CHAPTER 15: SMALL VICTORY

The thick doors of the guild armory opened with a low groan, the polished hinges smooth despite their weight.

Wade stepped inside, his pouch of coins tucked close to his belt.

The moment he was inside, he noticed it. The air in the armory was... different from the rest of the building.

It was like stepping into a winter day, with a noticeable chill in the air. There was also a faint smell of oiled metal and treated leather.

Rows of racks lined the hall, each one stacked with gleaming swords, spears, shields, and armor pieces.

The weapons were meticulously arranged, and polished until they reflected the torchlight overhead.

Behind a broad counter stood two attendants in Lion’s Guild tabards, one busy sorting through a ledger, the other sharpening a dagger with slow, bored strokes.

Wade approached the counter, forcing confidence into his voice. "Hi. I’m looking for a breastplate."

The man with the dagger glanced up, eyebrows raised. "Grade?"

Wade hesitated. "Ordinary?" He wasn’t quite sure what the grades were. "Something... functional."

The attendant set aside the dagger and motioned him toward a side rack.

He pulled three breastplates down, each slightly different in size but made of the same dull steel. "Ordinary grade, standard make. Each one’s a hundred gold coins."

Wade’s brows rose involuntarily. "A hundred?" He had expected high prices, but not half his quest reward for a single piece.

The attendant shrugged, as though it was nothing unusual. "Cheapest you’ll find in the guild armory. Durable, no enchantments, no effects. Just steel. It’ll keep your guts inside if something tries to take them out. Good enough for greenhorns."

Wade ran his hand across the cold surface of one breastplate. It was sturdy, with the straps thick, and the weight reasonable.

But the price was the real kicker here. Hundred gold coins. Half his coins gone in a single purchase.

His gaze drifted past the counter, where another section of the armory was cordoned off by a barred gate.

Behind it, Wade glimpsed armor that shimmered faintly with strange light, breastplates etched with runes, and helmets with gems embedded in their brows. They were locked away, far from reach.

"What about those?" Wade asked before he could stop himself.

The attendant followed his gaze, a smirk appearing on his lips. "Dungeon loot. Enchanted armor, rare materials, special effects, that kind of thing. Some resist acid, some bolster stamina, some even heal small wounds over time. Their prices vary."

"How much?" Wade asked, his curiosity outweighing his caution.

The smirk widened. "More than you’ve got."

Wade’s chest tightened. He wanted to ask, wanted to know the numbers, but something told him it would only humiliate him further.

Instead, he nodded stiffly, murmured his thanks, and stepped away from the counter.

The ordinary breastplate was still on his mind. A hundred gold coins for protection he desperately needed.

But was it worth being left nearly broke after only a single quest?

He turned on his heel and left the armory, the heavy doors shutting behind him.

[][][][][]

The streets of Hiving greeted him with noise and color.

Merchants shouted their wares from stalls, the scents of roasting meat and fresh bread wafted through the air, and children darted through the crowds.

Above it all, the banners of the three guilds rippled in the breeze, their towers rising like silent overseers.

Wade moved through the bustle, his perception alert now not just for danger, but for opportunity. The guild’s prices were too high. There had to be another way.

His search eventually brought him to a quieter part of the city, where the ringing of hammer against anvil echoed down a narrow lane.

A blacksmith’s shop stood at the end, its open doors revealing a furnace blazing hot and a man working bare-armed, sweat glistening across his broad shoulders.

The smith looked up as Wade entered, pausing mid-swing.

His dark eyes flicked over Wade, noting the sword strapped to his back, the way his tunic sagged slightly against his still thin frame.

"Need something?" he asked gruffly.

"A breastplate," Wade said, stepping closer. "Something sturdy and functional."

The smith set his hammer down, wiping his brow with the back of his arm. "Hmph. Adventurer, huh? Figures."

He walked to a rack where several breastplates hung, less polished than the guild’s but clearly solid. "The guilds always leave ordinary weapons to us. They have bigger fish to fry."

He pulled one of the breastplates down, setting it on the counter with a thud. "Seventy five coins. Cheaper than what you’ll get in your guild."

Wade frowned. "Cheaper, yes, but it’s still high."

"It’s cheaper because you’re not paying their mark-up," the smith said flatly. "I don’t have to feed their coffers. But steel and time costs coins. I won’t hand it over for scraps."

Wade thought quickly, running through his options. The thought of letting go of so much money just didn’t sit well with him.

"How about fifty? And fitted." He asked.

The smith scoffed, turning away. "Don’t insult me, boy. That wouldn’t even cover the steel. Seventy five. And fitted."

Wade narrowed his eyes. He could feel it in his chest. That fear. Of going broke. He never wants to be poor again. Never wants to feel the hunger capable of stealing one’s life.

And so, he exhaled. Some sacrifices need to be made now to make a profit later. "Sixty?"

"Still not enough."

"Seventy." Wade exhaled. "And fitted. Final offer."

The smith’s eyes narrowed for a moment. "Fitted takes time for me to do it seventy."

"I’ll help however I can," Wade said, meeting his gaze. "But I can’t spare more than seventy."

For a long moment, the smith studied him. Then he grunted, a low sound deep in his chest. "Fine. Seventy. But you’ll stand still and do exactly as I say during the fitting. No whining."

Relief surged through Wade. He nodded quickly. "Deal."

The smith extended a calloused hand. Wade shook it, the grip firm and unyielding.

"Name’s Tom," the man said, already pulling tools from a shelf. "You’ll have your breastplate by tomorrow."

Wade smiled faintly for the first time that day. "Wade. And thank you."

Tom only snorted, already measuring Wade’s chest with a strip of leather, muttering to himself about adjustments and straps.

As the hammering resumed, echoing through the shop, Wade felt something loosen in his chest.

This was a small victory over the guild, even if they didn’t know it at all.

Outside of their chains, he’d bargained, he’d chosen, and soon he’d have what he needed most.

Protection.