A short walk ter, we were inside Derevin’s atelier. The walls were crowded with shelves, drawers, and dispy cases brimming with magical instruments, partially finished projects, and that triggered an odd sort of voracious intellectual excitement in Anabeth. She began circling the room, cataloging every trinket and tool in her mind, muttering under her breath about potential uses, combinations, and improvements.

  She picked up a delicate compass-like device, turned it in her hands, then paused to examine a set of polished gss spheres. “Look at these! They could store aether, couldn’t they? Or maybe act as a—oh! What about combining this with that?” She crouched beside a low shelf, where a cluster of tiny, interlocking cogs and copper fiments sat. “Oh! This could stabilize minor fluxes,” she whispered, kneeling beside a delicate contraption that looked like a miniature gyroscopic mechanism with swaying spindly arms. “And this! Imagine measuring a meridian shift in real time with it!” Her hands darted to another shelf, picking up a string of tiny gss beads threaded along a silver wire. “And these little gss beads could transform residual aethers into kinetic energy, like a primitive aethercache. Or maybe combine it with the compass...”

  [Stamina: 28%]Meanwhile, my stomach grumbled, reminding me that I could not linger here indefinitely. Unlike Anabeth, I had a single target in mind: the dungeon map of the Westris region.

  The map was pinned to a tall easel near the back of the atelier, partially unrolled. Even from a few paces away, I could see the level of detail that went into it. The terrain of the Westris region was rendered with precise topographical detail, but what was more valuable than all were the markings for the dungeon entrances. Each one was annotated with miniature symbols indicating the type of creatures likely inside, the general danger level, and any known peculiarities of the ir.

  The entrances were illustrated almost like miniature ndscapes, the shading and perspective so precise it was easy to imagine walking up to them. Whoever had crafted this atelier must have adventured themselves, or at least studied the paths of countless explorers firsthand.

  By the bloated arse of Saint Merin; this was exactly what I had come for.

  To convince Anabeth, I would of course have to resort to my usual method: Intimidation Aura. However, Derevin absolutely despised that. The man had the sort of moral and aesthetic rigidity that recoiled at overt dispys of coercion. I couldn’t risk him hearing me threaten a poor young woman even if she took delight in that.

  I’d have to be quiet. The problem was... I had no control over my volume.

  So I opted for Silent Authority. I just needed to nail a very pointed, very knightly gre. Surely even Ceralis could handle that without detonating my lungs.

  Anabeth, oblivious, reached for an object on the far shelf.

  Not just any object.

  The worst of them all.

  The object was a brass-and-fabric... thing whose only discernible purpose was to creak sadly when shaken. From my untrained eyes, it possessed absolutely no magical utility, no schorly merit, no pusible structural function. Pure junk. Arcane trash. A relic born from the unholy union of boredom and poor craftsmanship.

  No. No, she could not take that.

  I fixed my eyes on her, channeling every ounce of intimidating knightly presence I could muster without making a sound.

  Her fingers hovered inches from the hideous contraption when she paused.

  Good. Good. It was working. Feel my perfect beam of concentrated disapproval.

  Or so I thought.

  [Intimidation Failed: Target is Immune]

  [Seduction Successful]

  [Romantic Interest: 100%]

  Her shoulders rose in a full chest-tightening heave as she clutched the useless contraption to her sternum. Her face had gone a very inconvenient shade of pink.

  Of course... Why did I ever expect anything else...

  “Oh, Sir Knight...” she breathed. “Although this is entirely useless, if you want this item so urgently... then of course. Anything you desire, Good Sir.”

  Could she not word it like that? I felt my ear hot just listening to her breathing heavily over nothing.

  But she was already offering the hideous brass-and-fabric mistake toward me with both hands, eyes shining with a devotional intensity.

  I had no need for this. I needed to risk my Maximum Intimidation just to stop us from acquiring this junk.

  “Woman!” I opened my mouth, but immediately cmped it shut as I felt Derevin’s gaze upon me.

  “Yes, of course!” She took my command as encouragement. “It shall be done this instant!”

  She spun on her heel with a little hop of determination and jogged straight toward Derevin. “Master Derevin!” she called out, holding the brass-and-fabric atrocity aloft. “We will take this!”

  NO.

  My soul attempted to fold itself into a fist-sized knot.

  No. No no no—put it down, put it down, PUT IT DOWN—

  I took one helpless step forward in a futile attempt to rewind reality. Yet, the deed was done. Derevin turned toward her and inspected the item, then cleared his voice and scribbled something in his note. Maybe he’d already signed away the item to us.

  “Excellent choice!” Derevin decred.

  What?

  He tapped his quill a few times. “Few recognize the true potential of this item. In fact, you are the first customers to ever pick it up not out of mere curiosity—much less inquire about it.”

  What in the stubbed toes of the Saints? What true potential? And why, by all the saints, was Anabeth nodding as if she’d known all along?

  Derevin adjusted his spectacles and lifted the brass-and-fabric thing from Anabeth’s hands. “Ahh, splendid choice indeed It is in fact an Aetheric Parasitic Resonance Detector—one of the earliest prototypes capable of identifying invisible aetheric organisms.”

  Anabeth stared at it. “Invisible... organisms?”

  “Quite right,” Derevin said. “Invisible organisms are magical microfauna such as void spores, mimic rvae, parasitic motes that feed on trace aether. They are everywhere adventurers forget to look. This device detects them by responding to living carriers. That creak you hear? That is the tension membrane adjusting to the organism’s proximity. There might be one within a one mile radius. Ingenious, really.” He puffed with pride. “And it’s most useful for those in need of specimens for their summoning experiments. A young researcher like yourself, Miss Anabeth, must surely appreciate the value of collecting clean, verified samples.”

  Anabeth’s face lit up like she’d been knighted as she turned to me, “Sir Henry! Your knowledge knows no bounds! Did you pick this object specifically for me?”

  Derevin cleared his throat gently. “Your companion seems to be a rather peculiar communicator. But rest assured, Miss, he clearly has your best interests at heart.”

  NO, I DO NOT. I wanted the map.

  I wanted nothing more than to carve the air open with my sword.

  Nonetheless, the truth was that the hideous brass-and-fabric aberration was now officially ours. So I swallowed my indignation and let the silence settle. Surely this was the lowest this day could go.

  Suddenly, Anabeth stopped and stared at a framed certificate hanging slightly askew on the wall. She leaned forward, tilting her head as she read the elegant script.

  “Master Derevin,” she asked, practically vibrating with curiosity, “are you also... a Master Fragment Crafter?”

  Derevin’s eyes twinkled behind his spectacles, and he nodded with a faint, modest smile. “I am, indeed. It is an old title, but I maintain the craft.”

  My brain caught fire. A Fragment Crafter. My three Gelid Fragments. They could be turned into armor enchantments now. My pulse ticked up as I calcuted the potential improvements. +7 END against slime, cold resistance... all fully craftable.

  Anabeth’s grin widened, her energy practically radiating off her. “Oh! Then perhaps—Master Derevin... there’s something else I’d like to ask you about...”