Chapter 77: Blades and Bargains
The sun was just peeking over the crooked rooftops of Velkarth when Isaac sat down across from Renall in the back corner of The Shattered Tooth. The tavern was quiet at this hour, the clatter of breakfast dishes and the growl of early risers forming a distant murmur.
Renall looked unusually serious for once, sipping on his third cup of bitterroot tea. "So," he said at last, eyes sharp behind his relaxed demeanor, "you want into the real auction. Not that half-baked circus from last night."
Isaac nodded once. "I need to be there."
Renall didn't blink. "And why?"
Isaac glanced around the room. No one nearby. With a slow breath, he raised his hand and summoned a shimmering replica of the jagged obsidian spear they had seen the night before. The light of the spectral weapon hummed with quiet power before fading.
"[Armament Phantom – Rank S+]," Isaac said in a low voice. "It lets me replicate any weapon, artifact, or item I've seen or held. Temporarily. Fully functional. Three minutes per conjuration."
Renall's tea sloshed as he set the cup down too quickly. "That's... obscene."
"I don't need to win the bid," Isaac said calmly. "I only need to see the blade."
Renall stared at him, then laughed softly. "And here I thought you just had a dramatic flair. You're a walking vault of stolen armories."
"Simulated," Isaac corrected, smiling faintly. "It's not theft. It's memory-based conjuration. Temporary. Tactical. Very useful if I ever fight something that doesn't politely wait for me to shop."
Renall shook his head. "You could outfit an entire army—every three minutes."
"I could," Isaac said. "But for now, I just want to understand the kinds of weapons people value… and why."
Lira appeared beside the table, carrying a fresh roll and wiping sweat from her brow. "He tell you no yet?"
"No," Renall said, sipping again. "He told me something very interesting instead."
She raised an eyebrow. "Let me guess. Isaac confessed he's actually the heir to a secret forge kingdom hidden under the moon?"
"Almost," Renall said. "Turns out he's worse. He's a weapons nerd with a cheat code."
Isaac folded his arms. "That's accurate."
Renall reached under the table and produced a small bronze medallion etched with a falcon crest. "I have an invitation to the main auction. Private auction. Where actual nobles, collectors, and certified artifact handlers gather. I was allowed to bring one representative. Normally, that would be a hired appraiser."
"And now it's me?" Isaac asked.
Renall smiled. "Now it's you."
Isaac blinked. "Just like that?"
"You'll be listed as a trade bodyguard. Posing as someone who's fought off relic-bandits and assassins to keep my wares safe."
Lira leaned in. "That's actually true."
Renall raised a finger. "But there's a price."
Isaac groaned. "Here it comes."
Renall jabbed the air toward him. "Every weapon you replicate, I want to see it. Just see. Not copy. Not sell. Just admire. Call it academic obsession."
Isaac smirked. "Done."
"Oh," Renall added. "And maybe protect me if a dragon prince picks a fight."
"I'll try to squeeze that in between stealing glances at magical warhammers."
Lira shook her head with a grin. "This is the weirdest job I've ever had."
They all rose from the table, and Renall handed Isaac a sealed envelope with a black wax seal. "Be at the Hall of Ten Pillars by nightfall. Bring no more than what you can carry, and wear something that doesn't scream 'I kill monsters for a living.'"
"Do I have to wear nice clothes?" Isaac grumbled.
Renall leaned closer. "Think of it this way—if someone challenges you to a duel because you look too poor, you get to legally annihilate them in front of royalty."
"…I'm listening."
"And," Lira added, "we both know you want an excuse to pull out a ten-foot ghost sword and make everyone feel insecure."
"…Okay, fine."
Renall winked. "Then we're all set."
As the trio parted, Isaac couldn't help but glance down at his hand.
The phantom copy of last night's obsidian spear had faded hours ago.
But tonight… he would walk among ancient legends, and walk away with their memory