In the morning, I woke up with a hangover and found myself sitting on the floor and hugging the barrel of beer. Before I had gone to sleep, I had passed the shield back to Stephen and was regretting that decision massively. As I shook myself awake and took a small sip of wine, the shield was pushed into my hands. Stephen was already wide awake thanks to the shield and necklace preventing his hangover while the others were still passed out and sleeping in odd positions all over the bed.

With the shield in hand, I was already feeling better and decided to go off on a dungeon run before anyone got up. I still had the silver from selling the ores yesterday for entering the dungeon. The problem is that I didn’t have any other money on hand currently. Jerry still had all the remaining cash and had a tight hold over it so we’d be able to keep the room for a few more days. If I wanted to get new clothes or a bad to carry stuff with, I’d need to sell off the other ore that I had held onto that Vincent had pushed onto me. Even if it wasn’t worth much, it was making my clothes and body smell awful so getting rid of it was a priority.

As I exited the room, Stephen closed things up and locked them behind me. Although it was terrible to think as much, it was awfully convenient that Stephen was injured and could watch over the room and keep our stuff safe while we were out and about. That door bold could only be used with someone in the room and I didn’t trust the door’s regular lock fully. Back in my old hometown, there was a blacksmith who knew a bit of locksmithing and apparently picking locks like those were fairly easy for those that knew how.

It was already in the afternoon and the alley where the room lied was even more empty than before. The few people that were here leaned against the walls, drinking or eating while watching the crowd go by on the street. Did they have nothing better to do or were they criminals, looking for a target to rob? Not like I could judge them with my looks. I looked homeless compared to most people around here. Then again, plenty of merchants and adventurers slept outside the gate with clothes and armor that looked quite pricey so the standard was high for the homeless.

Before heading towards the dungeons, I headed towards the more general market area, the place with all the food. While most of the place was dominated by stands selling cheap food and various ingredients, there were merchants selling jewelry, the odd knick-knack, tools, and even a few places selling the same ore as before except at two pieces for a silver, the most expensive I had seen it yet. I decided to walk up to them, despite their high prices, not as a customer but more of someone asking for directions. Surely a shop selling ores and weapons would know a blacksmith or an area where I could exchange this ore, if they wouldn’t buy it themselves.

“Hey there, have you seen this sort of ore before?” I asked while pulling it out.

“That’s no metal ore if I’ve ever seen one. Seems to be some strange material, but it smells and looks like a rock that you just pissed on for a few days,” said the merchant quite bluntly.

“Do you know anywhere I could sell this and would you buy it? I assure you it's no piss rock. I picked it up from the dungeon in the later floors,” I said.

“Smells like a scam to me. Buzz off and bother someone else unless you’re buying. If you insist on trying to sell that shit, then keep going to the left until it opens up to the smith quarter. The people there have good eyes and will beat the piss out of you if you try to pull a fast one,” said the merchant. He was rude and wanted me to go away, but gave me some valuable information so I thanked him anyway.

To the right was the dungeon and the inn I was staying in so I headed in the opposite direction towards this supposed smith quarter. With a name like that, I imagined blacksmiths lining every corner of the street like the ore stands around the dungeon. Instead, I found a relatively quiet area with only a few people. There were some buildings here and there with smokestacks and the sounds of metal clashing. Blacksmiths obviously held some position and wealth in this town, affording their own buildings, often with more than one floor in their own little area that didn’t border any residential areas nor did it have much foot traffic.

The roads were so clear that carriages could come through. One of the carriages passing by was completely filled with various weapons and ores. It stopped next to me and the merchant motioned towards me so I walked up to it. He motioned for me to get even closer so I climbed into the coachmen’s seat on the carriage.

“Could you pass me that staff for a second?” asked the merchant, referring to the crappy staff I bought yesterday. It was still strapped to my back with my spear and was covered in cracks so I was considering just throwing it out.

His hands ran along the cracks on the spear and then tapped it on the edge of the carriage. Checking to see if something was hollow was the norm for pretty much anything. Not just to prevent being ripped off, but to also look for hidden compartments containing valuables. After checking out a few other things, he smiled and seemed satisfied with it.

