One day. Max got one day of peace and quiet before hell broke loose again. The announcement of the Governor kill quest had sent the town into panic. The Builders had set up a system to protect the weak from the strong, and now they were undoing that all in one fell swoop.

  Mistrust rippled through society. How could farmers head out in their fields if they weren’t sure they would be protected? How could weapon dealers sell something that might be turned on them? Those without cards suddenly found themselves desperate to buy their own. The prices of everything skyrocketed.

  The Governor of New Pants made an announcement the first day that she had known about the quest the whole time and had ignored it. She had no desire to kill other leaders and expected the same to be true of the others. The Builders couldn’t force chaos upon their city, no matter how many quests they issued. Her confident statement was undercut by the fact she hadn’t made a public appearance in weeks.

  Days passed and things started to settle down. There was a general sense of mistrust in the town, but disaster failed to arrive. The new normal settled in and the economy started moving again. Other than the sudden inflation, the other major change was that guilds and hunters were much more active than before. Magic cards were more in demand now than ever.

  Max continued to make weapons, but he switched to titanium. The metal made the hammers and drills lighter and stronger, but greatly reduced the power of the spell. Titanium wasn’t nearly as mana conductive and that affected the spells. The weapons he was selling were intentionally weaker than the ones he made for himself.

  Bisrat took to selling the weapons directly instead of going through the local weapon shops. She kept an eye out for Citadel cards that would be good for Max but inventory was low, even with the increased prices.

  A week after they arrived, Bisrat took Max to the local Igra armory. Steel Appeal was a small building, one of the few in town made of stone instead of canvas. Smoke puffed out of the chimney in regular intervals, like sending a smoke signal.

  “Before we go in, let me tell you how this works. You pay a flat price in the beginning and they make you a custom set of armor. No two are the same. But, in order for them to get started, you have to win a game against them. If you lose, you have to come back tomorrow and try again.”

  “What? If I lose, the money is just gone? I know you said this is the best armor on this layer, but this feels like a waste of money. The Igra I have met have all been excellent at games."

  “It’s the equivalent of three white cores, it really isn’t that much. As long as you can win within three days, it’s actually cheaper than commissioning a set from normal armorers."

  “How long did it take you?”

  “Two tries. I’m pretty good at this kind of thing. But don’t worry about that. Even if it takes you six times, this armor is worth it. This is the best armor you can buy on the first layer. It's effective against impact, slashing, and piercing.”

  Max grumbled and walked into the store. He didn’t like the idea of throwing money down the drain, but he wanted the best. He wouldn’t consider dungeon climbing without it. Not after how close they came to dying the last time they did a single floor.

  Three Igra looked up as he and Bisrat walked in. Like all Igra, their armor completely covered them. A short Igra was working at a table, weaving strands of wire like they were thread. She was wearing a mix of steel thread and laminar plates. The one in the back working the forge was wearing mostly leather armor, with only a few plates sewn in for additional protection. An Igra in full plate hopped off his stool as he saw them come in.

  “Welcome, welcome customers. So happy to see you both. Are you here for repairs, miss?”

  Bisrat said, “No, my set has been wonderful, we are here to get Max outfitted.”

  “Ah, a new customer. Please sit down and we will discuss our consultation fee. My name is Humers, the weaver over there is Clarser, and the grumpy guy over by the forge is Bhuinem. Remember our names, there will be a test later,” Humers said with a laugh.

  Max laughed along, knowing the trick by now. The next time he saw these three, they would be wearing different armor and standing in different places.

  “Now, we operate differently from human armorers. We make a unique set of armor just for you. We tailor it to your body and your soul. That requires getting to know you. The best way to do that is through games.”

  Max nodded. “Yes, Bisrat mentioned that. And I have to pay three whites every time I play.”

  “Four, actually. You have legs where she does not. It adds some complexity to the consultation.

  Max sucked a breath in through his teeth. That would make this whole process a lot more expensive. The Igra made a good point though, naturally Bisrat’s armor would be cheaper than his own. He pulled out four orbs and placed them on the stone counter between them.

  Humers clapped his hands. “Eager to start playing, huh Max? I am happy to oblige. Let’s start with an Earth game, chess. Do you know how to play?”

  Max couldn’t help but frown. His father had taught him chess and everything about that brought up bad memories. “I know how to play, but I would rather not. Are there any other games we can play instead?”

