Anvi Ironside eyed Daiden from head to toe after his introduction. At first, he checked his clothes and nodded approvingly. His eyes then traced to the spatial ring and popped in remembrance of a story. He scratched his head and recalled the details from his conversation with Kir. Anvi counted the Sand Cores in his head and clicked into the face of a businessman. With a turn, he pulled the nearest blacksmith to his side and leaned into a whisper.
“Go fetch Kir for me, will you?”
The blacksmith quickly moved to the next floor. A little later, Kir descended from the stairs and cried at the sight of Daiden. He ignored the others and hugged his friend without inhibition. Daiden patted Kir on the back, unable to breathe, but in smiles, nonetheless. He eased into a gentle expression, from the familiarity, from the smell of iron and sweat.
“It’s good to see you, my friend!” said Daiden, genuinely.
Daiden shared his story in greater detail this time. Some of the other blacksmiths joined Anvi and Kir as well. They marvelled and applauded towards the end of the trainee’s narrative. But as the group waned from the impact of the story, they exchanged glances with the blacksmiths closest to them with a singular thought.
“I need to get my hands on this golden goose!”
The tension threatened to break into fierce competition, and the blacksmiths trained onto Anvi, eager for his approval. Ironside simply shrugged when faced with the request.
“Sorry, my greedy idiots,” said Anvi, with a smile. “But I’ll be handling Daiden’s transactions personally. He’s the Lord of Fire’s grandson, and my son’s friend.”
The others almost protested, but Anvi watered on their rebellion with a sharp glare. The blacksmiths dispersed soon after. Once separated from the crowd, Anvi and Kir rubbed their hands and urged for Daiden to show them his spoils from the raid. The Godvildian trainee obliged by tapping on his spatial ring, to remove the Sand King’s items first. Slowly, Daiden also removed the thirty-eight Sand Cores, and the mount’s larger Sand Core as well.
“I’ll need to use these as proof to clear my quest, maybe sell a few Sand Cores for some capital,” said Daiden, while Anvi and Kir examined the items. “But I want to know if it’s possible to make me a new armour set from the Monarch’s exoskeleton, a weapon as well, perhaps from the cores?”
“It’s certainly possible…” said Anvi, with a hum. “What do you think, son?”
“Most definitely, most definitely,” said Kir. “Father, would it make sense to loan Daiden the capital, so we have more items to work with?”
“Yes! Why give them to the GCQI in the first place?” said Anvi, cheerily. “The result might help me advance a rank in my profession, too. You never know!”
After the prompt exchange, the father-son duo turned towards Daiden for an answer.
“Well, if it works for you…” said Daiden, with a nervous smile. He shook away his anxiety, and then added, “Kir knows my preferences. I need the armour designed for speed and with great range for motion. At the same time, I would love to see the hardness from the Sand King’s exoskeleton translate into what I wear as well.”
Daiden recounted the details behind the amount of effort it took to break the Monarch’s defence. He tapped on his spatial ring, removed his two primary swords, and placed them on a table.
“Kir made these,” said Daiden, proud for his friend. “I just need something better. But the weight, the grip, I like everything structural in this design. I still want to use the Sword of Broken Probability, but I need an upgrade to my damage output. I mean, I barely managed to come out of the Sand King raid alive. That can’t happen, not with the Butcher.”
Anvi and Kir nodded together. “We accept. The conditions are reasonable, and we’ll try to outdo your expectations! Leave it to us.”
“Great!” said Daiden, excitedly. In a smile, he clasped his hands together and transferred the Sand Cores into his spatial inventory. “I’ll need these to validate my quest with the GCQI; the rest I leave in your care for now.”
***
At the GCQI, Daiden joined the shortest line to an open counter. The interior wasn’t too different from the inn in Mutuba Village, only larger, and with more people positioned for information and quest conclusions. When Daiden stepped in for his turn, he removed the Sand Cores from his spatial ring and opened his Mioveroldian Page. He swiped it over to the official from the GCQI and waited while the latter processed the information. With a stoic demeanour, the official concluded the quest and transferred a thousand bloodstones into Daiden’s account.
“Oh my, you’re only a trainee?” noticed the official, finally. “And you did this quest…alone?”
Daiden watched the official’s face distort with suspicion, but held to his calm. “It was all taken care of at the GCQI in Mutuba Village. Ser Valaris will confirm the same.”
“Alone?” asked the official, again.
“Yes, alone,” emphasized Daiden. He tapped into his spatial ring once more and showed the official two more Sand Cores, from the Monarch and its mount, including the rusted, ornate key. “I also needed to check if there was a quest on the Sand King? I couldn’t find any information on the rewards, just the conditions involved for an initiation.”
“You…raided King Erlendur?” blurted the official, in a stammer. He adjusted his thick glasses and loudly gulped down a lump in his throat. “This is a little above my standing. Would you mind waiting here while I fetched someone better equipped to handle this conversation?”
Daiden nodded in response to the suggestion. The official scurried away and returned with tall woman, dark-haired and in a tough, leather armour. Her skin wrinkled around the outer corners of her eyes, more when she smiled. She wore the face of a young woman, but Daiden knew better than to judge the age of a Mioveroldian, an immortal, on their appearance. The armoured woman slowly appraised the items and the information from Daiden’s Mioveroldian Page. She covered her mouth to mask a gasp, her expression as well, and turned to her trainee visitor after a thorough examination of the details.
“It’s not often I meet a once-in-a-generation talent,” the woman said, with a wry smile. “Let’s discuss more upstairs. Shall we?”
