Malcolm Tent
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Wish upon the Stars chapter 897
🕑 Added 2025-05-29 23:11:34 +0000 UTCThe path up to Yettin was long, and it was made longer by the constant attempts to sell us things. Animal had mentioned space here was at a premium, but I hadn’t considered the logical (or illogical, considering the fervor) conclusion of that concept. Namely, EVERYTHING in Yettin was for sale.
After the first ring, we made it up to the second gate. Except it wasn’t one gate. It was two. Two identical doors right next to each other, with one of them marked for “expedient entry”. We didn’t take that one, and ended up waiting two hours for someone to come let us in, after which we were guided to the next path. Or rather, the next three paths, with each of them being successively more upscale.
The first path was barely visible, more of a gravel road than anything. The second was functional, sturdy brick with regular shaded benches and water fountains along the length, and the third was made of enchanted brick that emanated Vitality and actually imbued the walker with speed to hasten their steps. Along path three, stands and small shops were peppered, with opportunistic locals waiting to sell anyone who came through things like sun hats, small fans, and little bottles of cooling mist.
We took the free path, obviously, and made decent time, but I had seriously underestimated the distances of these damned rings, and it took us an hour to make the trip. I was at least half sure the path had been spatially expanded to make it longer, but if it had, it was so subtle even Dantalion couldn’t pick it up, so there was nothing I could do about it.
At the third gate, we were offered a membership card that would let us skip some of the fees on the way back up, but at this point, I was determined not to spend any money during this trip. I was annoyed, and that made me stubborn, and I forced everyone to do things the hard way just to prove to myself that I could resist all this nonsense, despite the complaints from most of my party.
By the time we reached the final wall, it was already getting dark and it had been hours. Everyone else was in a bad mood, but I ignored it. I was feeling pretty smug that we’d made it up here without wasting any of my hard earned chits. I was pretty low on funds as these things went, and I wasn’t wasting them on random conveniences. I had a feeling what little money I had on hand would be necessary to make any allies in this fucking consumerist hellscape.
When we stepped through the inner gate, I was surprised to see someone waiting for us. A slim woman with coffee colored skin and brown eyes, her aqua hair tied up in a ponytail. She nodded to the guard who brought us in, then flipped him a chit, and turned to glare at us. “I’ve been waiting here for HOURS!”
I glanced at Animal, who stepped forward with a lazy smile. “Savannah, so good to see you. Devlan has you doing pickups now?”
“It was SUPPOSED to be a quick errand,” she hissed venomously. “Who knew you assholes would take the long way up all seven times. Do you not have lives? Because some of us have shit to do Mal.”
He shrugged. “Blame the boss. He got annoyed at all the sales tactics and decided to drag his feet out of spite. Personally, I thought it was funny.”
“You WOULD,” she snorted, then turned to stare at me. “So…you’re a Wyndham? And yes, we know who you are. We know everything you’ve done in this zone. Wouldn’t be very good rulers if we didn’t. The mammoth thing was impressive. And your pedigree isn’t bad, but if you want Devlan’s support, you’re going to need to do more than just swagger in here in scary armor.”
I shrugged. “I’m sure. Do you have the authority to barter with me about this? Because I’m happy to talk details with you if it’ll get us anywhere, but if you can’t make a deal, I’d just as soon skip the chit chat. I’ve got things.”
She raised an eyebrow at me. “Bit of an attitude on you, huh?”
“Not really,” I shrugged. “I’m not really worried about who I'm negotiating with. If it’s you that’s fine. But I want to make sure I’m talking to someone with actual authority, because burning an hour bartering with somebody who can’t actually make a deal would be a waste of my very limited time.”
She stared at me intently for a moment, then grinned. “I like it. Not dismissive or disrespectful, but blunt and no nonsense. No, I don’t have the authority to make a contract with you. But I’d be happy to take you to someone who does.”
“Excellent,” I beamed. “But before that, can we stop somewhere to eat? I’m starving, and I’m guessing everyone else could use something too.” I considered our funds and grimaced. “Maybe something like a food stall or something rather than a nice restaurant. I’m a little low on cash.”
Assuming that D-rank chits were a base unit of currency here, which the map sale implied, my C-rank chits were probably of decent value, but I only had a few. I needed to figure out a way to make some money, considering the local environment. I could trade directly for scrolls, and would do so where possible, but for probably the first time since the beginning of my journey as an Ascendant, money was actually a valuable commodity.
Aside from buying a few weapons or some supplies, being resourceful and able to grant wishes made having cash on hand kind of irrelevant up to this point, but I should have expected the WCP would be where I finally had to start paying attention to my finances. It was giving me a headache already.
“Easy,” she said with a bright smile. “North Alpston Street has a whole collection of stalls. It’s not too far from here, on the way to The High Society, Devlan’s club.”
