To my relief Mandarah kept her word. I sat my butt down in the inn's tavern and waited for them to come, and come they did. Within two days I had three dozen different people seeking me out, asking about the dagger. They all wanted to purchase it on the behalf of a local person of wealth, right there and then. One thing was for sure, it was extremely hard to reject some of the numbers being thrown at me. I had never seen so much money in one place. I entertained them for a time – showing them the item to prove that it was real and fielding their offers, but ultimately none of them were from Rivers.
I needed Rivers to bite my hook. The money was tempting, but it wasn't going to be of any use to me if Stigma killed me. I had a few years of buffer thanks to the dragon hunt, but I couldn't be confident that I could find and slay 'meals' as filling as that in the future. I was still torn between whether completing Stigma would be to my benefit or merely confer her even more control, but if I passed on the opportunity to complete the sword I may never get such a chance again.
I knew I was falling into a sunk cost state of mind here. The other rogues always said keep your eyes on the prize. The Absolver hadn't pushed me into doing something I was genuinely uncomfortable with yet. All of the people I had met and dealt with were pieces of shit or already dead. Not much of a moral or philosophical quandary to get myself into. The leverage scale was slowly being pushed in my favour. Each artefact I consumed made the process of my body changing faster and increased my power, but until all of them were dealt with – he could still pull a dirty deal on me.
There would be a time where I'd no longer benefit from that increased stat multiplier. It wasn't like I could go beyond the limits of the old species that Benadora had named as the most likely candidate. The question as to why a legendary sword would transform you into one of them was beyond my understanding. If this group of people was reviled in the ways that their extinction suggested, perhaps the perception of Stigma changing one into a corrupted existence meant that you took on their form to match.
Negative feelings have a lot of power in this world. Evil spirits with lingering attachments could cause serious damage if left unattended. The exorcists and mages who specialised in dealing with immaterial beings made a lot of money off of it. Stigma had a bad reputation. That was why it held so much power. The conceptual magic that weaved its way through everything had done the same to the sword. But how did the spirit within play into the equation? Would it still have the same powers if she were somehow removed from it?
I wouldn't mind – so long as I wasn't left in a situation where I really needed it. This change seemed permanent to me, and I wasn't making much use of the myriad powers that Stigma offered me because I was being stingy with the energy I'd gathered. While doing Ryan a solid and growing him a new arm sounded great, I didn't want to wind my clock all the way back to a few weeks in doing so. That could wait until I had a reliable source of souls to fuel my endeavours.
"I have to say, being trapped inside of another tavern is starting to wear on my nerves," Cali sighed. Easy to say from the perspective of someone who had connections with Federal military officers and could walk up to look for a bounty. For me, as a traditional rogue, you had to make your own work or wait around for someone to hire you.
"Hate to break it to you, but a lot of this job is sitting around and waiting for people to come and talk with you. I'd be a very happy man if I could instantly speak with someone across town without having to meet up with them."
"That would be convenient."
"It is convenient," I insisted, "But unfortunately, nobody here has figured out how to do that just yet. Until then waiting in the tavern is the only thing we can do."
"Your home world sounds intriguing. Is it exciting?"
"Uh, not really. With all of those modern comforts a lot of people settled into a routine. I wouldn't complain about going back. A lot less people trying to murder me over there, and working a normal, boring job sounds like a nice change of pace."
"I would like to see your home," Tahar said, "But I understand that returning is not within your power?"
"No. Ryan seemed to have a different story to me, but I'm pretty sure I died or something. The last thing I want is to go back and bounce off of my own dead body." If Tahar wanted to get my parents' blessing before she tried marrying me, I'm afraid that it wasn't possible. Even if I could somehow uncover the secret behind why people were being sent to this world, and assuming I could control that process, there was no guarantee that getting home would be easy or even possible for a variety of different reasons.
Everyone I knew had probably written off seeing me again. Just another name in a long list of unsolved disappearances. It would have been cathartic to show them that I was alive and well, but the sacrifices needed to make it happen were too much. That particular emotional tangle had long since been scarred over for me. Part of me had accepted that there was no way back. For years before I had that realisation, I withheld myself from forming real relationships with other people. Friends, family or lovers were just things I could lose should it happen again – beside the intrinsic danger from the criminal lifestyle I was forced to live.
