Chapter Thirty-Three: Problems

  Ash sat in his room with Lilith curled up on the bed beside him, her dragon form a small mound of winter-purple scales against the plain linen. Occasionally she would twitch in her sleep, a puff of smoke escaping her nostrils. The room itself was sparse, with just the bed, a small desk, and a trunk for his meager possessions. Through the window, the setting sun cast long shadows across the floor, painting everything in amber hues.

  He had problems, and they weren't the kind that could be solved with a good night's sleep. First and foremost, he had no weapon other than a wooden practice sword, which wouldn't do for a serious monster hunt. The practice blade might have been sufficient to humble Torin Silverblood in a controlled duel, but against an actual monster with fangs, claws, and who knows what else? He would be food before he could land a second strike.

  Secondly, he had no potions, oils, or ingredients to make them. All of these problems had a solution, but the solution was a problem in and of itself.

  He needed money, and he needed it quickly.

  Amalia wouldn't give him any; though she'd paid his tuition, she had made it clear that he was responsible for his equipment and supplies. Frankly, he was tired of relying on her anyway. He had two weeks to hunt a monster according to the exam guidelines, so he needed to look at the available contracts. There were many posted at the Adventurers Guild, ranging from simple goblin exterminations to more fearsome creatures that made his skin crawl just reading about them. The guild received new contracts daily, especially from merchants looking for specific monster parts for their businesses.

  There were also non-combat jobs posted. These weren't monster contracts but rather specific tasks that still paid coin. Some involved gathering ingredients in the forest, others were porter jobs in dungeons helping more experienced adventurers carry their loot, or even manual labor in some cases. The pay wasn't great, but it was something.

  Ash decided to break down his priorities systematically. He ran a hand through his ashen hair, feeling the grit of dust from the road. He could take some of these other jobs if he could get a sword first. He wasn't afraid of manual labor—growing up on a farm had cured him of that—but he did not want to do it if he could avoid it. He would rather spend the time researching the monster he needed to kill, practicing his forms, and preparing the right potions.

  He thought about just taking an ingredients-gathering job, but if he ran into a monster while unarmed, he'd be in serious trouble. He tapped his fingers against the desk, the hollow sound punctuating his thoughts.

  There was nothing for it. He would have to start from the bottom.

  So, with sunrise still hours away, he found himself transporting heavy barrels from a merchant's cart to a local inn. The wooden containers were filled with ale from the eastern provinces, each weighing nearly as much as Ash himself. By midmorning, his back ached and his hands were raw despite the calluses he'd built up over years of farm work.

  After that, he spent several hours pulling weeds from the garden of a wealthy merchant's wife, the sun beating down on his neck. The lady of the house watched him from a shaded porch, occasionally calling out when he missed a spot. Then came splitting wood for a tavern keeper, the rhythmic swing of the axe at least familiar from his days on his uncle's farm. His final job was cleaning a large house, scrubbing floors until his knees were sore and his fingernails rimmed with grime.

  By the end of the day, he had earned three silver pieces. His body protested every movement as he made his way through the streets of Ivalia, the coins jingling in his pocket, a small victory that had cost him dearly in sweat and strain.

  Tired, muscles burning, and hair damp with sweat, he found himself inquiring about a sword from a big-bellied dwarvish blacksmith in a weapons shop. The shop itself was warm from the forge in the back, the air tinged with the smell of hot metal and coal. Various weapons gleamed in the light of oil lamps, promising power to those who could afford them.

  The blacksmith had a huge black beard braided with silver, setting off a face that looked permanently sunburnt, likely from years standing at the forge. His arms were thick with corded muscle that spoke of decades hammering metal into deadly shapes. His eyes were deep brown like mahogany, shrewd and assessing as they looked Ash up and down.

  He wore a blue apron, smudged with black soot and oil, over a dark brown tunic, pants, and thick black boots that had seen better days. Dark leather gloves covered his hands, protecting them from burns and cuts. He was holding a simple but elegant longsword, the metal catching the light as he turned it for Ash's inspection.

  "She's not fancy, but she'll do the job, I assure ya," the dwarf said, his voice gruff but not unkind. "Eight silver pieces, and she's yours! I'll even throw in a sheath!" He gave the blade another turn, showing off the craftsmanship.

