Chapter 13: Ch. 12 – All Classed Up!

Valerica didn’t have to know. It was a side quest, outside her normal work hours. She came into the money entirely on her own. She didn’t have to know.

At least, that’s what Momo told herself as she slid two hundred gold coins over the desk.

An eldergoat woman manned the desk at Thrifty Threads, Bruda’s one and only “discount store,” if you could call it that. Momo had spent the last hour going from shop to shop to buy new clothes, but found that even a hat would cost her her entire new savings.

Something Momo learned during a youth spent in San Francisco was that the best thrift stores were in the most opulent locations. Whenever rich people had the motivation to be charitable, they’d dump off their old Burberry coats and Louis Vuittons in trash bags at the store entrance and then drive off to buy new ones - a bit of obligatory self-charity.

Several universes away, things seemed to operate in quite the similar way. The regalia hanging from the mannequins in Thrifty Threads looked nearly identical to the clothes worn by the duchesses, the petticoats and embroidered robes that hung from hangers in the luxury stalls. The only difference was a bit of dust and the rich-people-repelling ‘second-hand’ label.

“Which one would you like?” the eldergoat asked while wheeling out three sets of robes. The first was a brilliant blue with white accents; the next, emerald green and Christmas red; finally, the last was plain black lined with golden threads. Momo couldn’t help but fall for the black, as it was the most inconspicuous of the three. Nothing she liked more than something that let her fade to the background.

“I should mention that these have all been enchanted,” the eldergoat piped up before Momo could continue her decades-long monochromatic streak, “the blue one provides [Water Resistance], the green provides [Poison Resistance], and the black provides [Death Magic Resistance].”

Momo nodded, weighing her options. Being resistant to water or poison would certainly be helpful in a multitude of scenarios and weather conditions. And seeing as most of her friends were necromancers, she probably wouldn’t have too many run-ins with Death Magic being turned against her. Then again, sometimes disputes did occur even amongst one’s allies. Hold your friends close, and your enemies closer - that sort of thing.

That was a principle Momo learned the hard way at Mallmart. She grimaced. Linda.

Shaking off the memory, Momo quirked her head cutely, “which would you recommend?”

The eldergoat brightened, seemingly unused to being asked her own preferences.

“Oh, well, personally…” she took the blue robes off the hanger and laid them on the table, “I think these would perfectly match your complexion. The bright blue complements your beautiful winter snow hair just perfectly.”

Momo blushed, taken completely off-guard by the compliment.

“Oh – ah, thank you,” she played with her hands nervously, “but I meant more like, which enchantment do you think is best?”

“Oh. Sorry. People around here usually aren’t very concerned with the enchantments. It’s much more about appearances here than class levels,” the saleswoman laughed, “I’m not sure I’m really the authority on such things. I was a [Wayfarer] back in the day, but after my brother moved here for work, I’ve been taking levels in [Merchant] ever since.”

Momo hummed, “is [Merchant] your second class?”

“Yes, exactly. I’m hoping to eventually set back out on the road again and combine the two into [Traveling Salesman]. Maybe in a few years, once things have calmed down…” she looked wistfully out the window.

Momo’s eyebrows rose.

“You can combine classes?”

The saleswoman looked at her oddly, “well yes, of course. The system would be rather rigid if not. If your two major classes happen to align into an evolution, they can be combined into a single major class, which reopens your secondary slot again. From what I have seen, some of the most powerful classes are Combination Evolutions.”

“How cool,” Momo whispered, her brain abuzz. These stupid new intellect points - she was so endlessly interested, “do you know of any combination evolutions that involve animals and... um, magic?”

The eldergoat laughed, “as I told you, I’m nowhere near the authority on this. If you’re that curious, I’d recommend seeking out a class scholar. Most of the scholars here are specialized in [Merchant], [Leatherworking] and [Milk Production], but there are colleges all over the realm with various specialties.”

Momo nodded fervently. College had never gotten her this motivated. It was so much more gratifying that the system here seemed to actually reward progress - and have so many different options in how you attain it. All her university awarded was how many rich alumni you could trick into donating.

Momo’s world record: 0. She didn’t exactly have the personality for ‘give me money please’ campaigns.

“Thank you for the information,” Momo smiled broadly, and she meant it.

Her eyes wandered over the cloaks. She wouldn’t let her fatal indecisiveness win today - this lady had been too kind to her.

She took in a deep breath, looking down at her black tee-shirt and black jeans. Today would mark the end of an era.

You are reading story Momo The Ripper (A Shy Necromancer LitRPG) at novel35.com

“I’ll take the blue ones,” she said weakly.

The saleslady grinned from goat-ear to goat-ear, “oh, splendid!”

The woman packaged the robes into parchment paper and then wrapped a bow over the top. After handing it over, she took most of Momo’s coin, but left about twenty pieces.

“Discount for a new friend,” she smiled.

Momo blushed again, “oh, no, please, take it -”

“I insist. I am simply investing in a very promising young adventurer,” she smiled, “let me live vicariously through you, alright? Until the age of the Dark Calamity properly ends, I’m stuck here in this shop.”

Momo stopped in her tracks.

“I’m sorry - properly ends?” Momo’s throat had gone dry, “didn’t that war end?”

“Mm, technically,” the eldergoat sighed, “but in a way, the remnants are worse than the war. King Jarva uses the necromancer blight as a scapegoat for his totalitarian rise to power. Whichever local ruler he deems unfit is replaced with one of his own men. He is installing shell governments throughout the continent to serve his singular interests.”

She folded the unbought robes, smoothing out the wrinkles, “everyone knows the necromancers are no longer a threat now that the [Knights of the Sun] operate throughout Alois. Still, the King insists they are up to something,” she scoffs, “who exactly would be up to something? All the necros he put into the ground?”

Momo swallowed. She could think of a few people who she described as ‘up to something.’

“Seems paranoid to me,” Momo laughed awkwardly.

“It seems that way to all of us,” she sighed, “plus - and let Kyros be merciful - not all necromancers are terrible. Most of them, absolutely. But before the Dark Calamity, nearly every town had one. If it wasn’t for our village necro, I wouldn’t have been able to commune with my mother one last time.”

Momo softened. Everyone else made the dispute between society and necromancers seem so black and white. To Valerica, it was genocide; to the King, it was like culling a plague of pestilence.

“I agree,” Momo responded softly.

“I knew you were my kind of gal,” the eldergoat smiled, “now, get out of here before I get any more charitable. I can’t afford to be giving away all my goods in this economy!”

She shooed her out of the store, leaving a pit of warmth in Momo’s stomach.

-

Sitting in the field with her cows, Momo took a moment to breathe. She inhaled the chilly, mountain air. Grass tickled her hands, and clouds colored the sky above. With down feathers lining her new robes, she could finally enjoy Fall.

She opened the knapsack Veronica gave her and browsed. It had gotten a lot heavier in recent days, now holding 300 gold pieces, several pieces of parchment, her old clothes, several charcoal sticks, and Momo’s art notebook.

She took out the art book and began to sketch. She hadn’t gotten the opportunity lately - obviously - but the itch never dissipated. Daily sketching had been about the most consistent thing in her life since she was born, and going without it felt like operating a body with a phantom limb.

She began with the cows, outlining their faux-fur, and the bones that jutted conspicuously out of it. She smudged the charcoal across the page to form grass, then the silhouette of the mountains. A smear of gray became Dusk, with her calico fur and boney paws. Momo lost track of time sitting there, the sun falling slowly towards the horizon.

She was torn from her trance by a gust of wind delivering a piece of parchment straight to her face.

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