Chapter 68: A Dangerous Bargain
Knightly Town lay at the foot of the mountains, no more than a few hundred yards from the mines themselves. It was small, especially compared to the sprawl of Moster City, but it had everything a frontier settlement needed to survive. Combat mentors for every class path operated out of sturdy stone halls, blacksmiths rang their anvils from dawn until nightfall, and engineering workshops and tailor shops lined the main road like well-worn fixtures of daily life.
Because it served as the only supply, repair, and rest stop anywhere near the mines, the town never truly slept. Players and NPC miners poured through its streets at all hours, their boots tracking dust and ore from one end of town to the other. Nearly half the local NPC population made their living underground.
The Temple of Rebirth, in particular, was always busy. Where people gathered, trouble followed, and where there was trouble, there were deaths. Spirits released from fallen players reformed there in an endless rotation, pale figures shimmering into existence before hurrying back out into the world.
At the center of town stood the Iron-Fang Tavern, its reputation carried largely by one infamous specialty: Iron-Snake Gall Wine. Flynn was in the middle of sampling it and immediately regretting his life choices. The liquid burned its way down his throat, bitter and sharp, leaving behind a clinging aftertaste that refused to fade. He set the glass down with a wince. "I swear, I’ve never tasted anything this foul in my life."
Across the table, a middle-aged man with a head polished bald by age and habit let out a deep, rolling laugh. Unlike Flynn, he drank with clear enjoyment, savoring each swallow before releasing a satisfied hiss. When he finished his glass, he leaned back and grinned, yellowed teeth on full display. "You’re still young, lad. You haven’t lived long enough to appreciate a drink like this. There’s history in that bitterness. Can’t you smell it, the weight of a hard life?"
Flynn snorted and rolled his eyes, resisting the urge to point out that the man was an engineering mentor, not some wandering philosopher. He settled for silence as the man, Karvis, launched into an enthusiastic explanation of snake gall fermentation, aging methods, and the subtle differences between batches depending on the time of year. Flynn endured it until his patience thinned to a thread.
Eventually, Karvis seemed to remember why they were talking at all. He peered at Flynn over the rim of his glass. "So, you’re an engineer too. One of Gnomo’s students, if I’m not mistaken. Tell me, then, what exactly are you hoping to learn from me? I’ll be straight with you. Anything I know, that old goat knows as well. And the things he doesn’t know, I’m certainly not teaching. Not even for a free drink."
He swirled the dregs in his glass, his grin turning sharp and calculating. "Old hands like us survive by keeping a few secrets. If we handed out our best techniques to every eager kid, we’d be out of work in a week."
"That’s fair," Flynn said easily, shrugging. "Everyone needs an edge. I’m not here for your secret techniques, though I am curious about your specialty. What is it you’re best at?"
The color drained from Karvis’s face, then rushed back all at once, turning a deep, offended purple. He stared as if Flynn had slapped him. "You don’t know my specialty? Lad, did Gnomo tell you nothing? Karvis of Knightly Town is a certified genius. A master of explosives!"
"Well, he did use the word genius," Flynn replied, wearing a crooked grin that begged to be punched. "Usually when he was talking about himself. As for you, he never mentioned your name. I didn’t even know you existed until I walked into town today, Master Karvis."
For a moment, Karvis looked genuinely wounded. Anger, disbelief, and pride wrestled across his face before he slammed his palm on the table with a sharp huff. "Of course he didn’t mention me. Jealousy, that’s what it is. Pure jealousy. His blasting powder couldn’t scare a chicken out of a coop compared to mine. He knows it, too. That’s why he keeps my name out of his mouth. He may have a fancy shop in Moster City, but talent-wise, he doesn’t hold a candle to me."
’Explosives...’ Flynn’s interest ignited immediately. He leaned forward, his voice softening into something friendly and curious. "You specialize in high-yield blasting powder?"
Karvis shot him a sidelong look, pride practically radiating from him. "High-yield? That’s putting it lightly. I don’t make toys or fireworks. I make powder that shakes mountains. You know how the Black-Iron Mount mines were opened? Not with pickaxes. My powder cracked that mountain open."
’Mountain-shakers.’ Flynn felt his pulse quicken. That kind of destructive power was exactly what he needed.
