“Grim, I don’t think this is a particularly good idea…” Arthur said, a worried frown creasing his brow as our simple cart rumbled over the bumpy cobblestone street, leaving the noise of the city behind and heading back towards the quiet of the orphanage.

  I just waved a dismissive hand, then sighed heavily as the cart hit a particularly deep rut, jarring my teeth. Grim, either you talk to the boy or you stop making gestures he can’t see, I admonished myself. Idiot.

  “You know, Arthur,” I began, leaning a little closer so Will, the driver, couldn’t overhear us over the clatter of wheels and hooves, “I want to confide something in you…” Lowering my voice to a whisper, I continued. “I’m actually very happy at the orphanage, but for whatever reason, Grimelda wants me dead. And no, that’s not a joke. Sister Verity knows about it too, and even though, due to certain circumstances, I wouldn’t have to work, I still have to help with the household chores if I don’t have an apprenticeship. And that just increases the chances of running into Grimelda.”

  I took a breath, inhaling the scent of pine and damp earth as we neared the woods. “So, I’m taking this opportunity to stay out of her way as much as possible. And as a bonus, I can make sure Mantris doesn’t sell any more shitty gear to unsuspecting adventurers.”

  My ass.

  “It’s only for your own protection that you’re working in the cellar… imagine if someone heard about you and your talent and tried to kidnap you?!” Mantris said with a tone of completely fake concern, his hand placed theatrically over his heart.

  Well, what can I say? Maybe it was a bit hasty of me to start working for Mantris the next day. But the thought of Grimelda, her cold eyes watching me, and the possibility of her doing something to Pip while I was distracted or exhausted, was simply too great a risk to take.

  Now, I would be out of the house for most of the day, only returning for supper and to sleep. Things like ‘days off’ didn’t seem to exist in this archaic world, so this arrangement would keep me out of her path effectively. But in exchange, I was now standing not behind Mantris’s interesting counter as I had hoped, but in his dusty, dimly lit cellar.

  The air down here was stale, smelling of old wood, rust, and dry leather. Dust motes danced in the single shaft of light cutting through the gloom from a high, barred window.

  Sighing, I looked down at the stack of blank paper, the inkwell, the quill, and the countless wooden crates that were piled up in front of me like a barricade. They were filled with all sorts of junk… or treasures, depending on your perspective. Weapons, armor, clothing, jewelry, ores, different types of wood… basically everything imaginable.

  “And I’m supposed to appraise and then catalogue all of this?” I asked, a little daunted by the sheer volume.

  Mantris just crossed his arms, leaning against a stack of crates, and nodded with a smug grin. “The life of an Appraiser is hard and tedious, my boy. But hey,” he added, his tone becoming conspiratorial, “for this, you get one silver coin per day. Very, very few people in Aegis earn that much. So, if you don’t have any more questions, I’d say the work is waiting for you.”

  Thoughtfully rubbing my face, I felt the grit of dust already settling on my skin. Here I was again, at a point where I had to be careful not to reveal too much about my abilities. Mantris had roughly explained what a ‘real’ Appraiser could find out, but not how that information presented itself. An idea came to me.

  With a snap of my fingers, I said, “Do you have a template I can use? So that I catalogue the items exactly the way you do. That would simplify the work process.”

  Mantris looked at me with a raised eyebrow, assessing me, but then nodded thoughtfully and disappeared from the room for a moment, his footsteps heavy on the stairs. When he returned, he was carrying a thick book with a heavy, worn leather cover that creaked as he opened it.

  Turning to the first page, he laid the open book on a crate in front of me. His finger, adorned with a flashy gold ring, pointed to the top entry. “Here, this is how items are generally categorized in Aegis. One format for weapons, and one for armor. As you surely know, sometimes it’s just a rough estimate. Even if the durability is ‘High,’ a sword can still break immediately if it’s struck at the wrong angle.”

