The tap, tap, tapping of my cane resounded in the wide stairwell as I stepped out onto the bottom floor of the Academy. As the students from every year were taking their final or advancement exams, I'd only passed a handful of staff along the way. Currently, there was only one more between myself and the exit, and I could hear the sloshing of water as he dumped a bucket on the floor and began to scrub the area.
I couldn't help but wrinkle my nose slightly when I saw the muddy puddle that was created. Sure, I hadn't forgotten to bring a vial of Infernal Wash with me, but that didn't mean I cared to stain my new boots. Glancing at the middle-aged man who made the mess, I decided not to blame the man, as he wore an amulet from the Church of Damnation.
"Mornin' kid," he lifted his hand as I walked by, attempting to skirt around the puddle of mud. "Ain't it a bit early to be out the ol' classroom already."
I nodded in acknowledgment, "A good morning to you as well, sir. My exam has already been completed, so my professor allowed me to attend to other matters."
"One o' those savvy kids, are ya?" The custodian asked, frowning and noting that I was being careful to step between the puddles. His previously pleasant demeanor completely changed. "Can't even be bothered tuh get yer boots wet. I reckon you'll be dead before ya see the Fifth Floor."
My brow twitched, "Well, sir, if you would just use a Cleansing Spell, there wouldn't be any water to be avoided. I'm well aware that the Academy freely provides you with the necessities to do your job."
"W-Well, I, uh..." In a short span, his face shifted from its original disdain to a flustered state. Then, he became irate and lashed out, lifting the charm from around his neck, "This 'ere is a token o' the Church. The Patriarch says the Cards are a gift from Tara, and we ought not abuse 'em. Not that I 'spect a pampered noble arocrat would understan' that."
"What you mean to say, sir, is aristocrat," I shook my head and spouted, "At least a gentleman wouldn't be so hypocritical in his beliefs."
The custodian was taken aback, "Lad, don't you dare be pesterin' me 'bout-"
"Oh? So that isn't a Savory Scent Enhancement I smell on your person?" I asked, "Last I remembered, the Patriarch was firm that no Cards should be used unless they made the Wielder better suited to purge the Plagued Beasts. Maybe you should remove that chain and swear fealty to the Church of Liberation."
The man tried to stammer something but couldn't find his tongue by the time I'd left the building. I hadn't meant to rebuke the man to such an extent, but those types of insincere congregants really knew how to press me. Even on the Tenth Floor, I'd faced condemnation from both Churches, being called a heretic almost daily by 'followers' who didn't even observe their own beliefs.
Most of this was due to the side effects of my Origin Card. It wasn't a common occurrence to receive an Origin Card that worked against a Wielder, but it wasn't particularly rare, either. About one in fifty Climbers would receive an Origin Card that took away from one of their faculties in some form to enhance another.
Both of the Churches found this as an affront to their ideals. The Church of Liberation believed that these Cards were the Tower's curse placed upon those who had an affinity for the Plague. As for the Church of Damnation, they simply believed that the affected individuals proved too weak to assist in escaping the Tower, so the Goddess Tara had removed their ability to ascend. Both were nonsensical.
Still, that didn't stop most folks with the affliction of an unlucky Origin Card from having a rough life. The two Churches had their hands in everything, and though there were many who didn't believe or care about their beliefs, there were equally as many who did. As such, it was hard for Wielders with the affliction to find a place in the Tower, and many picked up jobs as civil servants working for the government.
This religious war affected many people. Most chose to avoid it, but if a vulnerable person spoke the wrong words in front of the more devout members, it wasn't unheard of for the Inquisitors of the Church of Liberation or the Exorcists of the Church of Damnation to appear at the doorstep of a so-called blasphemer.
In fact, my old friend Crole had even told me of some people he knew that were friends, even though they were members of the opposing Churches. Someone complained about this to their respective Churches, claiming that the two were sharing secrets. Not even a day later, the two men went missing and hadn't been heard from again.
Knowing that these pious supporters wouldn't change between now and the end of the century didn't help to appease my mood, but I'd forced myself to calm down by the time I reached the dorms. There was no reason to be so worked up over something that couldn't be helped. It wasn't like the Inquisition was out to get me.
