“You have another question?” Colidra asked.

“You can think of it that way,” said Claud. “All this talk about monsters from another era has made me very curious about things I used to not care about."

After Claud heard about how surviving ritual magic backed by gods was a really big thing from Isolde, he couldn’t help but wonder just what exactly Absolute One was. That…status window he’d obtained, when he became a mana-user, had only served to deepen his confusion further. It couldn’t even name Absolute One properly, and to make matters worse, it wasn’t the only odd skill either.

He muttered a word in his mind, and a window popped up.

Name: Claud Primus

Lifespan: 104 years

Active Skills: Presence Nullification (8), Flight (5), Binding Order (7), Cleanse (6), FiBoD;E??? (0), FiBoD;E??? (0)

Passive Skills: DiL???C, Mana Organ

Mana Circuit Superimposition: 1.0

Mana Control Proficiency: Intermediate

Comments: Like I said, your skillset’s a mess, but that really can’t be helped. You should really at least work on consolidating your mana circuits, though. They haven’t improved at all. Right, if you need help with those weird skills, you can consider approaching any of the gods’ Blessed. They’ll help you…or dissect you. It’s kinda a coin flip, yeah?

Claud looked at the status, confirmed the two odd skills on them, and then rolled his eyes. Placing a suitably nervous expression on his face, he cleared his throat.

“Something wrong?” Colidra slid his emptied plate over to the bartender, who caught it expertly. “You seem rather…nervous.”

You’d be, if the Goddess of Learning’s system is expressing concern for you. Smiling wryly, Claud lowered his voice and said, “Well, I read about something odd a few days ago…you can even consider it a secret that none of us can afford to leak.”

“A secret that none of us can afford to leak?” Colidra asked, his eyes glittering. “Go on, go on!”

“Consider it payment for my question, I guess.” Claud purposely gulped, and then drew a line across his neck. “This awaits us if anyone ever finds out. If you want to tell other people, at least make sure not to mention me.”

“I swear it on the Moons…now hurry and tell me!” The middle-aged man sidled closer, his glittering eyes seemingly on the verge of bursting in to flames. “Don’t keep me waiting!”

“Alright, alright.” Claud looked around, surveying the area slowly for dramatic effect, and then nodded. “So, a source — a reliable one — told me that there are actually some people who — and you won’t believe this — have skills that take up two skill slots!”

“Two skill slots?!” Colidra whispered back. “That’s impossible!”

“That’s what I said, but…do you know anything about things like these?” Claud asked. “Apparently, it’s said that these skills are…”

“Are?”

Claud lowered his voice even further, running through the lies in his mind. “They’re said to be skills that predated the Third Godsfall.”

Colidra’s eyes turned into slits. “Interesting. In fact, now that you talk about odd skills like these, I can’t help but recall a tale I heard about years ago, when I was still a newcomer to the story plying trade.”

“Oh?”

“It was actually a story to warn us storytellers, really.” The storyteller chuckled. “Thousands of years ago, when Emperor Grandis first took the throne, everyone wanted to know about him. What did he like? What did he dislike? What skills did he have? Things like this that everyone wanted to hear about. So, a bard took it upon himself to pay a visit to his palace at Grandia, and intruded into his royal court. Emperor Grandis smiled, and told the bard that he was open to answering three questions, but only if they were phrased accurately.

“And so, the bard put forth his request. He asked Emperor Grandis what he liked, what he disliked, and what his six skills were. And Emperor Grandis replied. He told the bard that he liked clever and honest men. He told the bard that he disliked insincere fools. And then he told the bard that he had five skills, not six, and therefore, he wouldn’t answer that last question.”

Colidra paused, rubbing his nose.

“Go on,” Claud prompted. “What happened after that?”

“The bard tried to ask, but Emperor Grandis had promised to answer three questions and three questions only. Therefore, for challenging his royal words, the bard was sentenced to death through immolation.” Colidra shook his head. “It’s a morbid tale, but one that tells us storytellers some rules.”

Even though that story’s conclusion wasn’t all that related to Claud’s original question, he still shot an inquisitive gaze at Colidra, who grinned in reply.