Even a resolution to change my ways had resulted in little movement. Things had only started to shift back to normal when Cali and Tahar forced their way into my life. That came with its own share of worries and burdens, but the appeal of having people to rely on in times of crisis was something I had forgotten. Going back didn't sound very appealing.
Cali and Tahar continued to converse about several other topics about things they had seen, heard or done recently while I watched the door like a hawk for my next guest. It seemed that my patience was finally rewarded, as yet another skittish looking man in his late fifties ducked under the doorway and scanned the tavern floor for me. I gave him a sly wave and begged him to walk over to our table.
His voice was coiled tight like a wire, "Are you the one Mandarah spoke of?"
"That's me. The name's Ren. Who are you representing?"
He adjusted his suit jacket and took a seat at the table, "My name is Phillip. I'm here on behalf of Derian Rivers. I was interested in the tall tale that a local shopkeeper told me about something in your possession." I had to stop myself from looking too happy that my target had finally shown up. Letting on that I was fishing for his business would be bad.
"This, I presume?"
I was keeping it on me just in case. I placed it on the table and allowed him to inspect it. His previously impersonal expression soon turned to one of genuine appreciation. He believed that it was legit before he even used magic to inspect it fully. When he did, I could tell that he wanted to be the one to get his hands on it. Unfortunately for him the price was too high, and crossing his boss was probably a bad idea.
"Well, Master Rivers was very interested in the rumours he had heard. I'm not afraid to admit that my own scepticism was misplaced, this is everything they said it was. Wherever did you find something like this?"
"I worked security on an expedition to Versia. We stumbled onto a few of them while conducting a survey."
No need to tell him the full story. Sending a dozen other ships over to loot and pillage those tombs sounded like an awful idea. No doubt it would cause serious problems for Tahar's village, not everyone was as courteous as Benadora was.
"I take it that this is the only one you brought back?"
"I don't have anywhere to keep them. I'm a working man – can't justify carrying a dozen extra weapons on me when I'm travelling all the time." Though I really wish I had, considering how valuable they had turned out to be.
"I've never seen an alloy construction like this before, not even the greatest Stallin smelters could create a surface this flawless. There isn't a mark on it! And its ability to resist shattering or chipping is beyond anything I've seen. You mean to tell me that a weapon this big is a mere dagger to the original creators?"
"From what I could see, yes. The handle is too wide to even be used as a two-handed weapon. It's built for someone with larger palms than the likes of you or me."
"What a terrifying sight they must have been," he mused, "But despite all of that, it is still light enough for a human to lift. Master Rivers is willing to make a significant offer on the purchase of this, without going to auction. There is just one catch. He only purchases items that he can see and feel with his own hands. He has a very discerning eye when it comes to this kind of thing. As he always says, he doesn't want to spend good money on something he doesn't like. Ergo, an in-person inspection is of utmost importance."
I already knew this, but I reacted as if I didn't, "We have to meet up with you again?"
"I'm afraid so. Though a meeting can be arranged promptly for the day following the next – he's presently engaged with some personal business. I merely ask that you field no other offers until he can name a price."
I made a show of agonising over it, crossing my arms and staring blankly at the ceiling. I made him jump in his seat when I looked back down and spoke suddenly; "Alright. I hope he doesn't expect me to dress up. I don't exactly carry a suit with me when I'm on the road."
"That will be no issue. Just ensure that you are clean and trimmed."
"It's a good thing that this inn comes with a bath…" A lot of the cheap ones didn't.
Phillip leaned over to check the large standing clock at the back of the bar, "Please meet with me here in two days, at eight o' clock sharp. I can escort you to Sir Rivers' home. It shouldn't take too long to reach an agreement."
"I'll see you then."
It was a short meeting. Phillip bowed and made himself sparse. That was just fine by me, having to deal with people like him was something I only did on rare occasions. Ever since I had turned into a dirty, low-class thief, I had a lot more empathy for people who weren't able to keep up appearances like others demanded. Everything was lining up. We could learn where Rivers' home was, get a quick look at the interior layout, and get a read on the man himself. I wasn't going to jump in and be done with him then and there. I'd prefer to do some more planning before infiltrating what I assumed would be a large and well-guarded estate. Not for my own safety, but rather to prevent myself from being irritated by lawmen for the rest of time.
It left us with a whole day to do as we pleased. The only problem was finding something interesting to do with it.