  Ash winced, the price hitting him harder than any of the day's labor. Eight silver might as well have been eight gold for all his ability to pay it. Beside him, Lilith was studying the shop with curious green eyes, her attention drawn to the mannequins adorned with various armor and the weapons mounted on the walls. Her small hand occasionally reached toward particularly shiny pieces before she caught herself.

  Ash was at the long wooden counter, looking down at the longsword the dwarf had presented him. The blade had a simple cross-guard and a leather-wrapped handle, nothing ornate but solid workmanship. The edge gleamed with deadly promise.

  "I'm afraid I can't afford her, master dwarf," Ash admitted, the words leaving a bitter taste. "I worked all day, and I have three silver to my name. Do you have anything for that price?" The question felt almost shameful, but he needed something, anything, to hunt with.

  Skori Blackbeard—his name, Ash had learned after introductions were out of the way—tugged on his beard thoughtfully, a habit that seemed as natural to him as breathing. He grunted, eyes narrowing as he considered the young man before him.

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  "I'm afraid I don't have anything in that price range, lad," he said finally. "Not anything worth havin', at least. Could sell ya a rusted piece of junk that'd break on first contact, but I've got more pride in my work than that."

  Ash fought the urge to sigh, his shoulders slumping slightly. It had taken him all day to earn this amount of silver, a solid twelve hours of backbreaking labor. Dusk was falling outside, the light fading from the shop's small windows, and every day he spent earning coins meant one less day for hunting the monster he needed to hunt to pass the exam.

  Something must have been in his expression, some mix of determination and desperation, because the dwarf's features softened slightly, and he spoke slowly, as if weighing each word.

  "Normally, I wouldn't do this, mind ya," Skori said, setting the sword down on the counter with a soft clink. "But you seem like a trustworthy lad, and if you stiff me, I'll make sure you're never able to make another purchase in this town again." The threat was delivered casually, but Ash had no doubt the dwarf meant every word. "But I have a proposal if you're willin' to listen."

  Ash sensed an opportunity, a chance to get what he needed without spending days in menial labor. He nodded eagerly, leaning forward across the counter. "I'm listening."

  "I'll give ya a better sword than this," Skori said, tapping the blade he'd first shown. "I'll even outfit ya in better armor than what ya've got there." He gestured to Ash's simple clothing. "It won't be amazin', but it'll get the job done. However, ya'll have to work it off."

  The dwarf crossed his arms over his broad chest. "I need certain metal ingredients from dungeons. Special ores, monster parts with metallic properties, that sort of thing. Mostly, I submit a job to the adventurers' guild, but they always take a cut." He scowled, clearly disliking this arrangement. "I save a bit of coin this way, not much, but a bit. What do ya say?"

  Ash didn't hesitate to agree. He vastly preferred to work off the price of his items this way, doing something that would build his skills as an adventurer, rather than spend his time doing miscellaneous manual labor jobs that left him too exhausted to train or study.

  "You've got a deal, Master Blackbeard," he said, extending his hand. The dwarf's grip was like iron when they shook on it, sealing their agreement.

  With that, he found himself being measured and fitted for leather armor and a duelist coat lined with snow-white fur. The coat was slightly worn at the elbows, but the leather was supple and treated to resist water. The armor fit snugly across his chest, reinforced at vital points without restricting his movement.

  But the centerpiece was the sword. In his hands was a deadly-looking longsword with a black steel hilt and a steel thread-wrapped handle, complete with a round pommel. The blade itself had a slight curve to it, the edge honed to a wicked sharpness that could slice through cloth with barely a touch.

  "Now that's more like it!" Skori exclaimed, stepping back to admire his work. "Ya look like a proper adventurer!"

  Lilith sniffed from where she stood near the door, sending him thoughts that let him know he wasn't quite up to her standard but would suffice. For now. He laughed, crossing the room to ruffle her hair, knowing it would annoy her. She glared at him, but he could see her fight back a smile, her lips twitching at the corners.

  Skori nodded, satisfaction evident in his expression. "With that out of the way, I have a job for ya, lad. It might even fit with that exam you're takin'." His eyes twinkled with knowing.

  Ash raised an eyebrow, giving the dwarf his full attention. "Oh?"

  Skori produced a brown paper from beneath the counter, smoothing it out with one calloused hand. The contract was written in a precise hand, the seal of the Adventurers Guild stamped at the bottom.

