Chapter 18: Chapter 18: Money

Chapter 18

“Out of mana?” Marcheline asks Scarlette in surprise. She looks at her own full bar.

To clarify, Mana wasn't a consideration back in the game. She just assumed they were going to need it for other, non-bloodline related skills. What else is the Royal Academy good for? But it turns out that you consume it every time you help with the skill cast progress. For Marcheline, the conversion goes: 1MP turns into 3.125% for SC Progress, so…

“What's your maximum Mana amount?”

“S-sixty…”

They have executed her skill sixty-five times now, making good progress with clearing the area for a small building after two hours of work, with some pauses. Hm? “We recover some mana every hour,” 1/24 of maximum. “We should continue much later then…”

Scarlett looks far more exhausted than Marcheline feels. She’s sitting on a pile of earth, gasping for breath.

Marcheline could recover 27MP every hour. Actually, she would’ve even have noticed any sort of Mana consumption if her party member didn’t point it out. She shakes her Soot-filled pole and forms a party with just them.

[SC Progress: 3.125%]

She could deduce that they have an MP of 60 too. That means any mana-based battle should last only for an hour.

But with her recovery, she could party-up nonstop for more than nineteen hours straight. Of course, there’s also the fact that she doesn’t have enough minions.

The Capital City of Aberron is huge. Marcheline took a look at the census last time they were in the Land Registration Office, and there’s a population of four hundred thousand. That’s before she realizes that this city hosts nobles, and most of them have manor-houses, with sprawling backyards to accommodate lavish lifestyles.

The only reason that they were given this undeveloped land is that it technically belongs to the Military. They just have the Right to live here.

And yet there’s only so many Purple trees and old fire pits she could access. Damn it, she’s gonna have to go to the sewers for the red and blue slimes. The red slimes especially, have special taunt abilities that cannot be dispelled. On the other hand, blue slimes could increase party speed a little — still not as useful as Lightning Fruits. Or just Linda. They should keep in touch.

She tells Scarlett to rest, and make sure to find something to eat. Marcheline herself moves on to the next item on her checklist.

She needs to watch what’s happening back in the Church.

——

After telling the Chief her intentions, she’s given a cartful of items, to see if she could sell them. Marcheline looks at them and immediately hides their overly poisonous herbs into her space. They are, in fact, illegal.

Some wooden toys, earthen cups, dried medicinal herbs… but the porcelain dolls… hmm…

That afternoon, she makes her way back to the Church grounds with Brian and Varm, Marcheline decides that she’ll display just one of the fifteen dolls, to see if she could make it look more exclusive and bring the price up a little.

The first time they made one of these dolls years ago, a very violent fight broke out in the village. Children want pretty things. Even Bodil looked a little teary. Now they have one each, and some extra. It was just a small deposit of kaolin, or whatever it was that resembles kaolin— the important thing is that it stays white after going through the kiln.

They are works of art. Each has delicately hand-carved faces and limbs, connected with a string so the joints can move. It’s regrettable that they can’t make a lot of small clothes for the dolls, what with the lack of materials. They themselves just use hand-me-down clothes from their old families. But she can make Nick create tiny chairs and tables for them…

Reaching the camp, Marcheline sees that she’s not the only one who’s come to set up a stall. There are a lot of merchants selling food and various nick nacks. The whole place has become quite lively, an atmosphere of a county fair. Unlike the awakening Festival though, there’s no gambling.

They’re told that the demonstration areas are held at different parks, small paved areas surrounded by buildings. Once they got to one of them, they could see the Academy carriages.

“No vendors beyond here.” a bored, uniformed soldier says. Marcheline looks around and lines up their full wagon along, with all the other sellers. Brian helps her put up the puzzle-like parts, and in no time, they have transformed the wagon into a veritable kiosk.

They could hear excited exclamations inside. Brian's neck stretches out, hoping to catch a glimpse of the excitement. “Go ahead, but come back in an hour. If you hear any skill sets, take note of them.”

“Okay!” He bounds off before Marcheline catches him by the scruff.

“I mean literally,” she thrusts a notepad in his hands, “remember how different skills are treated by the Academy reps, don’t miss a thing.”

