I looked at the items in front of me. Because of the limited amount of rune slots, I would have to make the meal packaging a three-item operation. First I needed to create the item that compressed the item. I would need a cauldron and a tray to get the dimension correctly. I started with the tray.

The first step in creating a magic item was crushing the manastones. However, if you just took the mortar and pestle and started smashing the stone to bits and pieces, you would end up with a minor explosion, which was likely to kill me since I only had 200 health points.

That was were the Runesmithing skill came in handy. Because I had learned the skill via a skill scroll, I knew instinctively how to activate the different parts of the skill. As I grabbed the pestle it was bathed in a blue glow, signifying I was using Runesmithing. Next, I dropped two manastones in the mortar. I choose two with 20 mana in each. When I grabbed the mortar to stabilize it, it started glowing blue as well-meaning that for the moment any explosion from smashing the manastones would be delayed.

With quick and even motions, I had after all a lot of experience grinding stuff in the mortar, I had the two manastones ground into a fine powder. No explosions had gone off, so I was off to a good start. Next, I directed the energy around the mortar to coalesce around the powder itself, pressing it into a ball that was lifted out of the mortar. The globe of pulverised manastone rose into the air, floating in front of me. I had beforehand decided that my symbol would mirror the ancient Egyptian symbol for the blue lotus, so I ordered the energy to manipulate the manastone into that figure.

I then ordered the energy to float its cargo down to the tray where I wanted the maker symbol. As soon as the energy touched the tray, it was like a jolt going through my body ending in my eyes.

My perception changed. Everything around me had turned black, the only thing I could see from the game world was the tray. The tray had taken a green shine to it, if it turned red it meant the configuration was not stable or exceeded the number of rune slots I could fill. I tilted my head back slightly and saw the seven runes I knew floating lazily in the air above me. They were in the same blue colour as the energy I was using to contain the manastone.

First I would need the Power rune. As soon as I thought about it, it zoomed down to me. I directed it to the divot in the tray where the manastone powering it was supposed to be. The rune settled onto the tray, but only as a phantasmal representation. If successful, the only sign of it being a runed magic item would be my symbol, which contained all the configuration of the runes.

Next, I chose the Store rune and stretched it out to cover the surface of the tray, meaning that anything on the surface when the item was activated would be stored in the inventory. However, it could not store anything bigger than itself. Which was where Compress Volume came into play. I linked the Compress Volume to the Store rune.

However, the tray was not the final container, and I needed some way to get the content out. Since I only had a half rune slot left, I could not add Release. Instead, I put the Output rune in the spot for the token.

Then it was time for the rest of the connections. I added a connection between the Output and the Power rune, meaning that the Power rune would not activate unless there was a token with an Input rune in place. The Power rune was connected to the two other runes as well, and finally, I connected the Compress Volume to the Output.

Then it came time for the RNG to decide whether it was a success or not. Since there was no Quality to help determine the success rate, it was calculated differently for Runesmithing. The base chance was 10%. For each mana above the required mana, it added 1% to the chance of Success. In the case of this item, it was 7% extra. Plus my other bonuses.

Runesmithing

Runesmithing Level: 4

Effect of Lucky Charm: +1%

Effects of Titles: +1%

# of Runes: 3

Minimum Mana: 33

Mana Used: 40

Possible Outcomes

Failure - 26%

Flawed - 46%

Success - 23%

Exceptional - 4%

Brilliant - 1%

Master Work - 0%

Base experience: 300 XP

Mana Cost: 40

I channelled the required mana into the connection between me and the crushed manastones and kept a close eye on the event log. The manastone dust started to glow very brightly, almost enough to make me shut my eyes. In any case, I had to look away.

>Roll for Outcome: 2.<

>You have achieved an Exceptional Success.<

>Rewarding Runesmithing XP: 713 XP.<

Relief swept through my body. One down, many more to go. Next step was of course to distribute the fifty crafting points I had. Half the points went into improving the Compress Volume function, making it able to store ten skewers in a single token. I then spent fifteen points reducing the Compress Volume mana cost from 4 to 1, and the last ten was excess that would be wasted. If I put it into the Compress Volume function the mana cost would go up again, and it would be a waste since it was a small tray only capable of having ten skewers on them.

