Chapter 29: The Art of the Deal (And Buying a Bucket)

  "Money," I said, tossing the heavy bag of pearl-coins into the air and catching it, "is just stored energy. But unlike Lumen, you can’t recharge this by napping. So we spend it wisely."

  We were walking through the Middle Ring of Abalone-Reach. Unlike the clean, sterile heights of the Guild District or the muddy chaotic floor of the slums, this was the trade center. It smelled of roasted kelp, exotic spices, and the sweat of a thousand deals being struck at once.

  Vrex walked beside me, his stone feet thudding heavily on the shell-paved street. He looked anxious.

  "We have resources," the gargoyle admitted, eyeing the bustling stalls. "But we have no transport. And I have... needs."

  "We're getting to the needs," I promised. "But first, school is in session. You got scammed on magic beans, Vrex. Today, we fix that."

  "I told you, the pumpkin patch was very aggressive," Vrex grumbled. "It was a tactical failure, not a financial one."

  "It was both. Now watch."

  I stopped at a provisioner's stall. It was run by a nervous-looking crustacean-man who was selling dried meats and travel rations.

  "I need protein," I whispered to Vrex. "High density. And I need a water filtration unit that doesn't taste like algae."

  I approached the counter. "Greetings. The flow is favorable?"

  The merchant blinked his stalk-eyes. "The tide rises, traveler. Buy? Sell?"

  "Buy," I said, picking up a packet of what looked like blue jerky. My Kensho (11) flared.

  [Item: Salt-Cured Leviathan Strip]

  [Grade 1: Inert]

  [Condition: Stale. Seal compromised.]

  "I need supplies for a long drift," I said, putting the jerky down. "But this meat is stiff. It's been sitting in the humid air too long. The salt seal is weeping."

  The merchant bristled. "Top quality! Harvested yesterday!"

  "The salt crystals are rounded, not sharp," I countered, tapping the packet. "Humidity exposure. It'll rot in three days if I take it out to sea. I'll take twenty packs, but at 60% value. I'm doing you a favor clearing your compromised stock."

  The merchant hesitated. He looked at the meat. He knew I was right.

  "70%," he clicked. "And I throw in a spice packet."

  "Deal," I said, slapping three heavy pearl-coins on the counter.

  I walked away with an armful of supplies, handing half to Vrex.

  "You insulted his merchandise," Vrex noted, looking horrified. "And he thanked you for it."

  "I didn't insult it; I audited it," I corrected. "Commerce is combat, Vrex. The price tag is just the opening attack. You don't just take the hit; you parry."

  We moved deeper into the market. I let Vrex take the lead on the next stall—a place selling heavy climbing gear and survival kits.

  "I require... rope," Vrex rumbled to the vendor, a spindly humanoid with coral growing from his shoulders. "And grapple points. Heavy gauge."

  The vendor looked at Vrex's massive bulk. "I have Titan-Silk weave. Very strong. Expensive. Fifty pearls."

  Vrex looked at me. I raised an eyebrow. Parry, big guy.

  Vrex looked back at the vendor. He picked up the rope. He pulled on it.

  SNAP.

  The "Titan-Silk" parted like wet tissue paper in his stone hands.

  Vrex looked at the two frayed ends. He looked at the vendor.

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  "This is not Titan-Silk," Vrex said, his voice dropping to a dangerous, grinding bass. "This is standard Spider-Wire dyed gold. You attempted to sell me a lie that would have resulted in my terminal velocity impact."

  The vendor turned pale blue. "I... ah... a mistake in the labeling! A terrible oversight!"

  "I will accept the actual Titan-Silk," Vrex said, leaning over the counter until his shadow eclipsed the vendor. "At the price of the Spider-Wire. As compensation for the... oversight."

  The vendor scrambled to the back and returned with a coil of rope that hummed with a faint, purple aura.

  [Item: Abyssal Weaver’s Cord]

  [Grade 2: Latent]

  [Quality: Regnant (Self-Mending)]

  "Five pearls," the vendor squeaked.

  Vrex paid him, took the rope, and walked away.

  "Okay," I said, grinning. "That wasn't exactly a nuanced negotiation, but 'Accept my offer or I will crush you' is a valid strategy."

  "I merely pointed out the structural flaw," Vrex said, looking pleased with himself as he coiled the glowing rope. "Percussive bargaining."

  We stocked up on the essentials. I bought a [Navigator's Lodestone] that pointed toward the nearest stable landmass (essential for an ocean world) and a [Chitin-Repair Kit] that Vrex claimed was good for polishing his joints. I also snagged a small, kinetic-wind-up lantern because I was tired of relying on glowing moss for light.