“Oh.” Brian only now realizes that he’s still going to work.

Meanwhile, Marcheline carefully arranges their wares, placing most breakable items in her space and leaving only a few for display. Pottery is pretty cheap, lots of people are selling them too. She’s deliberately chosen some that are particularly eye-catching, or at least weird— such is the nature of souvenirs.

Practical, staple items don’t have large profit margins. Artwork could be used for money laundering.

She chats up as many of her fellow vendors as she can, asking about what happened during the past few days. Unfortunately, skill-holders are approached privately whenever they present something interesting. One thing to note is that they’re all going to the Royal Academy, even the children that are too young, and the adults that are past school-age.

Are they opening separate classes? They haven’t made any official announcements, but Marcheline thinks that would be the most logical course of action.

Before an hour could pass, she spots an elegantly dressed woman with a child. Marcheline makes a guess and slowly arranges her more colorful wares. The moment they get near, she takes out a lovely porcelain doll, and makes a show of trying to position it.

“Mother, look!” the child says in Marcheline’s direction.

“What- oh my…”

Marcheline greets the pair with a guilless smile, setting the doll inside a pot, and making it look like it's propping its own head with both hands. The dolls looks mischievous and interesting.

“Well,” Marcheline isn’t a merchant with decades of experience, so her look of discomfort is genuine at least, since she’s calling out- “One hundred and eighty gold.” She’s hoping they won’t haggle under one-fifty.

The current conversion rate is as follows:

1 gold is 47 silver.
1 silver is 7 copper.
One of the older merchants she met, just when she entered the capital, said it used to be 1 silver for 15 copper, but with the monsters getting more aggressive, copper has become more and more valuable since it could be smelted into other things, not pure copper of course—

“What! That’s outrageous!” The woman says, her emerald earrings dangling attractively next to her chin-length strawberry blonde locks.

Marcheline looks at the little girl sadly, then says to the woman, “I’m sorry Miss, that’s only what I was told…”

“She- she has eyelashes!” The girl, who’s pretty much a copy of her mother, hasn’t taken her eyes off the doll, and she notices the little details on it.

Marcheline uses both hands to lift it up, the mother and child going quiet for the pleasant tinkling of the ceramic. “It’s a shame that we couldn’t make her nice clothes. The previous owner,” doesn’t exist, this one is a spare, “just wants to find her a good home.”

The doll’s overly-long limbs have blue and black markings underneath the glaze, even without hair, it’s exotic yet dignified in its perfect nakedness.

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“But a- a hundred and eighty— that’s,”

“Lindsey’s ugly baby doll costs five hundred gold!” the young girl hisses.

“Don’t be ridiculous, honey, it was made by a master craftsman. It takes ages to make.” Of course, brands are worth a lot. Mmm, five hundred shiny.

Marcheline sets the doll back down and arranges it into a “thinker” position. “I’m sorry, the craftsman for this is not as well-known yet… I understand that a hundred and eighty is too expensive for his first ever piece… but I really can’t go any lower.” she says sadly.

If the ‘maker’ does become more well-known, the price for his “first” would skyrocket. It’s a gamble, but look at this doll!

“Oh,” the woman says, and Marcheline’s heart beats faster, hoping that the woman is getting to the same assessment. “Well then, a hundred and eighty, was it?”

Oh, no haggling! Lady, you’re so pretty.

According to Marcheline’s observations, an average person spends 2 silvers a day. Their whole group could easily live off of this one sale for two hundred days. They could possibly stretch it for a year, with their division of labor, since household support slashes away a lot of extra expenses. What a lucky sale.

She packs off the doll with some instructions on care.

By her estimate, nobles spend 10 gold a day, minimum. Eighteen days’ worth of expenses isn’t that much, if you really think about it.

A while later, Brian comes back with Varm. She takes the bunny and the notepad. Flipping through the notepad, “Two demonstrations? That’s slow!” She reads how different skill-holders are approached by one or two representatives each time.

“It’s the talking. Scholarships, Mrs. Crew said.” Brian shrugs off the white hair sticking to his clothes, “The Academy is expensive, so…”

“Tch.” so if you can’t pay your way through, you’ll be indebted to whoever paid for your tuition and other expenses. Looks like they won’t be able to live off of those dolls after all.

