Their first stop when back within town was to the Society building. Jacky didn’t get any pay for the hunt, but if she wanted pay she said she could always just get a bounty from the Slayers. More importantly to Marc (and Lloyd, he assumed) was that he was allowed to rest in Society buildings for free, and his Brick ID was updated to reflect this change. He wasn’t quite a full member, but close.


    The atmosphere within the city was a different story. Something called the Flood was approaching. It was a massive increase in the creation of monsters. Within the Sage lands it meant more Dire Beasts and elementals.


    “Hey Jacky,” Lloyd asked, “Why is it only ever those two? Why not the Doppelgangers or something else?”


    Jacky took a second to compose an answer, before saying, “The flood is basically just an influx of magic, and those are the only monsters that require ambient magic are affected. Other places have it worse. Iron Mountain is going to have to deal with dragons.”


    Marc continued, “So Doppelgangers aren’t magic?”


    “They have magic, but the same way I have magic. Not Primal magic with the whole impersonation thing, but some kind,” she replied. “Their creation isn’t dependant on it. I think thats the best catch-all.”


    They continued on, observing the preparations from afar. At an intersection, Jacky wished them farewell and headed off to her own house in the city. Lloyd and Marc, meanwhile, went to the market in order to sell the monster parts.


    Entering the big tent, they made a beeline for Berk, the only person who Marc knew in the entire marketplace.


    “Ah, its you. Din’t go an’ die on yer hunt?”


    “Not yet, unfortunately” Marc responded. Berk didn’t seem to mean anything rude, so he figured humor would work.


    “Heh! Well, keep tryin’. I’m sure ye’ll get it sooner er later. Anyways, whatcha needin’?”


    With that, Marc handed over the spare parts. He tried haggling for a better price, but having never haggled for anything in his life before, he was outmatched by the veteran Slayer. Then, Lloyd stepped up.


    “Hey Mr. Berk?”


    “Yeh?”


    “Can i see that antler there?” he pointed towards one Berk was selling. After being handed it, he put the two side by side. The one they had hunted was not only larger in size, but had far more of the velvet. “Well, If you’re selling this for 40 leaves, then you could sell ours for 50, maybe even 60.”


    Berk countered, “An’ how many people d’you think are gonna notice?”


    Lloyd gave a smirk that quickly changed into a full smile, “The ones who have the money to be able to afford the better materials. Plus, look around” he gestured to the surrounding vendors. “No one else is selling Spine Deer velvet.”


    Berk took a second to look around, and seeing that Lloyd was right, sighed, “Fine. You gotchyer price. Jus’ don’ go spreading word, y’hear?”


    After counting out their coin, the two turned and left. Marc’s eyes went wider with each trade of words, and  as they left, a hundred silver Leaves richer, Marc looked in awe at Lloyd. “H-how did you do that?”


    “What? I can be convincing.”


    “Yeah, but. . . I’ve never seen you do it before”


    Lloyd cocked his head to the side, “Whadaya mean? I convinced you and Jacky to hunt with me, didn’t I?”


    Well, that was true. Lloyd handed the coin to Marc, who put it into his Locus. Lloyd himself had his own coin pouch, but seeing as Marc had a Vracht Pack, the group decided even before reentering the city that he’d carry their shared equipment. Seeing as he had the highest might, especially after getting a few new points from Sightseeker, Marc saw no reason to object.Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.


    Marc asked Lloyd, “So, what now?”


    “Oh, I’m thinking-” he stopped as he was bumped into by an elf. The elf apologized to them and moved quickly out of sight. The two continued walking, though Lloyd had a small smirk. “I’m thinking we can either look at some Society records and maybe pick out some Historia for us.”


    <hr>


    Unsurprisingly to Marc, there was nothing about Wanderers in the Society archives. Lloyd, however was looking through a few different options.


    “So, Rogue and Archer can turn into Assassin?” Lloyd asked.


    “Rogue, Archer, and Alchemist actually.” Marc responded.


    “Then that’s out. Alchemy is not for me Marc. Do I look poison-proof?” He said, looking remarkably poisonable.


