“Grizzly boar, Sus scrofa horribilis- inhabitant of the Great Vale's underbrush. This species of dire boar derives its name from his horrible visage. Adults have tough hides and four fearsome tasks that make this a creature to contend with for any rookie adventurers. Some specimens have been known to grow to sizes that may require a concerted effort of a silver rank team. Only the sharpest weapons and strongest of shields can stand between a charging grizzly boar at its source of agitation…” from Philiarz Warnerskemander’s Bestiary for Adventurers: ‘Exotic Beasties and Where To Find Them

Arthur came to, gasping for air as though recovering from drowning. He winced and bit back a scream when he tried to use his left foot to push himself off the ground as excruciating pain akin to recurring pins and needles seared through his nerves.His eyes hurt and his mouth was dry and parched courtesy of the sun, which faithfully had risen, bringing with it the unforgiving heat of the desert.

He gasped, breathing through his teeth, as his hand hovered over where the fletching of a crossbow bolt broke the skin; he couldn't bring himself to touch it. Tenderly, he got up, careful not to put his weight on his other leg as the smarting settled into a dull throbbing.

Squinting against the harsh light, more out of reflex than anything, his blurry vision revealed he was in a circular crater. Glass and lichtenberg flowers bloomed outwards in a radial pattern. It looked like a warhead had gone off with him at the centre of it. None of his articles of clothing or personal effects were even singed. He was also relieved that nothing happened to the knapsack on his back.

Despite Arthur's head throbbing so badly he could almost hear the blood rushing through his ears, he still had the presence of mind to be cautious not to trip over the glass as he hobbled to stand. Some of it was large spikes that rose upwards like stakes in a pitfall.

In between the muddiness of his fever, Arthur looked around and saw petrified statues of sand standing around him. Were his mind clear, he would've noticed their silent screams, mouths agape in their last moments of life

Looking for his hoverboard, he remembered magicking it into his [Inventory] and promptly got it out. His dagger, not found by bandits who'd been too furious to notice, lay inside a shard of glass.

However, the former was looking all the worse for wear. He feared he was going to have to travel the old fashioned way. With his hoverboard shot and the condition of his left leg it was going to be a slog if the Mark One failed for good.

Past that, he was not of the mind to recall things that had transpired the night before. He was still shaken from the nightmare, blenching as he felt the phantom ache of strangulation. The nightmare was too vivid not to have been real.

He needed to get the barbed crossbow bolt extracted from his leg if he didn’t want to lose it. Though [Regeneration] was working double-time against the poison, he didn’t know if infections counted.

Deliriously he flared [Diagnostics] crossing his fingers that the engine would pad him for at least some leagues to wherever another oasis settlement might be. The results were not that good, but all was not lost either.

It could convey him for yet a few leagues before it gave up the ghost. So he got on, retrieving his mana sail as he did; he held no compunction that he could use his own mana directly because of the fog clouding his mind. Doing that would be tantamount to driving under influence.

The engine sputtered to life with a piteous whine when he slotted in the mast. Using the mast boom to support his weight from leaning on his bad leg, he slowly cut through the desert in the heat haze of the Titan's Dustbowl. He had no idea what time it was nor did he care; he just wanted to get away from that oasis and get as far away as his craft could take him.

For an indeterminate amount of time, the hoverboard conveyed him across the sands. His encounters are few and far between. In no condition to fight, Arthur was lucky he only met the small denizens of the Bowl, a few tufts of brown grass, wind worn rocks and dust devils which spat sand in his face.

As though appearing from a mirage, five silhouettes of people in desert garb materialized between his slit vision as he squinted against the sun. His goggles were sooty and dusty in places , and he barely had any forethought to clear detritus from the lenses.

On seeing the people however, whatever obstinacy had fueled his flight gave out and his vision tilted horizontally to meet the sand, then darkness.

“Nora…Nora…Nooooooraaaa!!!!” a little voice whisper-shouted close to Nora’s ear. The girl woke up with a start to find a little chubby face with two little nubs on the forehead staring back at her with big amethyst irises.

Nora sighed and blew her cheeks in annoyance as she extricated herself from the coverings. Then half-yawning she turned to the little yearling bouncing from foot to foot, schooled her voice and asked.

“Why’d you wake me from my nap little Nyke?” she asked stretching her hands in front of her which let out a staccato of satisfying pops as her arm muscles rippled.

