I watched Kerra disappear down a connecting hallway, feeling a sweet sense of relief wash through me.

Honestly, having her occupied for a couple of days was a godsend. I had no doubt that Niels would work beat me into the ground, but once we were done training for the day, I was confident that he wouldn’t try and babysit me. A couple of days was more than enough to start digging into these killings, especially if there wasn’t someone constantly looking over my shoulder. I couldn’t be reckless, though. Kerra wasn’t wrong about that.

Whatever was hunting in Wildespell had already killed one Vigil, and although I didn’t know what Justiciar of the Seekers was, I assumed it meant he was a certified badass.

Back in Ironmoor, I’d rushed headlong into a conformation with the Hexblight, not knowing what I was up against, and I’d been lucky to walk away. Technically, I hadn’t actually walked away at all, since the Hexblight had turned my goddamned spine into a pretzel. If not for my Diamond Body Passive Ability, I would’ve bled out on the cold cobblestones, half a galaxy away from my home. Fact was, I’d gotten damned lucky.

Making mistakes was one thing, not learning from them was another. I wasn’t going to put myself in a situation like that again. Not if there was any way to avoid it.

So before I started investigating in earnest, I needed to prepare. According to Kerra, the Citadel had potions, fabrication components, weapon skins, Affinity Scales, and a hundred other items that might give me an edge. I’d be an idiot not to at least see what this place had to offer. As Drill Instructor Screw Y’All was won’t to say, Prior Preparation Prevents Piss Poor Performance.

I had plenty of gold and silver Kelkadian Crowns, but apparently my money was no good here, which meant my first stop was at the bank. I backtracked through the warren of hallways until I found myself standing outside the Goldleaf Trust, bank of the Citadel. I felt vaguely uneasy as I shouldered my way inside. I’d had a deep-rooted distrust of banks for years. Cal had been one of those dumb boots who bought a car with a ridiculously high APR the second we hit the Fleet. A Dodge Challenger, of course.

He'd done it on the weekend I had barrack duty, or else I’ve talked him out of it.

Unfortunately, his bank had been only too happy to process a financing plan that would’ve made a loanshark blush in shame. Cal had gotten his ass reamed ten ways from Tuesday by our Command and although it was a dumb mistake, I’d always blamed the bank more than I had Cal. Fact was, eighteen-year-old kids did stupid things. Big predatory banks that were willing to prey on them knew exactly what they were doing and did it anyway. Kerra had told me that no one in the Citadel would try to screw me, but I was of the trust-but-verify mindset.

The interior of Goldleaf Trust was even flashier than the other banking institutions I’d had the displeasure of visiting in the past.

Sleek marble floors. Counters edged in gold. A giant crystalline chandelier that was as excessive as it was pointless. I relaxed a little when I saw that the people staffing the counters weren’t goblins or dragons or pixies. There was no Harry Potter shit afoot, which was a relief. Honestly, if I’d seen pixies manning the stalls, I would’ve turned tail and hauled ass as fast as my legs could carry me. But no, it was just regular, ol’ people.

A young man with blond hair wearing a black doublet smiled at me as I made my way over. He was polite and cordial and almost suspiciously helpful. Too helpful. He had a sheet of parchment with up-to-date currency exchange rates. At the moment, Kelkadian Crowns and Custodial Marks were trading one for one. I decided to swap out two-thirds of the Crowns I had in my coin pouch for Marks, then excused myself and made a quick trip to my Soul Vault.

Kerra had mentioned that some of the shopkeepers around here were willing to barter, so I grabbed an extra bagful of Affinity Scales—including my single Sage-Class Seraphic Scale—and some of the Mortka Weapon Skins I’d crafted over the past month. I didn’t intend to trade the Seraphic Scale, but now was an excellent time to figure out just how valuable Sage Class items were. As for the weapon skins, I had several that were just gathering dust, including a Chinese-style Hook Sword that was cool looking but wildly impractical and an unwieldly Mortka-forged chain weapon called a kusarigama.

After accidentally smacking myself square in the balls with that thing I decided it wasn’t for me.

Items in hand and coins at my side, I headed back out into the marketplace, ready to see how far my money would spread.

First stop was the Steel Griffin.

I was a sucker for high-speed low-drag gear, so weapons and armor seemed like a natural choice. The Steel Griffin wasn’t a stall or a booth like some of the other vendors who sold knickknacks or bolts of cloth. It had large windows, hardwood floors, and a steel sign hammered into the shape of a winged griffin. The left half of the store was filled with armor-clad mannequins wearing everything from heavy plate mail to crude leathers. Thick wooden tables displayed helms, bracers, and an odd assortment of other wearable accessories.

Including what looked like used underwear. That was gonna be a hard pass from me.