I jogged up the stairs and grabbed my effects before heading back and making my way to the front gate. My business today involved visiting an old friend... One who'd been kind enough to send three mercenaries to help me farm the Old Boar Forest. My Essence pouch weighed heavily on my side as I walked toward the northern exit of the Academy, my cane tapping against the cobblestone path and attracting the attention of the guards.
I nodded and raised my cane slightly. Both guards nodded in response, tapping the hilt of their swords to acknowledge my greeting. They didn't bother speaking out to stop me or ask why I was leaving the Academy so early on the day of the final exams.
After stepping through the open gates, I could see the vast expanse of farmland just beyond the town. From the top of the hill upon which the Academy sat, the tops of the smaller businesses and Guild Halls could be seen clearly. Scents from the many taverns wafted up the hill, assaulting my senses and making my mouth water.
"Mmm... maybe I can afford a proper meal today," I mused, making my way down the cobblestone lane and swiftly reaching the intersection at Main Street. As was customary in the middle of the day, the streets were bustling with activity.
Carriages moved this way and that along the vast expanse of road while Guild promoters stood in the streets calling for passers-by to sign up. Alongside the promoters, small and somewhat impressive-looking parties sat playing dice or cards, inviting those interested in enjoying a game with them.
These parties would typically help their newer members finish the basic tasks on the First Floor before providing them with the documentation needed to ascend to the Second Floor. Though the party members would never enjoy the fame of their guildmates who made it to the upper levels, their jobs paid well, and more importantly, they were safe.
I passed a large group of armored men and women who stood next to a broad sign on the corner of the street. Multiple sheets of paper hung on the board, primarily requests from the many businesses asking adventurers to head into the mountains to guard their miners or bring back wolf skins. Pictures of some criminals adorned the board as well.
Finding bandit and mercenary groups on the First Floor was common, particularly in the vast mountains around the outskirts. It would take a man close to forty days if he wanted to travel from one wall to another, assuming the land was completely flat, and he only had to stop to eat and sleep. But, the mountainous regions took up more than three-quarters of the Floor, making it easy to remain obscure.
If one were to commit a significant crime on the Origin Floor, there would be no place for them within the Tower. Though the guards would look the other way for a few Essence if one was a petty thief, murderers and the like would be arrested on the spot if they attempted to ascend the stairwell. Thus, there was only one place for these criminals to flee.
"Hey, hey!"
I turned around, feeling a sudden pressure on my shoulder, and found myself looking into the face of a tall, lanky woman with glowing eyes. She had long, thin hair and yellowed teeth, indicative of her terrible habits. Even with her gaunt figure, her grip on my shoulder was tight, almost painful, and indicated that she had a Strength Foundation of at least Level 3.
"How may I help you?" I asked, glancing at the woman's hand and finding it covered in dirt and grime. When I saw this, I tried to wrest myself from her grip and take a step back, but her grip was too tight.
"You, boy, sell me your cane," she quickly replied, spittle flying from her lips while she spoke. Her gaze traveled to the cane in my hand, and I saw her eyes begin to glitter. "I want it, boy. How much?"
"My possessions are not for sale, ma'am," I spoke plainly, and glared at the woman when her grip on my shoulder tightened. Before she could speak again, another, larger woman grabbed her by the arm and tugged her away. The woman cried out in surprise as her grip on my shoulder weakened.
"Gertrude, release this young man at once!" She barked, yanking back harder on the haggard woman. This woman was also tall, but she was by no means gaunt. Her body looked like that of a strongman you would see in a carnival, her black hair was cropped close to her ears, and she had a short, masculine face. "I'm sorry young man. Gertrude here doesn't know how to keep to herself."
I regarded the gigantic woman for a moment before nodding. She smiled in response and began to reprimand Gertrude while I turned to leave. Before I made it out of earshot, I heard the bony woman complain, "But Bertha! You haven't seen the Essence contained in that thing!"
