By the time we got back to the shore, I was at least able to stand. I was still sore as hell, but my Vitality had patched me up enough that my muscles worked at least. Callie looked just as bruised and uncomfortable, but she also looked just as ecstatic as I felt. Despite the annoyance at Abel and the physical discomfort and pain, it felt GOOD to get stronger. To learn to be better and improve in a measurable way.

And measure we did. After we got back to shore Abel carried the big metal baskets off the ship for us and we emptied them out on the black rocky beach, counting our haul and the number of points. I'd managed fifty total, while Callie had gotten forty eight. Abel, though he wasn't competing, made sure to assure us he had broken triple digits, and that both of together had failed to even approach his number. The asshole.

Still as I stared down at the fish, I could see why these things were so sought after. They were beautiful. The scales were vivid and every bit as breathtaking as the colors of a rainbow. They were also all still, apparently immobilized by the stasis field long enough to suffocate. I had thought it kept them alive, but apparently I'd mistaken the point of the baskets, the devices being more to keep them fresh than anything else.

As I stared down at them, I heard a crunch off to the side and turned to see a bedraggled Wren and Vector jumping down and trekking over to stand next to us. They had obviously heard the little introductory speech Abel had given us, not a surprise on such an open expanse of water with two G-rankers. They still looked annoyed as hell as they glared at my mentor. "You know." Wren snarled. "You could have WARNED us."

Abel gave a derisive snort. "I didn't warn my own disciples." He said dismissively. "Why would I warn you two? Besides, it's good training. Don't tell me a pair of Ascendants from cluster level forces cant handle a little light rain and some relaxing fishing." We all turned and stared at him in mute horror as he described the... watery apocalypse we had just gone through as 'some relaxing fishing'. That took a serious amount of skills in bullshit to say with a straight face. Or at least what we could see of it.

Sloane, who had walked up in squelching wet boots, was glaring too. "Well, that's certainly kind of you. Be assured that I will return that kindness at the first possible opportunity. With interest." With that she stomped past us, storming over to presumably get a change of clothes from her minions. The effect was ruined by the watery squelch of her feet as she trudged across the beach.

"Alright." I said, drawing attention back to the matter at ham. "What do we do with these fish? Where do we sell them, and for how much?"

Before he could answer, a new voice pipes up. "Hey dudes." We all turn to see the guy from the shack where Abel rented the boats standing off to one side. "Bodacious catch bros. That's a tubular multiplicity of aquatic lifeforms. Might you be interested in parting with your superfluence of fishy findings?"

I blinked at him. So did everyone else. None of us had a fucking clue what he'd just said. The man's scruffy brown hair and goatee, combined with his blank stare, made him seem like kind of a lazy, sleepy person. His speech on the other hand was confusing and in some places I was pretty sure made up. I wasn't a dictionary, but superfluence didn't seem like a real word to me.

Looking at him more closely, I tried to take in his outfit. Baggy tan shorts with too many pockets, a short sleeve t-shirt with an open short sleeve button up, and a series of metallic jewelry on his fingers and hanging from a black chord around his neck. He also wore a surplus of varied leather bracelets with metal buckles and pins on them. Abel grinned at him. "Dale! You're just in time. We were just talking about what to do with the fish. You willing to pay full rate for them? They're pretty fresh, and it'll save me some time."

Dale guffawed. "Most obviously my compatriot. I have an abundance of most radical funds to disperse for the purpose of acquiring such a delectable piscine assortment. To my eternal sorrow though, the monetary equivalency you speak of has mutated in the time since your previous embarkment. One credit of H-rank as a base for a red is a more efficacious offering to begin our fiscal negotiations."

The big dopey smile hadn't changed, but I caught a gleam of craftiness in his eye, and Abel's smile turned into a scowl. "The fuck you say. Don't pull that wasted philosopher bullshit on me you money grubbing layabout. I haven't been gone THAT long. Two and a half per red as a base. I'm not a moron, I did check prices before coming here. I'm not one of those stupid tourists you fleece."

Putting up both hands, Dale's eyebrows rose in alarm without his eyes actually opening from their lazy half lidded state. "Whoa! Your accusations of malfeasance are farcical. But alas, I am no match for such a puissant practitioner of the pugilistic arts. Spare me your erupting wrath, your monetary offer is most acceptable for such a close personal friend. Our historical dealings are more than enough to justify such an expenditure."

Abel rolled his eyes. "Oh stop it Dale. I forgot how quickly that gets old. Just talk like a normal person, there's no one around to hear anyway."

Dale's relaxed smile twisted into an annoyed scowl. "Hey man, why you gotta' fuck up my aesthetic? If the tourists hear me talking like this they'll be way more on guard. I've spent years cultivating my image. The combination of dazed moron and confusing linguistic savant really puts people at ease. If you fuck this up for me I'm gonna be pissed, I have a business to run."