The right side of the shop housed scores of weapon racks, which cradled nearly every conceivable melee weapon I could imagine. Axes in various styles. A legion of swords. Spears, halberds, and quarterstaffs aplenty. Plus, enough blunt weapons to club a small army of baby seals. They all radiated with the faint thrum of Arcana, which told me they were weapon skins. Problem was, they were also all garbage. I picked up a simple broadsword and turned it over in my hands, examining the blade’s edge with my thumb. Might as well be a blunt weapon.

>>

Standard Hand-and-a-Half Sword

Type: Steel, Bladed Weapon

Class: Novice

This standard Hand-and-a-Half Sword is a light and versatile blade, well suited for either offensive or defensive combat. The wooden handle is long enough to easily accommodate a two-handed grip, though the sword can also be wielded one handed. Sharpened on both sides, this blade can slash at lightly armored foes, while a well-time thrust with the tip can pierce through the joints of more heavily armored enemies.

Primary Effects:

Weapon Skin: Item can be applied to any base Soul Bound melee weapon, transforming it into a Standard Hand-and-a-Half Sword.

>>

I set the blade down with a grimace. Basic bitch shit all around. A starter weapon for someone just getting their toes wet for the first time. The worst part was that I couldn’t even break down the Skin in order to harvest a Blueprint, which would allow me to make something better myself. Every skin I had in my Soul Vault was higher quality than what they had on display here. The armor was no different, though that at least I could harvest them for Blueprints, assuming I wanted to go through the hassle.

“Finding everything you need?” Came a voice from across the store.

I turned and spotted a lanky old timer without an ounce of fat on his whole body staring at me from across a counter in the back. He had the red eyes of a Vigil and was branded with the silvery Sigil of Truth. That aside, he didn’t look like any of the other Vigils I’d seen so far. Instead of armor, he wore a heavily stained white shirt, rolled up to the elbows, and over the top of that was a thick leather apron, tied tight around his toothpick-thin waist.

“Can’t say as I’ve seen you around here before, lad,” the man said, adjusting a pair of odd glasses that rested at the very tip of his nose. “You recently Ascended?” He asked, though he sounded uncertain.

“Guess you could say that,” I replied.

“You seem unimpressed with my wares,” he offered, more statement than question.

I shrugged. “Not trying to offend, I was just hoping for something a little more advance. I figured you’d have some Mortka-Forged Weapon Skins or Enhanced Armor, but I’m not seeing anything like that around here.”

“Well’a course not,” he replied, folding wiry arms across his slight chest. “Items like that are rarer than a wife who won’t stab you in the back, I reckon. You can find ’em, sure, but you gotta know where to look and it ain’t here, I’m afraid. ’Sides, items like that’ll cost you something fierce.”

“Let’s say that I wasn’t worried about the price,” I said, sauntering over to the wooden service counter that framed in the back wall. “Then where would I look?”

The merchant grinned and pointed a finger straight up.

“Could be you’re lost, lad. The type of items you’re in the market for are on the master’s level.” He squinted and frowned as he studied me. His red eyes roamed over my armor and after a second, he grunted. “Mortka-Forged Stone Spider Plate Mail. Don’t see a lot of that around, especially not on a freshly ascended Acolyte.”

The hairs on the back of my neck rose. How in the fuck could he tell all that just by looking at me?

He chuckled as though reading my mind, then tapped at the corner of his eye. “I’m a Vigil of Truth, lad. I see things far more clearly than most. I’ve also used more than a few Legacy Scrolls, including one on Master Mentalist. Not much makes it by me. Based on your gear and the confused expression plastered across your face, I’m thinking you must be the Inkarnate I’ve been hearing whispers about. I was wondering whether you might turn up on my doorstep or not. I’m Pascow.” He extended a leathery hand. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Boyd Knight,” I said, giving his hand a brief but firm shake.

“Well Boyd Knight, do you mind if I ask how you came by that plate armor?” he cocked an eyebrow as he admired the runes and spikes jutting from my pauldrons.

“I’ll be happy to tell you, if you answer a few of my questions in turn.”

“Fair ‘nough, lad. Fair ‘nough,” he said, waving me around the counter. He settled down onto a wooden three-legged stool, then motioned for me to do the same.

“Not sure why it matters, but I made this armor,” I said, as I sat down. “I harvested Silver Partial Plate Mail for a Blueprint, collected and refined all the necessary fabrication components from a Stone Spider nest, then followed the recipe.” I shrugged. “Took eight hours to build and gave me a hand cramp like you wouldn’t believe. Especially placing all the rivets.”

