Lone: The Wanderer [Rewrite]

"Hello, everyone!" the portly human man on-stage said as he beamed a smile and slowly scanned the enormous packed auction hall and the handful of occupied private booths with his eyes.

"My name is Peter, though some of you may know me as the Undying Teller. Tonight, I am simply Peter or the host. With our introductions out of the way, why don't we jump right into tonight's first lot? If I get too excited I might end up extending the already planned-to-be lengthy auction by a few more hours, and let's be honest, none of us really wants that, now do we? Haha," he joked lightly as he gestured to the side of the stage where a gorgeous human woman rolled a trolly to Peter's side.

The cart had a copper metal frame and gears covered the thing - especially its wheels.

To Lone, it screamed steampunk. 'Is that the result of steamforging? Like Grimsley's smithing glasses? Man, I want those glasses... I have perfect vision now since my body changed into a foxkin but they look so fuckin' cool! Maybe he'll give them to me if I ask nicely? He said they were a gift from his uncle, but I mean, c'mon, as much as it fuckin' sucks, he doesn't really have a forge anymore...'

Regardless of Lone's selfish and exciting thoughts, the happenings on stage continued.

Peter kindly thanked his assistant and then personally removed the velvety cloth covering the first item of the evening.

Murmurs of excitement rippled through the crowd as a piece of very old parchment in a glass container was revealed. What was special about this parchment beyond its apparent age was the still very evident wax seal printed on its bottom right corner.

"As many of you have already gleaned from the item's appearance, this is a dungeon seal!" Peter announced. "The owner will have the exclusive access rights to a newly discovered C-rank dungeon in the Algeri Forest of Milindo's northern border!"

The man went on to explain who had found the seal and it's starting bid - a tidy sum of 5 white-gold coins - however, Lone had no interest in owning this item but he did have a few questions for the knowledgeable Gilbert.

Gilbert raised an eyebrow. "Every dungeon has one, though only rumours explain how or why. You see that line at the bottom with nothing over it?"

Lone nodded as he focused on the scroll. "I'm guessing you sign your name there or something?"

"Exactly. Whoever signs it gets, like Peter said, full permissions to the dungeon its linked to. They can bar certain people - or even certain group - from entering the dungeon. For a C-ranked one to be found in Milindo... This kingdom is going to get a lot richer very quickly," Gilbert said a bit sadly.

Grimsley whistled. "'At's a really gold mine in 'at case. Ma granpapi owns a D-rank dungeon. Bugger makes easily one ruby-gold coin ah year. Ah can only imagine 'ow much moolah ah fookin' C-rank dungeon would bring in per annum."

Gilbert nodded. "Exactly. Even the guild only has a little over 100 C-rank dungeons across the continent, and we're a million-year-old organisation. They're very rare and very valuable."

Lone frowned. "If a D-rank can make a ruby-gold coin each year, why is this one selling for 5 white-gold coins?"

Gilbert answered, "The higher ranked a dungeon, the harder it is to clear, obviously. Lower ranked ones get cleared far more often. I imagine the owner of this seal wants quick money. A C-rank dungeon certainly holds the potential for great wealth, yes, but also the equal potential for death. It's a bit of a risk to buy it. A gamble, some might say."

"Aye, ah'd bet on someone wantin' ah lot ah money but nae enuff tae gather eyes. Sellin' the seal's smart, sellin' it fae ah reasonable price is askin' fae an assassination regardless ah the risks ah its difficulty," Grimsley added. "Ruby-gold coins tend tae move eyeballs."

"Ah, financial politics... Anyway, Gilbert, how old actually is the guild? You'd expect any country or business to, well, disappear over time. One shitty leader and it's all down the drain, y'know?" Lone wondered questioningly.

Gilbert gave him a funny look, as did Sophie from under her helmet.

"Lone, Gilbert told us that Grand Guildmaster Sarah is the guild's founder. That means she's as old as the guild is," Sophie explained.

"Ah..." Lone scratched his head in embarrassment. "That's right. Still... someone living for that long is kind of crazy... How strong must she be if she's a million-year-old Divine?"

"Very," Gilbert answered with a strange look in his eyes. "If you ever meet her, be sure to be polite. She's rough at the best of times, even if she doesn't mean to be. Well, she won't kill you since she loves all of her employees - wooden plates included."

Grimsley suddenly rushed past everyone and leaned out of the gem booth as he held onto the railings. "'At cunt! 'Ow'd she get the gold tae afford ah dungeon contract?!"

Lone followed his friend's gaze. Sat down in the regular seats could be seen a blonde High Elf woman possessing long flowing hair decorated with a few interwoven braids.

A big grin was on her gorgeous face as she confirmed her final and winning bid for the dungeon contract, a small fortune of 38 white-gold coins.

'An elf who Grimsley doesn't like... Master Seloph?' Lone recalled when he and Soph had visited Ranton's most prestigious blacksmithy to request an apprenticeship only to be rudely turned away by the man working the counter.

"Is that Master Seloph, Grimsley?" Lone asked.

"Ah already teld ya, ya daft lad! 'At connivin' bitch isnae ah fookin' master! Maybe at suckin' knobs, aye, but forgin' tools an' arms? Aye, at'll be the fookin' day!" the grumpy dwarf blasted back.

Gilbert chuckled faintly. "Not a fan of her work, are you?"

"Work? Ye call 'at fookin' shite work? Mere like fookin' decorations! Damned things couldnae handle a good arse-wiping, let alone ah battle! Cannae stand stuck-up arseholes who think they're all 'at just 'cause 'ey can carve ah fancy line or two in the twigs they call swords an' the rust-collectors 'ey call armour! She an' her ilk are ah fookin' disgrace tae smiths all around the bloody continent!" Grimsley practically shouted.

