Ichor Cell-Chapter 28: Disastrous questions

The others immediately tensed up at his words.
“What’s not good?” Grenil asked in concern.
“Well…” Alex relayed what he had just overheard.
“Disaster-class, eh?” The old man gave a low whistle when Alex finished. “You’ve really made an impression, lad.”
“I’ve actually been meaning to ask about that.” Alex turned to look at him. “What is this disaster-class I hear people talking about all the time? I seem to remember something about being Supernatural as well.”
“You don’t…? Of course you don’t.” Grenil sighed. “Right, well, sit down, I’ll give a quick explanation.”
The young man settled down and started listening.
“So,” Grenil began. “Basically, artifacts and beings are divided into grades depending on their value, power, or whatever criteria they use to judge them; I don’t know, I’m not a crafter or appraiser. Their classifications go something like this: Mundane, Supernatural, Disaster and finally Divine. There are rumours of other levels out there, but these are the commonly known ones. And even then, Disaster is more rumour than fact for the average citizen.”
“I know more about the way artifacts are sorted than living beings, so I’ll explain in those terms. That okay with you?” He asked.
Alex nodded.
“The names are all pretty self-explanatory. Mundane means that the artifact does things that regular people can do, albeit exceptionally well. A good example would actually be the water pump in my store.” The old man explained. “It drags water from deep underground and makes my life much easier. These kinds of artifacts are relatively common and usually cost a few months of salary to afford.”
‘Right, so mundane artifacts are just technology. I should’ve figured. The name really is self-explanatory.’
Alex chuckled.
“I’m guessing that also extends to living things too? If something is Mundane, they’re just a regular human, or dog, or cow?” He clarified.
“Exactly. Next, Supernatural is the tier above that.” Grenil continued. “Through the use of mana or some other resource, they can achieve things that regular people are completely incapable of doing, such as spewing flames, expanding space, or even flying.”
“Even the cheapest Supernatural artifacts are several orders of magnitude more expensive than their Mundane counterparts, and some aren’t available for purchase no matter how much money you have. A good example is a whole category of Supernatural artifacts that cannot be bought by regular commoners: Military ones.”
“Any sort of Supernatural tier artifact that could be used for combat is strictly restricted to the noble circles, and maybe a few particularly well-connected merchants. Owning one without a permit is grounds for immediate execution for suspected mutiny.”
Alex nodded, suddenly recalling a conversation they had when they first met. “Is that what you meant when you said that a well-equipped squad of noble guards could take on ten times their number of commoners?”
“Yes.” Grenil confirmed. “A well-equipped squad will have several Supernatural artifacts among them. They might even have more than one per person, though that’s rare even among the richer houses. You have to remember that each house has at least several dozen soldiers, and that’s without counting the actual members of the house itself. Equipping every single soldier with Supernatural artifacts is of course possible, but costly and unnecessary. Especially since they’ll want to keep the best stuff to themselves.”
‘That makes sense.’
Alex nodded internally.
‘If a single artifact costs several years worth of salary for an average person, then even noble families will struggle to procure dozens of them simply to arm their guards.’
“So in living being terms, these would be mages like myself and…” Alex hesitated. “…Elara.”
“Yes.” The old man confirmed. “Another example would be that manticore they were going to kill me with, though that was pretty close to the next tier of power according to what I know.”
“Speaking of the next tier, the next and last tier of that can be seen amongst humans is the Disaster tier. It’s more of the same really. While being Supernatural allows things to perform feats impossible to Mundane creatures, