Chương 34: House of Hekter

I turned my gaze toward Dimitri, my eyebrows practically migrating into my hairline. I didn't have to say a word for him to catch the vibe of my extreme skepticism.

"Do not let the humble exterior deceive your searching heart, Arthur!" Dimitri said, his thick accent wrapping around me like a warm, motivational blanket.

"This is the hidden gem of Inizio, the only sanctuary that offers Tier 0 equipment at the generous price of a mere ten gold coins per piece! You are surely wondering, with your pockets heavy with the music of gold, why we do not simply reach for the Tier 1 treasures that glitter in the distance." He leaned in closer, his expression turning as serious as a man discussing the fate of the world.

"In this land, Tier 1 and beyond are not merely bought, they are earned through the sweat of the brow! They require rare materials that the world does not give up easily. To obtain them, one must either brave the depths to find the ingredients yourself or navigate the treacherous waters of the Player Marketplace where others sell their spoils at a high cost. For now, we must build your foundation!

Focus on completing your Tier 0 set, for while they do not carry the magical whispers of bonus attributes, they are the sturdy shield that protects the spirit without demanding a king's ransom in investment!" I looked back at the crumbling shack and then at my pile of gold. It made sense in a "don't run before you can walk" kind of way, even if the "walking" part involved entering a building that looked like it was held together by spit and prayer. I mean, this was Dimitri.

If the human personification of a golden retriever and a motivational poster tells you that something is currently impossible, you better believe that task is about as doable as winning a staring contest with the sun. His optimism is usually boundless, so if he is putting up a yellow "caution" sign, I should probably pay attention. Still, I had a pocket full of gold and a sudden, burning desire to look like a protagonist instead of a background character in a medieval laundry commercial.

"Just out of curiosity, Big Sunshine," I started, trying to keep my voice casual while my wallet mentally braced for impact.

"What kind of damage are we talking about for a single piece of Tier 1 gear? Give it to me straight. How many zeroes am I looking at?" Dimitri turned toward me, his face glowing with that signature brand of saintly patience.

"To forge a masterpiece of the first tier, one must first secure the hands of a master blacksmith!" Dimitri explained, his voice booming with the rhythmic cadence of a legendary saga.

"The service of such a craftsman to tailor the steel to your very soul will require a tribute of one hundred gold coins! And that, my brother Arthur, is merely the beginning of the song! You must also provide the physical essence of the gear. If you do not wish to brave the wilds to harvest the components yourself, you must seek them at the Player Marketplace. Usually, a single piece demands the sacrifice of two common materials and one elite trophy from a fallen foe!

To bypass the labor of the hunt is to pay the heavy tax of convenience!" My brain did a quick back of the envelope calculation and immediately hit a blue screen of death. One hundred gold just for the labor? That didn't even cover the "grotesque monster bits" tax from the marketplace. If I tried to go full Tier 1 right now, I wouldn't just be broke; I would be "selling my internal organs for a pair of boots" broke. The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

The sheer scale of the investment made my head throb with the rhythmic intensity of a drum circle. I had felt like a king five minutes ago, but in the world of high end fashion and murder protection, I was apparently still just a guy looking through the bargain bin.

"Alright, you win," I sighed, waving a white flag in my mind as I looked at my rapidly shrinking dreams of legendary status.

"Lead the way, Big Sunshine. Take me into the belly of the beast. Show me what the bargain bin of Inizio has to offer." We pushed through the creaky front door, and if I thought the outside of this place was a cry for help, the interior was a full blown scream for an exorcist. Calling it a shop was a massive insult to retail establishments everywhere. It was more like a graveyard for gear where the corpses had been tossed in a blender.

Dust motes the size of small insects danced in the stagnant air, and the smell was a lovely bouquet of rusted iron, damp leather, and just a hint of "why is this happening to me." Everywhere I looked, weapons and pieces of armor were scattered around like a toddler's toy box had exploded during an earthquake. It wasn't organized by size, type, or even level of lethality; it was just a chaotic sea of jagged metal and scuffed padding.

Dimitri marched forward with the confidence of a man walking through a palace garden, while I picked my way carefully behind him, trying my best not to trip and get impaled by a stray dagger or contract tetanus from a discarded chest plate. We navigated through the piles of whatever these things were, stepping over a mound of shields that looked like they'd been chewed on by a dragon and bypassing a stack of helmets that were definitely being used as a high end apartment complex for local spiders.

Finally, we reached the wooden counter. It was barely visible beneath a mountain of gears and blades that looked like they'd been dumped there by a very lazy giant. The wood groaned under the weight of the inventory, and I half expected the whole thing to snap and bury us in a landslide of budget friendly protection. I leaned in, squinting through the gloom, wondering if there was actually a person buried somewhere under all that Tier 0 clutter. Dimitri reached out and gave the bell on the counter a solid thwack.

The thing let out a lonely, rusted chime that sounded like it was coughing up a century of neglect. For a second, I thought the vibration alone might bring the ceiling down on our heads, but instead, it triggered a frantic shuffling sound from the dark abyss at the back of the shop.

"Coming! Just a moment, noble patrons! The gears of commerce are turning, albeit with a bit of a squeak!" a raspy, ancient voice called out. A figure emerged from the shadows like a gnome appearing from a cave. It was an old man who looked like he had been manufactured in the same factory as the dust. He possessed a majestic mane of long, straggly white hair on the sides of his head, while the top was a perfectly smooth, shiny landing strip for flies.

His skin was the color of a mushroom grown in a basement, but he was beaming at us with a grin so wide it showed off his entire dental collection, which consisted of exactly one yellowed tooth.

"A glorious welcome to you, brave players! I am Hekter, the humble guardian of this steel sanctuary!" the old man chirped, his eyes twinkling with the joy of someone who hasn't seen a customer since the last century.

"What grand business can I perform for you on this fine day?" Dimitri stepped forward, his massive chest swelling with that infectious, saintly energy he always carried.

"Greetings to you, Master Hekter! We have come to your legendary hall of arms to clothe my brother Arthur in the garments of a true warrior!" Dimitri boomed, his thick accent making the simple request sound like he was narrating a prophecy.

"We seek to trade our gold for the protection you provide, for even the strongest spirit is bolstered by a sturdy breastplate!" Hekter's lone tooth gleamed in the dim light as his smile grew even wider.

"Ah, you have impeccable timing, my large friend! You have arrived just as the tides of fortune have washed a fresh shipment of supplies onto my doorstep! The shelves are practically groaning with the weight of new possibilities!" I took a slow, deliberate 360 degree turn, eyeing the chaotic piles of rusted junk, the tangled nests of leather straps, and the weapons that looked like they had been used to stir giant pots of soup. The "fresh shipment" must have been hidden under the "mountain of garbage" shipment.

"Yeah," I muttered, leaning against a stack of shields that felt suspiciously unstable.

"I can definitely see that the inventory is... overflowing."