Chương 8: Chapter 7

Greta took half a step back to look him up and down.

"Maybe you're not as foolish as I initially took you for," she eventually said, with begrudging respect - though with a lot more grudge than respect.

"If you're the only one with all the ashroot," Corin continued, looking around surreptitiously, "then you'll have a monopoly on the market. I'm offering to do that for you, as a favor."

"And for a price, no doubt?" Corin thought for a moment, then nodded. He was still new to this.

"Yes. For a price. And as a favor," he added.

"Feels like more of a price," Greta noted.

"Maybe more of a price than a favor," he replied, relenting, "but you're welcome to treat it as a favor. You did just steal my blood, after all. I can treat that as a favor - complimentary bloodletting, or something."

"Enough," she said, her tone now impatient.

"How much?" Corin thought for a moment. He hadn't settled on a price. He had to run through the numbers quickly; he'd always helped his father with his complicated taxes ever since he was young, together with Mira. They'd done their best to scrounge up any savings between the feudal, governmental, and Guild taxes that always plagued them. With any luck, it would help him with his spontaneous haggling now.

"You sold ashroot at 5 copper a piece, back when they healed 15 HP. Now at 30, you won't sell them at 10 - no, the higher the healing the higher the price exponentially, since you always have to worry about satiety and purity, and it'll be easier to combine with other alchemical ingredients," he started, her eyes narrowing all the while as he summoned what little knowledge of alchemy he had to the fore.

"No, you'd sell them at 20 at the least," he continued, glancing around at the other stalls, "and that would be without a monopoly. With a monopoly, you could probably get away with 25, even 30 - as long as any other stalls don't have access to it - and since the only access to ashroot has been plundered by yours truly, you'll likely have full monopoly access for this entire week; more than enough time to sell out your stock completely." She stared at him for a while, then let out a sigh.

"And your price?"

"If you can get away with 30 copper a piece, then I'd be happy to give them away for 15 each." The woman stared at him for a moment longer, then let out a cackle a witch would be proud of.

"15 a piece? You must be crazy," she said, wiping a tear from her eye.

"No self-respecting entrepreneur sells at double-markup. I'll take it for 10 at the most." Corin considered her offer, then shook his head.

"15 each, otherwise I'm sure some other stalls will be more than interested in my offer. I'm pricing it at the monopoly rate."" Besides," he continued, his eyes narrowing, "don't you want to be credited with 'discovering' the ashroot Turn? I'm sure that'll increase your alchemical standing - your 'street rep', so to speak." She met his gaze, and he tilted his body, as if to imply that he was about to leave. He did it a few more times, feigning a step toward the other stalls, each time to little effect.

"15 each, and you keep your mouth shut about this," she said, her words firm and final. Corin tried to not smile ear-to-ear, and failed miserably.

"Deal." 203 total ashroot, minus the one they'd used for testing. That gave him exactly 3, 030 copper, or just over 30 silver. It wasn't quite the riches he was expecting to get from his original Bag of Holding trick (it was about 2% of his total debt owed) but the beauty of money was its potential for exponentiation.

30 silver today could be 60 silver tomorrow, and 120 silver the next - the thought becoming a lot less comforting once he realized that doubling his money every day still wouldn't be nearly enough to pay off the debt. Still, the extra copper coins afforded him some more gristle in his stale bread soup, something he chewed on with practiced efficiency, as well as some cheap, basic supplies like lamp oil and various herbs he'd bought from Greta.

He skipped the mudgrog for today, as he needed to be thinking as clearly as possible. With that in mind, he sat and tried to summon up a new wealth of information, anything that could help bury him out of his debt, his red eye flaring in pain as the vision came to the fore: [As~r~t ▒ val~ x2] Ah. How useful. It seemed that he only received a single vision a day. Tried as he might, only that text kept on flashing in his mind.

Repeated attempts only made the growing migraine behind his red eye more omnipresent, until he finally gave up and trudged towards his haystack. He half climbed-into, half-burrowed into his bed, trying his best to get comfortable. He figured it must have been around 9, maybe 10 o'clock. Corin thought back to when he'd received his last vision, remembering the toll of the night bell. The last vision came right at the turn of midnight. If that's the pattern, then I'll wake just after and try again.

He made a mental note to wake up, and hoped that his mind would play ball. Thereafter he tried his best to assume some kind of slumber, his body eventually relenting and bringing him into a light, restless sleep. He woke up, but was unsure of the time. He tried to summon a vision: If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. [As~r~t ▒ val~ x2] Great. I really hope it's just not midnight yet.

He passed the time for a while, thinking back to his life at home, back to living with his family - how happy, and how hard, that'd been. He shook his head, instead refocusing on the present, and summoned the message once more: [▒ Dire ▒ rar~ it▒op ch~ed to 5% chance] His mind shot awake, the new message glowing like a fiery ember, bright enough to match the pain behind his eye. Once more, he had the sense that this message described something that had already happened, rather than something still to Turn.

He shut his eyes instinctively, and the message vanished. He opened only his right eye, keeping the left closed, and there it was, still burning in his vision. Is it my mind seeing this? Or this red eye of mine? The question would have to wait. Whatever the message said mattered more than how he was seeing it. He wrote it down and turned his attention to the actual words, trying to will the meaning to him, then realized something dire.

