Rhen made his way outside with Aki on his heels, his mood soured from all that had taken place so early in the morning. Jakira escaped the inn amid many sweet farewells from the delvers, all of them begging for her to come back tomorrow with more flaky rolls. Rhen wanted to be happy that they were making a positive impact on the little town of Yu, but couldn’t help feeling… angry, instead.

He'd finally found his place in the world after fighting and scraping a living that he himself had earned, and Welsh was trying to threaten it.

Jakira hefted the bone-sack with a smile. “Where to first?”

“Weapon’s crafter.” Rhen narrowed his eyes and glanced around at the signs on the main street. After a moment, he saw the telltale mallet and anvil of a blacksmith on a road sign pointing to the east. That was a good place to start.

Rhen took off in that direction, trying not to overanalyze what he was feeling, and instead focusing on what they needed to do. They’d need to bring back some more materials and tools to get started on their inn, not to mention the baths Jakira wanted to build.

When he turned off for the Blacksmith, he saw another sign for Wyland’s Weapons and Dungeon Gear. He veered off for the shop, which looked in ill repair. Two of the windows out front were cracked or broken, covered in a dark cloth. The door was askew on its hinges, and whined loudly when Rhen opened it.

Inside wasn’t much better. Towers of broken junk filled the room, and a haze in the air gave it an antique smell. There was a narrow path on the dusty wood floor that led to a well-lit room in the back.

“Wyland, are you here?”

The crazy old man appeared around the edge of the door. He wore some large metal contraption on his head with mutli-colored lenses, and another metal contraption on his arm. “Who’s that? Gerald?”

“It’s Rhen, sir.”

Wyland rolled his chair through the open door and stood. “Oh Rhen, yes. New dungeon owner. Finally realized my worth, did ya? Come in!”

Rhen made his way down the path to the back. The towers of junk swayed at his passing, giving Rhen more doubts at Wyland’s claims of worth.

“What’re you here for?” the old man asked. He flipped up the glasses to look at Rhen better.

“We have materials for sale. I wanted to offer them to you first, but also, we’d like to make some upgrades, perhaps add a syntial.”

“Hmm.” Wyland pulled off the metal arm attached to his left shoulder and scratched at his scarred nub while he thought. “Where’s the weapon?”

“Jakira?” Rhen motioned her forward.

She pulled the bone club from the pack, holding it hesitantly as she looked at the one-armed man.

Wyland strapped the metal attachment back on and a syntial lit up on his shoulder. The metal pieces clicked and clacked, coming to life with the orange anima flowing through him. He reached out with both arms, the fake metal one moving just as if it were his own.

“Hmm, nice femur. It’s fresh, good. The syntial can take better when there’s still marrow inside.”

Rhen opened his mouth and Wyland cut him off.

“Don’t ask me why, it just is. Okay, what do you want to infuse this thing with?”

Aki’s fins fluttered. “My good sir, first we need to know your rates.”

“Rate depends on whatcha want.” He winked.

Jakira pulled one of the little green father’s fennel cores from a satchel at her side. “These have regenerative properties. I wonder if you couldn’t use that?”

Wyland reached out with his metal arm like lightning and snatched the core. He flipped down a yellow tinted eyeglass and peered into the core. “Hmm. Yes. Not bad. Come back in four, no, six days, I’ll have something.”

“But, the cost?” Rhen asked.

“And what do you intend to do with it?” Jakira followed up, arms crossed.

“You can trust me. I’ve been doing this a long time. It’ll be a hundred marks and you’ll have a club like no other.”

“A hundred!” Rhen protested.

“I know my worth.”

Rhen pulled up one foot. “These anima restoration boots were only twenty marks!”

“And little booties ain’t the same as a weapon, boy! Now, you best be learnin my worth, or take your business elsewhere.”

That seemed to be the growing theme in Yu. The price was the price, and if he had a problem, he’d have to crawl back to Desedra for a better one. Rhen pulled in a deep breath to calm himself.

“What about trade? We could give you a few of these bones for crafting and you could knock off fifty marks?” Rhen asked.

“You think you got the gods’ given bones in that sack, then? Fifty is a slap to my face.”

“Forty off, and we’ll give you a pair of these quality monster cores, too. Maybe you could add them to a few of your other wares to create saleable weapons…”

Wyland scowled, then looked around at the leaning towers of junk. “I suppose that would do.”

“I’m glad we could agree. Now, other things we need. A wheelbarrow, two hundred-foot lengths of rope, two large buckets, two axes—”

Wyland laughed. “Slow your roll, Gerald. I don’t have a wheelbarrow, first off, but let me get to my stuff for the rest.”

The old man turned and headed into his office, which was, unsurprisingly, a complete mess.

“It’s Rhen, and if you don’t have a wheelbarrow, what do you have that’s comparable?”

