William Oh? Don’t get me started about William Oh. He's a 10-foot-tall bastard who can drink anyone under the table and will steal your wife right out of your arms. He robbed my family's museum just by walking in and telling the paintings to follow him out. True story.

-Scott Crawford, level 36 Climber

“Congratulations…gentlemen,” the Exchange Hall clerk said, glancing at Loth as he handed the two bags of delicious gold to the two of them.

“Feels light,” Will muttered.

“Amounts over five hundred gold are paid in ivory, to save weight,” the clerk said with a tired expression. “Now, if you don’t mind…” He waved them off.

Will was halfway to the door when he made a stunning realization, stopping in his tracks.

This is it. This is the wealth I was looking for. I could go back outside The Tower, buy a couple businesses, get married to a cute Baker girl and supply her with as much wheat and sugar as she needs to keep me rolling in delicious, fluffy buns.

Will opened up the sack and pulled out a single ivory coin. That alone was worth a large portion of the orphanage itself.

Suddenly, with the option of an easy life laid out in front of him, his declaration of conquering The Tower seemed a bit…misguided.

Will shook the impulse away.

Gods, they told me a large portion of Climbers stop in the first ten floors, but they never said how tempting it was.

Will arranged for four coins to make their way down on a bus in exchange for a fifth. The mail in the first four floors was still fairly reliable.

The other ten coins, he went on a spending spree with.

“Endless bag of salt,” Will mused at the label, turning the fist-sized bag this way and that before glancing up at the merchant, then over at the mine at the top of the mountain, busily stripping away the rapidly regenerating salt layer.

“How much salt does it make?”

“About a quarter cup per Charge, to a maximum of four Charges a day.”

“That’s not a lot. How much do you want for it?” Will asked.

“Five hundred.”

Will nearly spat out his bread. “What?! For that price, I could purchase a man’s weight in salt, go outside The Tower, sell it for three times the amount, and be back in a week. A cup a day is nonsense!”

“Ah, you misunderstand, young master. The Endless Bag of Salt is not to make profits, but to pickle and preserve food in the floors above.” The merchant pointed upward.

“The further up one goes, the more…eh…logistics must be accounted for. A cunning Climber has a plan for how to use their dailies, you know.”

Either that hadn’t been covered in the orphanage’s classes, or Will had been asleep, but what the merchant said did make sense. A man’s dailies were simply wasted if they weren’t used.

“I’ll give you fifty.”

“Three hundred.”

“Pass,” Will said, handing the bag back. “I’m not going to the upper floors just yet anyway.”

“You do seem a bit young,” the man said, placing the bag back where it’d been.

“Wazzat?” Will asked, pointing at a satchel.

“Traveller’s Chemistry Set,” the merchant said, opening up the leather satchel to reveal tightly packed glassware. “Everything inside the satchel is protected from damage, and it includes the tools needed to refine or distill several different alchemical ingredients.

“On the back is a heating pad, which will set itself to whatever temperature the user desires, while simultaneously stirring the concoction. And lastly, when glass is placed back inside the satchel, it is thoroughly cleaned.”

“MINE!” Loth said, jostling Will out of the way.

Will met his eyes, cocking a brow.

“I make a lot of poisons,” Loth said with a shrug. “I’ve been meaning to learn how to produce explosives, but I haven’t had a good chemistry set to do it with.”

“Since milord is so passionate, I’d be willing to part with it for a mere eight hundred—”

“Pass,” Loth said, waving him off.

The merchant gave the two of them a sour look.

“Wazzat?” Will asked, pointing at an amulet with a little glass capsule.

“Amulet of the Homefield Advantage,” the merchant said, turning the amulet over in his hand. “‘Load’ it with a terrain, and for a Charge, you can change a small area around yourself to match the terrain you loaded for thirty seconds. Eighty gold.”

Perhaps pre-haggled by Will’s earlier unwillingness to negotiate, the merchant gave him a price he was willing to snap at.

