Lieforged Gale

25: Stone

I stumbled into my apartment early in the morning, dead tired but very happy with how things had gone. The tree was now indefinitely tamed by Paisley’s magic, and I could now begin to create my spirit forge. That could wait until tomorrow though, because I really really needed to sleep.

Elena was in the living room when I arrived, sitting on the sofa with her pajamas on, wiping sleep from her eyes. “Keiko? What time is it?”

“It’s like, five,” I yawned, wandering over to flop next to her.

“Ew, you smell like sweat and smoke,” she coughed, shooing me away with a hand.

Laughing, I pushed myself back up off the sofa and headed for the bath. “Okay, I’ll be back in a moment.”

I threw myself through the bath like the hot water would run out at any moment. I still made sure to scrub myself clean, of course. Gosh I loved this bath. When I returned to the living room, Elena had moved to her bed, and she called over the barrier, saying that we could talk in the morning, so I headed to my own bed.

The next morning, I was woken by my roommate laying down next to me on my bed. Blinking slowly, I gave her a questioning smile. “What’s up?”

Rather than answer immediately with words, she drew closer, until our lips were pressed lightly together. The kiss confused the crap out of me, because it wasn't lustful or urgent, it was just a kiss.

"Morning," she whispered, as though speaking too loud would startle the peaceful moment into flight. “You were out late last night.”

"Morning," I replied. “Yeah, I was hanging out with Paisley, she was helping me with the next part of my Spirit Forging quest. I told you about her, remember?”

“The best friend? Really?” she frowned, propping herself up on an elbow to look down at me. “Didn’t she really hurt you?”

“Turns out the situation was a hell of a lot more complicated than that,” I said sheepishly. “She’s really… busted up about it all, and needed a friend.”

Elena’s frown turned into a suspicious but supportive smile, and she reached over to play with the tip of my braid. “That sounds good. For you, I mean.”

“Yeah,” I mumbled, feeling guilty about it all. “Paisley is still trapped in that hellhole of a guild, though.”

“Any chance she’s into girls?” My roommate blurted, then coughed and pulled my braid closer to her. “I mean, because like… there’s a reason I… Well, it’d be nice to have more gay friends, and making out with two girls at the same time is very fun.”

I just about choked on air at her words. I didn’t think Paisley was into girls… was she? I mean, she hadn’t given any signs during the time we’d been friends in Silver Ridge.

“Is that what the kiss was about? The wake up kiss? Feeling, uh… extra gay this morning?” I asked awkwardly, biting my lip as she gently tugged on my braid again.

The sigh that escaped her was one of exhaustion. "I did a dungeon with Doug and his friends yesterday. It was exhausting, but in like, a social way. Bro culture just wears me down."

I understood her all too well on that front. "Same here. It's part of the reason why I haven't played with them yet."

"I wish," she laughed. "Anyway, that kiss was because I appreciate you. You’re so cute, and small, and soft. Everything they aren't. Hanging out with you is natural and comfortable in a way it will never be with them."

Smiling, I lifted my hands up above my head and stretched out my sleepy muscles. "Why don't we try and form a group of gay people then? We'll need a healer and a tank, plus a support damage dealer of some kind, but I'm sure we can find people to fit those roles that are also like us, right? Hell, I’m not sure if Pay is queer, but she’d be a good fit for damage."

“We could, but that’s kinda scary, isn’t it?” she asked, staring at the roof. “Finding people, I mean. Your friend is fine.”

I gave her a confused look. “You’re the one who approached me in the first place, how would this be any different?”

“Just because I spoke to you doesn’t mean I wasn’t anxious,” she grinned, returning my look with a wink. “I’m sure we can find some people though, you’re right.”

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“Walk around town with your gaydar set to max.” I told her. “You’ll find someone in no time.”

Elena rolled her eyes and brushed some hair out of her face. “Yeah, yeah.”

The way she'd moved had highlighted her neck while pulling her top tight around her breast. She wasn't wearing a bra, and I saw just the barest hint of dark areola through the linen shirt. That… looked good, and my focus narrowed in on a very select desire.

Rolling on top of her in a flash, I pinned her surprised face with a hungry stare. “In the meantime though, how about some breakfast?”

"What kind of food are we talking about?" She asked hungrily, licking her lips. "The cooked kind, or…"

My eyes dipped to follow the path of her tongue. "Both is good?"

Paisley sent me a message as we were finishing up our actual breakfast, just letting me know that she was heading into a multi-day raid with her guild, so she couldn’t hang out for a while. I said that was fine, and that if she needed someone to speak to while she was stuck with them, my ears were open. In turn, she replied that she wasn’t looking forward to dealing with Marlon, now that she knew her gut feeling about him was true.

For a moment, a cruel sense of satisfaction ruled me, but I squashed it. The only person to blame was Marlon and the officers in the guild who enabled him. Paisley was a great friend, and she had a heart full of love for everyone and everything, but she wasn’t the type of person to be brave in the face of someone like Marlon. Blaming her would be like blaming the paper for parting beneath the edge of a blade. It was much better to just blame the blade.

My first order of business for the day was to stop by the market and sell all the loot from yesterday’s journey in the woods. I was loathe to give up my saved location next to the tree, but I needed some supplies.

The first and most important part was the enchanted bellows, which cost me a heart-stopping amount of money. Unfortunately, unless I had proper airflow I couldn’t really make anything better than the spikes of slag we’d used for the tree.

My next stop was a stonemason's shop, but before I could get there, a commotion drew my attention. A party of players was having a very public screaming match.

"Why did you queue as a tank?" A woman was yelling, her fist shaking at someone who wasn't visible over the crowd. “You’re not even wearing any armour!”