Little Nyke scratched her head, trying to remember something she’d forgotten recently, “Big brother Kervir and Arkilius said…said…uuuuhm,” she scrunched her face cutely as she pursed her little mouth as though the exertion would make her mind give up its secrets. “Aawh, I forgot. But they said to get you.” she beamed, the rest of the message, an afterthought.

“Fine fine, I’ll be right with you, just give me a while to get dressed okay?” she mussed the toddler’s jet black hair as she looked around her yurt for clothing to put on. She watched the child exit the flaps and got to dressing.

Nora exited to the late afternoon sun to the bustle of the clan’s camp. The palish young woman pulled the hood over her face and tucked in her snow-white, purple fringed locks scowling at the sun. She cast her eyes around for wherever the two men would be found.

She decided she’d try the healer’s hut as that was the only place she was needed after all. After a brisk walk she arrived at the healer’s tent, the biggest temporary structure after the meeting hall and the ancient fortress they used further in the oasis.

The first person she saw was the brick red Arkilius who was feeding a llimu cuts of jerky. She nodded in greeting as he responded in kind. The brawny tiefling was always the silent type only deciding to speak when necessary. Just as she was going to get into the healer’s tent, a night blue blur almost collided with her as it burst out of the tent flaps.

“Vesper’s Pits! watch where you’re going!” she yelped as she jerked out of the way.

“Nora! you’re finally here,” the other party exclaimed as their eyes darted to and from the tent. He grabbed hold of her hand, “Come, come, I sent for you urgently, why didn’t you come sooner?!” as he dragged her into the tent. He seemed agitated.

“When you send a yearling with an urgent message what did you expect?!,” she shrieked as she was whisked away. “And let go of me, you’re going to snap my wrist!”

“Oh, sorry,” Kervir let go upon seeing her pained expression

They burst into the tent lit by Lux crystals and inside one of the many dividers separating cots from one another. There they found a coral skinned woman with similarly colored horns sprouting from the top of her forehead kneeling over a feverish man whose face was contorted in pain.

His cheeks were flushed while a sheen of sweat glistened on his brow which the woman was trying to wipe away with a wet cloth. His chest was bare, enkindling a blush on Nora’s face who’d never seen a chest so pale outside of her own skin.

“If you’re done staring please help me treat him before he dies then you can continue ogling,” said the coral skinned woman as she wrung the wet cloth in a bowl.

“What’s wrong with him, Venera?” enquired Nora as she looked at the youth’s face.

“Down there,” Kervir pointed at one of his feet whose pant leg had been ripped. A barbed shaft protruded from his calf and the skin around the exit wound had turned a sickly shade of black and purple. There were pulsing veins as though a living thing wanted to burst out from the skin.

While Nora had seen her fair share of injuries in her time as a [Blood Healer] she’d never come across an injury as grievous as this. She almost wanted to reach out and touch the skin.

“Careful, it’s wurm root and nightshade,” Kervir warned.

“Don’t you think I know that? I am a [Blood Healer],” she scoffed. “How is he even still alive? That amount of poison should have outright paralyzed his heart and killed him.”

“I have no idea either, could be, his bloodline traits are keeping him alive, or a skill perhaps?” Venera turned to regard her as she brushed the pink bangs away from her face.

“I gave him a tincture of Somnium leaf and moonflower herbs, “ she sighed. “They should keep him under for a while. But we should hurry if we want to save him. Now Kervir, did you say he had a dagger on him that could cut through anything?”

“But he’s a human,” Nora protested as she scrutinized his pale face.

“Wrong, he’s no human otherwise he would have died already no matter how high his vitality was. Though we don’t know what he is, maybe he can tell us when you’ve healed him.” Venera smirked. “Enough dawdling, let's extract the arrow and purge him of toxins. Nora, you know what to do.”

The two women got to work excising the arrow from the young man’s leg. First, Venera sliced through the arrow shaft with the dagger like it was a piece of straw. Though, empowering the dagger with her mana unexpectedly tanked her reserves and left her wobbly. Her job done, she stepped back and let Nora handle the rest.

Nora pulled out the arrow from the wound, making sure that no splinters were left behind. She was going to extract the poisoned blood from the affected area when the skin around the extraction point suddenly started knitting itself back together, turning a healthy pink. It barely left any scarring behind.

There was a collective gasp in the tent as the other occupants looked to one another with visible surprise in their expressions. Even Nora herself was caught mid-skill activation which she promptly dismissed to watch the occurrence with fascination.

“Guess my work here is done then,” said Nora as she disintegrated the poisoned arrow with a [Purge] spell. She decided to get up and leave.

