DUNGEON FILE 007:
KNOWLEDGE IS A DEADLY FRIEND
My thoughts on the Silver Country and Ardenne had been consistently simmering for some time since our previous conversation.
Thankfully, the sights of the Sunken Ravine [Sanctuary] were a pleasant distraction.
I found myself gaping like a tourist—which, technically, I guess I was. It was quite entertaining to look here and there at the organization of these narrow streets so unlike those back on the topworld.
The streets were narrow, twisting alleyways barely wide enough for two people to pass without brushing shoulders. Market stalls were crammed into every conceivable nook and cranny, overflowing with goods lit by flickering lanterns that made the whole place feel like the inside of a massive, cluttered hearth.
And strangest of all? Trees! Actual, pale, gnarled trees grew down here, their crooked branches pinching and squeezing through cracks in the rock and between buildings, desperately reaching for the faint light filtering down from the impossibly high cavern ceiling.
It was a little difficult to imagine how they might survive down here, much less thrive, forcing themselves to reach the few cracks of light in the sky. What kind of messed-up biology lets a tree thrive ten thousand meters underground?
If I were any more curious, I might have asked Mendell for some information on them; I refrained from doing so, of course. I was certain he would mock me once more with saying something along the lines, 'It's hilarious you focus on dendrology now, of all things,' or maybe 'Is that really your biggest concern right now? Impressive!'.
The air in the [Sanctuary] was thick with competing smells. Cloying incense (which I had presumed was to mask more unpleasant things…), old dusty wood, and something that might have been the tang of blood, but I wouldn't be able to tell.
There were peddlers hawking questionable wares, ragged troubadours sining depressing dirges, and buskers performed tricks that looked suspiciously like pickpocketing attempts, each shouting over the other, fighting for attention from the newcomers crossing the bridge to the [Sanctuary] like golden-eagles circling.
As we continued through the alleys, my attention was drawn to a peculiar cart positioned at the edge of a row of grimy tents. Its wheels were cracked and worn, painted a dull, unremarkable brown. A dark chiffon drape concealed the contents within the cart, but a variety of objects were displayed on racks surrounding it.
It looked like… a hearse.
Plenty of weapons, assorted herbs and materials, locked chests of various sizes, and other things I couldn't quite recognize littered the racks of the shop. The cart was adorned with intricate carvings, though they were too worn to make out clearly, and above it hung a sign that read:
Niamh's Curiosities & Undying Relics.
"Who's that?" I muttered, my curiosity piqued despite myself. "And is she selling out of a… Is she selling goods out of a funeral cart?"
Mendell turned his head, frowning slightly in a disapproving glare. "That's Niamh. She's got everything from magic spells to cursed trinkets, though I can't say I like her. She freaks me out, honestly."
What kind of person would it take to freak out someone as intense and serious as Mendell?
"You know her?" I asked, pointing at the cart. Mendell gave a soft snort of disdain.
"Unfortunately," he muttered under his breath. "As for her shop, it's actually quite common for shopkeeps to sell their wares out of hearses. They're like carriages on wheels, so it's easy to transport goods across [Sanctuary]s. You'll run into plenty of carriage shops such as that. Not to mention, they're meant to hold bodies, and… well, where do you think the owners scavenge their goods from?"
"Huh!?" I squeaked. "You mean… There's bodies in there? Do they really rob the stuff they sell from the corpses in the Dungeon? What happens when the owners of that stuff revive?"
The idea of that simple storefront cart being loaded with bodies inside of it behind the black veil made my stomach churn.
Mendell chuckled humorlessly. "Simple! The poor sods respawn… usually right inside the hearse that collected their corpse, conveniently located next to all their freshly looted gear." He grinned maliciously. "Instant captive customer! Isn't it innovative? Gotta buy your own stuff back, often at a markup. Niamh practically invented the system. She's got the heart of a true vulture… I mean, businesswoman."
"Yoo-hoo~!"
A figure emerged from behind the cart. A woman, unnervingly tall and poised, dressed in layers of dark fabric—a heavy black wool cloak, a long forest-green skirt, intricate purple lace sleeves peeking out, adorned with silver cuffs. Her posture was ramrod straight, almost doll-like in its stiffness.
Pale lilac hair, short and messy in feathery layers, framed a face with smooth, flawless skin and silvery eyes that held an icy, detached quality. They flicked towards us, settling on Mendell, then me, then back again. In summary, she was beautiful.
Dare I say, even sexy?