My steps faltered briefly upon hearing that, and I recalled how the woman's eyes glittered when her gaze landed on my cane. I kept walking, pretending I didn't hear her crazed shouting, but I suddenly became curious about the object I was holding.
This had been my grandfather's cane, and it had been his grandfather's before him, and I didn't know anything about its origins. When I'd had it appraised in my previous life, the shopkeep had told me that it was a relatively solid object made from some materials found on the Twentieth Floor. Aside from that, he hadn't discovered any unique traits.
Although...
I was young when I'd had that done, so the memory had become fuzzy as my mind and body deteriorated. Now though, my mind was in peak condition, and I could remember the encounter clearly. That clerk had been nervous... no, almost afraid as he handed the staff back to me.
After I'd walked far enough down Main Street for the women to be out of sight, I stepped into an empty alley and looked down at the weapon in my hand. It looked just the same as my previous life, aside from being free from the wear of years of use. That's where I caught myself.
Why would it have had all of that wear from me using it on the Tenth Floor when it had been passed down through multiple generations without taking damage. For many minutes, I stood in that alley, aghast and going over the implications in my mind.
"Had that shopkeep had a replica crafted..?" It wasn't impossible. But what I didn't understand was... "Why?"
I stared at the sword in my hand for a few more minutes before sheathing it and departing the alley, leaving the guild halls and job board behind to head to the business establishments. It wasn't long before I saw the merchant's shop. The lights were dimmed, and a closed sign hung on the door.
Shaking my head, I approached the two-story building and tried the handle. It was locked. Glancing both ways and seeing no one nearby, I raised my cane and lightly bashed the silver head into one of the small window panes. Carefully reaching through the broken pane, I unlocked the door and stepped inside.
Ding.
I glanced at the small bell above the door before shutting and locking it behind me. My cane tapped on the nicely polished wooden floor as I approached the desk and gently tapped the bell on the counter, waiting patiently.
"Sir Crook!" I called. "It's rude to keep a customer waiting."
A bit of shuffling and then a loud thud from the dark room in the back, followed by a tirade of curses. Holding back a chuckle, I waited for the bulky merchant to round the corner, still cursing and rubbing the top of his head.
"Can't you see we're closed? Who do y-" Crook's face went pale, and his eyes widened when he recognized me. He lifted a hand as if to cast a spell, but before he could, I was over the counter with the tip of my sword lightly pressed against his throat.
"Sir, don't you think it's a bit discourteous not to welcome a customer with a proper greeting?" I asked, smiling down at the sweating man, easing my blade from his throat. A thin trail of blood trickled down, staining the edge of his collar.
"Y-You're right. P-Please forgive my rudeness, Sir Wilder," he lifted his hands very slowly and pointed to a cloth in his front pocket. "M-May I?"
I eased my sword back but kept it in a position where he knew I could reach him if he tried anything clever. The merchant nodded and pulled out a finely knit handkerchief, pressing it to his minor injury. He looked me up and down as he did so, still a bit shaken but no longer terrified. In his line of work, I was sure this hadn't been the first time he'd been put in such a position.
"How can I help you today, good sir?" Crook asked, panting and through gritted teeth. He stepped around me to take his seat behind the counter, and I watched amusedly as he struggled to climb onto the stool.
Once he was properly seated, I walked to the front of the counter and unfastened the Essence pouch from my belt, "There are a few matters we need to discuss, but we can start here. I have just short of thirty-five hundred assorted Essence here, and I would like to exchange it all for its equivalent in Level 5 Essence."
Crook's face contorted slightly, "Oh, you don't want me to just give you the Essence for free?"
"Well, if you're insisting," I smiled, pretending not to have heard his sarcastic tone.
"No, no, no," Crook hurriedly waved his hands and turned to a massive box beside him on the counter, opening it. Inside were thousands of Essence of varying Levels. "So, will seven hundred Essence suffice?"
"Make it six-hundred fifty, and I'll purchase another case of Infernal Wash," I told the man, dumping my pouch gently on the counter for him to sort through. The weasel nodded and began poking through the shards, counting them swiftly while grumbling about how I'd never purchased the first case.
