Aaron showed me around and told me a little about the history. Apparently, the entire compound was a retired missile silo. After it was decommissioned, it was privately sold and was in the middle of being converted into some tech bro’s apocalypse hideaway when the dome permanently halted construction.

That was annoying. The government didn’t make a habit of announcing the locations of missile silos, even decommissioned ones. Outside research wouldn’t help me. I needed to locate it another way.

There was a simple vendor square in the center of the compound. Judging from the open plan and alcoves with counters, it had once been a cafeteria. I removed my gauntlet before I perused their wares, and as I hoped, their enthusiasm to help me increased by magnitudes.

Kicking it off with consumables, I cleaned out a thrilled mage of his status-effect palliatives. I already had two of each offered on Kinsley’s store but figured having three wouldn’t hurt, and there were a few cures for ailments I had yet to see. I paused in the weapon section, swiping through a tablet that all the vendors used. Unsurprisingly, they had an excellent selection, which presented something of an opportunity. I’d been biding my time waiting for an upgrade, intending to fully refresh my collection.

I had a slight advantage, in that everyone and their grandmother seemed to migrate toward hand-crossbows. In a demographic where much of the population fetishized firearms and venues that offered concealed carry courses were more numerous than coffee shops, it was the obvious fallback for a handgun. The downside, of course, was that everyone was buying them. I’d been hunting for a while, but the good ones sold out on Kinsley’s store in seconds. And one of my primary weapons—<Quick Crossbow of The Frost Leech>—was incredibly recognizable both in appearance and effect. I’d primarily used it as Myrddin, making it a non-issue if Aaron had stuck me with anyone other than Nick, but now that he had, I was in the unfortunate position of having to improvise.

“What are you buyin’?”

I glanced up from the tablet’s screen, unsure if the out-of-place reference was accidental, or if the man across from me was invoking it intentionally. There was an apron tied around his waist, and beneath them, knee-high muck boots. He was dour and brooding and sounded like he’d spent his last break setting a carton of cigarettes on fire and breathing in the smoke. There was a silver tag pinned to one arm of the apron that read “Erik.”

“Small blade and a hand crossbow,” I said, then amended, “a few hand crossbows, actually.”

“How many?” The man rumbled.

Uh. “Eight? Actually, nine.”

He looked at me like I was the scum of the earth. “You a reseller?”

“No, I—” I stopped mid-sentence to reconsider. I hadn’t really been able to talk to anyone about this outside of Kinsley, who didn’t have the technical know-how to advise me. Barring some huge, unforeseen outcome, I’d be with the Order at least until things came to a head. And while I’d do everything I could to shroud and mislead them on what the Ordinator’s core abilities were, they’d eventually learn the brick and mortar of how I fought. And if this was their weapons vendor, a man embedded with killers who knew their craft, he might have a solution for me.

Briefly, without going into too much detail, I outlined my use case.

By the end, the vendor was stroking his beard thoughtfully. “Got half a mind to tear you a new one for treating any of my creations as disposable, but I can grasp why yer goin that route.”

Huh. In my mind, vendors got most of their wares from the system. It made sense that some crafters sold their own work. Though from the look of the catalogue, Erik never stopped working.

He gave me another suspicious look. “Before my wheels spin too quick to stop, I should probably ask. What’s your budget? You blow it all at bargain bin potions over there?”

“No. I mean, I’m not looking at buying any artifacts, but it’s significant.” Even now, it felt strange to say that out loud. Like I was lying, even though it was true.

“Kai!” Erik barked suddenly, his voice carrying across the open space of the cafeteria.

The floor next to Erik turned into a circle of magma and a figure ascended from it, dressed in violet mage’s robes. Their face and features were effeminate, and there was a sheen of lip gloss that reflected the overhead light.

“Yes, Erik?” They pitched their voice higher than average but read as male. They sounded annoyed.

Erik slapped the mage’s ass with a meaty thwap, startling us both. He continued, seemingly oblivious to the mage’s growing ire. “Skip the theatrics. I found the market for that enchantment of yours.”

“Which enchantment,” Kai asked irritably.

“The uh,” Erik made a vague gesture, “soul-glue one.”

Kai threw back their head and laughed harshly, then abruptly cut off. “The binding?”

“That one.”

Kai crossed their arms. “The one you waited until after I was reduced to a puddle of post-coital bliss to tell me was asinine and unnecessary? That I was spending hours of painstaking effort on something no one sane would waste enchantment space on and that I should—” Kai cast an indignant glance at me, “—and I quote, ‘grow up.’”

“That… one,” Erik said again, considerably less confident.

