Chapter 128 (1/2)

Claptrap looked broodingly at the short, choppy waves of orange water between his boat and the next. The past several months had not gone as he had planned.

He originally worked as a simple clerk in one of the larger merchant associations in the capital of the Northern Province, Deardun, content to stand in the sunlight filtering through the window, daydreaming about the day that he would become an Artisan level Spearman.

In his heart, Claptrap always knew that was an almost impossible dream. Not only did he possess no distinguishing qualities, he also had a rather poor work ethic, and the rate at which his spear skills improved was very swiftly outstripped by his peers. He had no family who were particularly powerful, and no ties to a powerful Style, so Claptrap slowly slid sideways from the intense training as a spearman to the more realistic course of becoming a merchant who serviced spearman.

There was an ember of bitterness in his chest, but the idleness of the days and the warmth of the sun sustained him. That was until he met Her, the big Her, with a capitol H. Her name was Ciel, and when she first walked into the door of the shop Claptrap worked at, she smiled at him.

The rest was history.

Over the next 6 months a fire that Claptrap hadn’t known himself to possess drove him forward. He rose from clerk to assistant manager, then finally manager at that location. Through copious research, he became an expert in weapons and armor, able to swiftly determine the value of any high class materials with just a glance.

But regardless of the improvements in his life, Claptrap knew that their two stations were still far, far apart from each other. Whereas Ciel could afford to purchase his wares as simple training garb, due to the generous stipend given to her by her Style, Claptrap could only struggle and smile in silence. He had no way to bridge that gap of strength. Ciel was the pampered successor to an influential style. Claptrap might work for an influential merchant association, but he was only a manager of one small store. With that standing, he could not even let her know how he felt.

In his excitement, Claptrap confessed his feelings to one of the fellow store managers. He was met with laughter. Only after a solid 20 minutes of knee slapping did the woman sober up and say, “Oh, you were serious? But she’s an actual spear-user.”

So despite the warnings he received from… basically everyone in his life, Claptrap left the job track he was on, which was quite stable, but would take a while to come to fruition, and moved out to Qtal, where the competition required less starting capital, and founded his own merchant association. Of course, referring to it as a merchant association was a little grand at this point. It was just him, and all the savings he had, from his entire life, and his parent’s lives, as he was the only child of two individuals who had died in a dungeon.

But things hadn’t turned out quite how Claptrap had planned. Whereas in Deardun, everyone sought out high quality armor, there simply wasn’t the same amount of upper class money in Qtal. Instead, what they wanted was cheap and lasting armor, that they could buy to protect their life, and forget about. All that knowledge that Claptrap had about rare materials, processes, and workmanship was worthless.

Instead, snarky, smooth talking merchants extolled shit as gold and received the sales, whereas Claptrap’s shop received less and less customers.

But Claptrap, perhaps foolishly, refused to give in. His goal was not to become some two bit con artist. He still had some money remaining, and his pride. With these, he would continue to struggle until his dream had truly crashed to the-

“Excuse me.”

Claptrap jumped, surprised, and turned to find a young man standing in the middle of his boat, looking at Claptrap curiously. Blushing furiously, Claptrap stood and bowed slightly. To think that he was so lost in his own self-pity that he had missed a customer…! “Hello, sir, how may this one help you today?”

The young man was strange, with a pale, pinkish skin that gave Claptrap no clue about his Style’s rank. As Claptrap examined him more closely, some of that self-pity returned. The clothes the man was wearing were quite rough; well used leathers and furs. The leathers appeared to have been worked by someone who had some idea what they were doing, but they appeared to have gone through hell since. They were crisscrossed with rips and tears.

In addition, the man’s feet were barefoot. That cemented the sinking feeling in Claptrap’s chest.

“I’d like to make a trade.” The young man announced, and produced 3 leather bracers.

Inwardly, Claptrap sighed, but he was professional, and walked forward with a smile. “Of course, but I have to let you know that I very rarely buy wares from-” But the words caught in his mouth as Claptrap looked down at the bracers in front of him.

Because there was Engraving on them. In this backwoods town built on the water

Novice’s Leather Bracer Lvl 15: Leather armor worked by a novice. Vit +1, Health +8.

Engraving of Dragonfly 52% (U): Wearer of the armor moves slightly more quickly when moving with the wind. Wearer gains Aspect of Dragonfly I..

Novice’s Leather Bracer Lvl 17: Leather armor worked by a novice. Vit +1, Health +13.

Engraving of Bear 48% (U): Wearer of the armor is resistant to slowing, stunning, or knockback effects. Wearer gains Aspect of Bear I.