“Oh, I can believe it, lad.” Pascow held up his own hand, which looked gnarled and slightly arthritic. “Been doing this for the better part of sixty years, I know exactly what kind of toll it exacts. What I cannot believe is that an Inkarnate of Justice would have the skill set or the inclination to build his own gear.” He shook his head in disbelief.

“How else would I get weapon skins or armor?” I asked, genuinely confused.

“Why you buy it, of course, just like everyone else does,” he replied as though saying water was wet. “You’re new to our ways, so this might come as something of a surprise to you, but very few Vigils bother to unlock the crafting skills in the College of Reason. All of them, they fall by the wayside, discarded as unless even amongst my own brethren. Most Vigils will have a single utility skill. Perhaps even two. But five? No.” He waggled his head. “It’s too costly and doesn’t square with the preapproved combat builds the Custodians tend to endorse.

“Might be, you’ll find a Vigil walking around with Sage Smith or Alchemic Mastery,” he continued, “but none that have Sage Smith, Mortka Forger, Affinity Retrofitter, Arcane Transmuter, and Alchemic Mastery. And truthfully, that is only the beginning. To truly become a master craftsman—to push your abilities to the edge—you also need Absorb Elements, Water Wright, Earth Sculptor, and Metallurgy Manipulation, not to mention a host of expensive Legacy Scrolls. Taken together, those skills make for a shite combat build. That also makes it hard to ascend, since slaying Mortka is the most efficient way to gather Essence. That’s why Vigils like me exist. The Builders Guild, we call ourselves.

“Our place isn’t on the field of battle, but in the foundries and backrooms, crafting weapons, armor, potions, or using our prowess to maintain the Citadel itself. We run the shops and dedicate our lives to this work so that other Vigils can focus on Raguel’s broader mission outside these hallowed walls. There aren’t many of us, though.” He tapped at his nose. “As a result, there is much work, and not many hands to do it. But I don’t need to tell you, you already know how labor-intensive this business is. Building even a basic Weapon Skin can take hours, especially when you have to refine all the materials by hand. Mortka Forged Weapons and Armor take even longer to construct. From there, it’s a simple issue of supply and demand.”

“Lots of demand, little supply,” I replied.

“Aye. You’re smart enough. Plus, we need to barter or purchase fabrication ingredients since we rarely venture outside the walls of the Citadel. Mortka-Forged Weapons and Armor are both costly and time-intensive to make. Newly minted Vigils who haven’t advanced into the upper echelons, rarely get their grubby little hands on armor like yours. Not unless they get lucky enough to loot it off the corpse of a powerful Mortka. Those items are generally reserved for those with a bit more clout than new fish like you.” He paused and rubbed at his chin. “Given the circumstances, however, I might be willing to show you my private collection—though I’ll warn you now, it won’t be cheap.”

“Good quality gear rarely is,” I replied.

He chuckled. “Like I said, you’re a smart, lad.” He stood, knuckled his back with a wince, then ushered me through a door and into his private quarters. I was shocked to see an altar on a pedestal in the back.

“The fuck?” I said, nodding toward the pillar with its accompanying floating orb.

“You can set up an altar anywhere if you have a mind to,” he replied off-handedly, waving away my shock. “It’s a costly process—and I don’t just mean money—but I couldn’t well be tromping back and forth to a Chapel every time I need to get a little work done, now can I? That’s not what you’re looking for, however. Feast your eyes upon these beauties.”

He waved toward a neatly lined row of mannequins, decked out in a wide array of armor made from an even wider array of materials. Light armor crafted from gray, gossamer spider silk. Medium mail crafted from cobalt lizard scales. A full suit of hulking, black plate mail riddled with spikes and horn-like protrusions. He also had individual set pieces—a cloak, seemingly built from shimmering peacock feathers caught my eye, even though I knew I could never pull it off. It would be perfect for Renholm if he weren’t the size of a Ken Doll.

“Why don’t you display these things out front?” I asked.

Pascow snorted and rolled his eyes. “Not an Adept around that could afford ’em. If I put these on display, the only thing that’ll come of it is that I’ll have to clean off all the greasy fingerprints from looky-loos. These are destined to be shipped to the upper floors for those with the skill and coin to properly appreciate them.”

My Grass Hound Leather Armor was already top-notch—at least compared to the stuff he had on display out front—and my Stone Spider Plate had seen me through some tight spots relatively unscathed. Both were great, but they also had some drawbacks. The Grass Hound Armor was ideally suited for stealth missions, but it wouldn’t stand up to even a single blow from powerful Mortka. My Stone Spider Armor could survive a direct hit from a fucking wrecking ball, but it also gave me the speed and maneuverability of a dump truck.

I needed a middle ground option—something just a tad more versatile—and the shimmering blue scale mail was calling my name.