Next, I made a cauldron in a similar fashion, but I used the two manastones capable of holding 25 mana each. This cauldron would need a lot of extra points, to better compress the stew that would be stored in the tokens. Because of the higher mana, it meant the chances for Success was far greater, 10% to be exact. At the same time, it meant there was no chance of failure. The worst outcome I could get was a Flawed Failure, which would be pretty bad.

>Roll for Outcome: 13.<

>You have achieved a Success.<

>Rewarding Runesmithing XP: 576 XP.<

A Success was good news, meaning I was able to modify the cauldron to compress 5 portions of stew into a single token, but it would cost 2 mana, plus one for storing, so activating it would cost 3 mana, compared to the 2 mana it would cost to activate the tray. That concluded the first part of my magic lunch box setup.

Next came the cauldron and tray which packed it out. For those, I did not need a whole lot of crafting points. Meaning I just needed the minimum requirement. Release and Store might be full runes, but they could not be modified unless you went crazy with the surface area they needed to cover. Then the mana cost to operate would rise, which could then be lowered with the crafting points, but the surface I covered in the cauldron and the tray, it was still only one mana.

The way to construct the receiving units were pretty much the inverse of the packing units. There was an Input rune which sent the items from the token to the tray or cauldron to be stored at the Store rune. From there it would use the Release rune to put the items into the cauldron or tray, and all it was powered by the Power rune.

Unfortunately, my attempts at both were Flawed Successes. Not that it mattered anything in the end with regards to functionality, it did mean I got a lot less XP out of the deal.

The last part of the whole contraption was the token itself. It was an easy design actually. An Input and Output rune, which was each connected to the Store rune. The Suspend Decay rune was connected to the Store and Input rune. When the Input rune was connected with an Output, it would withdraw the mana needed to fuel the Suspend Decay function for X amount of time. When the Output rune connected to an Input, it would send what was Stored. Simple and elegant.

Each day the Suspend Decay rune would last cost an increasing amount of crafting points. 3 CPs for the first day, 5 for the second and 7 for the third and so on. Meaning that most of the tokens would last 4 days, or if lucky 5 days. If I was unlucky I got one that only lasted three days.

In the end, I spent a couple of hours tinkering with my magic contraptions, and I ended up with one set of Compressors, as I liked to call them. Not the most original name, but it described what they did. I also had two cauldrons and two trays to act as Releasers for the meal tokens. Or magic lunchboxes. Magic lunchbox sounded more fun, so that was the name I went with. Because of some failures and the lack of manastones, I only ended up with four magic lunchboxes, but they were enough to prove that the concept worked. Not that I needed to test it.

I went upstairs and found an anxious Mia waiting for me. As soon as I crested the top of the stairs she said, “Thank god, there you are. Some Commander is waiting to see you. He’s been waiting for over thirty minutes.”

I frowned at hearing that. Then shrugged and gave her a smile. “Thanks for not disturbing me. Got done with everything I could do for now.”

“He’s waiting in the great hall,” she said, clearly not hearing my thank you. The Commander must have her rattled. A few steps led me to the door leading from the kitchen and into the great hall.

I frowned as soon as I saw the guards standing around in the room. They were dressed in the uniform of the Imperial soldiers. I had thought I would find the commander of the Blackport guard at best. It was an entirely different situation with Utemous Brightsteel.

A quick look at the lone figure sitting down confirmed the identity of my guest. He looked up at me, a calculating gaze. Nodding in greeting I walked over to the table he was sitting at. “Commander Brightsteel, I’m sorry to have kept you waiting. My staff had clear orders not to disturb me.”

“I wonder what could be so important that you would let His Imperial Majesty’s troops wait?” he said in a monotonous voice.

“I was putting the finishing touches on my first runesmithed items,” I said unapologetically.

I thought I saw a glimmer of interest in his eyes, but if I did it was quickly gone again. “Perhaps one day you could do some work for the Imperial Crown.”