“Deal. Do you have change for ivory?” Will asked, offering him a coin.

The merchant’s eyes bugged out for a moment before he nodded and counted out twenty gold coins.

“Got any helmet slots?” Will asked, putting on the amulet.

“Night vision, concussion protection, ramming, audio-enhancing.”

Wonder what the mask does, Will mused to himself, shaking his head to indicate he wasn’t interested. The instant he had picked up No-face’s mask, it had shifted form to resemble a goat. Will had shoved it into his new backpack along with most of the rest of his gear, rather than put it on to learn its Abilities.

Because putting on a shapeshifting mask you get off a guy named No-face seemed like a great way to wind up Cursed with a capital C.

Later in the day, they could take it to the temple of… Who likes me? Granesh? Lumesh? Andover? Melisk? The priests of Andover were generally willing to do anything for coin, so that was probably where they would end up going to check if the mask was cursed.

Among the items the merchant had on display was a strange thingy that drained blood from its victims to make arrowheads, and a wand that boosted cold Abilities.

No space-boosting wands. Those were much rarer. Will practically salivated at the idea of one day getting a wand that boosted space-based Abilities, making his Phantom Hand carry more, move with more speed, enhance its boosts, or, gods willing…touch things.

There were no debuff-boosting items to synergize with his tomahawk; those were about as hard to find as Leon had said.

Slim pickings on the 2nd Floor.

Although, Will did find a pair of gauntlets that boosted Strength by 2 and Attack Speed by 8% for a reasonable price.

He snatched those up.

The salesman glanced at his missing hand. “You realize you need to wear both the gauntlets for them to be effective?” the gap-toothed man asked.

“They’re for a friend,” Will lied. The man shrugged, selling Will the pair anyway.

Will shoved them in his backpack. If he decided it was worth it, he could switch out his Sting Ring for the gauntlets, and enjoy a tangible boost to his Attack Speed.

Since the Tomahawk of the Serpent applied one layer of debuff per attack, in theory…if he could attack 33 times in 3 seconds, he could debuff someone’s stats by 99%...before resistances or other factors.

Will’s Kinesthetics was going to be high enough to handle processing that kind of speed in a dozen levels or so, but his Class lacked the Strength to pull it off unaided.

So the strength-cum-speed boost of the gauntlets was a key booster for bigger stacks of the debuff from the Tomahawk of the Serpent, especially if he couldn’t find anything to make the debuff last longer or increase its potency.

Plus, it was hard to go wrong boosting Attack Speed and Strength.

I just wonder how many cubic inches the gauntlets are. Another thing to test later, when nobody was watching.

People already knew way too much about William Oh.

Once they’d cruised through the Skyhold bazaar, they stopped at a sandwich shop on the street corner.

It was only when the vendor turned to the wall next to her, carved off a piece of it and placed that slice on some meager rye bread before handing it to Will, that Will understood what he was looking at. The wall, and even the roof itself, was all part of a single piece of breast meat, so thoroughly steeped in salt that it was spontaneously growing crystals in places.

“That’ll be two gold!” the woman said, cheerfully extending her hand.

“Two gold?!” Will demanded, fishing out two coins and passing them over before continuing to devour the roc sandwich.

“Everything’s more expensive in The Tower,” she said with a shrug.

“How’d you come by this?” Will asked, pointing at the salty meat the woman was ensconced in.

“Oh, this? My grandfather won the bid for a roc’s carcass after it’d all been plucked and gutted, and we’ve been selling it ever since.”

“Oh. How long?”

“About forty years now,” she said cheerfully. “We started selling the second breast when my son was born.”

Will coughed mid-swallow. Whether it was from the sheer saltiness or the fact that he was eating 40-year-old bird meat, he couldn’t be sure.

“...Neat!” Will said when he finally managed to swallow.

“When my boy grows up and gets his Class…well, by then we’ll have to consider another line of work, but we should have a decent amount saved up.”

