After the morning’s charade, the group fell into normal stride. Finnegan held overgrown boars captive as the slayers-three drew upon the beasts and felled them quickly. After two hours of good results, the group doubled back to sell their cartload of monster parts.
Dakkon thought about Letis to establish a telepathic link on the trip back to Tian. “Letis. How’s the shaved ice business treating you?” Dakkon asked.
“I’ve sold two cart loads since yours,” replied Letis. “We’re going to need a better way to keep all of this ice frozen. If you just pop by and refreeze it occasionally, I’m pretty sure we’ll have to chisel it loose again.”
“Hopefully sales will pick up when the word spreads,” thought Dakkon. “Did you give the purchasers extra ice?”
“I sure did,” replied Letis. “I even let them know it was extra, since business was slow.”
“Good man. We’re heading back to sell, so you may see some new buyers show up soon.”
Dakkon severed the mental connection to his business partner, and his group walked into town. They sold their bounty for 102 gold, drawing a new round of questions which Ramses turned aside, saying simply that they had a deadline to maintain. It was plain to see the group was pulling a cart filled with red-tinted and sloshy ice, however. When someone asked the skinny, approachable-looking Finnegan where they got the ice, he told them they were just going to top off their ice now. Then, as the small crowd followed the group, Finnegan embellished their success with the frozen product.
When the crowd arrived at Letis’s stand, Dakkon stepped up before Ramses had a chance.
“We only want half—to top us off,” Dakkon said loudly enough to be heard and made an odd gesture that served to cast two re-freezing hotspots on the bottom of the two large barrels. His mana left him rapidly.
Letis sold the group half the amount of ice. The group paid him 30 gold, then before they set off, Finnegan took the opportunity to tell the onlookers that although Letis’s ice was special, it still had a time limit, and that they absolutely had to get the most out of their money. Dakkon marveled that Finnegan might end up advertising the ice far better than he had hoped. They’d probably need to ramp up production for the next day.
The group took off and repeated the process of hunting, selling, and re-filling their ice, growing the number of in-the-know passersby just as they grew their EXP and rewards. By the end of the day, Letis had nearly sold all of his ice stockpile. In total, the ice had profited them an incredible 880 gold. “Letis must have been able to sway several on-the-fence purchasers,” Dakkon thought. When Finnegan, Ramses, and Damak learned that they would each receive an extra hundred gold on top of their party split of 175 per person, they were ecstatic. Even Damak, who had been less than enthusiastic about misleading players before, was eager to prepare for the anticipated to be much busier second day of sales.
After a bit of discussion, the five decided to prepare for one high volume day of sales, sell as much as they could, split the profits an even five ways, then disappear for a while, on to other things. Once the customers found out that they were paying 50 credits for plain ice, there would be a reckoning for Letis if he were foolish enough to stay. A single day would allow for a reasonable pillow of doubt, but after that, Letis would likely have a large target placed on his head. Since he was forced to set up shop outside of the city, there would be no guards to intervene no matter how bad the situation got.
Each was assigned his task, befitting their individual talents. Finnegan would spread the word about the miraculous ice for sale, Dakkon would freeze water, Letis would break the ice up, and Damak would go into town to get refills for the water since there would almost certainly be prying eyes attempting to follow Letis back to his supplier. There would likely be eyes on Letis’s stall tonight, also, which is why Ramses would be out, trying his hardest to keep people away from the area using every means at his disposal. The likelihood that their work wouldn’t go unnoticed was simply another reason for Letis to get out of town.
The five worked industriously through most of the night, acquiring and filling 12 large barrels with crushed ice, which could be tilted at a 45-degree angle and rolled by one man despite their great weight.
The extra hands resulted in six times the ice to sell. If luck was on their side, Letis would have one hell of a busy day tomorrow.
An hour before sunrise, Ramses showed back up to the stall with a red skull on his left cheek.
“You boys done yet?” asked the rogue.
“What’s with the skull?” asked Dakkon.
“Just going above and beyond the call of duty,” said Ramses.
“Nokti’s mark. You get that skull on your cheek from killing a player,” said an unperturbed Damak. “For a day, others can attack our rogue without receiving a red skull themselves. If they manage to kill him, he’s all but guaranteed to drop some gear. Even if he’s grinding away in a full group, there’s a fair chance of him getting jumped in the middle of a fight. The group can’t really come to his aid, either.”
“It’s a good thing our fights are so short, then,” said Ramses. “After a fortune seeker sees us down one of those overgrown pigs in a second, I doubt they’d have the balls to try something.” Ramses accentuated his statement by holding out his upturned palms as though weighing two hefty, rounded objects.
“Or,” said Damak, “Maybe they’ll think you have extremely valuable gear and that the reward of taking you out is worth any risk.”
The rogue dropped his still outstretched arms and huffed.
“Ah, never mind that,” said Ramses. “I’m not laying low for a whole day. Not when it’s our last day with the pigs.”
Ramses’s concern was reasonable. Dakkon was under-leveled and several days’ worth of hunting behind the other three, and even he was beginning to notice diminishing returns from the boars. The levels of the four players weren’t particularly high, so it followed that they probably didn’t need to grind the same enemies for long amounts of time simply to progress. For all Dakkon knew, it could be entirely unnecessary to grind in this game. Perhaps players were simply reverting to an old, familiar method of progression which they learned from other games that they had played before.
“With Finnegan out advertising for us, the hunting grounds may end up being highly contested,” said Dakkon. “On top of the rumors spread by the other players, I doubt we’ll be able to fill the cart as quickly as we managed before.”
The expression on the others’ faces showed that they agreed with Dakkon’s assessment.
“Speaking of the bard, shall we go meet up with him?” asked Damak. “Ramses should stay here, though. He ought to stay away from town while he’s marked.”
“Can players attack a marked player in town?” asked Dakkon.
“Sure, if they’re careful not to be seen by the guard or anyone who would report them,” said Damak. “But, it’s best we avoid advertising that he’s ripe for harvest.”
“Bah, it’s not my first mark,” said Ramses. “A good cloak’s sufficient enough to hide from prying eyes when you know what you’re doing.”
“Still,” said Dakkon. “Letis may have some more unwanted company before he opens up shop. It would kill two birds with one stone if you watched his back until then.”
“I’d like that,” said Letis quickly. The talk of a large target being on his back and that he might have unwanted company seemed to be getting to Letis, now that his hands were finally idle.
“Fine, fine,” said Ramses. “You are the martyr for our misdeeds, after all.”