“I’d be delighted if we can come to an agreement. I’m just starting out though, so what I can make will hardly be of use to the Crown,” I said.

“You’re right,” he said. He stared at me for a few more seconds before saying, “I’m here to offer your guild a quest. It will mean a lot to the people of Blackport and the Imperial Crown if you could solve it. Though it will certainly mean the death of all participants from your guild.”

I was almost certain I knew which guild quest he was talking about. It was one that happened every couple of month or so and the first time shortly after the first guild house was done. When he said it would certainly lead to the death of anyone participating, he was not lying.

Instead of delving into my memories about the different strategies that had been tried during the event quest, I asked, “What can the Blue Lotus do for you?”

“The King of Astia has had a string of bad luck in the later years, the coffers are more or less empty. It befell him to help Blackport import the food needed for their survival after the Rupture. He has not,” the commander said.

He took a sip of something. I had not even noticed he was sitting with a tankard of something. “So it has been up the Emperor to keep the town alive, and his troops fed as well. However, the prices for shipping the food has gone up, and we’re looking for alternatives. Someone had the bright idea since you Travellers can’t die, and don’t need a body to be resurrected, why not use you for bait.”

“Let me get this straight,” I said, hoping to skip some of the details. “You want us to act as bait so you guys can get food. That probably involves the sea then, and the fishing flotilla of Blackport. So I can only assume you want my guys to act as bait and lightning rod for all the high levelled creatures out at sea.”

“Yes. Very well deduced,” he said. Not so much deduced, as I knew it.

“What will it pay?” I asked. “If I’ve to convince my people to die, I need to sweeten the pot.”

“There are multiple partners in this endeavour. The fishermen will receive fifty percent of the haul, while we take forty. Your guild will receive the last ten percent. And don’t worry, you won’t be given the fish, but the equal value in coin,” he said. At the same time, a prompt appeared.

Guild Quest Offered

Type: Limited Event

Food Shortage

The town of Blackport is on the verge of experiencing a food shortage. Help the town to distract the sea monsters preventing the fishermen to ply their trade.

Reward

10% of the haul.

+25 Reputation Points with all Blackport Factions to each member of the guild.

+10 Reputation Points with the Soldiers of the Empire of the Endless Sky to each participating member.

100 Guild Points to members dying during the quest.

250 Guild Points to participating members who survive.

2,500 Guild Reputation Points in Blackport.

50,000 Free XP to anyone dying during the quest.

1 Upgrade Point to all participating members.

Do you accept this quest on behalf of your guild?

Yes/No

It suddenly clicked for me. This was how Al had done it. I recall hearing after the fact that his guild was the first who got this quest. If 50% of the haul went to the fishermen who were primarily living in the poor district of the town, it all made sense. This was how he had completed the other quest. It had to be, or at least in part.

I knew it was going to suck for the others, but it was easily worth it. Thirty platinum was the lowest I had heard anyone pulling in from this quest. Often it was around seventy to a hundred. Meaning that each of them would receive two platinum as a minimum. More than enough to replace any lost equipment, if they made sure not to bring too much.

The guild points and reputation points were the real rewards. It would suck majorly with regards to the lost experience, but the quest usually came with two days warning, meaning they could focus on lessening how much experience was really lost.

“We accept,” I quickly said when I became aware of the commander staring at me.

“Good. We expect you at the docks in two days at dawn,” he said and rose. “Good luck with your Runesmithing.”

“Goodbye commander,” I bid his retreating back, as he and the four guards accompanying him left. I sat staring at the table in front of me. Now I just had to convince Ed that this was a good idea. He would convince the others.

After a minute I heard Mia ask quietly, “What was that about?”

“An opportunity,” I said and stood up. I turned to her with an excited grin. “Do you want to see my magic lunchboxes?”

“That sounds weird,” she said. “But sure.”

I led her downstairs and then started to tell her how it functioned. “So you put five portions of stew in this one, I call it a Compressor, or ten skewers on the tray. Then plop in your manastone, and slide the token in right here.”

