Chapter 37: Can We Make A Lot of Money Out of This Monster?
"Do you think this would fetch us a lot of money?" Inigo asked, his voice calm and calculating as he stared down at the massive, mangled beast.
Lyra didn’t answer right away. She crouched beside the wyvern, her eyes scanning its scorched hide and twitching limbs. The rhythmic, ragged breaths told her it was still barely clinging to life. "The claws alone would earn a decent sum," she murmured. "And its organs—especially the heart—are worth something to alchemists and mages. Not priceless, but rare enough to draw serious interest."
Inigo’s brow lifted. "So not some ancient legend, then?"
She shook her head. "No. It’s just... big. Strong. Rare. Elder wyverns don’t show up often, but they’re not sacred creatures or anything like that. A high-ranking predator. Dangerous, yes. Revered? No."
"Then there’s no reason to feel bad about making some coin off it," Inigo said, his tone firming.
Lyra didn’t argue. She stood and looked over the beast’s ruined form. "The hide’s thick with latent mana. A single sheet of it could be reforged into armor or woven into spell-resistant cloth."
Inigo’s eyes lit up with interest. "How much do you think for the hide?"
"I don’t know the exact price," she admitted. "But I’ve seen mercenaries paid gold bars for less. It’s just a matter of who’s buying."
"Then we find the right buyer," he said, already unslinging his pack. "We’ve killed it. Might as well make the most of it."
Lyra nodded silently and moved to the other side of the carcass. Together, they began cutting through what they could salvage. Blood steamed from torn muscle. The smell of burnt hide lingered in the air, acrid and metallic.
Inigo used his field knife to pry loose a talon the size of his forearm. "You said these are worth something?"