His testing of the arcanowhip done, Rowan had to suppress a smile as he trotted over to the smith who looked at him with an expectant look. If he was not careful, he would reveal how much he had enjoyed using the arcanowhip, something the experienced smith would not fail to notice. He might be new to bartering, but he was no stranger to hiding his desire for something owned by another. If he showed how happy he was with the weapon, it was likely the price would jump by a significant margin.

“Well?” The smith asked. “How was it?”

“Not bad,” Rowan replied casually, handing the weapon back to its current owner. “Does it have any other features I should know about? It seemed interesting, but most of what I did could be done by an ordinary whip as well.” This was a lie of course, no bullwhip could multiply its tendrils and have them act as living weapons around the wielder. But Rowan was fine with hyperbole if it was to save a few coins.

The smith nodded. “As I’m sure you noticed, the arcanowhip grows stronger the greater the wielder’s control over mana. As such, it’s not only a weapon, but also a good way to practice your mana control.”

“I suppose that could be useful,” Rowan conceded, putting yet another tick in the list of reasons he now had to acquire this whip. The opposing column, the reasons against, was empty save for a single question mark, which he was about to ask about. Following the smith back out into the shop, he allowed his eyes to linger upon the hilt in her hand, dreams of dominating a dungeon with whip in hand vivid in his imagination.

“So,” the smith began, preempting Rowan’s question, “I’m sure you’d like to know about the price.”

Rowan pretended to consider it for a moment. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt. How much is it?”

The smith held up a hand, five fingers raised.

“Five Vlends?” Rowan felt a surge of elation. That was cheap, relative to most of the other weapons in the store. A decent sword would have cost him nearly fifty, so for the arcanowhip to be so cheap was a pleasant surprise. However, the smith’s next words caused him to come crashing back to earth.

“No. Five hundred Vlends.”

Rowan’s heart sank. No, not sank. Shattered. If he used every last bit of what he had earned over the last semester, combined with the funds Darm had left him and the proceeds he would make from selling the bracers, then he would just be able to afford the arcanowhip. But there was no way he could spend his money so recklessly, not with three more years of academy tuition and supplies to pay for.

“Is there any way we could reduce that price?” he asked. “I’m only a student, so my access to funds is limited. Surely it can’t be worth that much, can it?”

The smith shook her head. “Even up north, arcanowhips are rare. This is one of only three that I’ve ever encountered, and when you consider how rare the materials used to make it are… Well, sorry to say that no, this is the lowest I can go.”

With a regretful glance at the whip, Rowan pushed it back across the counter. As much as he wanted to take it and run, there was no way he could justify spending the entirety of his savings like that. Not when his position at Faebrook was as tenuous as it was. Until he became a star student or Kanna’s apprentice, he couldn’t risk going broke.

“Sorry, I can’t afford that. I’ll have to get something else.”

“Your family can’t cover it?”

Rowan shook his head. “No family.”

“Oh.” The smith regarded him sympathetically. “You don’t have a master you could ask for some funds? Maybe a friend with some cash who you could pay back?”

Rowan paused. He did have both of those, though technically Kanna wasn’t really his master yet, what with him still being a provisional apprentice and all. Dugan would probably spot him the money if he asked, but he was loath to ask for it, especially with how generous Dugan had been towards him already.

As Rowan looked regretfully at the arcanowhip on the counter, the smith’s eyes flickered towards his satchel, where the bracers he had shown her earlier now sat. “Tell you what. Trade me those bracers and I’ll knock off a hundred and seventy Vlends. That means you’d only have to pay three hundred and thirty for the whip.”

Rowan hesitated. Technically, with the funds he had saved from portering all semester, as well as the money Darm had given him, he could pay that and still have some left over for the following semester’s tuition.

It was not as if he was actually that attached to the bracers. In fact, selling them was actually a decent idea, as it would prevent others from asking questions about where he had gotten them should he wear them into dungeons. Questions that could lead to Klou figuring out that he had stolen them from the Fenraith that had caused the Jackal Claws so much pain.

Given how Klou had nearly killed him just on the basis that Rowan had insulted him, he had no desire to find out what the deranged jackalman would do if he were to discover that Rowan had stolen from him.

But, even with the bracers thrown on top, the whip would still cost him over three hundred gold, an enormous sum to be sure. For Rowan, the idea of spending so much money was foreign to his sensibilities, having lived for the better part of two decades without more than a handful of Cirts to his name.

With all that being said, the arcanowhip had felt beyond natural in his hand, far moreso than the swords he had been training with until now. While spending so much might offend his sensibilities, to leave such a rare weapon behind when he could claim it for himself also stung, though this time it was his sensibilities as a thief. Unfortunately, unlike how it was in the past, this time if he wanted to acquire the item he coveted then he would have to actually pay for it, instead of taking it for free.

As war waged in Rowan’s mind, the smith looked at him once more, impatience written on her face. “Well? Do we have a deal? Can you afford it with the bracers thrown in, or do you have a master who can help you pay? I know a few of the professors up at the academy, and they’re usually pretty willing to help out their personal students with some money for gear.”

“I do,” Rowan confirmed. “But I’m not sure if she’d be willing to help or not.”

