Book 3 - Chapter 37 (Patreon)

The night was well and truly upon them and it had been a long day, so they went back to their inn for the night.

To his mild discomfort, Brin found that someone had gone through his bag while he was gone. All his clothes had been removed and laundered, and were now neatly folded on top of a dresser. Not just that, but a pair of nice striped pajamas had been added to the lot, in his size. They must've noticed he hadn't brought any and given them to him. Just how expensive was this inn? Knowing Hogg, it was likely the best in the city.

He put them on and dropped into bed. It was the softest thing he'd ever touched. The silk sheets were so smooth as to be nearly frictionless and he wondered if he'd accidentally slip out of bed if he moved around too much. He sank into the mattress to the point that he felt he might drown in it.

Marksi retracted his claws and then jumped on. He padded around in delight at the new experience, but when he actually tried to settle in he kept sinking in too far. Eventually, he ended up curling up on his own on the ground. Brin thought about joining him; he didn't know if he'd actually be able to fall asleep like this. It felt like being eaten by a cloud.

He closed his eyes and instantly passed out.

That night, his dreams were weird. He felt like there was a foggy barrier between him and his thoughts, and he watched the dreams play out from a distance without really being involved. At first he dreamed of himself telling Sion that he was too high class to really be friends with a simple [Merchant], but that he could accept him as a servant.

But then the dream abruptly shifted, as if it noticed he wasn't really paying attention and wanted to punish him. He dreamed of torture and death, of the battle for Hammon's Bog, of seeing his friends die and turn undead... only foggily. The entire nightmare was at such a distance that he could barely remember the details of what it was trying to show him.

All that was forgotten when he woke up to the smell of breakfast. In the common room, he saw Hogg and Marksi already at the table; a corner of the room was set up a lot like the tea parlor with big comfy chairs, but the table was a bit larger and it was full of food. A board with bread, butter, and seven different jams. A plate of diced fruits, a vegetable platter, and pastries of every sort. They didn't have the exact same breakfast customs here as they did on Earth, so Hogg must've ordered for him, because there was also a plate of eggs and bacon.

He quickly took a seat.

Hogg looked up from a newspaper he was reading. A newspaper. Brin hadn't seen one of those since he was a kid, but suddenly he had a hunger for it. To know what was current, what was going on. He wanted to hear it from a journalist and not filtered through rumors from seven different people.

"How'd you sleep?"

"Good, but weird. I think there's something seriously wrong with my dreams. Is there a Mind Healer here in Oud's Bog?"

"You know, normally you need to do more than one session," said Hogg.

"I know."

"I'll see if I can set something up." Hogg turned his attention back to the newspaper.

Brin turned his attention to the food. He took a bit of everything and piled it on his plate, and then bit into the eggs. Somehow, it was still warm, and it was heavenly.  "This is so good. How do you even get eggs to taste like this? Do they have a [Chef] on staff?"

"Don't know the exact Class, but yeah. It's the only reason I come here," said Hogg.

"Is that really the only reason? This place is way too fancy," said Brin.

"Look, adventuring isn't the life I would suggest to anybody. But it has its benefits." Hogg flicked up the newspaper he was reading, cutting off any further questions.

Brin satisfied himself with packing as much food into his body as possible. He expected Marski to be just as excited about the spread, but the little guy just nibbled on a single grape. He must've still been full from that monster core.

Finally, Hogg was finished with the newspaper and Brin could read it.

"The print quality is atrocious. New [Printer]," said Hogg.

"It's fine!" Brin had no idea what Hogg was talking about. It didn't have any photos or anything, and it was printed on barkpaper instead of recycled paper, but aside from that it was exactly like he'd expect from a newspaper anywhere.

The front page story was about Arcaena, but there wasn't much new there. They'd offered a conditional surrender to Olland, but they were still working out the exact conditions with their diplomats at a neutral location in Prinnash. While virtually everyone was frustrated with the lack of progress, the Ollandish diplomats seemed optimistic.

