Finding a place to stay in Mondstadt was no easy task. We had to hit up eight different taverns and inns in this damn rain before our feet finally led us to the one place so beloved by the yaoi fangirls in their truly terrifying fantasies—at least, terrifying for any normal guy. Angel's Share. An iconic tavern for anyone who's managed to stick with the game for more than, say, four hours. Renting a room here was more expensive than the previous places, which had Bennett just about ready to drag me off to another "good, but not so pricey spot." But, having learned my lesson the hard way, I wasn't about to tempt fate any more than I had to. Besides, I was frankly sick of getting soaked.
"Welcome," a man at the entrance greeted us. He looked to be about thirty-five, with a thick head of hair darker than my own and a short beard.
The bartender was dressed simply, but with taste. He wore something like a rough-spun tunic under a loose, untucked shirt with an open collar, and a small black vest that completed the look of a handsome, medieval man who knew his own worth.
"I'd like to rent a room," I said, getting straight to the point. The irritation and mental exhaustion were already getting to me, and I was in no mood for pleasantries.
"One moment..." The tavern worker consulted some ledger in his hands. "Yes, we have a few rooms available. The price is twenty Mora a night."
Four times more expensive than the inn in Springvale. Steep, but with my savings, I could afford to stay here for a whole month without putting too much of a dent in my wallet. Still, I figured I'd start with just a week. We'd see if I'd end up staying at Angel's Share or find a better spot later.
"I'll take it for a week." I stuck a hand in my pocket, materializing three coins of the same value and handing them to the man, who nodded in acceptance.
"Third floor, second door on the left. The bath is heated once a week. If you want to clean up before then, there's a well out back," the bartender said, handing me the long-awaited key and making sure to mention the, undoubtedly important, matters of personal hygiene.
"Thanks..."
"Charles," he supplied, answering my unspoken question.
Alright, one less problem to worry about.
Grabbing Bennett, who was still fidgeting by the door, I pulled him up to the second floor, which was empty, giving us a place to talk without being overheard. The kid trotted obediently behind me. Once we were upstairs, I sat us down at the farthest table in the corner and laid out our plan.
After talking for about ten minutes, I sent the kid on his way with a clear conscience. We agreed to meet back at the tavern tomorrow morning—they only served drinks and light snacks, so we'd grab breakfast elsewhere—and then we would properly explore Mondstadt and stock up on everything we needed before our first real mission.
After parting on good terms, I hurried to check out my new lodgings for the week and was pleasantly surprised. It was a well-furnished room with a wide, comfortable bed. It was definitely worth the money. It was just a shame the rain was keeping me from wandering the city and admiring the local sights firsthand. There was still plenty of time until evening, but the weather meant I had to find some way to kill it. My options were limited, so after a moment's thought, I decided to mix business with pleasure.
I reluctantly got up from the soft bed and slipped my shoes back on via my inventory, at this rate, I was at risk of forgetting how to get dressed on my own. I then padded quietly back downstairs. I figured the bartender wouldn't say no to sharing a story or two over a glass of good liquor...
***
The next morning, Bennett and I met up at the agreed-upon spot, and of course, the day couldn't start without a few misadventures. We were nearly doused with water, which was followed by an attempt by the local pigeons to play at being attack aircraft with us as their priority targets. They almost succeeded, but Mark was vigilant! Mark knew trouble was brewing, and Mark was on watch! In short, the morning was quite the adventure. Thankfully, the streak of bad luck was temporary. After its fifth attempt, the omnipresent Murphy's Law decided to retreat and lie in wait for another day.
In any case, the minor annoyances didn't stop us from reaching our goal. First, we visited one of Mondstadt's two blacksmiths, located near the city wall, just past the building where the old knight had taken me yesterday to get my temporary residence permit. The forge belonged to the very same Wagner whose work the appraiser from Springvale had given me in memory of her fallen brother. However, something Bennett told me was a bit confusing: the name of the craftsman's domain was "Schulz's Forge." Thankfully, the answer to my question came quickly, as my guide told me a highly entertaining story about the dangers of alcohol and making bets while drunk. Long story short, the guy lost the bet and now he has to work under the other fellow's name.
Wagner's workshop was a building split into two areas. The back part was the work area, from which the ringing of a hammer could be heard. The front, facing the street, was a shop displaying finished goods. It was from behind this counter that a stocky, blond kid who looked a little younger than me was regarding us with a look of feigned laziness. Schulz, the blacksmith's apprentice, and, incidentally, the very same young man who had managed to out-drink his master.
"Looking for anything specific?" the blond asked, seeing my thoughtful expression.
"Spears," I replied, scanning the available merchandise.
To be honest, I wasn't impressed. Compared to my "Beginner's Polearm" and the "Northern Wind" spear Rosamarin had given me, everything else looked cheap and flimsy. No, the craftsmanship wasn't bad, especially compared to common mass-produced stuff, but once you get used to quality, it's hard to go back. I knew almost immediately that a dagger enhanced with Geo was far from an ordinary item, but it seemed its true value was only now becoming clear to me.
And that made it all the more painful to remember the feelings Rosamarin had poured into it when she gave it to me.
"In that case, how much would it cost for a custom job like this?" I hid my hand behind my back, materialized the dagger she had given me, and then passed it to Schulz.
"Hm... where did you get this?" the boy asked, his brow furrowed.
"A gift from a friend. Her brother was killed by monsters, and she decided to give it to me," I answered without a second thought.
"Can you tell me her name?" the apprentice continued to press, though I had a good idea where he was going with this and didn't mind telling him the story.
"Rosamarin. She's an appraiser at the Guild branch in Springvale. I was living there for a while, hunting monsters before I moved to Mondstadt."
"You must be Mark, then?" the blond said, handing the dagger back to me.
"Have I gotten that famous already?" I couldn't stop myself from making a sour face, knowing full well who was responsible for spreading my name around.
"In a way," Schulz said, masking his awkwardness with a slight cough. "But back to your question: forging a weapon like this would cost you two and a half thousand Mora, and that's not including the materials you'd have to provide."
In other words, if I ordered a spear right now, I'd only have a thousand Mora left from my savings, and that's assuming the price didn't go up. No, a miracle like that was well out of my price range, and there was no point in buying something "cheaper." The damage on the display models was a little better than my own, but their durability was atrocious. It'd be a miracle if one survived a single real skirmish with a group of hilichurls without breaking. Trying to take down Abyss Mages with pure physical force is a huge pain, but alas, I didn't have much of a choice.
"I see," I said, chewing my lip in thought as I gave the available wares one last look.
I didn't want to leave empty-handed, but I couldn't find anything that really caught my eye either. So, after a bit more thought, I picked up a simple one-handed blade that stood out from the rest. Its design reminded me of the Scandinavian swords from my world, only with a slightly wider guard.
"How much?" I asked Schulz after giving it a couple of practice swings.
"Four hundred. Four hundred fifty if you take the maintenance kit with it," the blond answered after quickly calculating on a primitive abacus.
"I'll take it all."