“No no no, Nora, you’re watching him tonight. I need to rest,” Venera said playfully as she arched her back in an inwards stretch. “I know you slept through the day.” She winked.

“Huh?! Why do I have to be the one to? You could ask Kervir or something?” pointing to an empty patch of air where Kervir had magically made himself scarce

“Ugh! Kervir and his shadow stepping!” she face-palmed then sunk to her knees.

“Well,” Venera added midway through unfurling the curtain, “I’ll send someone to bring you supper.”

Nora sighed, turning to look at the bare chested invalid she would have to watch over. She stifled a yawn then got up to retrieve a free cot so that she’d be comfortable; it was all in a day’s job for her.

‘I really have to get another hobby,’ Arthur stirred. His fever had broken and all that remained of his agony was the phantom pain from his leg. He shivered and opened his eyes, coming to new surroundings.

‘A field hospital?’ he groaned as he came to. He felt bedsore. “ Have I been in a dream all this time? No that can’t be right…’ he thought, rubbing at his chest as if the chill would go away just by doing so. From the low light in his surroundings, it must’ve been late in the day when he woke.

As everything snapped into focus, his left hand touched with a warm body and he froze.Turning his face towards the subject of his contact, he came face to face with two red irises framed by snow white lashes and equally white brows furrowed in indignation.

“Great, am I in hell now?!” He thought out loud when said person tried and failed to hide her fangs from astonishment.

“If you’re done staring you can let go of my arm now, you’re ticklish!” she protested.

“Ah, my apologies,” said Arthur as he retracted his hand in embarrassment. He should have known better than to grab a woman’s biceps.

“Wait—Just now, you understood what I said?” The woman recoiled in shock.

“Yea, I did, why wouldn’t I not?”

“I just spoke infernal; you weren’t supposed to understand that!” she blushed furiously burying her face in the palms of her hands.

“Oops?” Arthur shrugged when he’d pulled himself up. “So I really am in hell then? Didn’t expect it to be this vibrant. What does that make you—a succubus?” he added, referencing his state of partial undress.

“That’s rude! Way to talk to your savior. Mhh, maybe it's the fever talking, are you sure you didn't hit your head?” she huffed. “And no, you’re not in hell, besides the only person remotely close to being a succubus is Venera.”

“Who is Venera?” he asked with arched brows.

“The other healer who took care of you when they found you…hold on let me go get her, she should be awake by now.”

“Wa…wait!” Arthur tried to stop her but she’d already left. She’d hightailed it out so fast it would have been hard to follow without his improved senses.

‘Where have I done this before?’ he thought, scratching the back of his neck.

The break of day graced the heavens and with it, an oasis camp came alive. Squawks, bellows and neighs could be heard amidst the din of people rousing to their morning chores.

In another world, it could have been a typical village of nomads living out their lives in the prairies; the picture fit the bill, from the yurts, tinkers' wagons the size of a small building to the pack animals—actually scratch that,anything but the pack animals.

What Arthur was trying to relate was, it seemed so down to earth even as he looked at the wardens who were watching over him from the corner of his eyes. Arthur was waiting for the chief healer of the camp to attend to him before he was given the go ahead to meet the clan chief.

He didn't know their customs so he just went along with it; better to watch himself out here—he was one person in a village of tieflings . He also had a lot of explaining to do. Mostly pertaining to what happened after they'd found him. It was making him a ball of nerves; even he was curious about what had happened back there.

Arthur’s wardens were the hulk of a tiefling called Arkilius and his more or less average counterpart Kervir. He’d found them keeping watch outside the healer’s tent after he’d changed and emerged from the structure wanting to see the outside.

After the girl’s unceremonious exit from the healer’s tent as Arthur later came to know, he’d been forced to sleep overnight for more observation. Thus it had been a day since the incident with the bandits.

Being confined was not his strong suit and he was rather antsy from sitting around. Well, now he was doing more sitting around under the glare of the bluish tiefling who was giving him the stink eye. All because of some misunderstanding about touching a certain someone. Perhaps the girl with the crimson eyes was his girlfriend or sister?.

Looking at the two, they couldn’t have been more different from one another. Kervir was night blue in complexion and had amethyst irises—the first unusual color that Arthur had seen in a person’s eyes, apart from the healer girl of course.

The larger counterpart of the two, had skin the color of a fired brick and black horns that curved from above his brow to the back of his head like a goat’s. His eyes had yellow irises. But his most notable feature was his height that was three to four head’s above his…and Arthur had grown taller. That and the muscles that rippled beneath his taut tunic ending at the shoulders screamed barbarian. Both tieflings also had barbed tails like mythical devils.