  EXAMPLE

  Name: Iron Sword

  Category: Sword

  Quality: Inferior / Common / Good / Rare / Epic / Legendary

  Condition: Destroyed / Damaged / Worn / Well-Maintained / Excellent / Pristine

  Durability: Low / Normal / High

  Damage: Low / Normal / High

  Materials: Iron and Oak-Wood

  EXAMPLE

  Name: Leather Gloves

  Category: Armor (Gloves)

  Quality: Inferior / Common / Good / Rare / Epic / Legendary

  Condition: Destroyed / Damaged / Worn / Well-Maintained / Excellent / Pristine

  Durability: Low / Normal / High

  Protection: Low / Normal / High

  Materials: Common Leather

  I was, to put it mildly, surprised. So, these were the full rankings for each category. Of course, I was aware that I now lived in a world full of magic and monsters, but seeing it written down made it real. I could maybe imagine what a ‘Rare’ quality weapon might look like—perhaps forged with superior steel—but I had no concept of ‘Epic’ or ‘Legendary’. Were legendary items perhaps bestowed by the gods themselves? Or forged in the heart of a volcano by ancient dragons? The possibilities made my gamer heart beat a little faster.

  But what interested me a little more right now were the categories ‘Damage,’ ‘Protection,’ and ‘Materials.’ I couldn't see those yet with my skill, but hopefully, that was just a matter of time. This brought up the question of whether there were also enchanted items. I knew that Lord Rockford had pulled a giant staff out of nowhere, but was that his magic, or was the staff itself enchanted? No idea.

  But what’s a mouth for, if not for asking questions?

  “What about enchantments?” I asked, my curiosity piqued. “Do they exist, and can you learn about them through Appraisal?”

  Mantris looked at me, a little taken aback, but then a knowing grin spread across his face.

  “Yes, enchantments exist, but there’s a small but significant difference you need to know: passive and active enchantments. Items from dungeons usually have passive enchantments – for example, a sword that has a fire enchantment. Imagine you’re fighting an ice golem. A normal sword won’t do much good, but a sword with a fire enchantment? Yes, that’s a huge help. And the more mana you have that you can channel into it, the stronger the enchantment becomes. But then there’s the other kind of enchantment: the active one. This is like a stored spell within the weapon. Let’s stick with the sword. If you have an active enchantment, you might be able to summon a fireball or a wave of flames from the sword itself.”

  Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

  Leaning in a little closer, his eyes glinting in the dim light, he continued. “But both forms of enchantment still require mana. The difference is that passive enchantments can also be used by non-mages, as these enchantments draw on atmospheric mana. However, their use is limited. Once the mana stored in the weapon is depleted, the user must wait until it has recharged itself, or feed mana into it directly to speed up the process. Any more questions? I need to open the shop soon, and you have a mountain of work in front of you,” Mantris explained, his patience clearly wearing thin. The man had ants in his pants, and in his world, money never slept.

  Shaking my head, I said, “Thank you for the explanation. I have no more questions.”

  I hadn't even finished the sentence before Mantris was already storming up the stairs, leaving me in the silence of the cellar. The workday was about to begin, but there was a small problem… I couldn't see ‘Damage,’ ‘Protection,’ or ‘Materials’ yet, and I didn't know when I would reach the next level of my Appraisal skill.

  So, do I leave those sections blank and then appraise EVERYTHING again once I can, or do I just guess the damage and materials and write something down? I mean, I didn’t even know if there were any special metals, woods, or whatever that were completely normal here. The flora and fauna so far had been very similar to Earth’s. There were oaks, birches, firs, daisies, roses, and so on. But then there were exotic things like the flower Mara had given me…

  Shit. Then I guess I’ll just have to appraise everything again once I reach the next level.

  Sighing, I turned around and looked at my better half, who was sunning herself on the floor in a beam of light from the small cellar window. “Well, I guess we should get started, shouldn’t we, Pip?”

  Pip, who was sprawled comfortably on her side in the patch of warmth, didn't even bother to open her eyes. She just lifted her head slightly, gave a single, profoundly unenthusiastic "meow," and let it drop back onto the cool stone floor with a soft thud. Apparently, my new career path wasn't impressing anyone.

  Taking the first item out of one of the crates, I examined a pair of old leather gloves. They smelled of sweat and oil. “Appraisal…” I murmured.

  ========== APPRAISAL ==========

  Name: Sturdy Gloves

  Category: Armor (Gloves)

  Quality: Common

  Condition: Worn

  Durability: Normal

  -------------------------------

  (Further analysis requires higher rank)

  ===============================

  Phew… uhm. Hahaha… what do I write for ‘Protection’ now?

  I had no idea if these were ratings within their class or general ratings. For example, if we have a sword made of iron, steel, and something better like elven steel, if that even exists, do they all have ‘Damage: Normal,’ but a great battle-axe made of the same metals would have ‘Damage: High’? Or does an iron sword have low damage, a steel sword normal damage, and an elven steel sword high damage? Sighing, and not a bit wiser, I would have to assume for now that the ratings were general and not specific to material, quality, or anything else.

