Reborn as the First Boss, Book 6 Prologue

Prologue – Black Market

“Some real interesting items you have here, missy. Real interesting. If’n I didn’t know better, I’d say they came from an Inquisitor and his folk. They’re the only ones who go around wearing those symbols, after all. If’n I didn’t know better.”

Kester One-Hand looked smiled at the cloaked woman who had brought him such an interesting trove of items. None of them were usable, in their current form. Official garments and uniform gear were problematic like that. Oh, sure, there was sometimes call for specialty goods to allow someone to get into a bit of mischief, but the Inquisition had no real power, here, so those kinds of plays were less profitable, and far rarer, than they would be elsewhere.

The gear was all reasonably well cared for. What struck him, as he smoothed out one tabard with his claw hand (a relic from his old adventuring days) was that there weren’t any of the signs of deadly combat upon them. No bloodstains, or ragged holes from blades or arrows. None of the deformations from a hammer or mace upon the armor, either. And no signs of the most common types of attack magic.

That meant one of two things. The first was that this woman (or, more likely, whoever she was representing) had taken the time to patch up and clean up all this gear, hoping it would raise the value on resale. Not bloody likely, given his knowledge of most criminal or adventuring types. The second option, though, was that they had somehow managed to overcome an Inquisitor and their entire retinue without fighting, or at least without using deadly force. Given that Inquisitors and their ilk were all supposed to be at least Level 30, that was no small feat.

Still, that was more likely than the clean-up job. And it didn’t need to be straight combat, either. Poison in a cup, or even just a sleeping draught to keep them quiet while blades went to work. Most people had trouble fighting back or healing themselves with their throats cut, after all. Especially if you separated them from their gear, and any easily available potions or healing enchantments.

“You know, I mayhap heard ‘bout an Inquisitor an’ his folk who went missin’ o’er in Windwater last week. Big stink raised, even ‘ere in Shadescar. Something about them going huntin’ for heretics, and just leaving all their traveling supplies behind in the farmer’s house where they were staying. If’n they were killed, then those Inquisitor types would be hunting for whoever did it. And they might go trying to find their missing gear.”

He could only see part of the woman’s face, thanks to the hood pulled low on her brow, casting most of her features in shadow. Just a slight glimmer of her eyes in the firelight, and the ruby lips on pale skin as she smiled back at him. That smile was full of confidence. She wasn’t worried about the Theocracy, or about him calling the guards. Well, the idea of a fence for the local underworld calling the city guard was laughable, on its own, but there was still the principle of the thing. She believed she was in control of the situation, but wasn’t pressing with her full weight. Letting him maneuver into her own trap, maybe? When she spoke, the melody of her voice sent the blood rushing away from his head, and concentrating somewhere further south, making it more difficult to concentrate.

“Yes, but, even if something like that were true, it would only matter if the gear were still there. If, on the other hand, an Enchanter went and broke them down, so that their magical essence could be used on something a bit more useful to the ‘independent actors’ in Shadescar, then there would be nothing to trace, would there? And I just so happen to know that you are an Enchanter, Kester.”

He stiffened at that. And not in the good way. He’d already been there since she started talking and laying out the goods. Still was, actually. No, he stiffened now because this woman knew something that he generally kept hidden. A Rogue / Enchanter was an unusual mix, but he’d found some good overlap with the two, especially when dealing with magical loot, or in creating specialty gear to help with his work. Since he’d retired from being a thief and adventurer, he’d made good business quietly getting rid of problematic magic items, extracting or transferring their enchantments to other gear, and selling it on. But no one was supposed to know about that.

Kester took a breath, and said, slowly, “Well, now, missy. That’s an interesting thing to be saying. Especially coming from someone who [Appraise]s as someone with the most generic ‘Priestess of Videa, I swear I’m not a common whore’ ever. So, how might you have come across such knowledge, if’n it were true?”

The woman smiled at him, and said, “I’m a woman of many talents, what can I say? But, I guess I could give you a hint, as a show of good faith. You have some protections against mental magics and scrying, but not against some of the more… fluid divinations. Ones that guide the caster to their goal, such as an Enchanter connected to the underworld.”

“Fucking diviners,” Kester sighed, settling back in his chair. “Damn trouble trying to keep up with all of what you can do. So, you weren’t looking for me, in particular, but the spell guided you here?”

“Exactly. Now, can we do business?”

“Fine. I can get rid of all this equipment, easily enough. Some of the generics, like the [Handy Haversacks] and [Traveler’s Boots] can be moved as they are. Nothing distinctive enough about them to be used in a tracking spell. Some of the rings and weapons, too. But the rest? I’ll need to break it down, to be safe. This is a big haul, and I don’t keep that much coin on hand, for obvious reasons.”

“Well, I would be willing to work a trade. My companions are outside, with your guards. Perhaps we can see what gear you have available that would fill open spots in our kit? And come to a final tally after that?”

That’d work. Probably end up a better deal for both of them, since they’d be getting gear that would work for them, and he’d move inventory and have to give up less coin. Depending on what they bought, might even have them paying him, though not as much as they’d be paying without trades being made. “Levels and classes, with specialties? I’ll see what I have in stock.”

“All level 21. Rogue, with a twin-dagger style. Healer with staff and pistol. Two fighters, one sword and board, the other twin blades. And myself, a mix of mage and shooter.”

Kester felt his eyes widen at that. A mage and shooter? That was a rare combination. “Well, you’ve got a solid group, at least. Mind me asking what brings a group like you to Shadescar?”

“Well, we are passing to the West, but thought we’d take a look at the Necropolis of Akkras while we were here. Heard things have been getting ‘interesting’ there, of late.”

“Aye, that they have. Undead have been pushing the cordon hard. Something has changed in the depths, it seems. Some people are whispering that one of the undead down there may have gotten a Boss title.”

“So, think we can work a deal?”

Kester considered the woman in front of him. “Yeah, we can deal. And if you’re going to head into the Necropolis, then I can hook you up with a few extras, to get you past the cordon, and hopefully make your trip a bit easier. But I want first refusal on anything you bring out of that pit.”

“Deal.”