The next few pages stayed on theme of international politics. Prinnash and Frenaria were still adjusting to their ceasefire and still arguing over what the war had been over in the first place. Despite the political tensions, trade had resumed and things were getting back to normal.

In the local news, he found the city patting itself on its back about the low crime rate, especially important after a high-profile [Printer] had been murdered in a burglary last year. Brin actually knew about that, since it was one of Hogg's people. That [Printer] had been the one who was supposed to send out the warning about the undead army.

In the entire newspaper, there was nothing about the undead army. Nothing about the war in Hammon's Bog, nothing about the increased monster attacks. There was one small notice about the four bandits being captured, as well as the [Butcher] kid's execution. That small story was right underneath a much larger story about how another caravan had just arrived in town, which proved once and for all that the roads were safe to travel, despite what irresponsible rumors might suggest.

Good to know that even in another world, the news always had an agenda.

"What do they gain by making people think it's safe out there?"

"That's a good question," said Hogg. "Remember how the Baron agreed to help hide the fact that we didn't capture the entire bandit crew? We have to assume it's something to do with that. I'll sniff around; see what I can find out."

Breakfast done, Brin went back to his room and changed out of his pajamas. "So what's the plan for today?"

"I've got some business to take care of. We'll head to the market first, I think."

"Perfect."

Brin had been hoping to see the market. He had money to spend, and for a long time now, no place to spend it, except for at Perris's place. He'd given half of his savings over to fund a caravan, but then the town had been cut off by an undead army so he had no idea what had come of that. He had about four hundred gold left, having replaced much of what he'd spent by selling glass.

Brin grabbed Marksi, as well as the grape he was still nibbling on, letting the little dragon ride on his shoulder. Then they left the extravagant inn and went further into town.

Hogg seemed to know the way, so Brin let him lead and just played the tourist, gawking at all the sights. Oud's Bog was much better developed than any place he'd been to in this world. The stone roads weren't just for the main thoroughfares, they were everywhere, and they could get clear across town without dirtying their shoes at all. There were even street-sweepers constantly moving around and clearing off any horse dung as soon as it arrived.

They crossed bridges over quickly rushing canals, and the water was clean and didn't stink. This city actually had a working sewer system, and people used it. There were a few people with Skills that made the open sewer situation in Hammon's Bog bearable, but there was a freshness here that his hometown just couldn't match.

When they arrived at the market, it was a jumbled, chaotic mess. One part shopping mall and two parts flea market, it was a riot of noise and color. Tents, stalls, and carts were sprawled out everywhere, with only narrow paths leading around. In some cases, the shops were so close together that you had to go through one merchant's tent to get to another's. Then, in a ring around the outside, there were the bigger storefronts. The more established merchants were housed in actual buildings, and more than a few of them had a mean-looking [Warrior] or [Rogue] outside to keep out the riff-raff.

Hogg made his way right into the middle of the mess, where there was a small park. An armored city guard patrolled this area, making sure no merchants so much as put a blanket down, giving the square at least a little bit of free space. Hogg found an open bench and sat down.

"Don't mind me. I think I'll do some people watching."

That probably meant that he wanted to use his Visible Eyes to spy on someone. Brin shrugged and walked back through the market.

He took in the sights, sounds, and smells. There was the scent of cooking meat on the breeze, which wasn't appetizing at all given how full he still was from breakfast. But there were also spices and perfumes, fresh fish, oils, flowers and ores, all of it mixing together and warring for attention, much like the [Merchants] themselves.

Brin felt his Mental Resistance warding off the effect of many different Skills. Most were calling his attention. One [Merchant] selling amulets yelled, "Look here!" and Brin had to look, though then he firmly looked away.

[Merchants] who had to rely on mental tricks to get people to buy from them were scammers in his opinion. If they were actually offering a valuable product or a good deal, they wouldn't need that kind of thing.

He wondered what Sion would say about it. He was realizing he was completely unprepared for this side of the world. How did he know if any of this stuff was any good, when the people selling it might have entire Classes built around deceiving customers?