“What caused this crack?” asked the merchant and I was more than happy to tell him. Since he was taking such an interest in it, that meant he might be interested in buying it.

“I was curious as to why so many weapons were made of this material and if it was effective despite being so light. In the dungeon, I hit a skeleton monster in its head and this is the result. If you think this crack is bad, you should have seen the skeleton,” I said while embellishing the story a bit.

“A skull bashing staff. Now that’s quite the story. A story like that alone is worth a drink in any bar. I’ll take it,” said the merchant while tossing it in the back and passing me a silver for it. That was double the value I paid for since we got two weapons for one silver yesterday.

I took the silver and hopped off the carriage, waving at him as he continued down the street. What a nice guy he was. After he was out of sight, I realized I should have shown him the ore to see if he would buy it. No matter, I could always try selling it to a blacksmith. And with that thought in mind, I entered one of the buildings at random and found myself in more of a shop than a smithy. There were weapons lining the walls and armors held up on wooden poles so they’d be at the same height as they’d be if I was wearing them.

From the sounds of hammering, the actual smithy was in the back along with the smith himself. In his stead, there was a young man of twelve or thirteen in the shop. He was most likely an apprentice and the person who I would have to talk with rather than the smith. His eyes were glued to the back area, likely having an angle to watch the blacksmith work from his position. He didn’t notice me until I closed the door behind me.

“Hello mister, what can I help you with?” asked the boy while coming out from behind the counter and walking up to me. It had been a long time since I had been treated with respect by a stranger.

“I’ve got this ore I got from the dungeon and I was wondering if I could get it identified and sold possibly,” I said while pulling out the ore. He took one whiff of it and suddenly took a few steps back, keeping his distance from me.

“I’ve never seen something like that so I’d have to get master to look at it. Just know that he has a short temper with things like this,” he said, thinking this was some sort of scam or joke like the shop owner who pointed me this way. I nodded my head in understanding and the boy went to the back.

The sounds of metal clashing stopped a few moments later and a buff man covered completely in soot walked out. His face was contorted into a grimace either from being disturbed in his work or from how dirty he currently was. I passed the ore into his hands and his nose wrinkled up in disgust. A few moments later, he set it on a nearby shelf and waved for the boy to come back.

“Boy, work the counter. I’m covered in dust. He’s got a chunk of sulfur. Give him two coins or an item worth three. If he wants more, give it back to him and kick him out,” he said before walking back to the smithy and resuming his work. Not much of a businessman with that take it or leave deal. I’d prefer to trade for an item for the full three coins worth if I could.

“Do you have a set of clothes or a bag I could use to carry a large number of ores in? I would rather take those than coin if I could,” I said to the boy as he stepped back to the counter.

“We don’t have clothes, only armor. You’d need to talk to a tailor for that. As for bags for transporting ores, we have those but I’m not sure if we sell them. I’ll go ask,” said the boy as he went into the back. Another minute passed before he came back and during that time the hammering never stopped.

In his hands was a leather sack as big as me. Its outside was brown while the insides were pitch black from use. Around the opening of the bag was some slits with rope around it. I could use that to not only close up the bag but also to sling it over my shoulder for easier carrying. It was perfect for my needs.

“It’s not exactly worth three silver but close enough. Good luck with your ventures and hope to do business with you again,” said the boy.

Next time I need a smith for something, I would probably check out the other places first to get a good comparison on prices and what not. The only reason I didn’t do so this time is because I just wanted to get rid of the stinking thing. So far in the city, I hadn’t been ripped off too badly and felt confident I had gotten a good deal despite my lack of comparisons or knowledge on the sulfur. I had traded away something I didn’t need for something I did. Is that not the basis for all trade?

Backtracking to the dungeon, I looked around to see if any other adventurers or knights had bags or other things like that. There were very few which surprised me. How did they make a profit off the dungeon without carrying back large amounts of the ore? Carrying enough for the trip to be worthwhile wasn’t feasible without a good bag.

The queue was basically the same as it was yesterday and I managed to get into the dungeon after paying the toll of silver. There was no going back now. That was my only silver on hand and if I had to leave, I’d have to get more money from Jerry. My worst fear is that I would face up against an enemy that was hard or annoying to deal with. That fear was realized.