  “No, no. Playing a game you don’t like is an excellent way for us to learn about you. I’ll let you choose the next time we play so we can balance it out.”

  “You’re that confident that you’ll win?” Max said with a raised eyebrow.

  Humers shrugged, making his armor clink. “We shall see, won’t we?”

  Max chose white. He opened up with the Nordic Gambit and kept the pressure on. The gambit sacrificed some pieces in the beginning, but he had good control of the board afterwards. Within ten minutes, he had evened out the piece count.

  While they played, Humers asked him questions about his life. Some of them seemed relevant like what weapons he used and what fighting styles he had learned. Others were bizarre, and Max was convinced they were just there to distract him from the game. Just in case, he honestly answered the questions about what books he had read and his favorite type of carpet.

  What really threw him was the question about ideal breast size in women. Max’s eyes betrayed him and flicked over to Bisrat’s chest. He immediately turned his attention back to the chess board, but he was pretty sure she had seen it. He mumbled something about grapefruit and made his next move.

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  In the end, Max lost to a maneuver the Igra had been setting up all game. It was like Humers had been toying with him this whole time and only now felt like ending it. It was a tough loss, particularly since it brought up a lot of unwelcome memories of his father.

  “Don’t be sad, nobody wins the first game,” Bisrat said and patted his shoulder.

  Max shook his head. “It’s not that. It’s chess. I hate chess.”

  “Why’s that?”

  Max winced. He opened his mouth and closed it. He looked away and blinked furiously.

  Bisrat’s eyes softened. “You look like you need a drink.”

  “It’s not even dinner time yet.”

  “Why does that matter?”

  “... You know what? I think I do need a drink.”

  ...

  “I’m actually good at chess, for a human.” Max said after his third glass of Corellian Brandy. It wasn’t actually brandy, it was wheat beer made from a local farm. He gave them a pass since they named their bar the Mos Eisley Cantina. “My dad always loved chess and taught me when I was young. When I was ten, I could beat my dad every time. He insisted I join the community chess club, and I beat most of the old farts that played there.”

  He paused to sip his fourth beer. “My dad loved it. He took me out to get ice cream every time I won. He entered me into our state chess contest and I took first place. He was so happy. He wanted me to make a living playing chess, to live out his dream.”

  “We went to nationals, and I lost. I lost bad. I might have been the best twelve year old in Ohio, but I was almost the worst player at the Middle School Chess Competition.”

  The memory washed over him with hot shame. He knew now that there was nothing to be ashamed of, but his emotions didn’t care. He took a big breath to shake it off.

  “My dad was so disappointed. We never went out for ice cream again. When he died a few years later, I told everyone to bring ice cream to the funeral. I told them it was his favorite. I thought it would make me feel better, to rub it in his face at the wake. It didn’t.”

  “I don’t know much about human funeral customs, but I understand enough. You are hurting. The reminder of your father only serves to open that wound from childhood. I am so sorry.”

  She reached her right arm around him and rubbed his shoulder one handed. Max moved to put his arm around her as well, brushing past her centipede-like tail as he did.

  Bisrat pulled away. “Oop. Don’t touch a Paj’s tail. You are handsome and everything, but I only go for Paj when I want horizontal refreshment.”

  It took Max’s drunk brain a few seconds to realize what she meant. “No, no. I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t coming on to you. It was an accident. I prefer humans too. I think I’ll go now. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Max didn’t look back as he weaved through the bar. His face was hot with embarrassment. He hoped that she would forget about it by morning. It was a genuine accident.

  The next morning, he found that he wasn’t hungover. It was a pleasant surprise. From how drunk he was, he knew that magic must have been the hangover cure. The only question was which magic. He didn’t have body stats, and none of his cards made him tougher. As he thought back to it, he had been able to swing around a super dense tungsten hammer for hours yesterday too. Tougher and stronger. He asked Bisrat about it on their way to Steel Appeal.

  “It’s because you are tier 2 now. Remember how I told you that different things unlock at 12, 24 and 32? After you reach those levels, your body gets tougher and stronger. It’s a slow process though. You probably won’t see the full effects of your level up for another week.”

  Max opened and closed his gauntleted hands. “I could get stronger? I like the sound of that.”