>>

Mortka-Forged Basilisk Brigandine Armor

Type: Medium, Reinforced Basilisk Scaled Mail

Class: Master

This shimmering coat of scale mail is constructed of heavy canvas and reinforced Harpy Leather, then painstakingly overlayed with basilisk scales. The combination offers superior resistance against slicing and piercing weapons such as swords or claws, without being as restrictive or clunky as full plate mail. Reinforced by both Harpy Leather and Basilisk scales, this armor further grants additional movement buffs and fortifies magical resistances.

Primary Effects:

Harpy’s Grace: +1 Finesse Bonus while equipped. The ranged skills Quick Hands, Maximum Penetration, and Guided Shot are 6% more effective. Basilisk’s Reflection: The scales of a Basilisk are naturally resistant to Arcane Magics and reflect 8% of all spell damage back upon the caster.

>>

I whistled through my teeth. If my Stone Spider Armor was perfect for tanking, this stuff was built for a mobile fighter, who could mix it up at close range or sling spells from a distance.

“How much?” I asked, nodding toward the glimmering blue armor.

“You’ve got expensive taste,” Pascow replied. “I can let that set go for…” he seesawed his head back and forth as he scratched at the underside of his chin. “Call it twenty-five Gold Marks.”

The words left me reeling. Twenty-five gold marks?

Fuck me. Over the past month or so, I’d figured out more or less how much things cost in this world. It was ten bronze coins to one silver crown. One silver Kelkadian crown, in turn, would get me three hots and a cot for a day, while a golden crown would set me up for a month or buy me a decent, non-enhanced breastplate. Two golden crowns would get me a horse complete with tack—saddle, stirrups, and bridle. Most regular folk never saw more than fifteen golden crowns a year, while miners and day laborers usually saw even less.

Since the exchange rate between Marks and Crowns was currently at a one-to-one ratio, I know exactly how much he was charging and it was nearly two years’ worth of wages. Total, I had a little more than half of that, but it would clean me out.

“I can do seven gold up front, but I also have some items to barter if you’re willing to trade.” I pulled out the two Mortka-Forged Soul Skins and placed them on a nearby table and added in some miscellaneous fabrication ingredients that I had an overabundance of. Mortka-Forged Steel, Refined Silver Ore, tanned Grass Hound Leather, and some leftover pieces of Stone Spider Chitin. I also had a bunch of Raw Selitrium Ore I didn’t know what to do with, so I added that to the table. Selitrium was a key crafting component and was primarily used to leech away impurities, drain Affinity, and prime other materials so they could be infused with Arcana.

I didn’t know what the street value of the stuff was, since only Alchemists had any interest in it, but considering the lengths that Gustav and Sigge had gone to smuggle it out of Ironmoor, I figured it had to be rare.

“You make these yourself?” Pascow asked, evaluating the Soul Skins.

I nodded in reply.

“Nicely constructed,” he said in approval. “I can give you three Gold apiece for them and another three for the assorted fabrication elements.” His fingers brushed over Selitrium Ore. “Now this here is a different story,” he said, more to himself than to me. “Raw Selitrium is hard to come by, even in the best of times. I could give you four golden marks, one for each piece of ore.”

Damn. Suddenly I was starting to see why the miners had been willing to risk life and limb to get their hands on this stuff. One decent-sized chunk would be enough to take care of a small family for a month or two.

“With the seven marks you’re bringing to the table, that brings you up to twenty gold marks,” he said. “Still five short, I’m afraid.”

I hesitated for a beat, then reached a hand into my pouch and pulled free my trump card. The Sage Class Seraphic Scale, given to me by Raguel as part of my reward for killing the Hexblight and bringing justice to Annelli.

“What if I threw this in to sweeten the pot?” I asked.

Pascow accepted the scale and turned it over in his hands, running a thumb along its pearlescent face. After a beat, he pushed it back into my palm.

“That would do it alright, lad, but I can’t accept it. Sage Class Scales go for a premium. You need to kill a truly epic class of Mortka to receive such drops. But for it to also have Seraphic Affinity? I would be robbing you blind if I accepted that and I won’t take advantage. Much as it pains me, you should hang on to that.” He sighed. “Give me what you have, take the armor. I’d rather see you wear it than some smug Sage who turns his nose up at a Builder like me.”

“I appreciate the offer,” I said, “but I won’t accept charity. If it's worth twenty-five, then that’s what I’ll pay, even if I have to wait.”

“It’s not charity, lad. Come give me a day of your time. I could use an extra set of hands around here. I’ll put you to work, have you churn out a couple of Soul Skins using some of my blueprints. The work will make up the difference plus interest and you might even learn a thing or two in the process. Fair trade?” he asked, extending a hand.

I’d be an idiot not to accept a deal like that. I grabbed his hand with a grin. “Deal.”