TravelingDreamer
patreon
B5—Chapter 56: Retail Therapy Across Realms
🕑 Added 2025-02-24 08:41:34 +0000 UTCI dropped everything I’d taken from the palace at the distribution warehouse and scattered the overflow around it—it wasn’t nearly big enough to hold everything. After that, I transferred all the food from my Storage into Mahya’s and Al’s to free up space, while the items we wanted to keep went into the storage halls of my house. I only kept the boxes of coins we’d collected from the palace and my usual personal things.
As payback for sending me on this errand without asking, I refused to cook. Let them survive on “dry rations” and local food. Still, I wasn’t a total bastard—I secretly slipped Rue all my grilled and smoked meat. His tail thumped against my leg in appreciation as he stored it. The rest of the gang was none the wiser about my little act of rebellion.
When I checked the Map, the journey didn’t seem as daunting as it had initially sounded. When Mahya first mentioned it, I’d pictured myself flying for days. However, since we flew in a zigzag pattern between cities, searching for dungeon concentrations and gate-hopping, the Gate to Lumis wasn’t actually that far. I estimated the distance to be around 1,500 miles—give or take a few. Not exactly a quick hop, but not an endless flight, either.
At first, I didn’t push myself to top speed—my head hurt too much—but after two hours of steady flight, I picked up the pace. The wind roared past, the scent of distant rivers and blooming forests rushing up at me. I hated to admit it, and I’d never tell Mahya, but she was right. Flying over all that endless green pulled my focus outward, away from the dull throb in my skull. The headache didn’t fade much, but it felt more like background noise now—still there, but no longer overwhelming.
When the sun set, I kept going. Sleeping didn’t seem likely with the lingering headache anyway, and Fortify Life Force kept me going—at least partially.
Sometime in the middle of the night, I reached the Gate, standing in the heart of the glorious junkyard. The moonlight gleamed off rusted metal and discarded relics, making the whole place look like a treasure hoard gone to ruin. For a moment, I regretted not bringing my core with me. With all the stone it had “returned” for construction, I wasn’t too worried about it reaching its absorption limit—and this junkyard was just too damn good.
Sighing, I set the RV near the Gate, activated the defenses, and finally fell asleep.
By morning, my head felt much better. The headache still lingered, but the edge had dulled to something manageable. Another day, and I’d be back to normal.
It was midsummer in Lumis. Blech! It was also summer in Zindor, but at least there, the heat was dry. Here, the air clung to my skin like a damp blanket, thick enough to choke on. It felt like I was breathing soup.
For a moment, I considered taking my time—the heat was suffocating—but I shook off the thought. With the time skip, a single day here was something like three weeks in Zindor. It was an excellent cover for the resource run, making it seem like I hadn’t moved too fast. Still, I didn’t like leaving my friends alone for too long.
Crystalspire looked the same as ever. I couldn’t spot any difference from my last visit—the same crowded streets, plazas packed with vendors, and the bazaar right where it had always been. The only actual change was its size—it had grown by about twenty or thirty percent.
I wonder how they’ll react to the coins from Zindor.
I stepped up to the first spell scroll seller, a wiry man with a sharp gaze and ink-stained fingers. His stall was stacked high with neatly arranged scrolls, some tied with simple twine, others bound in delicate silk ribbons. The scent of old parchment and faint traces of mana lingered in the air.
After scanning his selection, I pointed to the lot. “I’ll take all of them.”
His eyes widened for a fraction of a second before he quickly masked his surprise with a polite nod. “A fine purchase, sir.”
I pulled out a selection of Zindor’s coins and placed them on the wooden counter with a metallic clink. “Do you accept these?”
The merchant’s gaze flickered to the coins, and his eyes lost focus momentarily, his fingers twitching as if he were mentally calculating, before his face split into a toothy grin. “Of course, of course. I just need to appraise them to calculate the value.”
Well, that answered that.
I owed him 880 gold and had expected to part with a hefty crate of Zindor’s coins. Instead, he carefully counted out only a small chest’s worth before pushing the rest back toward me.
