Can't Slash Prices or Rats

Francisco rubbed his forehead repeatedly. He placed the few bronze coins he had on a wooden nightstand. Leaning back on his bed, he tried his best to think. With his stomach rumbling, he started to become uneasy and lightheaded. He couldn’t remember the last time he had a proper meal. Slowly, he collapsed fully onto the bed from exhaustion.

He groaned, shifting slightly on the uncomfortable bed. Francisco rented a room at a cheap inn. He certainly got what he paid for considering the bugs crawling in the corner, the broken window, and the creaky furniture. The financial advisor couldn’t help but cringe every time the bed made a squeal as he shifted. Even though this wasn’t the nicest room, he was glad to have a roof over his head.

Unfortunately, he was going to lose this room by tomorrow morning. He did not have enough money to pay for another night. At this point, Francisco’s morale had severely dropped. He stared at the moldy ceiling and recollected how these three months were just a downward spiral of bad luck.

It started when he sold his suit and clothes to a tailor shop. When Francisco decided to adventure, he needed money to buy his equipment. Though suits and other formal dress wear were available in this fantasy world, the tailor was entranced by Francisco’s specific suit.

“This suit is perfectly blended! I have never seen stitches crafted such as these! This is a magnificent work of fabric! You say this was made from the Arms of Ani? I must meet this ‘God of Cloth!” The tailor pleaded.

“Umm, we don’t talk as much,” Francisco rubbed the back of his neck. “So how much can I get for it?”

“I can’t possibly hold this luxurious ensemble in my store,” the tailor cried. He started rubbing his stubby cheek against the sleeve of the suit. Francisco sighed and rolled his eyes.

”Arms of Ani told me he wished… for other tailors to hold his product. He wants to inspire… innovation,” Francisco nodded dramatically. “I say you should use it proudly as Ani intended.”

The tailor wiped away tears, baffled by how he could hold such an ‘amazing’ craft. It took a long while before Francisco received money for the suit. But he walked away with a nice pouch of gold coins. It didn’t take long for him to figure out the currency in this new world.

In the world of Arrgonde, the fantasy world Francisco found himself in, uses more coins instead of paper bills. It feels much simpler as there is no coin for a decimal amount; almost every product or trade is at a full dollar amount. There are a couple of bronze coins valued at $1 or $10. A silver coin is worth $50 yet gold coins are the highest at $100.

The financial advisor held onto his small pouch of gold coins. He gained around fifty of them which amounts to around $5,000. Francisco certainly made a hell of a profit as he thrifted that suit at a garage sale for one-tenth of the original price. With this money, he searched the nearest armories and weapon stores for his adventuring gear. Using his financial sense, he managed to grab a cheap sword and some protective wear.

Though his blade was dull, his mind was sharp. Francisco felt powerful with his new chest plate, shinguards, and bracers. He wondered if Richard would be able to recognize him. Afterwards, Francisco journeyed to the adventurer’s guild and applied for his license, which he immediately received. This entire process progressed naturally, bringing a lot of confidence to the financial advisor. It was baffling how easy it was to become an adventurer.

Francisco found the nearest quest board and despite having his head high on his shoulders, he knew not to get too cocky. He snatched one of the lowest-ranking quest ads. On the flyer, a barkeep requested a hired sword to come down to his bar’s basement and kill some giant rats that were eating his stock. Stuffing the paper inside his pocket, Francisco ventured forth to the destination. “Piece of cake!”

“Is this your first time?” The old barkeep asked.

Francisco heavily panted as he held his sword with both hands. The dull weapon leaned downward, appearing too heavy for the new adventurer. The tip of the blade kept kissing the ground as Francisco tried to lift it straight. His face read frustration and exhaustion; scratches and bite marks covered his entire body.

The elderly barkeep nonchalantly shoved his hand in a bag of seeds, cupping large amounts into his mouth. He stayed near the basement stairs, watching Francisco with curious intent. “You know, I think you just pissed them off more.”

”Would you go away?! Don’t you have some bartending to do!?” Francisco snapped.

“Not really. Not many people want to visit a place with giant rats,” the barkeep yawned, shoveling more food into his mouth.

Francisco tightened his grip around the hilt of his sword. Utilizing his anger, he charged forward at a single rat. These vermin were as big as a dog but they kept scurrying away. This time, his sword touched the rat.

Thunk!

The blade did not cut through the giant rodent. The oversized rat screeched and scratched Francisco’s ankles before running into the wall space. Francisco winced, kneeling down and rubbing where he was scratched. Other rats weren’t intimidated and continued to eat the barkeep’s inventory. 

“You hit the rat, but it didn’t cut through,” the barkeep said. There was the sound of air escaping through his nose, almost like he was holding a chuckle.

“My sword is dull! I need to sharpen it!” Francisco quickly retorted. The barkeep calmly put his bag of seeds on a barrel of booze and approached the young adventurer. Giving his white beard a stroke, he took the sword out of Francisco’s hands. “Hey, what do you think you’re-” Francisco stopped talking as the barkeep began searching his shelves.

The barkeep pulled out two big wheels of cheese, (both of which had bite marks on them), and placed them on the floor. Raising the sword steadily, he brought the sword down and sliced through both wheels with ease. He wiped the sweat off his brow and handed the sword back to Francisco. “It is dull, but it’s still sharp enough. I don’t think you have the strength for your sword.”

Francisco took back his weapon with attitude. “What do you know!?”

“I’m more than sure the rats are laughing at you,” the barkeep added.

“They aren’t.”

Scritch. Scritch. Scritch. Scritch.

Francisco stared at the various giant rats. They seemed to harmonize a tune, showing their teeth while they dug into the food. “Do you speak ****ing rat?!”

The barkeep held up his hands and chuckled. “Whoa, maybe the sword isn’t meant for you. Have you tried seeing if the path of the mage is meant for you?”

“…No,” Francisco admitted. He has seen staffs, robes, and other magical trinkets. He never considered that he had the capability to use magic. This could explain his sloppy work with the blade.

“Well, I have one more important question,” the barkeep blinked. Francisco nodded and waited. “When you saw the flyer for this request, did you take it off the board?”

“Yeah, it’s in my pocket.”

“Could I please have that back? I don’t want to make another one and I’m going to have to put it back on a quest board,” the barkeep explained.

“Are you firing me?” Francisco sucked air through his teeth.

“Oh, most definitely. But don’t worry about it. I had a lot of fun watching your performance,” the barkeep smiled. Francisco was not amused as he handed the flyer back.

Scritch. Scritch. Scritch. Scritch.

“They’re still laughing,” the barkeep chuckled.

“I’m leaving,” Francisco grunted. As he walked up the stairs, he considered this just a temporary setback. Surely, he would be a better mage than a swordsman.