‘As fantasic a world as it ever gets,’ mused Arthur as he turned his attention to the animals around the camp like the toothed birds that put him on edge. There were also horses in a motley of colors in their own pen doing horsey things like neighing and eating hay; large, according to Arthur. Not that he had much experience with the beast.

Then there were the indricotherian camels. Arthur thought they looked more rhino than camel if you shrunk down their necks, enlarged their heads and gave them two horns.

They were big, sandy and gray furred beasts of burden, the tallest being the size of an elephant. Yet there was a gentle demeanor to the way they walked around the camp, wary of the little tielfling’s who ran circles around them while they played.

Arthur was dumbfounded as to what they needed such a large animal for until he saw one of the tinker’s wagons being pulled along. It was the size of a double decker, and had treaded wooden wheels reminiscent of an antique tractor.

Arthur was very much interested in looking at one since it was the first other vehicle that he’d seen since coming to Eryth but his wardens were keeping a tight leash on him. His best guess was that they used it as some sort of live-in transportation wagon.

Its design almost resembled a cottage on wheels; there was a chimney, slat windows and small gardens covered by tarps. However, before he could delve further into his fascination, it was time to move.

“Get up pale skin, we’re going,” grumbled Kervir as he got down from his perch on a pile of crates. Arthur turned his attention to another bluish tiefling who’d just appeared out of nowhere; he didn’t even see him coming.

Technically, Arthur had to acquiesce because one of his wardens was in a mood. He walked between the newcomer and his other watchers as he was led deeper into the oasis.

They passed more tents and yurts, and more clanspeople who came out to watch the stranger in their midst. There was no animosity however, just curiosity and caution. The greenery grew lusher the further they went.

Some of the trees looked so old from the scars of new growths which were distinctive enough to know when they’d been cut down or scorched by fire. There were also fountains feeding artificial ponds made from worked stone from where animals were watered and clanspeople fetching water from nearby wells.

The trio of tiefling and their ward arrived at a rustic, time ravaged fortress after a while. It was an imposing piece of masonry and he had to crane his neck all the way just to see the giant portcullis hoisted up through giant chains thick as a person’s girth.

The trio entered an outer courtyard and an inner one after passing a group of tieflings training and sparring before treading through the old hall ways, which were dark in spite of the sun in the sky.

If his watchers were surprised at how easily he could see in the gloom as them, they did not show it. Nonetheless, he did see unlit Lux crystals on the walls; [Diagnostics] ascertained that they were all in working order.

At last, they reached a large door made of aged wood and metallic bracing. The knocker on the door had been disfigured and the bracing looked like someone had taken a sword to it and tried to chop their way in. It didn't look recent however, as the tieflings treated it like they’d found it that way.

Into the door they went, emerging into an office or an approximation of it. More pragmatic than a show of eloquence, the office had sparse decorations and furnishings and a lot of bound parchments inside wall recesses.

Behind the main table sat a coral skinned woman in a high backed chair, while the healer that Arthur had gotten acquainted with stood to her left with hands behind her back. She had a hood on.

In the meager lighting, Arthur faced the woman resting her chin on her tented fingers. Her eyes were silver orbs that did not show where the irises or whites began and ended save for the near-white rings that demarcated the two boundaries.

Arthur was drawn to her luscious lips which were relaxed; there was no smirk, no frown or scowl whatsoever. It was hard to get a read on the woman. Just as he was sizing her so was she sizing him up as well; but herein lay a woman who was born a huntress, if not enchantress.

“So, you’ve finally made a recovery,” the woman drawled in Infernal. Arthur wanted to open his mouth in response but he bit back his tongue. There was no need to lay all his cards on the table when he was not well acquainted with the other party. Even though the knowledge that he could understand their language had been given away, there was no need to play along.

“Well then,” she sighed, “I’ll be civil. No need to get all wound up like that; I’ll just ask you a few questions. You just have to answer yes or no or if not, you can just state you are not at liberty to answer.”

‘She's springing a trap,’ Arthur thought, paranoia setting in as he put up an impassive front. As impassive as he could be anyway.

“Have you at any point before this come into contact with dwarves or half-elves?”

“No, have met neither of them.” he unanswered, tension uncoiling itself from his gut.

“Are you the one who engaged a group of dust bandits, about a day or so from the camp?”

“Yes, uhm…yea. I think?” He answered hesitantly. He was half tempted to ask a question of his own but the woman’s frown before she schooled her expression told him that would’ve raised even more questions.