Well, that’s interesting. Either the metal was of higher quality, or these coins held more value for some other reason.
Scooping up the excess, I grinned. I love loot.
We didn’t need the money, not really. If anything, I had too much of it. But loot? Loot was different. That, I could never have enough of.
I cleared out every spell seller I could find, sweeping up both regular and single-use scrolls. There was no point in leaving anything behind—I wasn’t coming back. Once the spells were secured, I tore through the bazaar like a locust, stripping a good chunk of it clean.
Some merchants tried to haggle, eyes narrowing as they sized me up, but once they realized I was buying in bulk, their tones softened into eager sales pitches. Some even threw in freebies—minor trinkets and small enchanted items they probably thought would tempt me into returning.
I skipped the furniture—plenty of forest for wood—and ignored melee weapons. With everything we’d hauled in from Almatai, they were set in that department. But everything else was fair game. Or, more precisely, the first half-kilometer of the bazaar.
By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, I had to call it a night and push the rest to the next day. What I’d expected to be a quick shopping trip stretched into four full days of relentless spending. I stocked up on massive quantities of just about everything, clearing Mahya’s entire shopping list—and then some.
On the bright side, by day two, my headache was completely gone. Whether it was retail therapy or just forcing my focus outward, I didn’t know. Didn’t matter. What mattered was that it was gone.
She hadn’t mentioned furniture, and I still avoided anything wood-based, but mattresses were a different story. I figured they could use them. The sellers were more than happy to part with them, stacking them up in neat piles, practically bouncing with excitement at such an easy sale.
I also picked up some couches and padded chairs when I encountered a seller with massive cloth bags stuffed with soft and fluffy filling. The texture reminded me of synthetic furniture and duvet stuffing from Earth, but it felt completely natural when I touched it.
I ran my fingers through the stuffing, letting it sift through my hands before giving it a firm squeeze. “What’s this made of?”
The seller barely glanced up from where he was folding some empty bags. “Fural wool and tiftaf fiber.”
I nodded, recognizing fural—a type of sheep they had here—but tiftaf was a mystery. I tilted my head. “What’s tiftaf?”
“A fibrous plant that makes the filling airy and springy,” he said, rubbing a handful between his fingers as if to demonstrate its texture.
I hummed in interest, shifting my grip on the stuffed bag. “Where can I buy it?”
The seller paused, his brow furrowing as he gave me a slow once-over. “Why would you need tiftaf?” He gestured to the filled bags stacked around us. “You can just buy the filling here.”
I shrugged. “I collect interesting plants.”
He blinked at me, then tilted his head slightly and gave me a look like he wasn’t sure whether I was joking or just a little unhinged. Still, he answered. The plant grew in the “breadbasket” region of Crystalholm, the same area I’d passed through when I traveled this world. After some back and forth, I pinpointed its location on my Map and added it to my shopping list.
After finishing at the bazaar, I headed to the mage guild. Inside, the scent of old parchment and burnt ozone filled my lungs as I approached the counter. The mage on duty, a middle-aged man in deep blue robes, barely glanced up from his ledger.
"I need building spells," I said, leaning against the polished counter.
That got his attention. He straightened, adjusting the thin spectacles perched on the bridge of his nose. "Any particular type, or are you looking for something specific?"
"Everything you have," I said.
The mage blinked. "All of them?" His voice cracked slightly, and he coughed, composing himself. "You want our entire stock?"
"Yeah." I tapped my fingers on the counter, scanning the shelves behind him. "Whatever you’ve got."
Muttering something under his breath—hopefully a silent spell to double-check his inventory, rather than a curse—he motioned to a younger mage in faded brown robes and told him to retrieve the scrolls. One by one, the apprentice brought out stacks of neatly rolled parchment, tied in color-coded ribbons.
They had some interesting ones I’d never looked into before.
Swift Joinery
For 50 mana, seamlessly connects wooden beams, planks, or logs as if expertly fitted together, reducing assembly time.