He saw a merchant with a large table full of potions, so he went over to have a look. After all, he loved a good potion. The potions were marked with their presumptive effects. Energy. Water-breathing. Ghost Vision. Bread in a Bottle--that one just looked like beer. There were several that tempted him, but he ended up walking away without buying anything. Maybe if he lived here, he could afford to try out a few different [Merchants] to see who was the real deal and then only do business with them, but since he was going to leave in a few days he wasn't sure if that was worth it.

He ended up on the outer ring, the established businesses.

He passed a bookstore, a perfume parlor, a jewelry store whose guard murmured "Keep moving" as Brin passed. Finally he found it: a glassworks.

The entire storefront was made of clouded glass, with "Cerqueira's Glass - Tableware and Curiosities" printed above the door.

Inside, predictably, everything was glass. The walls were mirrors, making the place look much larger than it was. The tables were glass, as well as the items on the tables. A row of tables held wine glasses, regular glass cups, and then even plates and bowls. One shelf held rows of eyeglasses, and there was even a magnifying glass. Towards the back, he saw a locked case. He had to know what was in there. What would a [Glasser] bother locking up?

No one else was in the shop, and with the bright lighting coming from enchanted lamps and the mirrored wall, it made him feel like he was overexposed, somehow. Still, he was a customer and this was a shop; no one could complain about him walking around.

Inside the glass case, he just saw ordinary wine glasses, and a few larger goblets. They were nice, but he didn't see what set them apart from the others on the tables. What made them so special? He didn't see a price tag, so he used Value Sense.

Ten gold per glass.

"Come to scout out the competition?" He heard a voice behind him.

He turned to find an older gentleman, finely dressed, and bald with a white goatee. Brin used [Inspect].

Reynaldo Cerqueira

Glasser

Welcome to Cerqueira's Glass - Tableware and Curiosities, home of the finest glass products in Frenaria. Please allow me to assist you with any questions you might have.

"Well? Are you here to steal my ideas and undercut my prices?" asked Cerqueira.

"Oh, no, sir. I was just–"

A twinkle in Cerqueira's eye told Brin that he was being teased. He smiled and said, "Maybe. I think I could do better. And for ten gold? Tsk."

Cerqueira barked a laugh, "If you can match this, then you deserve to steal my business."

"Honestly, I'm just passing through on my way to Blackcliff. My hometown didn't have a [Glasser], so I learned the trade from a [Crafter]. I guess I just wanted to see what a real, high level [Glasser] is capable of."

Cerqueira spread his hands out wide. "Then you've come to the right place."

"Seriously, though. What makes these cups so special? Are they much stronger than regular glass?"

The old [Glasser] stared at the cups in the case with obvious pride. "A bit, I suppose, but that's not really the point. Glass is graded on luster, clarity, color, and sheen. It's difficult to see with the naked eye, but see how they sparkle more than the glass you're used to?"

Brin peered deeply. "I guess..."

"It's not easy to see as a layman, but those with specialized appraisal Skills can tell the difference. This is a common mistake people make. They expect high-level materials to take on magical or supernatural attributes. But higher quality glass becomes... more like glass. We love glass for being glass, not for trying to be something else."

"Hm. Seems like an awful lot of trouble to go through for something that's indistinguishable from regular glass unless you have a Class for it."

Cerqueira shrugged. "For most people, yes. But if you're willing to pay for the very best glass, this is where you get it. It's also why I'm not worried about other [Glassers] coming in and stealing my methods. It's not about methods, it's about quality." 

"It's about levels," said Brin.

"Inelegantly put, but yes. Though I must ask. Did you say that you made it all the way to level 34 as a [Glasser], at your age, without a master?"

Well, a lot of that Cerqueira must've put together from [Inspecting] him, but he couldn't exactly complain. He stood taller, feeling a bit of pride.

"That's right. I experimented with all kinds of things. Cups and dishes, sure, but also spears and swords." He didn't know why he didn't just say he'd gotten most of his levels from fighting. Maybe because he wanted to look like a fellow crafter.

"Really. And people will buy those? Glass weapons?"