“Rules…well. Never ask for more than a noble offers. Never be specific with your question. And never seek out fame through taking risks.” Colidra pushed his pair of glasses up his nose. “It is a cautionary warning for all who seek out nobles for stories.”

“Warning, eh?” Claud let out a slow hiss. “I’ll keep that in mind at all times.”

“I’m sure you will. After all, you place self-preservation above all. How many times have you hid away in your own room when some mana-user came to Licencia?”

“Don’t talk about that, and we’ll still be friends.”

“Alright, alright. Calm down. Why are you sensitive about this anyway? It’s not like you’re going to change your nature anytime soon, right?” Colidra tapped the counter twice. “Well, anyway, doesn’t this myth actually show us something?”

“Something?”

“Look,” said Colidra, “if skills that take up two skill slots exist, it means that such a person would only have a total of five skills, right? Emperor Grandis definitely isn’t the kind to lie, which means that either he has a blank skill slot — which is unlikely — or…”

“He has a skill that takes up two skill slots?” Claud bobbed his head thrice. “Well, I’ll be…”

“I came up with this hypothesis on a whim, however.” The old storyteller yawned. “Besides, there could be other reasons why he said that he only had five skills at that point in time, right?”

“True,” Claud replied. “Still, why would he delete one and do nothing about it?”

“Maybe he just likes the number? Who knows what Emperor Grandis’ thoughts are like anyway?”

“True.”

Sliding off his seat, Claud wriggled his body and stretched it out. “Say, do you have an idea of when that Spear of Fate guy is coming?”

“Two or three days later,” Colidra replied. “I guess I won’t be seeing you in town anymore, would I? You’ll just be sitting at home and waiting until that timebomb leaves…well, at least someone’s rich enough to not do that.”

“Do you want me to deliver lots of apple juice to your place?” the bartender asked. “Maybe some delivered meals too?”

“I’ll just go with the apple juice, thanks.” Producing a low-ranked lifestone, he tossed it at the bartender. “I’m probably going to look for some lifestones veins though.”

He glanced at the bartender, a small smile on his lips. “With a pickaxe or something. Maybe I might get lucky or something.”

“Is your mining map updated?”

“Any big changes from six months ago?” Claud asked.

“If I tell you, wouldn’t you not buy the maps I have on hand?” The bartender smirked. “I’m not dumb.”

Claud clicked his teeth. However, there was little he could do. If he wanted to convince the bartender that the following spates of lifestone thefts had nothing to do with him, he needed to make a small investment. Besides, it wasn’t all that expensive, so he tossed a few silvers at the bartender.

“Get me some skillsticks too. Ones for prospecting.”

“Sure thing, bub.” The bartender jingled the coins in his hand. “Anything else? Do you want to hire a bunch of people to carry any ores you might find?”

“No need,” Claud replied.

“That confident, are you?” The bartender rolled his eyes. “Well, every time you do honest work, you never seem to need any help. Do you have a storage skill or something?”

“If I did, I would have been making big bucks off trading, not mining.” Claud rolled his eyes. “Right, which shops should I avoid when I sell lifestones?”

“That’ll be—”

“Oh come on, surely you can tell me that for free, right?”

“Fine, fine. Come closer, I don’t want some freeloaders to overhear my words,” said the bartender, producing a map of the city.

Claud looked down at it, raising his eyebrows slightly. “How are there this many lifestone shops in Licencia? Weren’t there like ten before last month or something? How does double that number pop up over such a short duration?”

“Apparently, it’s some policy that the Istrel Dukedom set up. I’m not too sure about the details, and nor do I care, but every lifestone shop worth their salt is trying to buy lifestones like their life depends on it,” said the bartender. “They’re also offering rather odd…deals to entice customers into selling.”

“Deals?”

“You’ll have to see it to believe it.” Clearing his throat, the bartender began to point out the shops that offered the best benefits for selling.

As he rattled on, Claud couldn’t help but wonder about the policy in question…and why the Istrel Dukedom was placing such a premium on lifestones. Was it related to him?