I showed her where everything went. “Then the food will be absorbed into the token, or magic lunchbox as I call them. Depending on the quality of the enchantment it’ll keep from decaying for a handful of days.”

Holding up one of the other trays, I excitedly told her, “Then you slide the token into one of these and the food comes out, as warm when it went in because of the Suspend Decay rune.”

“Wait,” she asked. “If it’s called suspend decay, shouldn’t it only suspend decay, and not keep it at the same temperature.”

“Well the Suspend Decay is actually a weaker version of a Suspend Time rune, so it actually suspends time, but only works with food and carcasses,” I said. I had never gotten to play with Runesmithing in my previous lifetime, but I had been collecting a lot of information for the archives for it.

“Okay, this is pretty amazing,” she said. “But it sounds pretty expensive. How expensive is one of those lunchboxes and how often can it be used?”

“Uhm, ten times before the lunchbox wears out because of how small it is. And the metal costs one silver a pop, and if I had sold the manastones instead I would have gotten seven or eight silvers, oh and it needs about another silver worth in manastone to compress the food,” I said.

“Factoring in failures, would it be fair to say at least twelve silver per lunchbox?” she questioned.

“Yeah.” I agreed a bit confused, not really seeing where she was going.

“How much will you sell them for? Inspecting them I can see they’re worth five silvers.”

“Depending on what food there is in it, between ten and fifteen silver, which is what the food is worth. Then I’ll charge one silver per day it can last. If they bring the lunchbox I only charge for the food plus one silver,” I said with a shrug.

“So you’re basically giving the lunchboxes away for free.”

“It’s just a container, something to make them come back and buy my food,” I said with a shrug. “Leave the order, come pick it up the next day.”

“Why not charge more? At least consider taking a gold coin for the initial purchase,” she asked, and sounded a bit frustrated.

“Because it’s not the optimal solution. There are far better solutions available out there, which won’t cost an arm and a leg.”

“But they’re not readily available, we should earn the coin while you have the chance,” she urged me.

“Wouldn’t feel right,” I said. “I know we can use the coin, but being greedy bastards won’t win us any loyal customers.”

“Being seen as a dupe won’t earn us coins,” she argued.

“I’m not being a dupe by insisting on treating the customers right. I don’t intend to fleece them, I don’t want to be like the corporations. See what unbridled capitalistic furore have brought to our society.”

“But I don’t want to end up in the coffins again!” she whispered with a frightened tone to her voice.

“And I’m not going to let that happen,” I assured her.

“You’re basically giving magic items away, or even losing coins on it. Excuse me if that doesn’t sound very reassuring,” she fumed. I could not help but laugh, which just earned me a stare that threatened to slit my throat. “This is not funny.”

“This is a gimmick, a way for me to grind my Runesmithing. Until I get it to Apprentice, I will not really be able to make any useful magic items,” I explained. “Trust me, I’m still earning coin on the food, and by offering the lunchboxes at cost I might not earn extra on that, but I will definitely earn extra customers by having something the Dusts don’t have.”

“But they’re not here, we could earn a lot of coins by raising prices on everything. We need to sell these magic items as quickly as possible, before the imitate you again,” she countered.

“Again with trying to squeeze someone for everything. Listen carefully, I won’t let that happen. Also the players who are here right now are not interested in preserving food. They stay around town, only those high-levelled players who venture further out is interested,” I pointed out.

“I didn’t think about that,” she muttered. “Sorry, I just saw you pissing away a chance of earning coins. It scares me thinking I might end up in the Coffins again.”

“Don’t worry about it. We’re in a much better place for next month than we were this month,” I said. “The sudden influx of you and everyone else upset the applecart. But don’t worry, it’s under control and I’ll come up with new ideas of earning the credits we need. Now that we’re running the Castle, it should not be so tough.”

“Okay, I trust you with me and my daughter’s future,” she said and left. I sighed as she left. I wish she had not reminded me. Being responsible for everyone’s well being was hard. I set about to clean up, and join her in the kitchen to do some butchering.