'Dire'. There's so many 'dire' everything. Direboar, direwolf, dire-goddamn-bat. What the hell could this one be? Regardless, let's look at the rest of the message... the first bit is cut off, but let's look at 'rar~ it▒op ch~ed to %5 chance'.... rare it... op changed to 5% chance. The last bit of text should be that, right? Then what's the 'it▒op'? I can't think of any word that fits there. Or could it be more than one word that's been cut off? Item something? Item chop? Item drop?

'Rare item drop changed to 5% chance'? That might be it - no, that has to be it. Dire fucking-SOMETHING rare item drop changed to 5% chance. This... is useless. Without knowing what creature it refers to, then I can't do a thing with this. Hell, the 5% chance might be lower than the original amount. If this is something that's only happening next Turn instead of what's already changed, then it's even more useless. But I can't waste a day. That debt payment day will come soon. Then what the fuck do I do? Dire...

there's a space after dire. Most creatures don't have that space, right? Direwolf. Direhound. Dire-whatever. Then, what creatures have that separation? Fuck, Dire-anything is still likely out of my level, right? Ok. Ok. I'm not solving this tonight, not with my head splitting in two. Sleep. Sleep will help. [DEBT - LIONEL] Owed: 15gc Total funds: 30sc Due: 3 days Corin woke up just after 6am, blinking against the grogginess, and forced himself directly towards the Guild Hall.

Upon his arrival, he went straight to the bounty boards, jostling with the other early birds, trying to scan through to find any creatures that fit his idea. He caught bits of conversation all the while, including some half-heard mention of an adventurer disappearing into his own Bag of Holding, but tried his best to focus on the task at hand.

Sure enough, most 'dire' creatures had no space between - all but one: [BOUNTY: DIRE SQUIRREL CULLING] Dire Squirrel populations continue to climb in the noble district's orchards and gardens. Suspected FrothFrenzy outbreak. Culling necessary. Remember: may occasionally carry a rare Gilded Acorn! Each Dire Squirrel kill: 3 copper coins Rare drop (Gilded Acorn) chance: a highly-likely 0. 5%! Recommended minimum level/tier: 3/F Corin stared at the bounty board, mind ablaze.

This has to be-"Not worth it," Perrin said, one of the regulars, someone Corin had shared a hundred worthless bounties with over the years. Perrin shook his head.

"The frothfrenzy cure potion you'll need to have after will cost more than the reward. Those buggers never drop any Gilded Acorns, anyway." Corin glanced at him, putting his hand to his chin pensively.

"Yes, 0. 5% does seem awfully low for the trouble..." Perrin looked at him, somewhat confused, then nodded.

"If you're looking for something worthwhile," he continued, pointing at another decidedly-F-rank bounty, "there's always the weevils. Lord knows there's always weevils."

"I've dealt with enough weevils already for my taste," Corin replied.

"I'll take the squirrel quest, since I'm sure no one else will." [Quest Acquired: Dire Squirrel Cull] Perrin snorted.

"You can be sure of that," he replied, looking at Corin like he was an idiot - a generally astute perception, though one that was hopefully changing.

"Just don't come crying to me when you're foaming at the mouth."

"I'll come biting, Perrin," Corin replied with a smile, turning to leave the Hall, and immediately bumped into Bran, rebounding off him almost pitifully.

"Dire squirrels?" Bran said, his eyes narrowing.

"Damn Corin, that's low, even for you." Corin shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant.

"Someone has to do it."

"That someone doesn't always have to be you," Bran said, taking a half step toward him and lowering his voice.

"Something you know about the bounty?" A few seconds of silence elapsed, as Corin ran through every possible reply in his head.

"Nu- uh," he eventually replied, that somehow being the best among them. Bran put his fingers to his eyes, then pointed them at Corin, the action accompanied by a slight grin.

"I don't know what's gotten into you, Corin Vess," Bran said solemnly, "but you're going to have to hope for a hell of a lot of luck finding enough Gilded Acorns to pay off that Loanshark debt of yours."

"You know about that?" Corin asked, surprised. Bran's eyes flicked towards Corin's Bag of Holding.

"Not hard to, with an item like that," Bran replied.

"Best watch your back. Lionel's not the only one who'll want something from you." Corin wasn't sure if this was a threat or advice; Bran had certainly seemed warmer to him since the gutter hound incident, but he knew the man could still crush his skull between two fingers if he felt like it. Best to be wary regardless.

"Thanks for the warning, I think," Corin replied, then awkwardly held up his bag, heavier in his hand than its weightlessness had any right to be.

"Well, gotta fill this up with magical acorns now."

"You certainly do," Bran replied.

"Remember, if the squirrels are as rabid as they seem, then you'll definitely need a frothfrenzy cure potion afterwards. They don't go down easy." Corin nodded, attempting a weak smile.

"Sounds lovely." Corin left, at least somewhat comforted by the fact that no matter how many Dire Squirrels he faced, none would pose much of an immediate threat. That foresight, unfortunately, would prove particularly presumptuous.