Construction Mage - Chapter 19: Spells Are Only a Shortcut

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Unsure what he needed to do in order to meet with the influential merchants who dealt in skill books, Clay eventually wandered back to the tent where the information broker was. It was the perfect place to start when one was at a loss.

Entering the tent, he found the same lady behind the desk. She had her eyes closed, but tilted her head upon noticing him enter.

“Welcome back. How may I help you?”

“I would like to inquire about the middlemen who deal in spell books. How would I come into contact with them?”

“How much are you willing to pay for this information?” the info broker said.

“Name your price.”

“I’m afraid you will not be able to afford full disclosure. However, that isn’t required if all you’re looking to do is sell a spell book. I’d say the minimum price you’ll have to pay me is a thousand Lyons.”

Clay frowned upon hearing the price. It was something he could afford, but it appeared overpriced for just pointing him in the right direction. It didn’t help that he was effectively out of commission while he was in recovery. In the absence of a stable income, it was better to spend thriftily. 

As if seeing through his thoughts, the woman continued.

“I’ll do you a service and remind you that my trade is both for the convenience of my client and the thoroughness of my information. It doesn’t mean you can only find what you want from me. There’s no need to feel forced to use my services. Feel free to take some time to investigate the matter yourself. It’ll become easier for you in the future to tell if the price is worth it that way.”

“That—thank you. It’s a bit eccentric of you to dissuade me from doing business with you, but I appreciate it.”

“Business, trade, and profits are all reliant on people and relationships. I’d be a horrible businesswoman if I forgot about such fundamental truths. It’s much more beneficial for me to foster trust instead of pursuing short-term profits.”

Clay nodded in good faith before he retreated out of the tent. His body was still aching from the injuries, so there was no need to rush. He had enough excitement for one day.

He returned to his inn, grabbed some food, and retired for the night.

The next day, he woke up closer to noon than dawn, despite going to bed early. It was the result of all the fatigue he had built up and his body trying to heal. It became painfully clear how much he had overexerted himself the previous day when his sore body screamed out at him.

The intensity of his adventures was too much for his body to acclimate to in such a short time.

I guess I’m starting to feel my age. Good thing I have no plans of pushing myself to the brink.

Lying on his bed for some time as he mustered the willpower to get up, he pondered his situation regarding the spell books. When he finally managed to get out of bed, he took an account of all his current possessions. He still had his bag of weapons and metal bits, as he was too tired to deal with them yesterday.

The spell book was naturally there, along with his equipment. His eyes eventually wandered to his weapon, the shovel, and he couldn’t help but grimace.

The poor thing was meant to be used as a tool for digging, not continuous combat. It was now dented all over the place, and its edges were blunted. In its current condition, it would neither function properly as a digging tool nor as a weapon.

I’ll need to get this fixed—no, get it replaced. I should have enough for a proper weapon once I sell this haul off. I can’t help but feel guilty to Garrick, though. I wrecked the shovel already.

Thinking of his friend and former superior, Clay found the motivation to get dressed. Both his muscles and wounds yelled out in protest, but he soldiered on. A light stroll to get his blood flowing would serve his body well. With a status screen to monitor his condition, it would be difficult for him to overdo it. Taking a quick peek at it, he found his health had come up to sixty-five percent. Everything was fine. He just needed some more time.

Using his banged-up shovel as a crutch, Clay trekked over to a smithery and sold the metal speartips and armor he had looted. 

“How much for all this?” Clay asked as he hefted his bag onto the desk.

“Give me one moment, sir. Several speartips and armor pieces of such small sizes are only worth their weight in metal. I can only offer you a thousand Lyons for these, sir.”

“That’s fine. More importantly, does your smithery deal with Dungeon weapons like this?” Clay asked as he took out the Kobold Longsword of Heft.

“Apologies, sir. We only deal with mundane weapons. You’ll need to find a Delver smith to work on Delver gear.”

“No problem. I’ll just sell these, then.”