“I’ve got a one-man boat,” Wyland said with a kookie smile.

Rhen turned to Aki to express his exasperation when a thought struck him. The river ran from the waiting tree all the way to their dungeon. The path to the waiting tree was flat enough to roll the boat to if they could get a few wheels under it.

“How much for the boat and you add some wheels to it?”

Wyland laughed. “You saw my nifty chair, did ya? I could add some wheels to the boat, got a few lying around I’m sure… twenty-five marks.”

“Fifteen, and we’ll need it by mid-day. If you can do that, we’ll have no reservations.”

“You’re gonna work me hard, eh?”

“Seems the only work you have at present,” Aki said, gesturing to the empty shelf labeled “work-orders.”

“That’s an old system. Keep all that up here now,” he said, tapping his temple. “Still, I can manage fifteen and mid-day if it means I prove my worth. I get it, can’t take anyone on their word these days.”

Wyland hurried to the back of his cluttered office where another door sat, closed up tight. He fiddled with the lock for a moment, then looked at Rhen. “I’ll have it to ya. Just come back at noon ready to pay up. I’ll have your buckets and rope and axes too, in the boat I’m guessing?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Y’always were a smart one, Gerald. Off with ya, now.” He disappeared into the dark room without another word.

“Why does he keep calling you Gerald?” Jakira asked.

Rhen shook his head. “No idea. Crazy old man.”

“Do you trust him?” Aki asked.

“Don’t have any reason not to… yet. Come on, we’ve got more to do.”

They departed, keeping in mind the bones and gems they’d promised to Wyland, and made their way to the apothecary next. Rhen traded some of the father’s fennel moss and plant petals in exchange for the acids and minerals he’d need to make the mortar. They managed to get out of it with a small surplus of coins, which was a pleasant surprise after getting raked over the coals by both Wyland and Fennica.

Next was a small jeweler who practically squealed at the sight of the knuckle bones. “Perfect for divination, they are! Please, your price?” the Sephine hissed in common.

Rhen thought of how he’d traded two of the larger bones and two gems for forty marks, but divination bones were specialized tools that could sell for quite a sum in the right place.

“What if I sold it to you for half of the profit? You craft the divination bones and on our next trip to Desedra, we’ll sell them for you.”

The Sephine stroked her colorful scaled chin. “How can I know you will return and share the profit?”

“I’m Rhen Zephitz, and my dungeon is just outside of Yu. If I don’t give you your appropriate dues, you can report me to the guild of your choice.”

“It’s a pact, then?” The Sephine asked, holding her hand out for a shake.

“It is.” Rhen gripped her claw-tipped fingers in his, and their anima went to work, binding them of their word.

A new, yellow oval bloomed on Rhen’s id syntial with a single hash. If anything were to go wrong in the transaction, either could report the other and have a record of the agreement burned into their flesh. It was nearly impossible to fake a pact, and so they were usually evidence enough for the guilds to take action against them. Any guild would do, the crafters or the dungeon owners. Word would spread and the offender would be punished accordingly—with a fine too, of course.

It paid to keep your word.

There was still an hour before mid-day, but they’d already managed to sell all the bones they’d brought. They still had a few of the father’s fennel monster cores aside from the ones owed to Wyland, but decided to keep them in reserve. They could always use them to activate dungeon nodes, or level up their anima capacity.

What was left was a few more ounces of Lafite and some padreote gems, so they headed to the blacksmith. It was good sized building on the outskirts of Yu, with several forges, but only one that was active. There were several empty racks around the room, and not a single assistant in sight.

The bored young man who emerged from the back looked over Rhen’s ore with little interest. Just as Rhen thought he’d have to hold onto all of it for another trip to Desedra, an older man—obviously an older brother and not a father—appeared. He weighed and assessed the materials, then offered five marks an ounce. It was significantly less than he could get at Desedra, but he haggled up to eight and called that good enough.

The padreote went for criminally low at twelve marks an ounce, but Rhen wouldn’t be able to always return to Desedra to sell. He had to consider the train ticket price, the time spent traveling, the accommodations and food. After taking all that into account, he’d only lost about ten marks an ounce, which wasn’t horrible.

Finally, the sun reached its apex. Rhen, Aki, and Jakira returned to Wyland’s shop to see the old man standing out in the street with a boat—barely big enough for one person—standing on two-foot-tall wheels.

“Well?” Wyland asked, gesturing grumpily at the boat.

Rhen inspected the axles and how it was affixed to the boat. He’d used some kind of quick drying tar and washers to cover the holes made by the nails, keeping the boat water tight. Wyland had done this without prompting… he must’ve known about the river leading to Rhen’s dungeon.

He stepped into the boat, then rocked side to side. The wheels creaked, but nothing wiggled. Good quality work. Rhen stepped out and pulled the fifteen marks from his bag.