"Well, well, if it isn't Mendell," the woman's voice rang out, crisp and cold. "And with company, no less. A new face in the [Sanctuary]. How quaint." Her gaze flicked from me back to Mendell, to me, back to Mendell, before returning to me once more. I blushed instantly (Perhaps a bit shamelessly as well.). "And you are...?"
I swallowed my flustered discomfort and straightened, offering a terse nod. "Ayauhcihuatl Tallón. Call me Aya."
"Niamh," the woman responded simply. No surname. Her lips barely twitched into something resembling a smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. I looked away quickly and turned back to Mendell, although the way I saw it, they were both rather intimidating.
"Should we ask her for recommendations on weapons she sells?" I tugged on his gloved hand and inquired privately. "I'd quite like to find something I could use to stab. You know, in case I happen to run into those freaky nautilus tentacles again, or to fight on the lower levels on our way to find Ardenne, you won't have to waste time on me."
He tensed up instantly, arms stiffly crossed against his chest.
"You certainly do need to find a weapon… I can vouch anything Niamh sells is honest, despite my more personal issues with her. Her pricing is fair, as well, but keep in mind there are also plenty of other reputable shopkeeps in the Sunken Ravine."
"Very well. I suppose it would be wise to window-shop for a while before committing to any purchases, wouldn't it?"
"Yes, certainly. I have a good business relationship with a Blacksmith on the south end of the [Sanctuary], who goes by Gil—"
"Gillaume?" Niamh, who had been eavesdropping on our conversation this entire time, chimed in. "He once tried to charge me double for a simple repair on a rusty dagger I had been trying to upsell. Now, I might be many things, but I am a fair businesswoman above all. Mendell, you know me well enough—Would you truly waste the whole day shopping around the [Sanctuary], when you're aware my starting gear selection is perfectly acceptable? I even specialize in selling supplies to recent descenders, after all…"
Mendell rolled his eyes. "Oh, I'm well aware recent descenders are the only ones gullible to deal with you. It's not a selling point, and for the record, if I was Gillaume I would have charged you triple."
"If the quality of Niamh's goods isn't the issue, it wouldn't hurt to only look, wouldn't it?" I interjected, playing peacemaker (and also genuinely wanting to see what she had). "Better to check now than waste time walking. What if she does have the best deal for what I need?"
"The pretty girl has a point, you know~" The teasing voice came with a singsong lilt.
Fuck. Pretty girl? My face flushed all over again.
"Very well," Mendell conceded. "Let's have a look, then."
"Yippee~!" Niamh clasped her hands together with a vibrant smile of appreciation, though her eyes still seemed rather cold. "Oh, and, you haven't yet mentioned, dear one—What might you be looking for? A weapon? Combat spells? Stat-boosting armor? I stock anything your desperate little heart might desire!"
Mendell seized his chance to be insufferable.
"Would you happen to have triple-stitched calfskin riding gloves with articulated knuckles and fleece lining, size 7 ¼?" He muttered spitefully, giving Niamh a condescending glare. "You did claim you could sell us anything we desired, did you not? Or should we seek out a more competent merchant?"
Niamh's smile faltered for a moment—only a moment.
"I... see," she muttered, clearly scrambling for a way to save face. "That is... quite specific."
"Might just be easier just to go to Gillaume's forge," Mendell continued, almost too innocently. "He partners with Elara, the best leathersmith in this whole sector. I'm sure she could whip something up…"
"...Give her a break, Mendell," I nudged him sharply before turning back to the clearly flustered shopkeeper. "He's just being an ass. I'm the one shopping."
Niamh exhaled, clearly relieved. "Ah, wonderful… And what, dear one, do you require?"
"Well. Something... uh, practical? Though I can't say I have much experience in any sort of weapons or magic training, so it'd have to be easy to learn and use."
Gods, this is embarrasing.
The sharpest thing I've held is a sewing needle, but the pretty shopkeeper doesn't need to know that. It's already embarrassing enough to be this unskilled at everything else.
"Practical, hmm~?" Niamh mused, her voice like the hiss of a snake. "Such a broad request. I have many things that would fulfill that need, but you seem so fresh, I'd doubt you even have high enough stats to wield any of them… Do you specialize in anything?" She eyed me with an almost pitying look, and I felt a fresh wave of humiliation rush to my cheeks.
"I've never been trained, as I've said, and… Well, no, I suppose I don't have any 'stats' invested either…"
"She didn't even know what the [System] was before falling down here," Mendell helpfully supplied with zero mercy.
"Mendell!" I flushed.
