Chapter 278: Chapter Two Hundred Seventy Nine

By the time we got back to the shore, I was at least able to stand. I  was still sore as hell, but my Vitality had patched me up enough that  my muscles worked at least. Callie looked just as bruised and  uncomfortable, but she also looked just as ecstatic as I felt. Despite  the annoyance at Abel and the physical discomfort and pain, it felt GOOD  to get stronger. To learn to be better and improve in a measurable way.

And  measure we did. After we got back to shore Abel carried the big metal  baskets off the ship for us and we emptied them out on the black rocky  beach, counting our haul and the number of points. I'd managed fifty  total, while Callie had gotten forty eight. Abel, though he wasn't  competing, made sure to assure us he had broken triple digits, and that  both of together had failed to even approach his number. The asshole.

Still  as I stared down at the fish, I could see why these things were so  sought after. They were beautiful. The scales were vivid and every bit  as breathtaking as the colors of a rainbow. They were also all still,  apparently immobilized by the stasis field long enough to suffocate. I  had thought it kept them alive, but apparently I'd mistaken the point of  the baskets, the devices being more to keep them fresh than anything  else.

As I stared down at them, I heard a crunch off to  the side and turned to see a bedraggled Wren and Vector jumping down and  trekking over to stand next to us. They had obviously heard the little  introductory speech Abel had given us, not a surprise on such an open  expanse of water with two G-rankers. They still looked annoyed as hell  as they glared at my mentor. "You know." Wren snarled. "You could have  WARNED us."

Abel gave a derisive snort. "I didn't warn my  own disciples." He said dismissively. "Why would I warn you two?  Besides, it's good training. Don't tell me a pair of Ascendants from  cluster level forces cant handle a little light rain and some relaxing  fishing." We all turned and stared at him in mute horror as he described  the... watery apocalypse we had just gone through as 'some relaxing  fishing'. That took a serious amount of skills in bullshit to say with a  straight face. Or at least what we could see of it.

Sloane,  who had walked up in squelching wet boots, was glaring too. "Well,  that's certainly kind of you. Be assured that I will return that  kindness at the first possible opportunity. With interest." With that  she stomped past us, storming over to presumably get a chance of clothes  from her minions. The effect was ruined by the watery squelch of her  feet as she trudged across the beach.

"Alright." I said,  drawing attention back to the matter at ham. "What do we do with these  fish? Where do we sell them, and for how much?"

Before he  could answer, a new voice pipes up. "Hey dudes." We all turn to see the  guy from the shack where Abel rented the boats standing off to one side.  "Bodacious catch bros. That's a tubular multiplicity of aquatic  lifeforms. Might you be interested in parting with your superfluence of  fishy findings?"

I blinked at him. So did everyone else.  None of us had a fucking clue what he'd just said. The man's scruffy  brown hair and goatee, combined with his blank stare, made him seem like  kind of a lazy, sleepy person. His speech on the other hand was  confusing and in some places I was pretty sure made up. I wasn't a  dictionary, but superfluence didn't seem like a real word to me.

Looking  at him more closely, I tried to take in his outfit. Baggy tan shorts  with too many pockets, a short sleeve t-shirt with an open short sleeve  button up, and a series of metallic jewelry on his fingers and hanging  from a black chord around his neck. He also wore a surplus of varied  leather bracelets with metal buckles and pins on them. Abel grinned at  him. "Dale! You're just in time. We were just talking about what to do  with the fish. You willing to pay full rate for them? They're pretty  fresh, and it'll save me some time."

Dale guffawed. "Most  obviously my compatriot. I have an abundance of most radical funds to  disperse for the purpose of acquiring such a delectable piscine  assortment. To my eternal sorrow though, the monetary equivalency you  speak of has mutated in the time since your previous embarkment. One  credit of H-rank as a base for a red is a more efficacious offering to  begin our fiscal negotiations."

The big dopey smile hadn't  changed, but I caught a gleam of craftiness in his eye, and Abel's  smile turned into a scowl. "The fuck you say. Don't pull that wasted  philosopher bullshit on me you money grubbing layabout. I haven't been  gone THAT long. Two and a half per red as a base. I'm not a moron, I did  check prices before coming here. I'm not one of those stupid tourists  you fleece."

Putting up both hands, Dale's eyebrows rose  in alarm without his eyes actually opening from their lazy half lidded  state. "Whoa! Your accusations of malfeasance are farcical. But alas, I  am no match for such a puissant practitioner of the pugilistic arts.  Spare me your erupting wrath, your monetary offer is most acceptable for  such a close personal friend. Our historical dealings are more than  enough to justify such an expenditure."

Abel rolled his  eyes. "Oh stop it Dale. I forgot how quickly that gets old. Just talk  like a normal person, there's no one around to hear anyway."