“I can come back later,” I said.

* * *

Erik apologized profusely. The big man was clearly embarrassed at having his drama dragged out in the open. We talked it over, and he convinced me to wait on the draw-and-drop idea, suggesting a larger commission that would play to my strengths. Claimed he had a prototype in mind that would work perfectly for my “unique situation.”

He didn’t charge me up front. Said he was confident I’d like the end product, and if I didn’t, he was equally confident he could sell it to someone with a similar ability. Either because of his embarrassment or appreciation that I’d weathered the Kai storm with him, the items he pointed me to in the interim were quality.

He placed one on the table. “For the fights you end quickly.”

<Item: Crossbow of the Wretch>

Description: Black as the heart of the one who wields it. Because of a confluence of enchantments, critical strikes with this weapon are often fatal, so long as the target loses half their health pool in the initial strike.

Item Class: Rare

Item Value: S42,000

My eyes all but bugged out of my head as I lifted it up and tested the feel. It was full-size, but so light it almost felt hollow.

Erik reached behind the counter again and placed a smaller crossbow on the counter. They clearly made it to look intimidating, with jagged white trappings and an off-white body that closely resembled bone. “For the white-knuckle fights. Figure, when you’re in close doing the gunslinger thing, this could be your opener.”

<Item: Hand Crossbow of Pathos>

Description: Despite its class, this weapon does little enhanced damage beyond the bolt it carries. Its true value lies in the enchantments. So long as the bolt remains embedded in the target, they will find themselves overcome with an agony so complete and exquisite it has the potential to drive the target to madness, should the bolt remain in place for too long.

Item Class: Rare

Item Value: S68,000

“Jesus Christ. They did the enchantments on it?” I stuck my thumb at the corner where Kai busied themself with an assortment of shining gems at the desk in the corner.

Kai twisted in their seat and snapped. “I’m a boy!”

“Sorry.”

Erik caught my eye and gave a stoic nod, confirming that Kai was not a person I wanted to fuck with in any capacity. “It’s a little twisted, but it makes for a hell of a distraction. And as far as the other one goes, I know you said hand crossbow, but figured you’d reconsider once you held it. Can’t help you with the daggers, unfortunately. Unless you’d settle for a small sword.”

Kai let out an exasperated sigh and stalked toward the counter. He pulled his outer robe aside and drew one of several daggers on his hip. This one was black with a single line of inlaid ivory, spanning the wide hilt to the narrow tip. “Because you have that mark, and you’re commissioning something big, I’ll give you a loaner.”

“What is it?” I asked.

“It’s a knife.”

I felt the vein pop out on my forehead. “What does it do?”

“Read the system text, I ain’t your daddy.” Kai walked back to his place before I could make the mistake of biting back.

When I read the description, though, my irritation faded.

<Item: Vorpal Gnasher>

Description: This tooth-like blade can easily carve through common natural and metallic armor types, though it loses sharpness quickly. Once dull, its original sharpness can be regained through both traditional and magical sharpening techniques only a handful of times before it requires re-enchantment from the original source.

Item Class: Epic

Item Value: ???

“Hold on, how much is this worth?” I asked.

“Dunno. It’s a spare. Never had it appraised—don’t lose it,” Kai called over.

It was a clever item to lend. While strong and—I suspected—massively valuable, it required maintenance from the original enchanter, meaning no one could run off with it without eventually ending up with a paperweight. But that old familiar feeling of uneasiness washed over me, the same feeling that haunted me every time a person did me an unrequited favor. I dealt and traded favors daily and knew, on an intimate level, that there was always an associated cost.

Perhaps sensing my hesitation, Erik leaned in and lowered his voice so only I could hear. “There’s, uh. A lot of swinging dicks around here. Some are just pricks, others like to throw their weight around. Most of ‘em have that tattoo on their wrist. It’s not that bad, really. Worked in worse places. But… I guess you could say we’re looking to expand our network.”

Ah. There it was. Show your worth to the up and comer, help him out early before he hits his stride, and bank on the hope he remembers you when you need it. A simple play, but innocent enough.

“I think I understand.” I reached out for Erik’s hand. He shook it heartily with enough force that it rattled my teeth.

Then I forked over the Selve, trying not to pay attention to the deep dent in my balance. It’d been too long since I’d delved a dungeon. Bothering Kinsley for a softball quest was always an option if the coffers got low, but considering how much expanding she was doing, I wanted to avoid that for as long as possible. With any luck, this outing with Nick and the Order would be both lucrative and illuminating.

“Heh heh heh, thank you,” Erik said.

He had to be doing it on purpose.