The Hero’s Supplier

The Bank was an actual Bank branch building. But after the Heaven’s Dictate. The three stories, stone build building became a Level 3 dungeon.

From what Rick could gather from one of the talkative shopkeepers around was that the Celestial Devotees swept through the place and destroyed the Rat Queen’s lair, before reclaiming it as their headquarters.

“Can I help you?” a Devotee stopped Rick as he walked the short steps up to the Bank.

The area around the Bank had few other shops. But the constant stream of people walking in and out of the place kept the place bustling and busy nonetheless.

“I have something I need to sell,” Rick replied.

“Are this your first time here? I have not seen you before,” the guard asked, still refusing to let him in.

“Yes. I have not been here before. Can I go in now?” Rick said, anxious of the incessant questioning.

“Come with me,” the guard said and turned around without waiting for a response.

The guard led him past the glass doors into the Bank.

Rick took a quick peek at his face on the glass door walking into the Bank.

He could not recognize the face in the reflection. While he had a square-jawed oval face, Kir had an older looking round wrinkled face.

Rick looked around the place amazed as he walked into the Bank. The Devotee’s had put in a lot of effort into restoring the interior and remove any signs of it being a dungeon.

On one side people queued patiently before desks waiting for their turn. While on the other side, a dozen others were inspecting things put on display.

“This way,” the guard suddenly said, taking a sharp turn and leading him to a different corner.

The guard knocked on a closed door and gestured him to enter, and then let right after.

Rick carefully opened the door and walked in.

The room was empty apart from a bearded old man sitting behind a desk, hunched backed scribbling on a book.

“Sit boy,” the old man spoke gesturing Rick to the chair opposite him.

Rick looked around surprised, there was no one else there.

‘The guard just left? What if I kill him?’ he thought, looking back at the frail old man behind the desk.

“Do you really think I became a Devotee without being strong?” the old man spoke without looking up.

‘Did he know what I was thinking?’ Rick gulped realizing the truth in the old man’s words. He walked up to the chair.

The old man was constantly busy with his work, as his glasses threatening to fall off the edge of his crooked nose.

“Name?” the old man asked immediately as Rick sat down.

“Kir” Rick replied without hesitation.

“Hmm,” he scribbled on the open register before him. “And how do you spell it?”

Rick obliged replying in a nonchalant tone.

“Okay, sit still now, I will sketch your face,” the old man instructed.

‘So it's like a verification,’ Rick understood as he sat straight, complying with the old man’s words.

After less than a quarter of an hour passed before the old man was done.

“Sign here,” he said, turning the register around to him and handing him the pen

“Wow your drawing is amazing,” Rick complemented looking at his life-like sketch.

“Mr. Kir, what business do you have here?” the old artist asked, leaning back on his chair, ignoring Rick’s question.

“I have something I need and I am hoping you have it with you here,” Rick replied unfazed.

“But you have no money on you, Mr. Kir,” the old artist stated.

“How?” Rick was surprised. No one had checked him when he entered the place. How could they know he did not carry this Cilliac currency with him?

“I assume you have something you think you can exchange for coin,” the old man continued.

“I want to know the going price for the thing I want. I want to buy-”

“Mr. Kir we have to first examine what you have to sell. It’s pointless to waste time if you do not have the coin,” the old artist interrupted.

“-I want to buy Dale Stoudenmire,” Rick insisted.

The room fell silent as soon as he finished the sentence.

“You want to buy Dale Stoudenmire?” the old artist repeated.

“Yes.”

“You want a slave? He is not the type of person to listen to someone else ordering him around,” the old artist leaned forward, the wrinkles on his forehead furrowed closer.

“It’s not that,” Rick replied with a chuckle. “I know that. He would rather die than become a slave. I knew him since before the Heaven’s Dictate. I just don’t want to see him dead.”

“So you will just let him free right after buying him?” the old man asked.

“Of course not. You know how that brain dead brute is,” Rick smirked.” He will repay me for saving his life willingly. He will repay it with his life.”

“Well, in that case, Mr. Kir, we might be able to arrange something,” the old artist replied. “But know this, under no circumstance is Dale to return back to this place. And you will be personally responsible for that.”

“So what’s the auction price at right now?” Rick asked nodding his understanding.