The smith waved her hand at him. “Who is it? I can tell you if they’re up to it or not.”

Rowan hesitated once more, but eventually came to a decision. Although he had been keeping his relationship with Kanna a secret, that was among the students at the academy. There was no harm in letting the smith know. “Professor Soreth.”

“Kanna Soreth is your master?” the smith asked sharply.

“Errr…” Taken aback, Rowan nodded. “Yes. She is.”

“Do you have any way to prove it?”

Rowan paused, his eye settling upon the bag at his side. Across the counter, the smith’s eye followed his gaze. Seeing this, Rowan lifted his hand, putting it at eye level. “She gave me this.”

“A storage bag?” The smith waved her hand. “Impressive, but I’m not much of a mage. I have no way of guaranteeing it’s from her.”

Rowan shook his head. “Not the bag.” Reaching into his bag, his hand sunk in upto the elbow, disappearing inside the pocket dimension. Withdrawing a sheet of paper from within, he slid it across the counter. “What’s inside it.”

Despite his outer display of confidence, inside he was sweating bullets. He was gambling that the smith would recognize Kanna’s handwriting, based on the reaction she’d had when he had mentioned her name. If she didn’t, then he was sunk and would either have to go broke or give up on the whip.

Fortunately, the smith nodded, her weathered face breaking into a grin. “That’s Kanna’s writing alright. She always curls her letters in that stupid noble way of hers. Thinks it makes them look cute, she says. Wastes ink if you ask me. She’s your master then?”

Rowan nodded. The item he had presented her was a list of the materials Kanna wanted from the next dungeon he was set to run. “Since the beginning of the school year.” He omitted the fact that he was still on probation.

“Thank god. She’s been far too picky about choosing a damn apprentice. Everytime we talk, she complains, as if it’s not her insane standards that are the problem.” Taking a hard look at Rowan, the smith grinned. “Since you’re Kanna’s apprentice, I trust that you’ll be good for the rest of the money once you get a few dungeons under your belt. So I’ll make you a deal. I’ll give you the whip now for the bracers and half the remaining price. The bracers are actually worth about two hundred and fifty Vlends, and because I don’t need Kanna coming in here and kicking up a fuss, I’ll take those at cost and we can work out a payment plan for the other half later, with Kanna as your guarantor. That work for you?”

Rowan nodded emphatically. “Yes. Yes it does,” he almost shouted.

With a knowing grin, the smith hit a button below the counter, the countertop splitting open to reveal a wrought iron till that assembled itself before his very eyes.

“So that will be one hundred and twenty-four Vlends, five Sricks, and four Cirts. For you, I’ll knock off the Sricks and Cirts. So that makes it just a hundred and twenty-four Vlends.”

With a painful feeling in his heart, Rowan poured out the required funds from his coinpurse, reducing its weight by over two thirds. Reaching into his bag, he then retrieved the Fenraith’s bracers and dropped those next to the pile of gold that now adorned the counter.

Promising himself that it would be worth it and that he would earn it all back, Rowan watched as the smith counted out the gold before sweeping it into her till and handing him the arcanowhip.

“All yours,” she told him, smiling broadly. “Tell Kanna I said hello.”

“I will,” Rowan promised, clutching the ebony handle tightly to his chest. It had cost him a huge amount, but it was worth it. Or at least that was what he kept telling himself, repeating it like a mantra to distract himself from the fact that he had just spent nearly four hundred gold in a single transaction.

His business done, Rowan bid the smith goodbye and left the counter behind, scanning the room for Dugan so that they could leave.

Dugan was not difficult to find, still engaged with the blonde employee that he had been speaking to when Rowan had left. Only now he was speaking in a normal tone, and his body language was much less guarded and much more suave than it had been earlier.

“Oh yeah, I’m a pretty big deal in the Hafgufa house,” Dugan was saying as Rowan approached. “They wanted me to join the Dungeoneering team, but I had to decline to focus on my studies so I can inherit the fief.”

The girl he was speaking to giggled, twirling her finger through her hair as she said something coquettish to Dugan. Rowan rolled his eyes. I leave him for five minutes and he’s already hitting on the staff. In reality, it had been closer to half an hour. But the speed at which his friend worked was impressive nonetheless.

“Yo, Dugan.”

“You’re done?” Dugan asked, glancing sideways to take in his friend.

“Yeah. Sorry I took so long.”

“No worries, no worries! I was just chatting with Felicity here,” Dugan replied, indicating the blonde employee who gave Rowan a cool nod in return. Apparently, her affection for Dugan did not extend to his friends. “Anyways, Felicity. Like I was saying, it was great meeting you. If you’re ever off for the weekend, swing by the academy and maybe we can grab dinner together.”

Rowan tuned out as Dugan bid goodbye to his newest attraction, his mind on the whip in his bag and all the various ways he could use it in combat. It would require extensive training, but he was up to the task. Or at least he should be. Worst case scenario, he could just sell it to recoup his costs and buy a more normal weapon for far cheaper.

His spending thus rationalized, Rowan led Dugan out of the smithy, the cold unable to dampen his excitement as he dreamt of getting back to the academy so that he might practice with his new weapon.