She led us down a few alleys, across a couple of squares, and we eventually ended up in a sort of large plaza full of food stalls and vendors. We stepped in eagerly, and I started looking around, but I was immediately stopped by Abel. “Whoa there, let me handle this. I’m an expert.”
I’d actually forgotten my mentor had run a sausage cart back in his Spruce Bunny days. I wasn’t sure how applicable that would be here, but I nodded, stepping back to let him inspect everything. He scanned the plaza, then started to stroll around, sniffing and inspecting as he searched for…something.
Finally, we came to a small, out of the way booth where they were selling skewers of meat. I cocked my head at him, curious why he picked this one, and he smiled. “When looking for a food stall, there are a few things to pay attention to. First off, don’t eat at any place that has a sparkly clean exterior or recent renovations. Rebuilds are a gimmick, and it means they either overcharge or the food isn’t good enough to speak for itself.”
The small man behind the counter of the booth, working the grill, glanced up at us through thick fuzzy eyebrows as he heard Abel speak. “A professional,” he said with a respectful nod. “Buy ten get one free. One chit each.”
Abel glanced at me, and I sighed, taking out eighteen D-rank chits. This brought me down to a measly eleven, but that was pretty cheap, and he’d even cut us a deal. Plus we had to eat. The old man nodded, his hands flying as he constructed twenty skewers. I noticed that the ones he gave us had a bit more meat compared to the others he’d been making, and I nodded gratefully before opening up my mask to eat.
The skewers were…amazing. The meat was piping hot, and so tender you could eat it with a spoon. It was literally falling off the stick as I wolfed it down, and I was sad to see how fast it was gone once I finished.
Savannah bought a few of her own, eating them all with relish (once again, not the condiment) as she led us along the street and off into another alley, taking us through back roads until we arrived at a large, luxurious building. The whole place was made of marble, with thick dark wood doors and lots of gold trim to match the veins on the gleaming white stone. Above the door hung a white marble sign, with letters carved into it and set with gold leaf. “The High Society.”
This hadn’t been the kind of club I’d expected. I’d been figuring it would be a dive bar or maybe a dance club. This was more of an upscale social club. Savannah marched us to the door, rapping on the wood lightly. The door swung silently open, a head sticking out, and I was surprised to see it was actually an old man.
Older people in D-rank weren’t common, since C-rank had a much lower barrier for entry than either D or B. D-rank required the creation of a Path, and B-rank the condensation of a Chronicle. C-rank, comparatively, only required a Solid Path, which was usually easy enough to manage in the relatively lengthy time spent in D-rank.
“Who are you?” He scowled at us gruffly. “Savannah, who are they? Why did you bring such ruffians to seek audience from the sir? Have you lost your mind, girl? Look at them. Clearly unsavory types.” His eyes narrowed at Animal. “Oh, and THAT one is with them. As if I needed the confirmation.”
She sighed. “The boss wants to see them, Walden. You gonna tell him no?”
“I should,” the old man said, his bushy mustache twitching. His grey hair was combed back but didn’t manage to actually lie flat, frizzing out behind him like a lions man. “But I suppose he knows what he’s about. Very well. Come inside. And don’t touch anything. I’ll be watching you. If you try to steal anything I’ll chop off your hands.”
I rolled my eyes. “What part of my incredibly expensive C-ranked armor makes me look like I need to steal from you?”
He sneered, sniffing the air. “3 C-rank chits and eleven D-rank,” he shook his head in disgust. “Practically destitute.”
Apparently this old man could SMELL wealth? Only in fucking Yettin. I didn’t bother to respond to his accusation. I was a Wyndham, I didn’t need cash to make deals. Savannah had clearly not bothered to share my name with this old…butler? He was wearing a formal tuxedo with tails and white gloves, so that was my guess.
Once we entered, he forced us to wipe our shoes thoroughly and then sprayed us down with some sort of disinfectant. I was starting to get offended. But he didn’t seem to care. Savannah waved goodbye, heading out as quick as she could, and I got the distinct impression she didn’t like Walden any more than I did.
He led us deep into the building, through long marble hallways and past open rooms full of people eating, chatting, and playing games. It was all very formal and civilized, and most of them didn’t even bother to look at us as we passed.
Finally, we headed down a flight of stairs to a room set just below ground level, and Walden knocked on the door. There was a brief pause, and then a stern voice intoned. “Enter.” Walden glared at us again, as if double checking that we were still the same people he’d be disapproving of since we arrived, and then he pushed the door open and gestured us in.
Inside, I found a library full of leatherbound books, with a roaring fire and a thin man of indeterminate age sipping brandy in an overstuffed chair. He had a handlebar mustache and was wearing an honest to gods monocle. And when he saw us, he nodded in satisfaction. “Excellent, you’ve arrived. Now, why don’t you tell me why I shouldn’t have you killed for making me wait so long?”
