"You too?" I asked simply, looking at Roland and Nerissa.They nodded.
"Finally, I'd say," he commented, the shadow of a smile curling his lips.
Nerissa asked seriously, "Have you already decided what to do?"
I laughed outright. "Are you kidding? What do you mean 'already'? I've been thinking about this moment for years!"
"Either way," Roland brought me back down to earth, "we'll have to pay someone to train us. Don't get too excited."
"With the proceeds from this mission…" Nerissa seemed to think it over. "We should have enough, right?" She then turned to me. "How much money do we have left?"
I did some quick mental math."I'd say our savings amount to a total of 50 gold lira, 9 silver lira, and 15 copper coins. Considering rent, food, equipment maintenance, and the need to keep some savings for emergencies, our actual purchasing power is…"My expression darkened the moment I realized the result."…15 gold lira, 2 silver lira, and 23 copper coins," I finished flatly.
I didn't tell them we were actually closer to 13 gold lira, considering that the crystal I used as a catalyst for my spells had just cracked. I must have burned through too much mana too quickly.
We looked at each other, discouraged.
"Well, you have to start somewhere," Roland said with some hope in his voice, turning toward the corpses. "Let's hope they've got something useful for us."
We began searching the dead with practiced efficiency. When we regrouped, here's what we'd found:
The cultists carried a total of 51 copper coins — equivalent to five silver lira plus a single coin left over. Enough to repair one person's gear, but not much more.
Their weapons were three shortswords in terrible condition, probably sellable for around 25 gold lira in total. Nerissa refused to take one in favor of her dagger. I wouldn't have known how to use one anyway, and Roland already had his saber, so there were no objections. We'd bring them to one of our trusted smiths the next day.
The clothes of the dead were in such miserable condition that we decided not to take them, except for the leather armor that had blocked Roland's strike. It definitely needed to be taken to an armorer, but repairing it would be cheaper than buying a new one, and he needed something to protect himself since being in the front line was his job.
The sacrificial knife the priest had been holding had vanished when he died. Searching the area, I concluded it must have been created magically.
"There are spells that do that?" Nerissa asked skeptically.
I shrugged. "I think so. I've heard there's one that creates a temporary focus, for example. Probably the same type of magic."
At that moment, I found something hidden in the priest's right boot: a wand of dark wood, similar to walnut but with a softer texture, adorned with a thin silver thread running through its center. On the right half it bore an indecipherable arcane pattern; on the left it was completely smooth. I examined it for a while before giving up.
"We'll have to get it identified. If he didn't use it against us, it's probably got some pretty nasty side effects."
"Cursed?" Nerissa asked.
"Who knows," I replied noncommittally. "My Identification rank is only 1. Better to ask someone who knows more."
"Can't you tell us anything at all?" Roland asked as he strapped the swords to his pack.
"Only that it's got some kind of second-level spell, probably with limited charges."
"Not bad," Nerissa said laconically.
I understood what she was thinking. If my guess was correct, this item could potentially be the most powerful in our meager arsenal. Still, better not to take risks. My master had taught me that much.
After stowing the wand in my bag, I sensed the presence of at least one other magical object in the room. It took me a moment to realize there must be a hidden compartment in the wall behind the altar.
Once I told the others, Nerissa found it first, pressing certain cracked stones in a specific sequence.
The secret compartment contained two rolled-up scrolls and a golden ring set with a purple stone—possibly an amethyst. I whistled, took the scrolls, and unrolled them on the altar. They were written in a strange language, heavily vowel-based like the dialects still spoken today in the Empire's eastern provinces. I didn't recognize it, so I moved on to deciphering the arcane glyphs. The first eluded my understanding. The second felt familiar.
"Locate Corpse. First tier spell, divination," I informed the others.
"Can you learn it?" Roland let a smile touch his lips. Another spell would drastically increase our chances of survival.
"Probably." I thought for a moment. "If I choose to do it we'll have to save around ten gold lira so I can test it and transcribe it into my grimoire."
At the cost, my companions exchanged grim looks.
"We can wait," I added quickly. "My next level will let me add two more spells with no special requirements. I can't choose them, but they should match my personality. Since my arsenal will grow anyway, we should spend our resources helping the two of you instead."
I moved on to analyze the ring. It took me only a couple of seconds to reach a conclusion.
"This one's for Roland."
Nerissa shot me an annoyed glance. "Why?"
"The amethyst comes from a vampire's essence. At least, I think so. I'm guessing it's a life-steal ring."
Nerissa didn't protest further, knowing I had her best interests in mind. Roland gave her a pat on the shoulder, then slid the ring onto his finger.
"Don't worry. I'm sure the next item will be for you."
We made our way home quickly, crossing the wall district in our standard formation: me in the center, Nerissa behind me, and Roland at the front. At this hour of night there weren't many patrols on the streets, and in any case we were exempt from inspections as servants of Lord Wa'il, but none of us wanted to deal with the city guard.
We lived in a rented apartment on the third floor of an old wooden building that had somehow survived the many fires that always plagued the capital during the summer season. Now that technological innovations were arriving faster and faster, the first factories were, of course, built in the outskirts. Often, if the wind didn't blow, the smog and soot made it impossible to breathe clean air for kilometers around, but for now our group couldn't afford better.
Looking at the doorway, the dusty old furniture, and the cot in the corner where I slept, I told myself, "Home again, huh?"
Only then, stepping into the apartment, did I truly believe I had survived another day.