Construction Mage - Chapter 25: Anxious Day

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Another day went by as Clay toiled away with his little project. Either his summon or he would steadily stack the earthen bricks together, layered between some mud mortar, one at a time. Other times, he would be spamming Earth Blasts to restock their material.

It was all tedious work that he would have dreaded if not for one crucial difference—the levels.

After his first foray into the construction work, he found that using his skills and spells outside worked to level them up as well. It didn’t have to be in the dungeon against monsters. That meant he wasn’t just taking a break from the dungeon to build himself a place to stay, as it also doubled as a training session for him. That’s why he never lost steam when repeating monotonous work day after day.

[Ding—Skill: Summon Elemental(I) has leveled up!]

[Ding—Skill: Meditate(I) has leveled up!]

It took him a day and a half to build the first wall of what would become his future home. It was crude and reached only seven feet, making it feel quite cramped, but effective in the sense that it could shelter Clay from the elements. 

In three days’ time, the second wall was erected. It wouldn’t be long before the makeshift abode would be complete, but things were never so easy. On the fourth day, the sum he had spent on the canopy showed its worth. Rain poured down mercilessly from morning to night.

Clay could only hope his work was up to standard, but there were also other things to worry about. There were living expenses to worry about. Each day, he had to pay a hundred Lyons for lodging, and that wasn’t even including food. He only had a little over three hundred Lyons left, and it would be gone quickly now that he wasn’t earning any income.

He had to choose between selling the kobold longsword from his spoils or venturing into the dungeon once again.

I want to keep the longsword and have a blacksmith refit it for my use, so the most sensible thing to do is to delve into the dungeon again. But—

The thought of risking his life again so soon unnerved him. If he had to be honest, he quite preferred his current routine, doing monotonous work while grinding up his skills. There was a lot in store for him in the dungeons, but the episode with the teleportation trap wouldn’t leave his mind. Despite realizing that the chances of that happening again were low, especially if he stayed on the outskirts, he couldn’t assuage his feelings.

Just the slightest possibility of ending up alone and lost in the depths of monster-infested territory made him want to abandon the idea entirely.

Listening to the melodious sound of rainfall by his windowsill at the inn, he blankly stared at the residents of Ravenhold going about their morning as he lost himself in his thoughts. Memories of his previous life filled his mind.

Every time it had rained, he had cursed under his breath as he was never one to bring an umbrella despite having to walk for over half an hour to work. He cursed the inequality of society, his luck, and his inadequacies that put him in a position where he couldn’t afford a car. It didn’t help public transit had shit coverage, either. The one time he had bought a bike, it had been stolen within the month, and the police were too useless to do anything.

However, upon thinking back on these unpleasant memories, he found them not to be all that unpleasant. Compared to what he had now, with dangers lurking in every corner, the life he had previously had wasn’t so bad in comparison. There were very few things he wouldn’t do right now to regain regular access to a hot shower.

Days like this would be perfect to laze around, reading while sipping on a cup of hot tea.

Thinking of tea, he remembered he had bought some from the herbalist store that had stitched his wounds. After buying it, it had been too much work to fetch and boil water, so he had yet to sample it. It was finally time to change that.

It didn’t take long to fetch a bucket of water from the well conveniently located in his inn. The staff there only charged him ten Lyons to use their kitchen, where the fire at the stove was already going. Midway through boiling water, he once again realized he barely owned anything. He didn’t even have a cup, pots, or any utensils. Those were all things he would need to obtain once he moved out.

Once the water boiled, Clay sprinkled a few loose tea leaves into a mug and steeped them in the hot water. A gentle scent reminiscent of chamomile tea rose with the steam. By the time he returned to his room, it had cooled down enough to drink. Taking a sip, Clay’s first impression was that it was a weak knockoff version of chamomile.

How strange, he thought as he played with the leaves in question. These are definitely tea leaves, but they have an even weaker aroma than flower teas. Maybe it’s the way I steeped it? Does the water need to be at a different temperature, or were the leaves not properly roasted?

While the tea wasn’t strong enough to scratch his itch, a hot drink on a rainy day was still quite gratifying. The warmth spread across his body, the closest he’d get to a hot shower.

With renewed vigor, Clay finally decided on a course of action.

The tea made him realize there was a lot to learn about this world, and rushing wouldn’t help. He needed to stick to his plan to steadily build himself up until he was in a position to influence others. No one knew how long that would take, but it undoubtedly required steadiness and consistency. 