  When they walked into the armory, there were three Igra standing in the same spots as last time. The Igra in full plate metal hopped off a stool and greeted them as they walked in.

  “Welcome, welcome customers. Are you here for another game, Max?”

  “I am. Hopefully a better game than last time.”

  “You acquitted yourself very well, one of the best human players we have seen. By the way, Max, do you remember our names? I did say there would be a test, didn’t I?”

  Max smiled. “You did. Now, yesterday it was Humers in the full plate, Clarser in the woven, and Bhuinem in the leather armor. I suspect you have switched it up because you knew I was coming today. You wouldn’t have put the woman in the leather armor, that would make it too obvious. I bet your name is Bhuinem, Humers is in the leather armor, and Clarser stayed in her own armor.”

  The person in the woven armor clapped and pointed at the guy in the leather armor. “I told you this one was quick. What did I say, huh? The human's got a brain under that thick skull.”

  The guy in full plate armor, “Yeah, yeah. I’m Bhuinem. Did Bisrat tip you off? She promised she wouldn’t.”

  “No, I’ve just met some other Igra that pulled the same trick,” Max said. “They lost a deck of cards and carried us fifty miles when we correctly guessed. What did I win today?”

  “You won getting to choose the game we play today,” Bhuinem groused. “You can pick between Hounds and Jackals, Limmek, or Stratego.”

  “I haven’t heard of two of those, so I guess I’ll pick Stratego. Not that I expect to win. I played it twice at my grandparent’s house. Just enough to remember the rules.” Max said and rolled four white orbs over to him.

  “Well, that just means that Clarser gets to play you tomorrow. She’ll like that. I want to get this game over as soon as possible, so set up your pieces."

  Max pretended to think hard as the Igra set up their side of the board. He had already decided on his strategy before he walked in. He had heard about it during his failed attempt at learning sword fighting.

  Master sword fighters could trounce anyone in the league, but would usually refuse to fight rank novices. When you had training to some degree, you were predictable. The master could see a twitch and counter your move before you completed it. But the unpredictable novices would flail around randomly, and get occasional hits in on masters.

  Max’s plan wasn’t to play well, it was to be unpredictable enough to accidentally win. He quickly placed most of his bombs up front and put his flag in the back corner. Most people put their spies near the front to deal with Marshal runs, so Max put his near the flag. Completely useless if any of the other pieces attacked.

  He smirked as Bhuinem made the first move. Max thought he could see a confused tilt of the man’s helmet, but that might have been his imagination. The questions continued as the game started up.

  Max’s bizarre strategy lost him a lot of pieces up front, including his Marshall. But the strangely placed bombs took out a lot of Bhuinem’s stronger pieces as well. His own Marshall almost found Max’s flag early on, but his spy took it out. The game turned into a battle of attrition, one that the short Igra won.

  “It’s not fun winning against someone that doesn’t take things seriously,” Bhuinem said and folded his arms with a screech of metal.

  “This was me taking you seriously. You are probably a master at all of these three games, my only chance at winning was to be as confusing as possible.” Max said and reached into his dimensional belt. He pulled out a hammer and said, “To show you I’m serious, you can have one of my hammers.”

  Bhuinem patted “It’s heavy. Lead hammers aren’t very useful, they're too soft.”

  “It’s not lead, it’s tungsten. Pure tungsten, actually. I haven’t figured out how to do alloys yet.”

  Clarser stopped weaving. Humers walked over from the forge and said, “Did I hear that right? Tungsten?”

  “Yep. I Specialized in Citadel cards. I can make tools in a variety of different metals. I’ve found Tungsten conducts mana pretty well.”

  “Yeah, it’s third on the list after mithril and gold. Could you make more of these?” Humers said as he leaned forward.

  “Of course. I could make you some gold hammers too. Not mithril though. Only metals that humans have discovered.”

  Humers turned to Clarser and Bhuinem and they all nodded at each other. “Good metal is hard to find. Give us a gold hammer and two tungsten hammers and we’ll make you your suit of armor for free.”

  “I love that idea. How about I provide you hammers of whatever kind you want and you make a suit of armor for my whole party?”

  “I think we can work something out,” Clarser said. “Your armor will be ready tomorrow. After that, it takes about three days per person.”

  “Take as long as you need.” Max said with a grin.

  It wasn’t until after he left Steel Appeal that he realized he still needed to round out his party with two or three more members.