  So, let's say these gloves have ‘Protection: Normal,’ since they are quite thick. And ‘Material: Thick Leather’ seems appropriate. I dipped the quill into the inkwell and wrote everything down, the scratching sound echoing in the quiet room. I grabbed the next item… number 2 of what felt like 10,000. This was going to be a long day…

  And I was right. The hours blurred together. The shaft of light from the window moved across the floor, lengthened, and eventually disappeared as the sun set. My back ached, my fingers were stained with ink, and my eyes burned from squinting in the dim light. Pip had been asleep for what felt like hours, twitching occasionally in a dream, when I finally heard the door to the cellar stairs open.

  Mantris came down, stretching and yawning. Wordlessly, he took the stack of papers from me and flipped through them. Here and there, he would pause for a moment and look at the corresponding item in the crate. But finally, he nodded in satisfaction.

  “This looks quite neat. But now, it’s quitting time. Here, this is your pay.” A silver coin flew through the air, catching the lamplight, and landed unerringly in my hand. Feeling its cool weight, a small smile touched my lips. My first, self-earned money in this world.

  That reminded me of something that had unfortunately been a bit forgotten yesterday: shopping. With now 26 silver coins, which were loosely distributed in my trousers, it was time for something a little more… pragmatic.

  “Do you perhaps have another 10 minutes? I might need a few things,” I asked mischievously, jingling the coins.

  About 20 minutes later, and one hard-earned silver piece poorer, Pip and I left Mantris’s shop. A sturdy leather shoulder bag now adorned my back, smelling of new tanning, and a small knife and a secure money pouch were attached to my belt. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. This way, I didn’t always have to carry everything around in my trouser pockets like a hobo. Maybe tomorrow I could look around the city to see if they have something like cat treats, then Pip wouldn’t be so bored all day.

  At that thought, my gaze wandered to Pip, who was waiting patiently on the curb in front of Mantris’s shop. Her head was raised high, her nose twitching rhythmically as she concentrated on sniffing the evening air, analyzing the complex scents of the closing market day—roasting meat, unwashed bodies, horse manure, and spices.

  “Say, Pip, would you rather stay at the orphanage while I’m at work?”

  Pip tilted her head thoughtfully. “Meow, meow, meow.”

  Wait a minute. One meow means yes, two meows mean no, so what does three meows mean? Maybe? Sometimes? “I don’t quite understand. Do you only want to come with me sometimes?”

  “Meow, meow.”

  Huh, that means no. But what does she mean then?

  Thoughtfully, Pip and I walked down the street towards the orphanage. The city was quieting down. There were only a few people and even fewer carriages on the road now, the cobblestones slick with evening dew. But Pip looked around curiously, jumped on walls, chased after moths fluttering around street lamps, and brought a smile to the faces of a few people here and there who saw her playful antics.

  “D-Do you maybe want to go off on your own?” I asked uncertainly, worry tightening my chest.

  Pip, who was walking ahead of me, slowed down and eventually stopped. A few seconds passed before she turned around and looked at me. An uncertain “Meow” sounded, and then she averted her gaze.

  My heart beat slowly but heavily. To be honest, I hadn’t expected that. This would be the first consciously decided time that Pip and I would be separated without it happening out of necessity or because neither of us could help it. But as hard as it was for me… maybe it would be good for her to enjoy some freedom. She had looked after me my whole life and was always tied to me.

  The realization was painful, hitting me with the force of a physical blow: how selfishly I had thought all these years, assuming she wanted to be my shadow.

  “Hey Pip. What do you think of this,” I proposed, my voice a little shaky. “I’ll leave the cellar window at Mantris’s open. That way, you can come by whenever you want. And when I’m done with work, I’ll wait in front of the shop until we can walk back together?”

  It wasn't easy for me, this proposal. I imagine this is how parents feel when they let their children go to school for the first time—proud, but terrified.

  Pip looked at me for a moment, her green eyes reflecting the lantern light, then trotted slowly towards me. She rubbed gently against my legs and then meowed. I sighed heavily, a mix of relief and sadness.

  So that was that, then. “But Pip? No night shifts, okay? I don’t want to stand in front of Mantris’s shop half the night.” Apparently, that wasn’t a problem for Pip, because she meowed in confirmation.

  “Well then, everything’s settled. Come on, let’s go. I’m hungry and I want to go to bed.”