“Are you a noble, spy, affiliated with any nobility, or part of a guild?”

“No to all.” What’s she fishing for? Arthur thought.

“Do you swear that you will not in any way, endanger or have designs to endanger any of the people in this oasis now or at a later time when the opportunity presents itself?”

“No...” Arthur shook his head. ”Honestly, I have no prejudice against you or your people just so you know. I…I will only respond in kind if I feel my life is endangered.”

“Mmh...interesting. You can all relax now.” she declared as she sagged back in her chair. With a look, she motioned his wardens to turn on the lighting. Arthur squinted as his eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness.

‘That seems oddly cut and dry for such serious interaction.’ Arthur thought with raised brows. It seemed that whatever they’d just done was something they did every now and then.

However, when he looked around, he was surprised to find that the room had completely changed. Instead of a drab office, he was now looking at a fully furnished visitor’s lounge. He was thrown for a loop and wondered if this was all part of the ruse.

The unnamed newcomer turned on their heels and left while the yet to be introduced Kervir and Nora took their seats across from an empty chaise lounge. The red hulk remained standing.

“Please take a seat,” said the pink haired coral skinned woman,visibly mellowed out. “We rarely get visitors, you see. And when we do, we have to take precautions,” she added as Arthur sank into the padded seat.

‘ Ah, I would do that too if picking up wanderers in the desert is a daily occurrence’ he thought as he sat down.

“Now, I won’t ask how you happened to not only piss off a gang of sand bandits and not only escape with your life, but also keep everything that was on you . Perchance you are a mage?”

‘ Gracious of them not to go rifling through someone’s magic knapsack,’ he sighed as he nodded in confirmation. It wasn't like he’d lose something there. If they had seen what happened to the bandits at the oasis, they must have thought he’d lobbed spells at them and walked away with a crossbow bolt for his troubles.

Thinking he was curious about the illusion that had just disappeared, she added, “It's just some basic illusion skill,” She winked before adopting a professional countenance once more. The woman seemed to switch between being serious and casual at the drop of a hat. Arthur imagined her being the strict healer with an amiable bedside manner; she just had to be.

“My name is Venera. I am the healer of the Nightcrawler clan. I assume you’ve been acquainted with Nora, Kervir and Arkilius?” to whom she pointedly looked.

“My name is Arthur of Sturmdrache.” Arthur replied, nodding in acknowledgment. He still had his guard up nonetheless. “Did you say you retrieved my weapon and my artifact?”

“Uh—yes,” she motioned to Kervir to hand over his sheathed dagger. The tiefling seemed loath to part with it but a scowl from Venera told him off. Arthur received the weapon and confirmed its authenticity. “As for the magical artifact, one of our tinkerers and artificers is looking at it. My pardon for that, it was at the clan head’s discretion.”

“Wait; what did they intend to do about it?”

“Attempt to replicate it of course,” another voice announced out of nowhere. Arthur almost jerked from his seat. The way the tieflings made abrupt appearances as if stealth was the air they breathed was really something. He didn’t even hear the door open.

“And that is the clan head,” Venera added as she vacated her seat for a much older tiefling.

The clan head was a forty’ish man, middle-aged if you wanted to get literal, but with the races of this world, appearance did not indicate age. He had a black beard that had streaks of white in it.

The beard tapered to a point and like his hooked mustache, gave him the countenance of a stereotypical villain. He had an indigo complexion and the horns that protruded from his brow were curved back like the horns of a ram; they were also the biggest Arthur he’d ever seen.

He wondered if the man had neck problems. Last of all where whites would have been in a human’s eyes, the colors were reversed with black. And those same eyes were regarding Arthur with…expectation?

Trailing the tiefling was another, a woman wearing crystal goggles with a variety of functional attachments like magnifying lenses that had a steampunk vibe to them. From the runes and other functional embellishments, they looked custom made and something a crafter would wear. The woman was pushing along his board which was, surprisingly, still powered on by its sail.

“So, Arthur of Sturmdrache,” he threw his hands open. “Pray tell, were you the one that made that magical artifact?”

“Huh?”

“According to my artificer’s [Appraisal] skill, it says you are the originator. So you must be some sort of crafter or artificer even.” He said, looking towards his artificer. “ At first we thought it must have been a relic you picked from the sands, that a dozen bandits were about to kill you for it.”

“ Hrm,” he hummed. “ Now I have to reevaluate my opinion of you, Arthur of Sturmdrache.” he said as he sat down.