"Is that so? To reach this age on the Topworld without even hearing of the [System]? My dear, you must have lived in a gilded cage indeed!"
"Yes, yes, I understand that," I grumble. "So since I don't quite know what I'm doing, could one of you advise me on how I should raise these stats for the future? Please?" This was a good opportunity to ask.
It seemed better to at least get two opinions instead of one biased one, even if these two were the shiftiest possible people I could've asked.
"Well, In terms of protection," Mendell cut in. "You'll need to think about which stats you'll expend [Essence] on. [Strength] and [Judgement] are some simple ones to start considering, for example—If you plan to focus on [Strength], melee weapons are a better move. As for [Judgement], I recall Niamh also sells a variety of spells which can attack things from a longer range."
"On the contrary," Niamh interrupted. "While those are foundational, one must consider synergy with potential skills and long-term build paths. I do believe it would be wise to inform this dear of all her choices, would it not? May I beseech you to consider—"
"Niamh," Mendell's tone suddenly shifted fiercely, forcing a smile to feign politeness. "There is no need to confuse her with too many details, is there? I'd appreciate it if you would hold your tongue on the advice, and maybe stick to the peddling instead."
The shopkeeper's composed expression broke for an instant before she returned to a placid smile with a forced hum of agreement. 'Such a rude little thing you are', I swore I could hear the shopkeep grumble under her breath.
I shifted uncomfortably. Great. Thanks, Mendell, just cut off potentially useful information. Who made HIM the gatekeeper of what I get to know?!
"Uh," I broke out of my thoughts, now considering the choices available to me out loud. "Back in the Empire, magic never made any sense to me. I don't think it would be any easier now. Plus, if I'm ever in trouble, it's much simpler to swing a sword at an enemy instead of fumbling to remember words. It can't be too complicated to learn if I have all the time I could want here to build up my muscle memory."
"Well, dear one," Niamh politely beamed. "I believe I have just the thing. Now, what is your budget?"
My stomach instantly twisted into a knot of frustration—I had nothing to offer, did I? No coin, no valuables, no possessions of any kind. I couldn't even trade information or items, for I possessed nothing of value at all.
My pride is burning….
"I don't have any coin," I admitted quietly, voice low.
I hated how small I felt saying it.
Mendell's voice then broke through my thoughts, sharp and snide as ever. "Don't worry, princess. I'll cover it."
"H-Huh?!" Note to self to ban him from calling me that ever again.
Niamh's eyes lit up, instantly calculating. She definitely knows he has funds, then.Without a word, she turned, drew back the heavy curtain of the hearse (Don't think about what else is in there, Aya), and rummaged inside.
After a moment, she emerged with a fine sword, its blade gleaming in the shop's candlelight.
She held it out towards Mendell to examine, her demeanor clearly pleased at being able to make some profit off of this after all.
I observed astutely as Niamh handed the sword over to Mendell. It was a double-edged straight blade, approximately three feet in length, polished like a mirror. The grip was wrapped in what looked like tightly bound leather, dark in color, and sized for a single hand. Despite my lack for knowledge in weapons, I could tell it was a beautiful thing.
"This is too much," I instantly flushed. "I can find my own way to earn some coin and purchase it myself. I really don't need something like this."
Mendell's lips quirked into a half-smile, his eyes distant as he leaned against one of the shop's weapon racks. "Yeah, well, tough luck. You're still getting a weapon."
"You can't just—"
"Watch me," Mendell shot me a glance. Then, without a word, he fished around in his pockets, pulling out a few silver pieces, then a few more, and finally, reluctantly, handed over enough for the sword.
Niamh muttered a few words I couldn't make out with a look that was somewhere between sly and puzzled, and Mendell then proceeded to grunt a curt response in turn.
"That cover it?" he muttered, not meeting her eyes.
Niamh nodded. The shopkeep, ever the picture of alluring cold composure, slid the finely crafted steel sword off her cart's rack. The blade gleamed in the dim light in a very pretty manner.
"This style of sword is known as a 'jian', a solid weapon originating from the Land of Ivory. It will serve you well," she explained.
Mendell grabbed the sword by the hilt and forced it into my hands with a dismissive wave. "Take it."
"This is ridiculous," I muttered, more to myself than anyone else. I took the sword with much reluctance. You're weak. Deal with it. What other choice do you have?
My chest tightened as I took hold of the hilt, and for a moment, I could not tell if it was the weight of the sword or the weight of everything else; like the fact I'd have to actually learn how to kill with this thing.