Chapter 8: Appraisal (Patreon)

The awkward silence after Breka’s departure lasted only a moment before Hadrian straightened his shoulders. “I will not apologize for my lack of faith. It was a reasonable concern made with sound judgement.”

Elliot frowned. “I didn’t ask for an apology. And I get everything except the knife. Even if I’m lying, how paranoid do you have to be to think I’ve been sent after you in particular?”

Hadrian’s eyes tightened. “I have my reasons. And my story is my own.”

“My story was my own too, but here we are.”

“That—” Hadrian caught himself, gritting his teeth. “That is fair. Perhaps I do owe you an apology.”

Elliot found himself surprised at the admission. “Forget it. I didn’t love the knife, but to be honest this wo—part of the world is more wild than where I’m from. Maybe I have unrealistic expectations.”

Hadrian stood still for a second, then dipped his head slightly in acknowledgement. “You are without supplies. I can outfit you from our extras. Are you hungry?”

Elliot’s stomach ached, and his eyes widened. 

“Very well,” Hadrian said with a sigh. “There’s no meal prepared, but I have travel rations.” He pulled out some hard cheese and several rock-like biscuits from a pack next to the table, which Elliot fell upon immediately.

He was exhausted, twitchy, and avoiding a slew of dark thoughts, but he was also starving, and as he ate his fill it was the best he’d felt since the end of the world.

“May I ask—” Hadrian shook his head. “Never mind.”

“What?”

The hunter opened his mouth, clearly wrestled with something, then asked, “If you have truly never touched the Beacon until now, was the thune’s vitae the first your core has ever assimilated?”

“What’s vitae?”

“What’s…” Hadrian frowned. “This is truly absurd. And all you have is your inspection skill and the shard for the first step? No skills at all from childhood?”

“That’s it.” What a weird thing to be talking about. My magic skills? Oh yeah, just two. How about your magic skills? 

“I presume it is safe to say that you have no supplies to your name but the clothes on your back?”

“Yeah,” Elliot said, thinking with longing of the fully-stuffed dresser in his apartment. “Just these. And I’m sorry but I have no money, so I can’t pay for the food or the lodging.”

“Breka offered that in recompense, not as an item of sale,” Hadrian said, brows drawing together. “There is no need to offer insult by discussing remuneration.”

“Sorry,” Elliot said, holding up his hands. “Just trying to be fair. No need to be so touchy.”

“I am not—” Hadrian snapped before visibly mastering himself. “You participated in the hunt for the thune today, however poorly. Here.” He walked over to a canvas sack in the corner and drew out something wrapped in oilcloth. “You may have this to sell for parts.”

Taking the package gingerly, Elliot folded the waxed cloth back and almost dropped it with a yelp. It was an arm, bloody and scaled. “What is this from?”

“Do you not have an inspection skill?”

Grimacing, Elliot activated [Detailed Appraisal]. It was the arm of a marsh drake, another common predator in the region, and its scales could be sold for roughly a clip each.

Oh—interesting. He’d just gotten currency knowledge.

Ten clips to a silver, ten silvers to a gold, ten golds to a royal. What a strange thing to come with inspecting a severed arm. Was this how inspection skills worked, or was it the Beacon preferentially rectifying his basic ignorance?

“I will fetch you simple toiletries,” Hadrian said as he moved to the back of the room.

“Thank you. And thanks for the…arm. Honestly.” Anything that had monetary value was a considerable step up from the net worth of zero he currently boasted.

“It is as you are owed,” the man replied stiffly.

Elliot refrained from replying. The hunter was in a tetchy mood, or he was just a tetchy person.

Now that he’d tried it once, he couldn’t stop himself from using [Detailed Appraisal] on everything in sight. It failed to activate when targeting Hadrian—although Elliot wasn’t sure if that meant people in general didn’t count as ‘minor existences’, or just the hunter.

Everything else sang out to his mind. The broad table was made from chisen, an evergreen tree found across the north. The cloth draped over the four-poster bed was embroidered cotton and over thirty years old. The house walls were granite, and the blue glow that still flickered faintly from every square inch was caused by something called lichalis mixed into the stone.

The information was limited, but fascinating, and he didn’t stop until he’d checked pretty much the entire room.

“Here,” Hadrian said, having gathered together a small bag of items that included a towel, three small jars, and a set of folded cloth tunic and trousers. “And there is more bread and cheese under that cloth on the table, if you wish further sustenance.”

“Thanks,” Elliot replied, gathering up the items from the hunter’s arms. The jars would take some experimentation, but then again he had a magic inspection skill now, so maybe it would be fine.

“You may do as you wish for the rest of the night, but I will be occupied.”

“With what?” Elliot replied, eyeing the cloth on the table that supposedly covered seconds.

“Training,” Hadrian replied shortly, and without another word he dropped gracefully into a crossed-leg position, pulling a metal cube from a pocket of his leathers. Strands of wrought iron had been carefully intertwined to make the shape, and the gaps between strands allowed a glowing light at its center to escape, pulsing softly. He held it between his palms, one above and one below, and closed his eyes.