  "I had a friend at the AG; that's the abbreviation for adventurers guild. In case ya aren't smart enough to put that together," he added with a wink. "Make this all official like. That way you can use it for yer exam." He tapped the seal meaningfully. "Didn't do this just to be kind, ya mind. This beastie's fangs go for a pretty penny, and so does its heart. It's dangerous, though, as it's a dungeon boss. Think ya can handle that?"

  Ash felt a ripple of unease at the words "dungeon boss," but he kept his expression neutral. This was his chance to get the equipment he needed and satisfy the exam requirement in one go. He decided to go for broke.

  "Maybe," he said, examining the contract more closely. "I'll need time to research the creature. If you threw in ingredients for me to make healing potions and elar potions, it would go easier." He met the dwarf's gaze steadily, hoping he wasn't pushing his luck.

  "Hmph." Skori rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "It will increase yer debt, but this monster might be worth it. Very well, it's agreed." He held out a hand again, and they shook once more, cementing the expanded deal.

  Ash nodded, looking back at the contract in his hand, reading the details more carefully. The location, the expected threat, the reward for completion—all the standard elements of an adventuring contract.

  "Good," he said, folding the paper and tucking it inside his new coat. "So then, let's go find out what a dire wolf is, then."

  Ivalia's adventuring guild had a lore room tucked away behind the main hall. It was a massive space with various tables and chairs scattered throughout, and books upon books lining shelves across the room. The air smelled of old parchment and leather, with a hint of the scented oil used to preserve the more valuable tomes. Soft light came from scripted crystals embedded in the ceiling, providing enough illumination to read by without damaging the older texts.

  They had an aide on duty, a thin woman with spectacles and prematurely gray hair who had some idea of where to find what you were looking for. When Ash mentioned dire wolves, she nodded knowingly and scurried off between the tall shelves, her footsteps nearly silent on the carpeted floor.

  She was back in mere moments with a thick bestiary bound in dark leather, its pages yellowed with age. "This should have what you need," she said, placing it carefully on the table in front of him. "Page 217 for dire wolves specifically, but you might want to look at regular wolves first for comparison."

  Ash thanked her and flipped the book open, using the index to navigate more quickly. He turned to the dire wolf entry, Lilith climbing onto a chair beside him to peer at the illustrations. The drawings showed a beast much larger than a normal wolf, with jagged teeth and eyes that seemed to glow even on the page.

  According to the text, there were a few things that set dire wolves apart from regular wolves. Firstly, they were significantly larger, often standing as tall as a man's shoulder. Secondly, their teeth were so sharp they could pierce metal armor—something about an elar ability that enhanced their bite. Ash wasn't interested in exploring why or how it worked at the moment—there would be time for that later—only that it did, and he would need to keep it in mind when planning his approach.

  In bold, underlined letters, dire wolves were noted to have a substantial healing factor. Unless a wound was severe enough, they could regenerate damaged tissue at an alarming rate. They could also come in different elemental varieties depending on the environment they inhabited, and could control lesser wolves, compelling them to fight alongside the dire alpha. That last part didn't surprise him; he'd seen similar behavior in regular wolf packs back home.

  There was also other information that caught his attention. Ash would have thought they would be found exclusively in forests, and yes, they were at times, but they could also be found in mines and dungeons, adapting to subterranean life with keen senses and an uncanny ability to move through darkness. The book noted that mine-dwelling dire wolves often developed a particular affinity for earth or fire aspects, drawing power from their surroundings.

  Skori wanted him to go to a mine near Wyrmhaven. According to the contract, it was one most adventurers weren't bothering with because it was now a wolf den with a flaming dire wolf as its leader. The other dire wolves had taken on aspects of fire as well, making the mine a dangerous place for all but the most prepared hunters. Skori wanted to capitalize on that danger, collecting rare materials from creatures few would dare to face.

  Which is where Ash came in. He felt like the dire wolf would be perfect for the exam—challenging enough to impress the examiners without being suicidal for someone at his level. In addition, he could pay off his debt plus earn some from the ingredients found there, solving several problems at once.

  Skori had given him a line of credit for the ingredients he would need to prepare. He'd have to pay it back, plus interest, but the potential rewards made it worth the risk. Ash wasn't about to let the debt build up unnecessarily, so he planned on getting only what he needed and nothing more.

  He closed the bestiary, his mind already racing with plans for potions, tactics, and backup strategies. The contract specified he had five days to complete the job, which would give him enough time to prepare properly and still have plenty of days left for the remaining portions of the exam.

  He had a lot to do. It was time to get prepping.