“What the hell?” Dakkon shot up and out of his seat in alarm.
Gullen chuckled. “Relax,” he said. “He’s only checking something to satisfy my curiosity.”
Azizi’s chanting and gestures ended abruptly. A ray of golden light descended from somewhere above and surrounded Dakkon briefly. Then the light faded away from him except for around his dagger and scabbard, where it lingered. The robed man’s eyes widened and he turned to Gullen, nodding.
“Yes, I see it,” said Gullen, whose gaze was fixed firmly on Dakkon. “I have a proposition for you. As a man who likes to get straight to the point, how would you like to make 10,000 credits?”
“You have my attention,” said Dakkon.
“I am something of a collector of curios,” said Gullen in a casual tone which seemed at odds with his now-unwavering gaze. “It appears that your blade is just the sort that I like. I’ll admit that I was at best skeptical before, but the wind magic on top of that really gave me hope. And here we have it,” Gullen gestured toward Dakkon’s sheathed dagger. “What do you say, Dakkon, want to make 10 grand from a line of computer code?”
Dakkon did, but he also knew that no one with wit or reason would go through the trouble of summoning someone, having cryptic spells cast upon them, then offer 10,000 credits for some inconsequential curio. There was no nostalgia factor at play here which could make the dagger worth collecting, being an item from such a new game. Gullen was planning to put the dagger to some use that justified his 10k expenditure.
Dakkon firmly denied the offer. “No thanks, I like my dagger.” He knew practically nothing about haggling, not even that he necessarily wanted to haggle, but he knew better than to take the first price offered.
Gullen looked surprised, then grinned. “If 10,000 does not satisfy you, then let us skip the dickering entirely. I’m prepared to give you 20,000 credits plus unlimited access to this retreat to use as you please—within reason—for the dagger. Any more and it would be much cheaper to obtain the dagger through other means.”
Gullen’s offer certainly felt generous. With that amount of money, he might be able to start his own company—or if that was too ambitious for the sum, he could live with nearly two years of rent taken care of while he figured things out. Dakkon did not miss the thinly veiled threat of acquiring ‘the dagger through other means.’ He had to assume that Gullen was the sort who tended to get whatever he asked for through whatever means.
When faced with the potentially life-changing sum of money, Dakkon’s skin crawled and his fingers tightened around his dagger. He sorely wanted the money, but the small blade had been an integral piece of Dakkon’s progression. Without it, he wouldn’t have had the power to cut through the various obstacles which would have kept him from growing as he had. If his dagger could help him earn rent and then some over the past, few, in-game days—then its value might just be far greater than the 20,000 credits. The desire for his blade shown by the wealthy man propositioning him served to ground his assumption. Dakkon gulped—seeing his weapon in a new light.
If Dakkon had a future in this game, his dagger would be the seed it grew from—or perhaps Dakkon was the seed and the dagger was the rain, sun, and industrial strength compound fertilizer. Dakkon steeled his resolve. “I appreciate your generous offer.” Dakkon nodded sagely. “I would like to think about it for a few days.”
Gullen appeared more amused than upset, likely convinced that a few days of contemplation would highlight how amazing the deal was for his guest. “Very well,” he said. “You may lodge here in the meantime if you like. I’ll make sure the help is aware.”
“That is very gracious of you,” Dakkon said, glad to be free of Gullen’s stare which was now returned to the people in the water—or perhaps on floating, augmented reality windows filled with work or play from his media console, visible only to him.
“Dakkon,” Gullen said, “in the future, do try to stay away from my vault.”
Dakkon was already walking away. He wanted to be anywhere except there. All instinctual guidance was telling him to get out, so Dakkon set aside his biting curiosity to thoroughly explore the grounds and left the paradise with a detour only long enough to confirm that the gourmet food served here was, indeed, not gratis.
\\\\\\
Corbin logged out of Chronicle. He needed to think about the offer on the table with a clear head. He doubted that being in the game world had any real effect on his decision-making process, but there was no world where he’d allow himself to make a rash decision on the matter when he had the opportunity to mull it over.
Had someone approached Corbin in any other game which he had played and offered 20,000 credits for his items—even adding the stipulation that he could never play again—he would have accepted the deal without reservations. Corbin had never really thought of games as ‘his escape.’ Even if he had, 20,000 credits was a sum of money that could afford him escapes aplenty. Chronicle felt different, though. In addition to being the most immersive and interesting game he’d ever played, Chronicle provided him with a means to achieve future income. Future income which seemed heavily intertwined with his ability to progress rapidly. His meal ticket was likely the very dagger he was being asked to part with.
Corbin wondered if he had a sort of golden-egg-laying goose situation. Selling the goose now might prove extremely unwise. The simple fact that someone was willing to drop 20,000 credits for the item was raising a large red flag. To Corbin, it meant one of the following: A, the dagger was worth considerably more. B, the dagger was an investment which would become worth considerably more in time. C, Mr. Moneybags wanted an equipment upgrade at any cost, despite never having inspected the dagger’s properties for himself. Or, D, that—as Gullen said—he was simply some sort of collector. The latter two options just didn’t make sense, financially speaking. Maybe, if the item was being collected as part of an incredibly lucrative quest then ‘collecting’ it made sense, but then the actual motivation would be, B, he wants the dagger as an investment.
Corbin wracked his brain for anything he could have missed. If—though it seemed unlikely—buying the dagger wasn’t about the money then what else could be Gullen’s motivation? If not money—then power? What kind of video game related power did he expect for 20,000 credits? Or, maybe, it was Corbin who was looking at the situation incorrectly. Chronicle simply was not like other games he had played. Banks and businesses didn’t compete for resources in other games and there certainly wasn’t another game that gave players more hours in their day. Perhaps it was wrong to assume Chronicle was something as simple as a game. It certainly had the potential to be far, far more.
Dakkon had a new take on the situation. Chronicle was a lot like a promising developing country. If someone thoroughly entrenches themselves early on, then they may just heavily prosper as the area is cultivated and developed.
Dakkon had always liked to think of himself as the entrepreneurial sort, although in fairness he had no reason to since he had no practical experience outside of grand ideas and simple prototypes. Now that he had something which might be able to leverage a future for himself, he wanted to hold onto it. He wouldn’t sell the dagger. The finality of his decision and his new high appraisal of value for the weapon left him feeling elated.
\\\\\\
After a meal spent watching Chronicle news stories wholly unrelated to his region of the world, otherwise attending to his bodily needs, and cleaning up the apartment a bit, Corbin hopped back into his capsule and reconnected to the world of Chronicle as Dakkon, the edgemaster.