A quick attempt to use [Detailed Appraisal] failed before it could even activate, which made it the only thing in the room other than the hunter that wasn’t a minor existence.

Elliot held his breath, waiting to see if something crazy would happen, but when half a minute passed with no change he turned back to attack the extra bread and cheese Hadrian had produced. Who knew when his next free meal would come, and it tasted enough like normal food for him to forget about it technically being alien.

Would the micronutrients be consistent here? Presumably things had a lot of overlap, but what if the proteins were missing some essential amino acids? He squinted at a piece of cheese for a few seconds, then sighed and kept eating. There were too many problems to get lost in the details.

Once done, he waited another few minutes to see if Hadrian would move, then rose to his feet and stretched out his sore muscles. With the silence of the house and subsequent lack of distraction, his thoughts began to churn. Rowan was lost, and anyone else he’d ever cared about was gone forever.

Losing Alan and Jess hurt. He’d been a bad friend since the accident, but surely that was fair. It was tough to reach out when drowning. There’d been time, a lifetime to repair and reconnect. 

Not anymore, though. He would never see either of them ever again. No reconnection, no repair. 

And Rowan, most important of all, was so lost it almost felt like she was gone as well. Had she been able to find shelter, stay safe, and identify her own profession? What if she hadn’t, and she was lost and alone in a strange city?

Not only that, but if it got out that she’d interacted with an extradimensional being she’d be at the same risk of imprisonment and burning as him, and Rowan wouldn’t have been told that. Would she know to keep their origin secret?

She would, he thought, rubbing at his temples. She’s smart. She’ll know it would be a risk to share before getting the lay of the land. But what if someone finds out some other way?

He felt himself spiraling towards somewhere he didn't think he could afford to be. I have to stop. I’m going to have a panic attack and get kicked out of the only place I have to spend the night.

“What are you training?” he asked Hadrian’s still form, keeping his tone light.

The hunter furrowed his brow, but his eyes stayed closed, and he didn’t respond.

Elliot took a deep, ragged breath, and closed his eyes as well. Rowan could be hurt. She must be scared. He couldn't lose it, not now. He'd promised he would find her. He had to remain calm. His breathing was speeding up.

“I am training my skills.”

Elliot opened his eyes to find Hadrian looking at him, annoyance mixed with something more complex on his face. The metal cube still sat between his palms. “This acts as an aid.”

“Oh,” Elliot replied, "like, your magic skills, right?"

Hadrian opened his mouth to reply, then clearly stopped himself from saying whatever he’d been about to say and paused for a few seconds before continuing. "Yes. My magic skills."

"How does the box help?"

"Most skill growth occurs naturally at a new step, or the transition between circles. It is possible, though, to improve them more incrementally. With deep focus and an appropriate task, your level of control over your abilities, as well as their strength, can grow. This box substitutes the task. You, for example, would generally need to inspect a wide variety of objects to improve, benefiting from novelty and persistence. With an appropriate version of an item like this, you could improve your control primarily through work with that object, without the need for a vast array of new things to study. Ideally one would practice both methods, of course.”

"Huh," Elliot replied, eyes widening slightly. "Can I try?"

"No," Hadrian snapped. Then he sighed, and when he replied again his voice had softened. "It would not help you. This tool was made for my ability."

"Oh." Elliot sat back down in one of the chairs. "But you said I could also improve just by using my skill a lot. Could I get better by using it over and over on the same items, or is that useless?"

"Not useless. You would get progressively weaker results in terms of growth, but if you truly acquired this ability as recently as you say, then it would benefit you to strengthen your foundation. You must take this task seriously if you wish to achieve anything, though. Do not treat the information you receive as set in stone. Inspect something with your skill, then use your other senses to gather more information, then try again. Push yourself. And do not ask me any more questions while you do this."

Hadrian closed his eyes again.

Elliot rose to his feet, eyeing the room. Where to begin.

Walking over to the four-poster bed, he took a closer look at the embroidered drape. The base fabric was a warm brown, with beautiful green whorls like curling spring branches woven in. More small flashes of color jumped out as he looked the whole thing over, reds and yellows that could have represented flowers.

He continued observing the cloth, working his way around the edges. At the back corner, initially hidden by the structure of the bed, he found the initials J. M. stitched so small they were barely legible.

[Detailed Appraisal] kicked back to life, and with a twitch of surprise Elliot realized there was more information. It wasn't just embroidered, it was hand-embroidered, and the pattern used in combination with the simple signature made it very likely the product of a city called Riestria, although there was no further information about where that was or what else could be found there.

“You can guide it. Try to learn something specific, rather than inspecting without purpose.”

Elliot looked over at Hadrian, surprised he’d interjected, but the man’s eyes were closed and he was as still as if he’d never spoken at all.

Looking back to the bed, then slowly around the room, Elliot tried to make a plan for what to inspect with purpose.

Please Beacon, if you hear things like this, please let Rowan be okay.