“Five more for the equipment.” Wyland pointed to the gear piled up at the door to the shop.

Rhen checked the axe blades, then tugged on the rope. He didn’t have time to measure them, they’d need to be on their way to get back to the dungeon before dark, but Wyland had been honest so far. He tossed Wyland the extra five and dumped the gear into the boat-turned-wagon.

“Jakira, the bag?” Rhen motioned for her to drop it in.

She gingerly set the pack into the boat. Rhen rooted around in it, then removed two of the nicer, arm-length bones and two monster cores. He passed the materials to Wyland.

“We’ll be back in six days for the club with your sixty marks.”

“It’ll be ready!” the kookie old man said with a wide grin.

“It better for that much,” Jakira mumbled.

Rhen and Jakira pushed the boat-cart along through the town, up into the foresty hills, and onto the path to the dungeon. Once they reached the river, Rhen felt a mischievous feeling stir inside him.

“Aki, want to race? You with Jakira and the boat, me on land.”

The Prelusk pulsed from yellow to pink, fins flapping excitedly. “This sounds like a challenge.”

“How about a wager on top. Losers make dinner.”

Jakira scoffed. “Losers? So, you’ve already written us off, have you?”

“Ready, set, go!”

Rhen activated swift twitch, continuously pouring his anima into the skill. He blasted into the trees, feet flying over the depressed tall grass. The path had been worn enough times now that he knew the fallen trees, the twists and turns.

“You’re not beating us!” Jakira yelled from far behind him.

Like heck he wasn’t.

Rhen turned his palms to the ground and triggered Tremor Blast. The vibrations smashed into the ground, kicking up dirt and propelling Rhen over a narrow ravine. He landed with a whoop, feet pounding against the earth.

“You’re gonna burn out!” Jakira’s voice was even more distant, and the wind in Rhen’s ears made it hard to hear her other taunts.

It was another good mile and a half to his dungeon, but if he kept up his current pace, he’d be there in less than ten minutes. He pushed harder, feeling the drain on his anima and the slow siphoning replacement of anima through his boots.

“We’re catching up!” Jakira said, closer now.

Rhen didn’t spare a glance. He knew that areas of the river narrowed down to a trickle, and navigating the boat-cart through wet sand would be a challenge. They might pass him now, but he would catch them again.

Jakira cheered and the boat rocketed past Rhen on a wave four-feet tall. Aki glowed bright blue from the front of the precession, pulling the water along with him as he swam.

“Psionic abilities are cheating!” Rhen called.

“You failed to set the conditions before departure.” Aki taunted back.

Rhen gave himself another burst from tremor blast to vault over a tall boulder. His feet slapped against the moss-covered rocks and loose branches faster than before, but he was still losing them. Visions of jabbing a spear into the water to catch fish filled Rhen with dread. No! He wasn’t losing!

Except he was…

Rhen arrived at the dungeon in just eight minutes, but Aki and Jakira were already relaxing around the empty firepit.

“I’d like three fish, please, with a salt and father’s fennel rub.” Jakira said, kicking her feet back.

Rhen collapsed to the ground, panting for his life and dripping sweat. “Sure. Thing. How about you two… do some foraging. We need to… ugh, need air. We need to start finding the forests… natural resources… and exploiting them.”

“I think it would be prudent if I taught you to fish,” Aki said. “Otherwise, I fear we will all go hungry tonight.”

“Much… appreciated.”

When Rhen could stand without feeling as though he would pass out, they made their way to the river. The banks were soaked from Aki’s cheating. Rhen pulled off his boots, letting his feet squish into the mud. The cold felt nice, despite his reduced anima regeneration.

Rhen sharpened himself a spear and Aki instructed him on how to strike. Aki’s people didn’t use tools for collecting prey anymore since their psionic abilities were far superior, but his knowledge of the water, how it displaced the prey, and how the fish might move were all important points of guidance.

After thirty minutes and only four fish, Aki decided to take over. Rhen watched in awe as the Prelusk dropped into the river, his watery body disappearing.

For the first time, Rhen really saw Aki.

His humanoid shaped water body and placing himself up at the head position made Rhen associate him more with a bipedal creature, but he really was a multi-tentacled master of the sea.

Aki darted this way and that, snapping up fish in his suckered grasp. He flung the fish out of the water into Rhen’s waiting buckets. The terrified creatures landed with a plop and flapped about madly.

Rhen did at least know how to clean a fish, so he set to work doing that and spearing them for roasting. At Jakira’s behest, Rhen seasoned several of them with hakir salt and father’s fennel. He wasn’t sure that combination would be any good, but he wasn’t going to let any of it go to waste either way.

By the time they had all the fish prepared, Jakira had a fire going. They roasted the fish and ate happily. Rhen’s weariness seemed to dissolve with the fish, leaving both his body and his anima feeling refreshed.

Now, it was time to get to the hard work.