“Well, take care of our stall.” She gives him another doll to sell, with careful instructions not to get robbed.

“Two hundred gold,” she says and Brian nods, with no concept of money as of yet, “One-eighty if they insist. You know which customers to target.” They both shudder as they remember the girls’ bloody war for the dolls just a few years ago. This is why she didn’t take Effie with them today.

Marcheline makes her way to the demonstration area, with a parting, “If they don’t wanna pay for just that much, make a sob story about your sister not wanting to let the doll go.”

“Ha-ha.” Brian says flatly.

Marcheline treats herself to some sweets as she enters the “park”. The whole thing is covered with cream-colored bricks, and there are some passive-aggressive priests sweeping up after anyone tracking their muddy boots inside.

The buildings surrounding the area look like classrooms, just one or two storeys tall. If they’re not being used by the guests from the Royal Academy, they’re mostly empty. The whole place has a peaceful air, well, the kind of peace that permeates during stressful exams, when everyone is busy quietly cramming their lessons.

Each examinee is taking too long.

First, they tell one of the organizers what their skills are. Then they are partied with Academy Casters, and go against dummies or people, depending on the skillsets, and Passives that need activation.

If it’s the common Blue skillsets, the process is pretty much just proving you actually have the skills, and demonstrations don’t take long at all.

Around her are friends and families of the examinees, just chatting quietly and… bragging. Marcheline pops her head in one of the ‘classrooms’. Inside, there’s a knight, a priestess, and a boy who looks to be Marcheline’s age. There’s one or two attendants for each of them.

What’s really taking up everyone’s time is actually the bidding.

“You faint. When you see blood.” The knight is talking to the boy, his tone is filled with irritation and mockery. “What a fucking waste.”

One of the priestess’ attendants clears his throat at that language. The knight merely sits more comfortably. He looks like a really well-built civilian, if not of the badge on his chest.

The boy himself is looking at the disinterested priestess in what looks like pleading. “I-I don’t do violence. My skills may only be good for that, but I just want to help people,”

“Then you’re no different to other commoners. Why don’t we pay for their training instead?” The knight sharply cuts him off. There are some snickering at the peanut gallery.

Marcheline leans next to the door. She thought the interviews would be more private than this?

The knight chews the boy’s head off for a few more minutes, but the negotiations end up with the nervous boy signing a ‘scholarship’, that in exchange for entering the Academy, he would be Deployed to battle whenever he’ll be needed. Why didn’t he just pass up on the opportunity then? Marcheline shakes her head.

A while later, the people around her make way for someone. A noble, based on his attire. She follows the crowd and looks.

It’s a shrewd-looking man, possibly early thirties. His bejeweled hands are clutching the arms of a dark-haired boy, a teenager with serious eyes and a cold face. “Don’t forget what I told you,” the noble's voice is effeminate, and he’s forcing the high notes that women often use.

The cold-looking boy nods as they join the knight and the priestess. The boy stays at the sidelines as they finish up talking to the fainter.

So they do get private discussions after all.

She listens longer as the people around her are losing interest, waiting for the next demonstrations to start already. It looks like the nervous boy has signed his life away, while the other one has become some noble’s future lapdog.

Marcheline moves out of the small corridor covered by the roof, but the conversation is still within hearing range. She leans on a pillar this time, then looks at the clouds.

Staying here for information, waiting to see what they’ll do to the darker bloodlines… It all sounds like a tremendous waste of time and energy. So slow.

They’ll come back once it’s their group’s turn. Marcheline looks at the rich noble, then remembers the extravagance of the Church, hears the superior tones of the knight. She wonders if some of them would leave their life of hard work, for greener pastures.

What would happen to those without skills? The moment their group experiences a mass bloodline awakening, that would forever change their dynamics, wouldn’t it?

—————

 

A/N: sorry for the week break. Here’s a long chapter!

The school arc was surprisingly hard to plot, and this is the start. So… I wanted to make sure it doesn’t mess up the next chapters. Thanks for reading.

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