Brin shrugged. "I would."

"I know you said you were passing through, but if you were considering an apprenticeship, I think–"

Just then, the door opened again, and three teenagers walked in.

"I told you he'd be here," said Davi.

"You were correct," said Sion.

"I thought for sure he'd be looking at swords," said Zilly. "They don't sell weapons here."

Brin looked back at the store owner. "Look, it's a kind offer, but–"

Cerqueira stepped back. "Say no more. Call me if you need a hand with anything."

Zilly picked up a glass bowl, looking at it in disinterest. Her condition had greatly improved since yesterday. There were still double pricks on her face and hands, but she’d obviously eaten something and had a good night’s rest. She no longer looked like she was inches away from death, but still seemed a little shaky, like she couldn’t quite believe she was finally safe. “See, Brin? This is what a [Glasser] shop is supposed to look like. Not like that nightmare shop that’s hot as the sun and has a giant scary puppet man.”

She set the bowl down, but didn’t look at what she was doing and put it on the edge of the table. It toppled.

Brin reached out with his magic to grab it before it could hit the ground, but another power pushed him away and took control of the bowl, floating it up in the air to set it gently back in place. That was interesting. He’d never wrested for control of a glass object with another [Glasser] before. How had Cerqueira won? He didn’t think it was a contest of magic power, or Brin’s enormous well of power should’ve won, unless this guy was also hiding another Class. Maybe it had to do with actual Skill with glass?

Cerqueira said, “I don’t think you’ll be able to break anything by accident, but please refrain from touching the merchandise with those grimy fingers, unless you intend to buy.”

Zilly apologized, the three of them spread out, looking around and keeping their hands well away from the merchandise.

He noticed that during their conversation, Marksi had found a hand mirror. He’d propped it up with his tail and was currently shifting the color of his scales while admiring himself in delight. Cerqueira noticed too, but didn’t say anything about the fact that Marksi was touching his merchandise, just watched fondly.

 It was interesting that Marksi was so enthralled, since they had mirrors at home. Value Sense said that mirror nearly cost a gold, so it was better than anything Brin could make. That shouldn’t matter–a mirror was a mirror, unless you had crazy good senses and could tell the minute differences. Marksi probably did, honestly.

Brin glanced back at the high-quality glass in the case, feeling a strange sort of longing. He hoped he could make glass like that someday. Not just stronger and more useful, but better. 

He looked around a little more, but couldn’t see himself buying any glassware from someone else when he could make it himself. Eventually he realized that the others were just here to humor him, and decided to cut them a break. The four of them left the shop.

“So what else do you want to see?” asked Zilly. “I’ve been here before, so I can show you around.”

“Weren’t we going to the [Bards’] Terrace?” asked Davi.

“We can, but as soon as we go there, we’ll be there all day,” said Zilly.

“If there was anything you wished to purchase, I could help you negotiate a price,” said Sion.

“Oh, then what about some potions!” said Brin.

They went back to the very same potion-seller that Brin had seen before, and now that he had Sion to vouch for the wares, he bought an assortment of things. Anti-venom, a potion to disguise his body heat against monsters that hunted by heat sense. The energy potion, and a few others.

They went to a few places Zilly wanted to see next, so she could drool at daggers and swords but not buy anything. Sion made a few purchases here and there, and Brin got the feeling it was when he spotted a deal rather than needing anything in particular.

At one point, Davi stopped to drool in front of a stall selling instruments, all of them ouds.

Brin stood next to him and whispered, “What’s this? Going to try to charm your way into another oud? You already have one of these, remember.”

“Don’t even joke about that,” said Davi. “Jeffrey’s rule number one has one huge exception: [Bard’s] always pay for instruments. Think about it. If people always ended up giving away their instruments for free, then they’d stop making them in the first place.”

“So are you going to buy one?” asked Zilly.

Davi sighed. “Maybe next time.”

“Then let’s go already.”

Davi bit his lip. “Alright. But let me warn you. Being a [Bard] in the city is not at all like in Hammon’s Bog.”