Oh dear. That sounded like a mess I wanted no part of.

Hurrying on, I ducked out of the main market and headed down towards the crafter’s district. The smithy was as loud and boisterous as ever when I passed it, and I smiled, despite the dude who sometimes hung out in there. Smithing was surprisingly fun, given the whole stereotypically masculine energy it normally had.

I froze as that little nugget of thought waltzed through my brainscape, and I carefully shuffled it off before it could cause a scene. Let's see, what can I… Ah, my level up!

I'd gained a level from all the fighting in the woods, bringing me to twenty one. I placed my two attribute points into Focus and Dexterity. This was the first point I’d placed in Focus since character creation, but I’d need to add a lot more if I wanted to keep the speed of my thoughts in line with the speed of my body. The ability point I gained went into Pinprick, my little lunge ability that I’d been upgrading and forgetting to use. It had some good armour penetration properties, which I was probably going to need sooner rather than later.

Kyosei Keiko: Level 21

• Strength: 13
• Athleticism: 15
• Dexterity: 17
  
• Stamina: 7+1
• Constitution: 3
  
• Intelligence: 1
• Wisdom: 1
• Resolve: 1
• Focus: 3

When I looked over my stats, I felt that little rush of dopamine that always comes along in a game like this. Number-go-up was so addictive.

The stonemason’s place was predictably quiet, nobody had much use for stone, seeing as buying physical land in this game was massively expensive. Hell, many would call my current plans stupid, as I’d be building out in the open with no game enforced protection for my little smithy whatsoever.

The shop looked like it had seen better days too, considering the broken window that had been boarded up rather than replaced. Even the paint on the sign was cracked and peeling, ready to give up any semblance of the meaning it had been created to convey.

The door creaked loudly as I pushed it open, revealing a small front room lit by a single torch near the counter. Behind it, an old man sat in a chair, his face nestled in the crook of his arm while he snored quietly.

Before waking him, I took a curious look around the small room. It was a showroom of sorts for the different stone blocks he sold. The nice shiny marble display piece was clean and well presented, as was the edgy obsidian block next to it. Both bore hefty price tags that made the granite look positively cheap by comparison. Meanwhile, limestone, slate, basalt, and sandstone were all dusty, cheap, and shoved to the side.

“Uh, excuse me,” I called tentatively to the old storekeeper. I got no response, so I raised the volume a little. “Excuse me!”

He gave a snort and bolted up right in his chair, then groaned and rubbed at his back. “Damn ‘prentices, always making a racket. I ought to— Oh, hello young lady!”

“Hey there,” I smiled, hiding behind a demure hand as I tried not to laugh. Grumbly old people were a special kind of comedy. “I was wanting to buy some bricks, if that’s okay?”

“Of course it’s okay,” he grouched. “What kind of stonemason would I be if I got upset about people wanting to buy my stone?”

“Um… a poor one?” I asked tentatively.

His answering harrumph was as disgruntled as they come. “Aye, well… what are you after? Marble, perhaps? You seem like a marble girl.”

“Uh, actually…” I coughed, covering the little squeak I’d let out when he called me girl. Still wasn’t used to that. “I was wondering if I could buy some basalt bricks.”

He turned to approach the marble, then froze. “You want… basalt?”

“I… uh, yeah?” I asked, confused by his reaction.

“But you’re a wayfarer,” he said, as though that explained everything. It really, really didn’t.

“Yes, and?” I prompted.

“Wayfarers only ever buy what I call the pretty three,” he explained, gesturing to the expensive stone blocks on display. “By the time one of you can spend the money on a physical plot of land to call your own, you can afford them. What are you using the stone for?”

“A forge,” I shrugged, stepping closer to the type of stone I intended to buy. It was covered in dust, so I brushed it off with an absent hand, then coughed as it filled the air. “It doesn’t have a price?”

“Oh, it has a price,” he chuckled, his withered old lips turning up in a smirk. “You see, young lass, my stone might not be popular with you wayfaring types, but my skills are. Stonecutting leads to Runecarving, which in turn leads to Enchantment. All who wish to learn the latter must begin with the former.”

That made sense, and it reminded me of the interaction between my own Smithing and Spirit Forging.

“Okay?”

“Basalt is abundant in Porin, and is difficult to work with. In short, it is perfect to train tough young wayfarers in the art of Stonecutting,” he continued, and as he spoke, I felt a sense of dread seep into my bones. Clasping his hands together, he leaned forward. “I have a warehouse full of mediocre blocks of basalt, too rough for runecarving, and too heavy to move out of the city cheaply. The price for my basalt is that you take it all.”

I gaped at him. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Do I look like a kid to you?” he asked, his demeanor shifting back into grumpy land. “My skin has more wrinkles than a whore’s bedsheets.”

“I think a sex worker probably keeps their sheets fairly tidy, actually,” I mused, then shook my head. “Where the hell am I meant to put… how many blocks was it again?”

“Four thousand, five hundred, and fifty six,” he said instantly. “Each is roughly one and a half feet in length, one foot wide, and half a foot tall.”

I groaned. Those were going to weigh a ton… god damn it. What the hell was I going to do with that many blocks of basalt? It’s not like I—

You have received a quest: A Basalty Business.

The old stone mason has made you a deal. Clear out his warehouse full of mediocre-cut stone, and you get to keep it all.

Rewards: 4556 Basalt Blocks, Diminutive Deadlifting.

When I hovered over the strange passive the quest was offering, I almost laughed. It was a strength buff.

“Okay, old man,” I said, rolling my eyes. “You have a deal.”