Chapter 5 - Cobblestone Index Shop

  “No, no, you have to make the runes far more detailed,” Rowan corrected, not quite as pleasantly as he should have.

  But this was the fifteenth time his stupid apprentice had made this error. How did he still not understand it?

  “Then tell me what you mean by detailed!” his stupid apprentice growled back, chucking the chisel on the table. “A rune is a rune, isn’t it?”

  Rowan sighed, shaking his head in a ‘this guy just doesn’t have the talent’ kind of way. “Listen, stupid apprentice; you have to feel the detail in your mind. Look at mine, then see what’s missing in yours.”

  “My name is Arth—”

  “Not before you make your first base formation, it isn’t.” Rowan retrieved one of his current projects and put it in front of the young lad. It was shaping up to be one of his best pieces yet. “Here, look at this. See the details?”

  “...I see the runes.”

  “Don’t use your eyes!”

  “Oh, sorry, let me use my nose then!”

  Rowan scoffed, grabbing his cane and hobbling away from the workshop counter, standing in front of the shop desk instead.

  He looked around at his pride and joy. Hundreds of indexes were neatly displayed in glass cases, tempting any customer who walked through the door.

  Ah, I didn’t notice this young man entering earlier. Why is he dressed like that?

  The young man wore an old outfit in black and gold, looking ready for a performance of some sort. He studied a few of the indexes silently before quietly exclaiming to himself, “Oh, that’s brilliant! Such a simple but ingenious improvement…”

  Rowan nodded proudly, feeling some of the frustration of teaching his apprentice lifting.

  A good eye! I bet you haven’t seen anything quite like this in any Sievermans shop.

  “Oh, but this formation is… what kind of moron designed this?” the young man continued, melting Rowan’s satisfaction like a void flame.

  Why is he talking like he can see the hidden formations in the first place?

  “Sir! If you have any complaints about the quality, their creator is standing right here.” Rowan pointed to himself.

  The young man turned, glancing at Rowan and his apprentice briefly. “Oh, I meant no offense. It’s just frustrating to see that no one has realized some of these design flaws.”

  “Flaws?” Rowan scoffed. The man was staring at one of his more recent projects, one in which he had complete confidence. “Why don’t you tell me about one of them?”

  “...Well, the most obvious one is the complexity of the base formation. You could drop all the lesser attachment-formations in this one by simply reversing the rune order and inserting a melding rune at the four cardinal directions. It would attach to all the different functions flawlessly, removing any extra complexity and the risk of breaking due to brittle pathways.”

  The stupid apprentice scoffed lightly, but before he could speak, he was interrupted by a cane that fell to the floor.

  Rowan’s cane, which he only now realized he had dropped.

  “H-How… It’s so simple?”

  Rowan knew it right away—this seemingly simple solution would improve his designs significantly. Not just by making the base formation more robust and easier to make, but also by leaving more room for other improvements.

  The base formation hadn’t been improved in centuries, only changed, because no one dared to mess with the base upon which everything else was built.

  “Exactly,” the man replied, shrugging lightly. “But that’s one of the lesser problems. This spatial storage formation is brilliant, but currently it’s not utilizing the space efficiently at all. If you were to register the items inserted with a shape formation before creating each individual space, then you’d save a significant portion on overlapping items. Or mana, depending on your focus.”

  …That’s ingenious. By doing this, the formation would drain far less mana when the spatial storage is near empty. This would even remove the need for different size classes based on mana pool!

  “That’s way too compli—”

  “You shut the hell up! Don’t you dare speak another word!” Rowan yelled at the young apprentice. “You can’t understand how brilliant this is? How many generations of idiots did it take to produce you?!”

  The super idiotic apprentice looked mortified. “But… you’re my Grandpa?”

  …Right, that insult works better when the other party isn’t a direct descendant of mine.

  “Not when we’re working, I’m not! You say another word and I’ll make sure you have no coins left over for that ‘friend’ of yours, got it?”

  The young lad nodded nervously, zipping his mouth shut, locking it with a key, and then swallowing it. Which obviously made the entire mimicking act useless.

  Gods, I never should have let her marry that merchant…

  But despite the attempt at being angry, he could help but smile at the little guy. “Run to your mother, Arthur. Tell her to make whatever you want for dinner today. I’ll be late.”