"Now, for our second order of business," I tossed the missive on the counter that I'd acquired from the three brothers. The merchant paused his counting and read through the message, his face turning darker with each line.
I snatched the paper back from him before he had a chance to try and dispose of it. His horrified visage turned to one of defeat, and he spoke solemnly, "What do you want?"
"Well, my dear fellow, there are several things you can do for me," I said, smiling brightly. "But for now, we will keep it simple. I'm in need of a Wisdom Foundation Card, and I would like to know everything you have on the Skull Mercenaries."
"And you'll be wanting this for free, will ya?" The merchant growled but simmered down when he caught my icy stare, and he looked again at the blood spatters that stained the parchment I was holding. He gulped, "What... Uh, happened to the brothers?"
"Mmm..." I grinned again as I rolled up the paper and placed it in my personal pack, then tossed the Mercenaries' pack on the counter beside the pile of Essence. "The lads and I exchanged a few pleasantries, and after, there was a boar of a feast..."
I chortled at my own joke as the merchant's face turned pale. If his blood kept draining like this, I was sure the wily fool would have a heart attack before we could get anything useful done. He sat in silence for the next several moments as my words sunk in.
"B-But you're just a... kid..." Crook whispered, more to himself than to me. Without saying another word, he went back to diligently counting the Essence on the counter, though his hands were shaking.
"So, I'll hold on to this," I patted my sack which held the proof of Crook's wrongdoings, "And I'll exchange it for your services between now and the time I leave for the Second Floor a few days after the graduation ceremony."
Crook nodded, "You're not going to turn me in?"
"Sorry, lad, but you won't be getting off that easy," I told him. "I want a full report on everything you know about the Skull Mercenaries by the time I return. You'll offer a fair price for all of the gear that I commandeered from your friends. And finally, I need a Wisdom Foundation Card."
"S-Sir..." He seemed to hesitate, but I gestured for him to get it out. "You should know that Wisdom, Intelligence, and Will Cards are the most difficult of the Foundation Cards to get your hands on until the higher Floors."
I nodded. Of course, I knew this. The magic-based Foundation Cards only started to drop once you reached the Plagued Beasts that used such abilities on the Fifth Floor or higher.
"Your other two requests, I can manage," Crook said solemnly, "But if you want a Wisdom Card in such a short time, I'm not sure I'll be able to attain it."
"Do your utmost to locate one, and I'll consider our deal concluded," I stroked my chin thoughtfully, then added, "Only if it's obtainable, of course."
"Yes, sir," Crook looked annoyed, but he didn't argue. Pleased with his response, I waited patiently for him to count out the remaining Level 5 Essence, pour them into a new pouch, and place them on the counter. "Six-hundred fifty Level 5 Essence and your Infernal Wash is on the same shelf as last time."
It seemed that my paying for the wash this time had softened his mood toward me a bit, but he was still dour. I was afraid that if I'd taken too much advantage of him, he would've fought or just let me turn him in. Neither of those options would have benefited me in the end.
I picked up the small sack of shards and, as an afterthought, added, "Also, if you can get hold of a Cleansing Spell Card, I'll pay market price."
His eyes softened again, but he still seemed exasperated from all that had happened over the last few minutes. I tossed the now much lighter pouch in my pack, scooped the case of Infernal Wash from the shelf, and made my way to the exit.
"Until then, good sir," I bid a short farewell, slightly bowing my head, and backed out of the merchant's shop. The fresh air blew through the streets, bringing with it the smells of a nearby bakery. My mouth watered again, but I decided to hold off for now.
"It doesn't seem that he's contacted Skull since our prior confrontation," I mumbled, glancing back at the closed sign in the window. "I wonder what he'll do next. The brothers should have been the only decent force they could muster other than the head Skull. I wouldn't expect the dozen or so criminals that make up the current crew to have much experience."
I shrugged and made to leave. There was no reason to concern myself with hypotheticals. What mattered now was finishing the tasks, and it seemed I was a free man until graduation. Though, the sooner, the better...
I needed to clear these tasks before the younger Descendants converged onto the First Floor.
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