfortune; I simply didn't like being wandless. So, I had every reason to accept his offer, even if it involved exchanging Misfortune and the D?rmalkrin's Blade. But I didn't feel like it, first because I realized how much the idea of giving up Misfortune didn't sit well with me, and second because his eagerness to acquire the blade made me even less inclined to give it up.
And those were my only reasons. I quickly realized how petty they were, but in that moment I felt it was a good enough reason for me to refuse. Promptly to simply explain, "I also don't want to give that dagger away."
The reason I brought the dagger was to get it fixed. When leaving the hotel, I left with the idea of finding someone being able to fix artifacts. If they could fix Misfortune, surely they could also fix the D?rmalkrin's Blade. Ironically, the workshop I was directed to was run by an elf.
"Why would you want to keep that foul blade?!" he asked, his voice dripping with unchecked antagonism.
"The answer to your question is my concern alone," I replied, ignoring his anger, before asking with a wide smile, "So how much, in Cleor, would you want for that wand?"