“It’s beginner’s work—,” the artificer adjusted her goggles, “ going by the level of rune craft, it is made more for practicality . However, I would qualify it being more in the realm of magitech. So he might have a tier one class that caters to the field in question.

It might have come from a combination of mage and any crafting class that allows him to work with runes and magical materials,” She added, leveling a weighty gaze at Arthur. “ Also, there are no obfuscation enchantments on it; a beginning crafter's first mistake,” she smirked.

Arthur was taken aback at having his work analyzed so thoroughly and broken down into facts that arrived at his class. Though now that he thought about it, if one had an inspection skill like the one the crafter woman had, then it was pretty easy.

Feeling put out by the revelation, Arthur thought about how far he had to go before he could make an aership.

‘ Honestly, I haven’t scratched the surface of what it means to be the equivalent of a technician with magical skills.’ Seeing how distressed he looked. The artificer must have mistaken her words being harsh because she hurriedly tried to mollify him.

“My intention was not to diminish your craft,” the woman backpedaled as the clan head watched on. “My apologies clan head, I get carried away sometimes.”

“Do carry on Livierre,” the clan head flicked his wrist nonchalantly.

“As I was saying, your magical item is in the realm of magitech. While I understand what the rune craft is supposed to do, I cannot fathom the mechanisms behind its ability to move the way it does. And I could not simply deconstruct your artifact to see what was inside; your assemblage mechanisms were too tightly wound to risk taking it apart. It is a thing of beauty, how finely welded the metal was despite its shortcomings.”

“ Uhm, then? Where do I come in all of this? Seeing as our discussion seems to be about my artifact and nothing else. You haven’t even asked for payment, after picking me up in the desert I mean.” Arthur asked helplessly. To be honest, he was still reeling from the events of the day before. He hoped that his new acquaintances were not ones who would attempt to fleece him.

The artificer woman shrugged and looked to her superior for help. The clan head shook his head, as he gave Arthur a wry smile. His eyes were full of mirth.

“Because I can see the potential in you—” the clan head took over as he stroked his pointy beard. “You see, as leader of my clan, I have skills that get the right people for the right thing. And much like a [Merchant]’s nose for opportunity, it has never failed me. Forget the payment, young lad. Perhaps, if I could ask you to [Name Your Price] to explain the principles by which your artifact works, we could come to some sort of understanding.”

Arthur was inclined to make his mind there and then but it had caught him off guard. Short of getting to Aldmoor, he was still flying by the seat of his pants. His plans were not cast in stone.

Besides, he did not lack for money at the moment, food he could trade for—a guide, perhaps traveling alone was more dangerous than he’d assumed. He’d almost lost his life…and worse to the least harmless of those he’d encountered. He sighed as he mulled over what he wanted.

“Honestly, at the moment, I do not have a price that I would name on the spot. Short of traveling supplies, I don’t think I lack anything, sorry.”

“Ho, [Would you Reconsider]?”

There was that compulsion again, like wanting to make an impulsive purchase even though you had no want for something; just because the money was there. Arthur blinked—and blinked again. Then he met the man's gaze head on.

“Was that a skill?”

The clan head looked towards the clan healer inquiringly. Venera shrugged and whispered in infernal, “He resisted my [Lower Inhibition] and [Charm] skills but—,” remembering that Arthur could understand them just fine, she covered her disappointment with an eyeroll “but [Detect Lie] did not show any deception, just half truths. He didn’t see through my illusions either.”

“Truly? And he is not a nobility to have an aura skill?”

“Not at all. He might have an equivalent hidden class; however his magical aura is all over the place,” she drew up from her whispering.

“Uh, is that so? Then we are already on the back foot.” He sighed. “In all my years, never had the negotiations failed before they even began. You must be powerful at such a young age.” He turned to Arthur who had just now leaned back against his seat, crossing his arms. “Nora, could you please get some refreshments for our guest?”

“So then?—”

“It seems that intrigue won’t work with you. Perhaps being more forthcoming will appeal to your inclinations,” the clan head commented as he watched Kervir, Arkilius and Nora move out of the room.

“Since you’re so honest. I noticed that Venera didn’t even try to hide it when she told you the skills she used on me. I assume that’s part of being honest huh? What’s to stop you from getting what you need by threatening me?”

“Astute young man.” the clan head smirked. “ Now then, perhaps if I could tell you what we need your craft for, you would be open to making a trade.?”

“Mmh,” Arthur hemmed and hawed and threw up his hands. “Fine, first let’s hear what you have to say.”