  The lad saluted, tipped over a cup of tools on his way up from the chair, hurriedly picked them back up, chipping the table in the process, then he left out the back door with quick steps.

  Rowan sighed, then chuckled.

  “Cute kid,” the genius said, looking at the door as Arthur left.

  “Yeah, he’s got that going for him… But you!” Rowan pointed at him with an intense glare. “How much do you want for helping me improve these indexes?”

  “Oh, money? Uhm… How much do you think it’s worth?”

  Rowan had to shake his head. Honestly, he didn’t have the kind of money that this information was worth. “I can give you all the money I have if you’re willing to assist me for the rest of the day.”

  Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

  “Oh, no, that’s too much!”

  “No, trust me, I would feel bad if I gave you any less. If I’m being quite honest, you’ve already given me enough to have earned that much.”

  “...It’s that useful? My advice?”

  “Are you joking?! You’ve solved challenges that millions of index makers haven’t been able to, and with a casual glance at that! If I didn’t know any better, I’d say Artorias himself was standing in front of me!”

  “Hahahahaa!” the man laughed loudly, nearly shaking the building. It seemed like the kind of exaggerated laugh someone makes when they're trying to hide something. “Now that would be something, huh?”

  “It would indeed,” Rowan replied, now eyeing the man with some suspicion. “Say, you’re not from the Sieverman’s, are you?”

  The oldest and greatest index company was the only entity that might have possessed such knowledge. They brought indexes to the world, after all.

  “Oh, not at all. I know of them, but that’s it.”

  “Hah, I would think it odd if you didn’t. But what do you say?”

  The man looked around the shop for a while as he made his decision. “Okay, but I will only take three-quarters of your money. Final offer.”

  “I can hardly say no to that,” Rowan laughed, before putting his hand forward. “I’m Rowan Cobb, owner of the Cobblestone Index Shop.”

  “Nice to meet you, Rowan.” They shook hands. “I’m Daniel Hansen, not owner of much at the moment.”

  “I suspect that’s about to change, Daniel. Join me in the workshop, will you?”

  Rowan nearly ran to the workplace, forgetting his cane completely. It had been decades since he was this excited.

  Or, a decade and a half, I guess. The kid is turning sixteen soon.

  The day quickly turned to evening as Rowan and Daniel sat in the workshop, improving formations one by one. A simplification here, an improvement there, and entirely new function under there.

  Rowan proved to be an excellent collaborator, filling gaps that Daniel's theoretical expertise had left open. The old formation master had clearly spent decades on his craft.

  It was lucky they started working on the time-keeping formations when they did, because otherwise they would sit there for the rest of the night.

  The soft chime of the clock pulled Daniel from his concentration. He blinked, surprised to find his eyes dry and strained from focusing on intricate runic work for hours without break.

  “Ah, quarter past midnight,” Rowan noted, looking at a clock on the wall. “I’ve held you for longer than promised, sir.”

  Quarter past midnight? Where did the time go?

  Daniel rubbed his temples, feeling the dull ache that came from extended mental exertion.

  "I'll be honest," he replied, stretching his back with an audible pop. "My brain is starting to cook. It's been quite a day."

  “Yeah, I can’t even tell you the last time I had this much fun working on formations. Even if I gave you everything I had, I could never repay you for this.”

  Rowan's enthusiasm was infectious, and Daniel found himself smiling despite his exhaustion.

  “Oh, stop. I learned a lot of new stuff as well, and it has been fun.”

  Rowan rummaged in a closet that had remained closed until now, and picked out two glasses and a bottle of crystal. It was filled with the kind of golden brown liquid that usually tasted like cardboard and pain.

  "One for the road?" Rowan asked, setting the glasses down on the workbench with a satisfying clink.

  Daniel eyed the bottle warily. “As long as I won’t regret it.”

  Rowan popped the cork and started pouring, filling Daniel's glass first. “Starpop. It’s not that strong, but there’s a kick to it that will let you stay awake for a bit longer. A magical one.”

  “Oh?” Daniel lifted the glass and studied the liquid in the sobering workshop light. The golden brown base was familiar enough, but there was definitely something else moving inside—tiny points of light that swirled around inside it. “Some kind of magical crystal?”