Dale's  relaxed smile twisted into an annoyed scowl. "Hey man, why you gotta'  fuck up my aesthetic? If the tourists hear me talking like this they'll  be way more on guard.  I've spent years cultivating my image. The  combination of dazed moron and confusing linguistic savant really puts  people at ease. If you fuck this up for me I'm gonna be pissed, I have a  business to run."

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Mel snorted. "I can't believe it still  works after all this time." She said wryly. "You'd have thought after  all the people you've ripped off someone would have warned the others."

The  dopey grin returned. "I'm not sure as the the bamboozling you might be  reference, lady fair. I am simply a harmless and hapless proprietor of  seafaring wares who chooses to invest in the local community through the  occasional acquisition of delicious carp-tacular treats."

"Those  are salmon." Mel said dryly. "But point taken. That really is  convincing. No clue how you keep it up all the time. Though it explains  why you haven't ranked up. People pretty much dismiss you out of hand."

Dale  just shrugged, resuming a normal speech pattern instead of his lazy far  off drawl. "I do good business here. No reason to rock the boat, so to  speak." He looked at us. "You guys keep this quiet will you? I'd  normally stay in character even after being caught out, but annoying  Abel is never a healthy thing to do." He glared at the silver masked  man. "Not to mention there's no point since he's decided to screw me on  pricing."

That got an eye roll from my teacher. "Oh  please. You've been ripping off tourists for too long. Two point five is  a solid baseline. The multipliers for color variants aren't even that  high, except the purple at six, but there's less than twenty of those.  Gods know you'll sell the damn things at a mark up anyway. What do you  charge after prep, like five?"

"They're paying for labor."  Dale said self-righteously. "It costs to keep my chef on retainer. Not  to mention I have to pay for processing to make sure the scales are  treated right. Those things sell for a decent amount in bulk, not to  mention the organs and bones can be crushed up to make a pretty high end  plant fertilizer."

Abel looked over to us. "This. This is  why I call him a money grubber. Despite his laid back appearance this  miser can't let a single chit slip through his fingers." He waved away  the line of thought, literally swatting the air like the whole  conversation was an annoying fly. "Whatever." He pointed at Sloane and  Wren. "You two, dump your catch. This is as close to market value as  you'll get, and he won't pay nearly this much after I'm gone."

They  both did so quickly, ignoring the annoyed scowl from Dale. Abel looked  back at the shack owner. "Well? What are you waiting for, an engraved  invitation? Count them up. The longer they're out of stasis the worse  condition they're in, and I'm not taking a pay cut because you're a slow  starter." Dale muttered something vaguely insulting that even I  couldn't hear and walked over to start counting up the fish as Wren and  Sloane dumped theirs on the beach.

Abel  turned to us. "This was a decent haul. Two point five as a base for the  reds is a solid payout. It means twenty five for each purple. That  alone is going to be a pretty serious bump. I think people have been too  distracted to come fish lately, because looking at the full haul laid  out like this its easy to see its denser than normal.  I wasn't  expecting any decent payout from this, just some pocket money, but based  on what I'm seeing this is going to come out to about fifteen F-rank  chits."

"Why  H-rank chits as a base though?" I asked cautiously. "If they're G-ranked  monsters?" If we got paid in E-ranked chits instead it would obviously  be much more lucrative. I wasn't expecting that to happen, but I might  as well find out why that didn't happen.

He  waved the question off. "H-rank tends to be base currency here, even  for higher level Ascendants. The economy on a backwater planet like this  is pretty limited as a whole. There's only so many chits floating  around. I doubt anyone on Callus has any D-ranked chits, even if they  have enough E-ranked chits to trade for them. Once you get past a  certain point scarcity plays a role. Not to mention these fish are  pretty common. Nobody would make any money paying out G-rank chits for  catching the. Just like no one is paying G-rank chits to eat them. Five  H's probably."

That  was a wrinkle I hadn't considered in terms of economy. The whole money  thing scaled kind of hard after the first few ranks, but if H-ranked  chits were the standard of currency that would definitely drag it down a  bit. Sort of like the equivalent of a credit for local Ascendants. Abel  rolled his eyes. "Ponder economics later kid." He said with minor  annoyance coloring his tone. "If I know Dale he's going to want us to  help him carry them over as part of the fee."

Sure  enough, Dale came over and insisted we help move everything. It wasn't  much work, but it was wet and annoying. Eventually though, we got them  all transported and he handed over fifteen F-ranked chits, three of  which went to Wren and Sloane, who hadn't had nearly the haul we had  even if their catch had looked impressive. Lots of reds.

With  that done, we headed off the beach, walking back toward the city  proper. Wren checked a scan ring for the time and looked over at us.  "Well, that was time consuming. We're doing dinner with the rest of the  legion if you want to tag along? I'm sure Lament would be happy to meet  some challengers, even if our escorts won't let her fight you. She has  problems holding back when she gets excited, so we want to save some  mystery for the tournament." Callie answered for us, immediately  accepting, and I just grinned in anticipation. Seemed like I was finally  going to meet the Spear Legion's ringer.

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