Quick Cure
For 75 mana, accelerates the drying and hardening of mortar, cement, or plaster, allowing structures to be used sooner.
Rapid Framework
Temporarily stabilizes wooden frames or scaffolding, preventing collapse and enabling faster construction. Mana cost depends on the structure’s size and complexity.
Stacking Aid
For 50 mana, causes bricks, stones, or wooden beams to hover slightly, making placement faster and more precise.
Even Spread
For 60 mana, distributes sand, gravel, or cement evenly over a surface, ensuring a smooth foundation without manual labor.
Mass Lift
For 120 mana, raises multiple stones, beams, or planks at once, allowing workers to position them with ease. Mana cost scales with weight.
Auto Alignment
For 80 mana, adjusts misaligned walls, floors, or frames, ensuring they are level and properly positioned without manual correction.
Final Reinforcement
For 500 mana, permanently enhances the strength and durability of a completed structure, making it resistant to wear, weather, and physical damage. It reinforces weak points and solidifies joints. Multiple casters can channel mana together to share the cost of the spell.
I set aside four of each new spell for us, plus three extras of the older ones for the gang and two I didn’t already have for myself.
The mage’s eyes widened as he finished his calculations. “That’s over four hundred scrolls. Even with the bulk discount, the total comes to 13,780 gold.”
I didn’t flinch, already pulling a chest from my Storage. The moment I opened it, the glint of Zindor coins caught the candlelight.
The mage froze, his pupils dilating as his fingers trembled. Muttering under his breath, he reached into the pile of coins and appraised a few of them. Then, like a puppet with its strings suddenly cut, he swayed slightly.
"Everything all right?" I asked.
He blinked rapidly, shaking his head as if clearing his thoughts. "Yes, of course. Just unexpected." Clearing his throat, he gestured to the apprentice, who quickly set to work tallying up the coins' worth.
Well, the guild had cost more than emptying the bazaar—but it was worth it. Between the bazaar and the mage guild, I’d parted with over ten crates of coins. Mahya was going to kick my butt for spending so much.
I grinned wickedly. That’s what she gets for voluntelling me for an errand.
The Potion Emporium was my next stop, and the process there was far quicker. The moment I stepped inside, the familiar scent of herbs filled my nose. A clerk approached almost immediately, and I handed over Al’s list without a word. With a nod, he led me to the waiting room—a space I had waited in before.
The order took a few hours to prepare—it was a long list—but the transaction itself was smooth. I handed over the list, waited, and paid. Simple.
Since I already knew they accepted unusual coins, I didn't bother asking. I set down two crates of Zindor’s coins, and about an hour later, a representative returned for some more. After another half an hour, he returned with a smaller box of change. It was efficient, if tedious.
Finding the plaza with the pies for Rue took longer than it should have. Either they’d moved, or I’d gotten completely turned around somewhere along the way. In the end, I tracked it down using my nose, which was a novel experience. Usually, that was Rue’s job. I bought out every pie they had in both plazas—savory and sweet.
With that errand done, I moved on to the next bizarre task on my to-do list: finding a badger. I shook my head the entire time, baffled at how my life had come to this. A man with the ability to travel across dimensions and enough money to buy the city is out on a mission to say hello to a badger.
It wasn’t as easy as it sounded. When I finally reached the location, it took me more than an hour of scanning, listening, and sniffing around like an idiot before I spotted the critter. I felt absurdly proud—it wasn’t that easy to find it.
Badger located, I landed, and—to my mild surprise—it recognized me. Or at least, it seemed to, given the way it barreled toward me at full speed.
I patted it on the head a few times. “Rue says hi,” I told it, though I had no idea if it understood.
Since I’d already offloaded all the ready-cooked meat to Rue and distributed the rest of the supplies, my only option was to feed the badger a couple of pies. I grumbled internally at the sheer absurdity of the situation, but the badger had no such complaints. It tore into the pies with gusto, blissfully unaware.