Clay held off on rushing over to the Delver enclosure to find someone with the weaponsmith profession for the moment. If he were to keep the weapon, he would need to get it refitted. He doubted any Delver worked for cheap. Taking a moment to assess his finances, he found that he was just short of three thousand Lyons at the moment. Considering it cost a whole hundred Lyons a day just for the inn, he definitely couldn’t afford to hire a Delver right now. He didn’t mind too much, as the matter regarding his weapon could wait.

Instead, he strolled out to the fourth ring to visit his friend. After sleeping on it for a night, he found himself eager to share his experiences. He wanted to vent about the dangers he faced and celebrate how he overcame them. It was childish, but he felt like he needed to do so in order to come to terms with the ordeal he faced.

“What in the goddesses’ name happened to you?” the large foreman blurted as soon as he got a good look at his limping friend.

“Occupational injury. You wouldn’t believe how unlucky I got yesterday.”

Dragging Garrick over to the food stall, Clay began regaling his experiences within the dungeon. He went into detail, taking an entire hour to do so.

“I told yer Delving ain’t no good, especially when you do it alone. Take it as a hard-earned lesson and come back. I’d gladly rehire you.”

“No, thank you. What happened was a lesson for sure, but I doubt it’ll happen again. I was naive and blind to the dangers of traps. Overeager too. In the future, I won’t be venturing that far in unless I hire someone to deal with the traps for me.”

“Stubborn fool. It’s your life that you’re risking, so that’s all I can say, but you should at least consider finding a full party. I know yer gonna get restless again soon and you’ll be heading in deep again.”

“I told you already. No one welcomes mages until they get a lot stronger, to the point where they could level an entire field with one spell. Finding a party is not exactly an option I have. I have also already found a spell book that should be able to trade for the Earthen Wall spell I want. No reason for me to head that deep again until I can breeze through it.”

“Right, that spell you think can just build a house for yer. As someone who’s built half the third ring, I’ve got to tell you that you’re oversimplifying things. No fancy magic trick will be able to replace years of experience and the hard labor you have to put in. Shortcuts will only cause problems in the not-so-distant future!”

“I don’t doubt that, but it’ll surely speed things along and won’t cost me a fortune to hire dozens of artisans for months.”

The two large men stared at the worksite for a long moment in silence. Dozens of people toiled away before them, all working toward a single goal. The labor involved made it clear it wasn’t just as simple as setting up four walls and a roof. There were plenty of skilled workers involved, even if you ignored the artistic flair added to the church, like with the engravings and statues. The way houses retained heat in the winter and stayed cool in the summer, or how to prevent leaks in the future, all of it required years of experience to know how to address.

Clay knew that the Earthen Wall spell wasn’t a panacea that solved all his issues. In fact, it wasn’t even strictly needed. He could build his house the old-fashioned way or even use his Earthen Blast instead, like he did with the toilet seat.

With his experience of firing off an enlarged version of the spell, he thought it was possible to reshape the projectile as well once his Spell Manipulation went up some more. It meant he could mold it into bricks and then use it to build his residence.

However, it would obviously take a lot longer compared to having an entire wall magically manifest within an instant. The mana cost of making so many changes to a spell was exorbitant, as well.

Just as he was lost in his musing, Clay was abruptly brought back to reality as Garrick tapped on his shoulder. He cast a questioning gaze at the large foreman, only for him to point toward the walls of the third ring. Looking over, Clay spotted a small caravan of three carriages heading their way.

“It seems like I won’t be able to continue listening to you vent today,” the large foreman grumbled as he stood up and bellowed toward his workers. “Prepare for inspection! Our employers are coming!”

Clay knew not to get in the way because he was no longer an employee of the worksite. He had no plans of getting involved, choosing to laze around at the food stall. However, as the luxurious carriages got closer, the crimson banner of a female silhouette standing on clouds caught his attention.

It reminded him that the worksite was funded by the Church of Life. A church that was both wealthy and influential. It made him recall the Delver he witnessed yesterday running away from his pursuers, who were after some Paladin Class Change Orb that the church valued.

That’s right! The church should be all over things like the Paladin Class, thanks to how it’s named. They should also be collecting whatever holy or light mage class that gives access to healing magic. They must be acquainted with merchants who deal in mage spell books and the like!

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