For 2 gold a slice out of literally millions of slices’ worth of meat, I should hope so, Will thought, nodding along.

“Maybe he’ll buy another roc, continue the family business. Maybe he’ll get a good Class and become a Lord. Could you imagine?”

“Ma’am, I don’t know your son, but I know he’s in good hands,” Will said through the overpowering flavor of fermented salt-bird.

Good, though.

“Oh, aren’t you sweet? Have another slice, on the house,” she said, cutting off a slice and handing it to Will, who pinched the salt-crystal-laden meat nearly triple his age between thumb and forefinger before rolling it up.

“Mmm.” Will nodded and saluted with the roll of Ostensibly Meat™ before he and Loth excused themselves politely and walked out of line of sight, where they could finish devouring the ambrosia of the gods without fear of judgment or ridicule.

“Gods!” Will groaned when the extra slice of roc cleared his vocal cords.

“So ‘ood!” Loth said around his food.

“Alright, that’s it. I’ve decided,” Will declared, holding his finger meaningfully to the sky.

“We’re going to defeat a roc and brine it!” Loth declared.

“What? No, we’re going to get a cook!” Will said. “A battle cook. Preferably a cute one my age…” Will rubbed his chin. “Brining our own roc isn’t entirely out of the question, though, because that was delicious.”

“You know they’re a raid Boss, right?”

“Eh, I think we could take one.”

“Cute, huh?” Loth asked, rubbing his chin too. “Male or female?”

“Guys are not ‘cute.’”

“I don’t know… Human girls are all…fatty,” Loth said, making an hourglass shape with his hands. “Kinda weird.”

“Agree to disagree. The merchant did say logistics became more important the higher you go, and I’ve heard about Parties numbering in the dozens or even the hundreds for the top floors. If we’re going to make it to the top, we’re going to need a cook eventually.”

“Not just yet, though,” Loth said, tugging on Will’s empty sleeve and pointing up.

Rent-a-Miracle!

A garish gilded sign hung over the Temple of Andover.

Will and Loth steered their feet towards the temple, walking under the gilded archway as they arrived, glancing around at the dimly lit interior.

There was a single priest at the front desk, hands clasped calmly, waiting for Will to balk at the prices and bail out.

Healing: 100 Gold

Resurrection: 10000 Gold

Rent a priest!

This Floor: 500 Gold

5th Floor and back: 3000 Gold

Purchase a priest: Negotiable

“Yo, can you fix this?” Will asked, lifting his stump and pointing at it.

“Absolutely. Fifteen hundred gold,” the priest said.

“Shit,” Will muttered. He only had six ivory left after the shopping spree. “It says one hundred gold for healing.”

“Healing and regeneration are two different things,” the priest of Andover said, folding his hands together.

Will’s eye twitched. I should’ve come here first. If I’d known we had enough for my hand…

“We have that much,” Loth said, gesturing to his pouch.

“You sure?” Will asked.

“I’ll fill in the rest. You’ll owe me.”

“This is the second time, you know. I already owe you,” Will said, dumping out his six ivory while Loth counted out nine and placed them on the counter.

“Indeed. If you see some Mankeran Burrowers on the Fourth Floor, be sure to grab some for me. I wish to domesticate them.”

“Fine,” Will said with a shrug.

“Careful not to let them reach your bones. They’re very hard to remove once that happens,” Loth said.

Will was still staring at his Saboteur when the priest finished counting and cleared his throat.

“This is indeed fifteen hundred gold. Do all parties agree to this sacrifice for the restoration of this one’s limb?” He gestured at Will.

The word ‘sacrifice’ sent goosebumps up Will’s neck.

“Yes.”

“Yes,” Loth echoed him.

“Very well.” The priest held his hand over the ivory coins. A moment later, an ethereal glow descended from his hand to the coins, and Will felt a brief surge of…indignation? An irrational urge to slap the priest so hard that his deity felt it.

