Chapter 182 (2/2)

Claptrap had a heavy heart as he walked to the market day. He had just come from visiting the ship of the Ghosthound. He was very leery about actually approaching the ship again, because he had heard the rumors that numerous smaller Styles had challenged the ship the past few days, aiming to lower the Tassles hanging proudly above the vessel.

It seemed that the group had been victorious, but when Claptrap had arrived, hoping to find more engraved armor, he had simply found an old man sitting on the boat, who ignored him at first, and as he asked more direct questions, had emanated such a vicious Battle Intent that all Claptrap could do was yelp and run away.

Honestly, Claptrap had held back some armor from the Crashing Wave Style, for just such a situation, where he couldn’t contact the Ghosthound. But he hadn’t wanted to use it so soon, and it was some of the higher efficacy armor that he had been saving.

Claptrap’s current funds were very high, so much so that he was almost dumbfounded by the amount that Dwei had given him for the previous batch that he had transferred. So much so that Claptrap felt confident he could work out strategies and inventory arrangements, that independent of the Ghosthound, could wipe Izzat off the map. The seed money he had always craved he finally had. Qtal was too small a pond for him anymore.

Based on the amount of money, it was clear to Claptrap that not all of the armor, or even a majority of it, was being used by the Crashing Wave Style. They were selling it, likely at a markup, to someone much larger and more influential. Which was both good and bad. Good because that meant Claptrap’s worry about how much demand this one Style could really have, wasn’t an issue. Bad, because a bigger entity meant that more people would know about the Engraving. And although the exposure was worse, using the Crashing Wave Style at a front meant they didn’t have an equivalent power to fall back on.

If the Engraver Guilds came…

And that was the other truth that was starting to hang over Claptrap’s head. With this much volume, it was not a matter of whether it would happen, but when. Very few people connected the Ghosthound, the spear user with the Tassle a color considered obscene by most, with the Engraved equipment. On the other hand, Claptrap’s name was all over it, and on the wagging tongues of the fellow merchants.

They would likely come for him first. And he had none of personal backing that the Ghosthound seemed to have.

Still, Claptrap climbed up through the coliseum, eventually reaching the larger chamber towards the top of the ring, which would once again serve to house the market day. As he checked his stand’s location, he was relieved to find that he had a much more sizable area to set up.

But what he found when he approached his area made his jaw drop.

There was a huge winding line to the stall next to his. It wasn’t just merchants, either. It was merchants and jostling warriors from rival Styles, proudly holding their Tassles aloft, glaring at each other.

One person at the front received a package and stepped to the side, breathing deeply the smells from the strange bag. The spear user pulled some sort of foodstuff out of bag and bit deeply into it, his eyes closing in a strange sort of rapture.

When the man moved, Claptrap could see that there was some strange apparatus set up behind the stall, and the new spear attendant of the Ghosthound, a man named Teliph, was standing with his arms crossed at the front of the stall.

“What is your order sir?” His voice was dry and bored, but carried a hint of power. The spear users who stepped up looking confident, blinking, examining Teliph more closely. He definitely gave off the vibe of being a powerful spear user. So why was he selling food…?

Claptrap shook his head and walked around behind and walked through the merchant’s alley to get around the aisle and get to his stall. When he arrived, he was once more flabbergasted. A huge pile of Engraved armor was left on the ground like it was spare leather, just sitting in his stall. With trembling hands he looked at once piece, and then another, and then another. All over 60% efficacy.

This… this was just as big as the batch he had given to Artisan Dwei a few days ago. The Ghosthound so quickly made more…?

“Dissatisfied?” Claptrap jumped, and spun around. Hiding behind Teliph and Helen, who were at the front of the counter, the Ghosthound stood, wearing an apron and using strange metal implements to manipulate the sizzling apparati that produced the food. He was…. Cooking…?

Claptrap’s mouth worked soundlessly for several seconds, but then the Ghosthound’s question hit him. “Ah, no, this is perfect. Thank you so much-”

“Don’t worry about it,” The Ghosthound said, turning away and working on other things. Claptrap blinked and then got to work sorting and piling everything on the counter in a more attractive manner. After all, he couldn’t dump treasures like these so wildly, although the Ghosthound was content to do so. It would be disrespectful.

“Ah, one more thing. Do you know what these are? I’ve been extracting them from the meat, and they work pretty well as seasonings, but…”

Turning, Claptrap found the Ghosthound offering him several glowing grey crystals. Claptrap choked, and began coughing wildly. The Ghosthound raised an eyebrow, but waited patiently as Claptrap struggled to reclaim his voice. “T-that…. Those are monster essences…. How did you…? It is rumored that it is only possible to refine those through a complicated process… which is controlled by the Alchemy Guild.”