Mel snorted. "I can't believe it still works after all this time." She said wryly. "You'd have thought after all the people you've ripped off someone would have warned the others."

The dopey grin returned. "I'm not sure as to the bamboozling you might be referencing, lady fair. I am simply a harmless and hapless proprietor of seafaring wares who chooses to invest in the local community through the occasional acquisition of delicious carp-tacular treats."

"Those are salmon." Mel said dryly. "But point taken. That really is convincing. No clue how you keep it up all the time. Though it explains why you haven't ranked up. People pretty much dismiss you out of hand."

Dale just shrugged, resuming a normal speech pattern instead of his lazy far off drawl. "I do good business here. No reason to rock the boat, so to speak." He looked at us. "You guys keep this quiet will you? I'd normally stay in character even after being caught out, but annoying Abel is never a healthy thing to do." He glared at the silver masked man. "Not to mention there's no point since he's decided to screw me on pricing."

That got an eye roll from my teacher. "Oh please. You've been ripping off tourists for too long. Two point five is a solid baseline. The multipliers for color variants aren't even that high, except the purple at six, but there's less than twenty of those. Gods know you'll sell the damn things at a mark up anyway. What do you charge after prep, like five?"

"They're paying for labor." Dale said self-righteously. "It costs to keep my chef on retainer. Not to mention I have to pay for processing to make sure the scales are treated right. Those things sell for a decent amount in bulk, not to mention the organs and bones can be crushed up to make a pretty high end plant fertilizer."

Abel looked over to us. "This. This is why I call him a money grubber. Despite his laid back appearance this miser can't let a single chit slip through his fingers." He waved away the line of thought, literally swatting the air like the whole conversation was an annoying fly. "Whatever." He pointed at Sloane and Wren. "You two, dump your catch. This is as close to market value as you'll get, and he won't pay nearly this much after I'm gone."

They both did so quickly, ignoring the annoyed scowl from Dale. Abel looked back at the shack owner. "Well? What are you waiting for, an engraved invitation? Count them up. The longer they're out of stasis the worse condition they're in, and I'm not taking a pay cut because you're a slow starter." Dale muttered something vaguely insulting that even I couldn't hear and walked over to start counting up the fish as Wren and Sloane dumped theirs on the beach.

Abel turned to us. "This was a decent haul. Two point five as a base for the reds is a solid payout. It means twenty five for each purple. That alone is going to be a pretty serious bump. I think people have been too distracted to come fish lately, because looking at the full haul laid out like this its easy to see its denser than normal. I wasn't expecting any decent payout from this, just some pocket money, but based on what I'm seeing this is going to come out to about fifteen F-rank chits."

"Why H-rank chits as a base though?" I asked cautiously. "If they're G-ranked monsters?" If we got paid in E-ranked chits instead it would obviously be much more lucrative. I wasn't expecting that to happen, but I might as well find out why that didn't happen.

He waved the question off. "H-rank tends to be base currency here, even for higher level Ascendants. The economy on a backwater planet like this is pretty limited as a whole. There's only so many chits floating around. I doubt anyone on Callus has any D-ranked chits, even if they have enough E-ranked chits to trade for them. Once you get past a certain point scarcity plays a role. Not to mention these fish are pretty common. Nobody would make any money paying out G-rank chits for catching them. Just like no one is paying G-rank chits to eat them. Five H's probably."

That was a wrinkle I hadn't considered in terms of economy. The whole money thing scaled kind of hard after the first few ranks, but if H-ranked chits were the standard of currency that would definitely drag it down a bit. Sort of like the equivalent of a credit for local Ascendants. Abel rolled his eyes. "Ponder economics later kid." He said with minor annoyance coloring his tone. "If I know Dale he's going to want us to help him carry them over as part of the fee."

Sure enough, Dale came over and insisted we help move everything. It wasn't much work, but it was wet and annoying. Eventually though, we got them all transported and he handed over fifteen F-ranked chits, three of which went to Wren and Sloane, who hadn't had nearly the haul we had even if their catch had looked impressive. Lots of reds.

With that done, we headed off the beach, walking back toward the city proper. Wren checked a scan ring for the time and looked over at us. "Well, that was time consuming. We're doing dinner with the rest of the legion if you want to tag along? I'm sure Lament would be happy to meet some challengers, even if our escorts won't let her fight you. She has problems holding back when she gets excited, so we want to save some mystery for the tournament." Callie answered for us, immediately accepting, and I just grinned in anticipation. Seemed like I was finally going to meet the Spear Legion's ringer.