  But the real challenge was the vehicle.

  We headed down to the shipyards. The docks were a chaotic maze of piers, cranes, and vessels ranging from sleek, glass-bottomed skiffs to massive, living-coral galleons.

  "I cannot swim," Vrex reminded me as we looked out at the turquoise expanse. "If the boat capsizes, I will walk on the bottom. It will take me weeks to reach the next island. I will get bored. I will get covered in barnacles. I do not want this."

  "We need buoyancy," I agreed. "Lots of it."

  We walked past the sleek skiffs. They were made of light wood and shell. Fast, but fragile. If Vrex stepped on one, he'd put his foot right through the hull.

  "Too flimsy," I muttered, dismissing a racing yacht. "Too expensive," I sighed, looking at a magical ironclad that cost more than a small kingdom.

  Then, I saw it.

  It was sitting in a "dry dock"—which on Ostracon meant it was suspended in a net of anti-gravity magic while workers scraped algae off the hull.

  It wasn't a boat. It was a tank that learned to float.

  It was a squat, wide, ugly thing made of dark, pitted metal and reinforced with bands of sea-iron. It looked like an industrial escape pod welded to a barge. It had no sails, just a heavy engine block at the back and a reinforced glass dome for a cockpit.

  [Entity: The Iron-Lung (Salvage Hauler Class-4)]

  [Grade: 2 (Latent)]

  [Integrity: High]

  [Capacity: Excessive]

  "That," I said, pointing. "That is the ride."

  Vrex squinted at it. "It looks like a floating brick."

  "Exactly. Bricks don't snap."

  We found the yard master, a woman with skin like shark leather and a cigar made of green seaweed clamped in her teeth.

  "The Hauler?" she laughed when I asked. "That's a decommissioned trench-diver. High-pressure hull. Slow as a dying turtle, turns like a continent. Why do you want that tub?"

  "We're carrying heavy cargo," I said, patting Vrex's arm. "Very heavy cargo."

  The yard master eyed Vrex. She did the math on his weight.

  "Fair point. Standard skiff would snap like a twig under him." She looked back at the boat. "Hull is solid. Engine is a standard Combustion-Drive. It eats Ignis Salts. You mix the salt with the seawater intake, boom, you get steam propulsion. Simple. Dirty. Reliable."

  "How much?"

  "300 Pearls."

  I winced. That was more than half our remaining funds.

  "200," I countered. "The turbine housing is rusted. I can see the corrosion from here. And the glass on the cockpit is fogged."

  "280," she shot back. "That's sea-iron plating. It's practically immune to kraken attacks."

  "240," I said. "And I'll pay in High-Tide coin, right now. No credit, no promissory notes."

  I opened the bag, letting the heavy clink-clink of the octagonal coins do the talking.

  The yard master looked at the gold. Cash flow was king.

  "250," she grunted. "And you take it as-is. No warranty if you sink it."

  "Deal."

  I counted out the coins. It hurt to see the bag deflate, but as the yard master tossed me the heavy iron key, I felt a surge of satisfaction.

  "Does it have fuel?" I asked.

  "Tank's half-full," she said, pointing to a hopper on the side of the engine. "Enough to get you to the next reef. You'll need to buy more Ignis Salts if you plan on crossing the Deep."

  We walked up the gangplank. The boat barely dipped as Vrex stepped onto the deck. The metal groaned, settled, and held.

  "Stable," Vrex rumbled, stomping his foot. "I approve."

  "It's not pretty," I said, running a hand over the cold, pitted metal of the railing. "But it's ours."

  I looked at the name painted on the side in peeling white paint: The Unsinkable II.

  "We are definitely renaming it," I muttered.

  "To what?" Vrex asked, squeezing his massive frame into the cockpit.

  I looked at the sturdy, ugly, reliable boat. I looked at the vast ocean ahead.

  "The Paperweight," I said. "Because looking at the aerodynamics of this thing, the only reason it doesn't sink is because the ocean is afraid to touch it."

  Vrex grunted, tapping the ignition rune on the engine. The hopper ground some salt into the water chamber. HISS-THRUM. The boat shuddered as the steam drive roared to life.

  I climbed onto the roof of the cabin, feeling the sea spray on my face. I had a magic compass, a golem bodyguard, a boat that looked like a dumpster, and about 200 pearls left to my name.

  It was the best day I’d had in years.

  Hm, must be a Tuesday in this world.