"How... passionate. Well, maybe she'll close up shop and focus on her new dungeon now?" Gilbert suggested, trying to defuse the 3-foot-tall walking bomb.

"Bah, like ah'll be stayin' in Milindo long ahnuff tae find oot. Shana an' ah'll be headin' tae the nearest dwarven stronghold just as soon as ah've gathered enough gold to buy us safe passage there," Grimsley replied. "Just wanted tae get angry aboot some'ing. 'At cunt was ah perfect target. Mind ye, ah could go fae a rant or six aboot 'at snivellin' little 'eap ah shite called an 'ero if ye'd like?"

"N-No thank you, I think I'm quite alright," Gilbert responded rather promptly.

Thankfully, the host, Peter, was quick to introduce the next lot for sale this evening, drawing in everyone's attention.

"Honoured guests, what we have here tonight is a lovely little item all of you who have stepped into the world of magic will be familiar with! That's right, it's a mana orb! And a Perfect-grade one, no less," Peter exclaimed as he revealed the bowling-ball-sized clear crystal orb which lay upon the steamforged trolley.

"Unfortunately, its creator limited it so that it can only be charged by those ranked lower than the S-ranks, presumably in an effort to allow someone who is still growing to experiment freely. For any persons unaware, a mana orb can typically allow the storage of Mana Points - or MP. The stored Mana Points will dissipate over time depending on the quality of the orb, and, the limit of stored Mana Points is also, you guessed it, dictated by the quality of the orb. I assume those in the know are already aware of these limits for a Perfect-grade mana orb, so I shan't rehash them. Just use your very wild and expansive imaginations if your knowledge on these wonderful items is somewhat lacking!" Peter happily explained.

"Lone..." Sophie's hands trembled beneath her gauntlets. "Couldn't that... help you with your condition?"

Lone nodded. "I think it could, maybe. I'd have to test to know for sure," he replied in a low tone.

Raising his voice to a more normal volume, Lone asked Gilbert, "How much is that worth?"

"Hmm? Oh. I'm not sure. it's been a while since I contacted anyone from the magical school I once attended. Perhaps... 50 or 60 white-gold coins? Maybe less. The rank restriction renders it fairly useless to anyone that would actually need it. Even if an A-ranker got his hands on it they wouldn't be able to rely on it too much. Refilling an empty set of mana organs in an unnatural manner has a fairly high risk of injury if not done very carefully, essentially making it nothing more than a very useful item for testing and perfecting one's mastery over MP-consuming skills," the guildmaster happily explained.

Not a moment later Peter started the auction with an opening minimum bid of 5 white-gold coins.

'I don't need to worry about fucking up my mana organs. They can heal. If I can somehow get rid of or even just reduce this one-year... curse, yeah, it's basically a fuckin' curse. If I can remove it or weaken it then it will be worth every penny,' Lone thought before he asked, "And the girl? Do you have a guess on how much she'll cost?"

"With our competition taken into consideration... We're talking several ruby-gold coins at least. Depending on the level of interest, maybe several dozen," Gilbert explained, not hiding his worry of them possibly failing to win her from showing on his face.

Lone nodded. 'I can afford one ruby-gold coin here. If there's a chance that the baby will go for dozens then I don't stand a chance regardless. Between the two of us, Gilbert and I only have 17 ruby-gold coins. Hell, that mana orb may even help me in rescuing the girl if it comes down to it.'

With that decided, Lone approached his room's bannister then spoke in a deep and serious voice. "10 white-gold coins!"

Daisuke shot up from his seat - a carved out tooth in the massive 6-eyed beast's skull.

He stared straight at Lone who had just entered the bidding for the mana orb and a disgusting smile crept up onto his face. "He wants that ball? Perfect."

He immediately made for the king's throne of bones and kneeled down in front of it. "Your Majesty, this humble servant wishes to implore a favour from your esteemed self."

'Ha-ah... If only he were so sincere all of the time and not only when he wanted something,' the royal princess though as she stood at her father's side.

'Scum. What kind of fool only knows to act like the dog which he is when he wants a treat? Father is a fool as well for indulging him. He should just cut the insect's head clean off and be done with it. We have no need for him nor his 'unique skill',' the crown prince thought with disdain.

With one arm on the throne's armrest and the other supporting his chin as its elbow dug into the seat's bone to support itself, the king nodded. "Speak, Hero."

"This foolish one has come to understand that I have not been properly developing my unique skill as you so rightly and politely requested of me. It is only now that this foolish one has realised that I simply lacked the necessary motivation. This foolish one begs for his majesty to grant a humble and selfish request of mine," Daisuke said very eloquently.

A smile crept onto the king's otherwise stoic expression. "Indeed. We did not want to put you under undue pressure. We are pleased to see you identify the error in your ways on your own. Speak of your request, Hero, so that we may pass judgement on whether to grant or deny it."

"Of course, Your Majesty!" Daisuke responded as loyally as he physically could. "This foolish one requests that his majesty allows me to bid on and purchase the item currently on display. It is the perfect object to help me develop my unique skill."

"... Hmm, yes, we can see the truth in this... Very well. However, we shall set a limit to how much you may bid. We shall not tell you this limit. Use your own intellect to discover it. Should you pass it, the item will belong to Arthur, not you. Is that understood?" the king said, instantly putting a grin on his son's face.

Daisuke hid his distorted expression by pressing his face against the floor. "... Perfectly, Your Majesty."

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