With a decision made, he retrieved the Kobold Longsword of Heft and departed for the Delver enclosure.

The marketplace was bustling as always, despite the rain. Delvers were still out in force, with the only difference being the addition of numerous canopies shielding the area. Not wanting to join the ranks of the vendors here, Clay went up to one of the stalls with a lot of weapons.

“Hey there, are you buying any weapons?”

The gruff shopkeeper, with a face full of scars, nodded. The man seemed to be the type to speak few words, so Clay skipped small talk and passed him the sword in question.

[Uncommon - Kobold Longsword of Heft: A longsword sized for species of shorter stature. It has the property of adding more weight behind each strike, allowing the user to stand their ground against bigger and stronger foes. It is possible for a Blacksmith to learn the blueprint. +4 Strength (Physical Only), +2 Endurance (Physical Only).]

“Beginner weapon. Three gold coins,” the man curtly replied.

“It should be pretty good even if you keep it at its current size. It’ll serve as a good short sword,” Clay bargained. “People should be willing to put out at least seven gold coins for it. Unless you think people prefer a proper longsword. In that case, the value should go up a lot, easily covering the cost of getting the work done.”

“The client will decide that. My price is three gold coins. Take it or leave.”

Seeing how unwilling to compromise the vendor was, Clay was momentarily stunned, unsure of what to do. While he wasn’t familiar with the market price, taking the first price someone quoted didn’t seem to be a good idea. Just as the vendor was getting impatient with his indecision, a voice chimed in from behind.

“Good sir, if you don’t mind, I can help you get a better price for that!”

The voice came from a skinny teenager wearing haggard clothes. It was an appearance that was completely out of place in the Delver enclosure filled with wealthy people.

“Hey brat! What did I say about minding your own business?”

“Screw you. I’m a proper Delver, too! I can do what I want and speak to who I want,” the boy taunted while flashing his identification token to the vendor before turning to Clay. “Don’t let this stingy old man scam you. Follow me, I’ll get you a much better deal. For a small fee, of course.”

Glancing between the two, Clay shrugged and went along with the boy to hear him out. He was quite curious about what the teenager had to say anyway, and he could always just sell his sword to someone else later.

“Excuse me.”

The weapon dealer stared at the boy with gritted teeth, but didn’t respond, so Clay and the boy walked off to the corner of the market.

“Sir, I can help you sell that thing for at least five gold. However, I’d want half the extra amount I’d get you, so in the case it sells for five gold, you’ll pay me a gold coin. Is that fine with you?”

“If you’re that confident in haggling, sure. But I’m holding onto the goods.”

“It’s a deal then!” the boy cheered as he let out a victorious grin. “Just follow me. I know a few vendors who are much more generous than that old miser.”

“Hm, go ahead. I’m following. What’s your name, by the way?”

“Malik, at your service. You can normally find me by the open plaza, near the bulletin board, if you need me in the future. I can find what you need and get you the best deals.”

“I’m Clay. I’ll think about your offer, but I’m curious. Why are you doing odd jobs like this if you’re a proper Delver, as you claim?”

“To put‌ food on the table, of course. No one wants to delve with a scrawny boy like me, even as a porter, so this is the next best thing. You’d be surprised to find how terrible most Delvers are with their money, especially the older folks.” Malik paused as he turned back to give Clay an apologetic look. “I don’t mean you specifically, sir. It’s just that the veterans like you usually don’t care to bargain when the amounts are only a few gold coins. Folks like you are loaded, aren’t you?”

“Umm, not exactly. My situation is—unique.”

“Unique?”

Suspecting the boy not to be one with the tact to stop asking, and that they still hadn’t reached their destination, Clay sighed.

“Yes, unique. You see, I’m actually a beginner. Someone who has only recently become a Delver.”

“Oh, I see. Um, nothing wrong with that, I suppose. I don’t think it’s that far-fetched that skills that can restore your youth to exist, seeing how varied the skills are.”

Clay’s attempt at explaining his situation only seemed to make things more confusing, as the boy continued to mouth off various reasons to help him justify why it’s normal for old people to become Delvers, so he just nodded along as they walked. He then changed the topic the moment the boy relented.

“So, Malik. How did you afford to become a Delver, anyway? I don’t mean anything bad by it, but you don’t seem like the type to be able to afford the cost of registration.”

The boy froze mid-step, as if caught in the headlights, and brushed the back of his head nervously.

“Um, you can just say I got lucky, I guess.”

He definitely did something illegal to get the money, didn’t he?

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