Jack entered the spell scroll shop to the familiar chime of the bell and the smile of the old shopkeeper. A handful of customers perused the displays.
He took a deep breath. Hmm… that smell never gets old.
“Good morning, young man,” the old shopkeeper greeted him.
“Morning,” Jack replied, stepping to the counter. “I’m here to drop off a few scrolls and collect the [Chronos Sphere] scroll… if it’s ready?”
The shopkeeper nodded. “Indeed. One imbued [Chronos Sphere] spell scroll, prepaid.” He produced the scroll from beneath the counter and handed it to Jack.
“Thank you.” Jack pulled out the half a dozen unimbued [Chronos Sphere] spell scrolls he’d created since his last visit.
“Excellent,” the shopkeeper said, inspecting the scrolls. “These sell so darn fast. After you left yesterday, we had another order for a dozen that we are struggling to fill.” He tapped a finger on the scrolls. “These are much needed.”
“I’m glad to help,” Jack replied, imagining the coin he could earn if he devoted all his time to inscribing those scrolls. With the right pace, he might produce ten a day, or even fifteen, earning 70 silvers to 1 gold and 5 silvers each day. He shook his head. No, I have to prepare to kill Greaves; only then can I worry about coin.
The old man cleared his throat. “That’s six unimbued [Chronos Sphere] spell scrolls for a total of 42 silvers.” He slid the scrolls under the counter.
“I’ll be buying a few things,” Jack said as he saw the shopkeeper counting out 42 silvers. “So hold the coin for now.”
The old man nodded, and Jack went to collect some supplies.
A burly young warrior at the next display called to the shopkeeper, “Hey, old man, any discounts for buyin’ in bulk?”
Jack glanced at him. Hmm… another warrior. Many men became warriors; it was an easy combat class to both qualify for and level. Making it a popular choice.
“It depends,” the shopkeeper replied. “What do you consider a bulk purchase?”
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“Erm… five of ‘em,” the warrior pointed towards a display of [Fireball] spell scrolls.
“Then no,” the old man replied. “Small discounts are available for orders of above two dozen of the same type of spell scroll.”
The warrior groaned.
After a minute, Jack returned with two [Fireball] scrolls, two [Frost Breath] scrolls, two [Cleansing] scrolls, and 50 medium-quality blank scrolls.
The old shopkeeper smiled as he totalled Jack’s bill. “Including the 42 silvers from the [Chronos Sphere] scrolls and the ten percent discount, that will be… 3 silvers 90 coppers, young man.”
Jack already had the 3 silvers and 90 coppers ready.
The old man chuckled. “Good to see our young people being capable of simple calculations without those new calculating engines.” He took the coin. “I tell you, it’s going to sap the Kingdom’s wit, mark my words.” He shook his head in disapproval. “What are they going to do when they don’t have access to one of those huge devices? Fail. That’s what.”
Jack smiled and nodded in agreement as he packed away his new scrolls and supplies. His father had made a similar argument when teaching him how to quickly calculate prices in his head.
“Anything else?” the old shopkeeper inquired.
Jack shook his head. “No, that’s everything, thanks.”
He left the shop thinking about money. After his purchase, he was left with just over 2 gold in coin. He’d had a small windfall when he looted the swordsman’s purse. Looting the corpses of dead adventurers is quite lucrative, he thought. Shame I couldn’t take his greatsword right away, I bet it’s worth a couple of gold. He still planned to collect the sword at a later date.
***
After heading home via the shadows, Jack sat in the kitchen with his mom, Zia, and the baby. His mom had just asked how the suit fitting had gone.
“Good, Mom,” Jack said as he sampled one of Zia’s latest creations. It was a buttermilk biscuit shaped like a strange, stubby tree. “Great biscuit, Zia. Love the tree shape.” He took another bite, smiling.
Zia offered a shy smile and nibbled at her own biscuit, which looked more like a fat-bottomed duck.
Jack continued, “The suit’s dark grey, like Dad’s. I can collect it tomorrow.”
His mom beamed. “I can’t wait to see the two most handsome men in my life standing side by side in matching suits.”
He flushed at the memory of his mom once insisting he and his father stand back-to-back before they’d gone to the Royal Library together for the first time. At the time, she’d said, “You look like a pair of handsome detectives from the cover of one of my books.” She’d been deep into detective novels then. He had felt like a complete idiot that day, complaining that he looked ridiculous. His dad had just smiled, patted him on the shoulder, and said, “It’s what we do for love, Son. You’ll understand one day.”
Jack swallowed hard. He’d never gotten the chance to understand. Baron Greaves had made sure of that. His eyes widened in panic as a new thought hit him. By the Gods, she’s going to make us do it again!
“Are you alright, Jack?” his mom asked.
He nodded. “Just… a bit nervous about my first day at work, that’s all.” He forced a smile. And the fact you’re going to make me look like a fool again!
She placed a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll be fine, Son. Your dad will be there, remember.”
Jack covered her hand with his own. It felt like home. “Thanks, Mom.”
Though they weren’t hugging, Zia saw the opening and darted in to steal a hug from both of them, squeezing in with a grin.
After enjoying a few more misshapen biscuits, Jack headed up to his room to work.
Ask. The archive might answer back.
What to Expect:
- Sci-fi mystery
- Character-driven plot
- Slow-burn investigation
- Brothers on opposite sides
- Cool powers!
- Optional meta layers
- Multi-POV cast
- Emotional gut punches & sarcasm
Start now with these artifacts.
[Lev’s Note]: I didn’t go looking for trouble, but the universe disagreed with me. Twice.
And so did my sister. She ignored my good sense, ran headlong into the WRONG questions, and found answers someone had buried for centuries:
Enigma.
The shadow behind every missing person, burned record, and altered history.
The reason no one leaves this planet.
The tabloid next to it? Evidence the universe hates me. A failure of journalism.
Chapter 085 The Pocket Mage