    “Well, you could just go further into Rogue. Become a Thief?” Marc offered. It felt weird listing off Thief like he was helping a friend choose a college major. This was a choice that would affect the rest of Lloyd’s life.


    “No thanks. Guilds get frisky, literally, when you ‘encroach on their territory’. I don’t need the Root looking at me any more than they already might be.” Lloyd sounded more annoyed than afraid. “What can Rogue-Warrior do?”


    Marc flipped a few pages, “Has a few options depending on what you use more. Swordsman is one you could use.”


    “High Finesse right?”


    “Yeah. Usually have some extra critical damage thing.”


    “But they can only use swords?”


    “Says here you’d need to use swords a ton before you do the ritual.” That would be a deal breaker. Lloyd loved his daggers and throwing knives.


    “What else is there?”


    “There’s Enforcer if you want to join me on the front lines,” A look from Lloyd confirmed what Marc already suspected. He continued, “Or Mercenary is the catch-all.”


    “So all of them are close combat?”


    “Afraid so. Except the magic ones.”


    “What’s Shaman got for me?”


    “If you are more physical you can become a Spellsword, or if you go more magical you can become a. . . Nightblade?”


    “So magic swordsman or another magic swordsman?”


    “Looking through, almost all of these are just hybrid classes.”


    Lloyd made a noise and got up. Leaving the book where it was, Lloyd walked out of the archives in frustration. Marc put the few they had taken out back to the Archivist (a Craftsman and Scholar evolved class). As he was walking out of the archive, he decided to go to the training grounds. He hadn’t been yet, and his first hunt had shown him that he needed a heck of a lot more training if he wanted to actually use the axe he had.


    He didn’t expect to see Fray wailing away at one of the training dummies though.


    Taking out the axe she’d given him, he walked over to one of his own, and started swinging away. His biggest issue was that the axe seemed determined to twist on contact.


    After about 10 minutes, Marc heard Fray’s voice call out to him, “Stop flailing!” He stopped swinging, and looked over to her. “Just - Fine, over here, i’ll show you how to use that axe.”


    “Oh, tha-”


    “Don’t thank me. Im keeping you from embarrassing me by using that axe like its a bludgeon. Your grip is terrible, your footing is terrible, and you leave yourself open to more attacks than a drunken mage.” She said, with a smile on her face.


    <hr>


    The thief wasn’t sure if she wanted to find the human to curse him out or shake his hand. Her haul had been good, all things considered, but that one guy had a massive trade in the big tent, and she didn’t get a single Leaf.


    Who put pebbles into a coin pouch on their hip?


    At any other time, she’d respect it, but now was not the time for adventurers to be getting smart with their money, seeing as it was supposed to be her money after a day’s work.


    Just then, her “leader” walked into the room. “Tithe,” the imposing woman commanded. The elf handed over what was due: the first of every ten coins. Looking at the still full pouch, the human’s gaze shot back.


    “Don’t bother. It’s rocks,” the elf preempted. She tossed the bag to the human, who looked through.


    “Shame. Your quota is met. Prepare.” and the human left.


    The elf clenched her fists and glared at the closed door. She hated the Inquisitor. The “tithe” was nothing new, but it was “guild dues” only a few years ago.


    Whatever, she thought. She pulled out a small scroll. It was the size of something a noble would give a servant, or at least she imagined it was. Importantly, it was unassuming. She unfurled it multiple feet, far longer than it should be, and read over her messy scrawl, and began to write once more in code. To anyone but her, it was a mess of random elven letters that came together for gibberish. For the author, it was a layout of who to rob and where.


    The big tent had the most valuable stuff outside of the noble section of the city. It was only luck that she saw the two humans with one of the nobles crossing the gates. Then, they traded with Berk of all people.


    Every thief out of bars knew Berk. He was an old, irritable man who was generally unpleasant to be around, even if you were allied with him. But, he was the person who held the Slayers’s purse strings, and had eyes like a hawk. No one in the Root had ever robbed him, as far as the thief had ever heard.


    She planned to be the first.