He adjusted his posture, eyes fixed on Karvis. "What would it take for me to learn how to make something like that?"
Karvis sized him up and shook his head. "You’re not ready for that level, kid. Tell me the real reason you’re here."
Flynn knew pushing now would only backfire. He changed tactics. "You’ve lived here a long time. I’m looking for someone who moved to town within the last two years, someone who spends most of their time mining nearby."
Karvis frowned. "Why chase after some random miner?"
Flynn tapped the bronze medallion hanging against his chest. "Mercenary work. The target’s using an alias."
"I see," Karvis said slowly, then froze mid-thought. His eyes locked onto the silver bar Flynn had casually set on the table. "Sweet heavens... is that silver ore?"
He snatched it up, his expression transforming into pure greed. Flynn didn’t need to say anything. One bar was enough. The reaction alone told him how scarce the material had become. If Gnomo was struggling to meet military quotas in the city, then Knightly Town was almost certainly under the same pressure. And a man who dealt in explosives would never be overlooked by the army.
Flynn was certain of it. Karvis was desperate. Even living beside the mines meant little when the Department of Mining locked everything down. No one, not even a local legend, could skim materials without risking severe consequences.
Karvis looked up sharply. "How much silver do you have? And tungsten? I’ll take all of it."
"Twenty bars of silver," Flynn said calmly. "In exchange for the information I asked for. That’s all I’m offering."
The excitement drained from Karvis like air from a punctured bellows. He slumped back in his chair. "Twenty is nothing. I need at least a hundred bars of each just to meet my quota."
’Another hundred.’ Flynn suppressed a sigh. The coincidence was starting to feel intentional. "I can’t give you that much tungsten," he said, "but I do have a small reserve of both metals. It depends on what you’re willing to trade."
Karvis straightened instantly. "How much?"
Flynn checked his inventory. "Twenty bars of tungsten and ninety-two of silver. Ninety-three, counting the one you’re holding."
Karvis glared at him. "Didn’t you just say you didn’t have much more than that?"
Flynn smiled. "I said I didn’t have much."
Karvis grumbled, then nodded. "The tungsten’s light, but it’ll do. What do you want?"
"The information," Flynn said evenly. "And your signature techniques. I want to learn your specialty."
Karvis nearly choked. "Absolutely not. My life’s work stays with me, especially from a student of Gnomo." He shook his head so hard his cheeks wobbled.
Flynn understood the resistance. Karvis’s status, his leverage, everything he had was built on his explosives. Giving that away meant giving up control.
"I don’t need everything," Flynn said with a quiet laugh. "Just a few recipes. And don’t try to pass off junk."
Karvis hesitated, chewing his lip. Finally, he raised two fingers. "Two Junior-level recipes. That’s it. Any more and I’ll be begging on the streets."
Flynn nodded. That was more than enough. "They have to be your exclusive designs. And you won’t teach them to anyone else."
Karvis scoffed. "I won’t promise never, but you’ll get a one-month head start. I still have to eat." His eyes gleamed with calculation.
Flynn saw through him easily, but a month was all he needed. "Deal."
Karvis pulled two scrolls from his belt and slapped them onto the table. "No need to choose. These are the only two."
Flynn handed over the materials and unrolled the parchments.
---
Schematic: High-Explosive Blasting Powder (Bronze-grade)
Requires: 3 Rough Stones, 1 Tungsten-Coal Chunk, 1 portion of Tungsten Powder
Effect: Creates a significantly more powerful explosive
Requirement: Junior Engineer, Proficiency 4,000 or higher
Schematic: Flame Blasting Powder (Bronze-grade)
Requires: 3 Rough Stones, 1 Tungsten-Coal Chunk, 1 portion of Fire Magic Dust
Requirement: Junior Engineer, Proficiency 6,000 or higher
---
At first glance, the schematics were excellent. The high proficiency requirements alone proved their value. Then Flynn noticed the materials.
Tungsten-Coal Chunks were fine. He had plenty of those. Tungsten Powder, however, had to be refined from raw tungsten ore. Ore he no longer possessed. As for Fire Magic Dust, the name meant absolutely nothing to him.
Flynn leaned back with a groan. "You’ve got to be kidding me."
Another deal, another set of recipes he couldn’t use yet. For the first time in a long while, it felt like his luck had finally hit a wall.