“Never mind the price,” the old artist smiled, he wanted to get rid of this Dale as well after all. “You can consider it as a show of goodwill from the Celestial Devotees.”

Rick smiled back.

“Please, I do not want to take advantage of your generosity. I am sure I can cover the price with the trade,” he smirked.

From his pocket, he took out the Hydrophant Golem core and held it up for the old man to see.

“Haha,” the old artist chucked. “Mr. Kir, it will be for the best if you just accept out goodwill. A beast core? There will no one willing to buy it even in the market outside.”

“I am sure there is someone amongst the ranks of the Celestial Devotees who will recognize its worth.”

Saying so, Rick tossed the golem core behind him.

Before the dumbstruck face of the old man, the body of the water elephant took shape.

“Golem!” the old man roared.

Pushing the chair back he stood up and made quick hand signs and brought his hands up to his mouth.

Foo

A stream of black ink spit out of his mouth, aimed straight at Rick.

“Aah!” Rick stumbled off from his chair crashing on the floor, barely avoiding his face. “What’s wrong with you? Why did you do that?”

Suddenly the door to the room opened wide and a dozen guards rushed in.

“Hey wait wait! What are you doing? I just want to sell the golem,” Rick waved his arms before him. He looked back at the golem and said, “Release.”

The golem disintegrated and the core floated over to his outstretched hand.

“See!” Rick said holding out the core, “Chill out will you!”

The guards looked at each other confused. They turned towards the old artist waiting for instructions.

‘The Devotees have really freaked out after the fight with Eira,’ Rick realized.

The next sentence off the mouth of the old man confirmed his doubts.

“Go get Eira,” the old man ordered without taking his eyes off Rick.

“Yes sir,” a guard replied and hurried off.

“And the rest of you, get out,” he continued.

The room immediately bustled with retreating footsteps and seconds later the door shut close again.

The room fell silent.

“I apologize for that Mr. Kir,” he finally spoke, breaking the silence. “We had a- A certain circumstance arose a few days back, where a golem was involved. I could not take the risk.”

“I am not selling this here anymore. I am leaving,” Rick pushed himself off the ground and started walking off.

“I will give you a hundred gold Cilliacs,” the old man called out. “And you can take Dale with you of course.”

“That’s not much of a bargain is it,” Rick replied, stopping. “You were anyway going to let me take Dale. And hundred Cilliacs? For all, the golem might be worth twice that.”

“No no. I am not cheating you,” the old man walked out from behind the desk. “You don’t understand. The golem is very important for our boss.”

Then why did you attack me, if you are so desperate for a golem? And besides, why do I care?” Rick pushed while he had the upper hand in the negotiation.

“Okay how about this. Irrespective of what price the core is sold at, I will match the amount from my pocket,” the old man offered. “And you will have the gratitude of a Celestial Devotee general.”

Rick kept silent for a moment. He extended his hand and said, “Okay, I accept your offer.”

“That’s great,” the old man shook his head took Rick’s hand. He introduced himself, “I am Azer.”

Rick nodded his hand in agreement.

“I need a towel,” Rick replied, wiping his face on his sleeves.

“Let me get someone to get one for you.” Soon after, a guard came up with a towel and handed it to Rick.

Rick cleaned himself up as best as he could and waited with Azer for Eira to come.

It did not take long before Eira strode into the room, “Azer, you found a golem?”

Rick grimaced for a second looking at Eira’s deathly face again. But he recovered quick enough.

“Actually, it’s my golem. And I have not decided to sell it yet,” Rick replied with a smile.

“When the Celestial Devotees want to buy something from you, you don’t say no,” Eira said.

“Is that so? Or else what?” Rick stared right back at Eira without hesitation.

These two might be higher-ups. But if what Azer said was true, it was their boss who wanted the golem. So, it would suffice to assume that Eira would comply.

“Settle down Eira,” Azer interrupted. “He wants to sell it. Just behave.”

“Sure,” he scoffed. “But we have to see it first.”

“Azer has already seen it,” Rick replied.

“Mr. Kir, please. If you could show it once again. Eira is the resident expert in golems here,” Azer said, a glimmer of mockery in his tone.

“Of course,” Rick obliged and tossed the golem core.

His heart beat with joy seeing Eira’s face tighten as the golem core took shape.

“So do you want it?” Rick asked.