His right arm twitched before he got it back under control.

The coins dissolved, and the priest gestured for him to hold out his hand, hand glowing with the light of Andover’s miracle.

Will put his stump on the counter, heart hammering in his chest.

This is it! I’m back in the game, baby! Will was going to do so much cool stuff with his left hand back: climb without using his feet, hold two things at the same time.

Gods, it’ll be sooo much easier to put my clothes on. Will’s clothing choices had all adapted to being donned one-handed.

Actually, you know what would work better than the cincher I’m using? Suspenders! Hah! Funny I just realized it now, when I no longer need it…. Wait…

“Why am I still missing my hand?” Will asked the priest, who met his gaze with a bead of sweat forming on his brow.

“What Andover is saying doesn’t make sense… Wait here, I’m going to fetch the deacon.” The priest turned and practically dove through the curtains behind his desk, leaving Loth and Will there to stare at each other.

“You think we can get a refund?” Loth asked.

Wordlessly, Will pointed at a sign on the wall.

No Refunds on the purchase of miracles or priests.

A moment later, the priest returned, guiding a saggy old relic.

“Hand,” he growled, yanking Will’s stump over the counter, nearly making Will fall. “Journeymen these days. It’s like they can’t handle a simple regeneration…”

The old man went silent as the scintillating light of Andover emerged from his palm, bathing Will’s stump in light.

A moment later, he released Will’s truncated wrist with a craggy scowl. “Andover tells me that your hand belongs to The Tower now,” he said, peering up at Will through a single bushy eyebrow.

“None of my business what mysteries you’ve stuck your hand into. That’s The Tower’s nature, after all. If we all went chasing those mysteries, there’d be none of us left to keep the lights on…

“You’re not getting your hand back unless you grow a new one yourself.” The priest gave him the brutal news with callous disregard. “However, since we already took your coin, and we don’t do refunds…

“Come around the counter,” he said, opening up the bar and motioning for them to follow.

Confused, Will and Loth followed, ducking through the lush velvet curtains.

The dim light of the interior of the temple revealed dozens upon dozens of people, ranging in age from his age to mid-thirties, each of them dressed in the ornate robes of an Andover priest…and each of them was locked up in a sturdy steel cage.

Will’s brows rose precipitously.

“Behold, the Debtors,” the priest said, his voice scratchy with phlegm. “Those who have not yet bought their way into Andover’s good graces.

“Pick one.”

The journeyman priest put his fingers in his ears.

“Pick me, young man!” a woman called, her robes parted just enough to enhance her cleavage squishing up against the bars. “I’ll take such good care of you!”

A moment later, another priestess did the same, followed by a priest, and another. Soon enough, all of the captive clergy, young and old, were begging to be picked, turning the silence upside down as the hall devolved into raucous screams.

“That one.” Will pointed at a pretty girl about his age.

“That one,” Loth said at the same time, pointing out a rather large man with a hint of grey in his beard.

“What, why?” Will demanded as the shouting died down.

“We’ll get more for our money if we get someone who knows what they’re doing. Experience is worth more than gold when we hit the next couple floors.”

“He’s right!” the older man said, his eyes wide. “I’ve been all the way to the Fifth Floor! I can help you Climb! Warn you of the dangers! Not only that, I can cook and make camp! You’ve got a very smart companion.”

“Hmmm…” Will rubbed his chin.

“Plus, since he’s an older human male, the mores of human society dictate that when he inevitably dies, we won’t feel sad, since human males, especially older ones without family, are disposable,” Loth pointed out. “Think of him as a ‘training priest’ we can learn to keep alive.”

“Ummm.” The priest paled, taking a step back from the bars.

“Excuse me, sirs. Since the money came from both of you, you must reach a consensus on which Debtor to purchase,” the younger priest said, sweat beading on his brow.

Will and Loth glanced at each other and nodded.

“That one,” the two of them said as one, pointing at the disposable priest with the salt-and-pepper hair.