Shopping done for all three conspirators and the badger properly greeted, I hesitated. The plant fiber for furniture was great, sure, but I’d already been in Lumis for six days. With the time skip, that meant about four months had passed in Zindor.
I exhaled sharply and shook my head. They can take care of themselves.
The town was easy enough to find, perched on a large hill with sprawling fields stretching in every direction. As far as the eye could see, a single type of plant dominated the landscape. It grew in dense clusters, each stalk long and slender, topped with a round leaf.
What caught my attention wasn’t just the sheer abundance—it was the shape. Normally, leaves like these had a small indentation where the stem met the base, but these were perfectly round, with the stem connecting directly in the center. The effect made the entire field look like a sea of umbrellas, some fully open with a slight downward tilt, while others were half-closed, as if caught mid-motion.
Intrigued, I flew down into town, where vendors sold bags of the processed plant fiber. That wasn’t what I wanted. I needed to understand how they processed it.
After a bit of sleuthing—to use Mahya’s favorite word—I found my way to several large, open-air sheds where the plants hung upside down to dry. Not far from there, a workshop hummed with activity. Slipping inside under the cover of invisibility, I observed the workers up close.
Rows of long tables lined the room, each staffed by a pair of workers. They moved with efficient precision, tearing off the round leaves and tossing them into nearby bins. They carefully plucked the seed clusters at the base of each leaf, around the stem, and collected them in a container. Every so often, someone would carry the full container to a large box at the end of the room and dump the seeds inside.
Meanwhile, the workers ran the stems through long combs, tools resembling brushes but with dense iron bristles. With a practiced motion, they "combed" the fibers loose, breaking the stalks down into long, usable strands.
Simple enough.
What wasn’t simple was trying to buy the seeds.
At the first shop, I approached a woman arranging fiber bags around the perimeter of the shop. “I’d like to buy some seeds,” I said casually, expecting a straightforward transaction.
Her friendly demeanor vanished instantly. She stiffened, her lips pressing into a thin line. “We don’t sell seeds,” she said, voice clipped. “Only processed fiber.”
I raised a hand in a placating gesture. “I’m not looking to compete with you—I just think the plants are beautiful. I’d like to grow a few in a private garden.”
Her expression didn’t soften. If anything, it grew more suspicious. “We don’t sell seeds,” she repeated firmly, before turning her back on me.
Alright. That could’ve gone better.
I tried another shop. Then another. The same conversation played out again and again, with slight variations. Some were more polite, some more curt, but the answer never changed. No one was willing to sell me seeds.
After exhausting my options, I had only one choice left.
That night, invisible once more, I returned to the workshop. The large box sat in the corner, filled nearly to the brim. I took out the biggest bowl I had and filled it to the brim.
I didn’t want to outright steal from these people—they weren’t assholes, just overly protective of their crop—so I pulled out ten gold coins and left them beside the box. No idea who would end up with them, but at least, ethically, I could sleep at night.
With my Growth spell, we’d have a full crop in no time. These plants were too useful to pass up.
The next day, I bought out every “plant comb” they had for sale. Unlike the seeds, those weren’t a problem—no suspicion or refusals—just business. Still, to be safe, I changed my glamor before making the purchase, just in case anyone remembered me from the day before.
After some thought, I also picked up the processed plant fiber. Back in Zindor, the farming areas around the keep had plenty of woolly animals, so they could start making stuffed furniture with the fiber long before we grew a new crop. No sense in wasting a perfect chance to buy an excellent resource and tweak Mahya’s nose a bit more.
Since I was already near Crystaledge, I made a detour and bought out every spell I could get my hands on—regular and single-use alike. That little shopping spree set me back another three crates of coins.
By the time I tallied it all up, I’d burned through about two-thirds of what we’d taken from the palace.
I tried—honestly, I did—but I couldn’t wipe the grin off my face. Mahya was going to be so pissed.
And it was going to be glorious.
Payback wasn’t a bitch—it was a work of art.
Comments
Angela Roberts
Fun! Shopping for the win! And petty revenge is always nice.
brennon Petersen
Tftc!