  “Yeah, they kind of pop and release mana once they’re in your stomach. It’s an interesting experience if you haven’t tried it before. Oh, you’re above level hundred, right?”

  Level hundred. Daniel almost laughed at the question.

  “Barely. Is it dangerous for those below it?”

  “Eh, it’s just what it says on the label. Just figured I’d make sure.”

  Daniel nodded, though privately he doubted the crystals would have any noticeable effect on him. Dangerous for level one hundred meant barely noticeable for archmages, and he was no mere archmage.

  “To Artorias!” Rowan cheered, holding his glass up to Daniel.

  “To Artorias,” he echoed, with significantly less enthusiasm.

  The toast felt surreal in ways he was still struggling to process. Rowan was toasting a legend, a hero from ancient history who had saved the world and become a religious figure, and the inventor of what his life’s work was centered on.

  Daniel was just a guy who'd written that hero's story on his laptop while chain-smoking cigarettes and downing energy drinks.

  It was still too strange, being this legendary figure from a thousand years ago. And at the same time, not being him. Only their memories had merged—Daniel still felt like himself, one hundred percent.

  The liquid hit his tongue like liquid fire. Daniel's eyes watered as the alcohol burned its way down his throat, carrying a complex mix of flavors—honey, herbs, something that tasted vaguely like cinnamon, and an underlying bitter note that made his sinuses clear instantly.

  Jesus Christ, that's strong.

  He managed not to cough, though it took considerable effort. The aftertaste lingered, coating his mouth with warmth and making his tongue tingle.

  Then he felt a few tiny pops in his stomach, like little soap bubbles gently popping. Each one released a tiny burst of mana that dispersed through his body, creating a warm, energizing sensation that was unlike anything he'd ever experienced.

  Oh, that's actually pretty cool! Would be incredible in a fruity, carbonated drink. Energy drink on steroids.

  "Hooh!" Rowan burst out, pressing a hand to his stomach with a wide grin. "That wakes you up, doesn't it?"

  “Sure does!”

  Daniel had to admit, the mana bursts were having an effect—not the energy boost Rowan had described, but something more subtle. The mental fatigue that had been weighing him down was lifting, replaced by a crystal-clear alertness that made the workshop's details seem sharper.

  Magical caffeine. Why didn't I think of that when I was writing?

  Daniel put the glass down and stood from his chair, feeling the hours in his legs. “I guess I’d better get out of here. Find me a place to stay for the night.”

  “Right. Let me just fix the payment for you.”

  Rowan started moving his fingers through the air, pressing invisible buttons only he could see through his index glasses. “You implemented the payment receiver on your index, right?”

  “Yeah, it should be ready,” Daniel replied, holding his index bracelet up for him.

  It had taken a lot of effort to combine the modern advancements with the old version. Spatial storage, spell assistance, projection, stat measuring, and signal transmission.

  Luckily, Artorias had created the original with modifications in mind, making it easier to develop new things for it as he needed them.

  [--|--]

  Incoming Credit Transfer: 3,078,678 Sliver

  Accept?

  [Yes] - [No]

  [--|--]

  Working just as intended. Daniel pressed the ‘yes’ button, hoping the sum was reasonable. Soon after, a credit line showing the number of slivers opened on his index, and a bit of mana drained as encryption protocols verified the transaction.

  “A pleasure doing business with you, Rowan.”

  “The pleasure was all mine, Daniel. I’m taking a gamble with that money, but I’m confident I’ll earn it all back once people notice the improvements we’ve made! Maybe I’ll even get the Sievermans on my door, begging to learn from me.”

  A wide grin spread on his face as the old man’s imagination ran wild with visions of commercial success and professional vindication.

  Daniel felt a slight pinch of guilt over doing this deal with a competitor of his old party member, but Sebastian had earned more than enough out of Artorias’ invention by now. Besides, he had been dead for many centuries at this point.

  Like everyone else he once knew, save for a couple of elves, hopefully.

  “See you later, old man.”

  “Take care!”

  Daniel stepped out into the cool night air, feeling the contrast between the workshop's warm, mana-charged atmosphere and the crisp darkness outside. The city was quieter now, with magical lamps casting soft yellow light on the cobblestone.

  Now, where is the closest hotel?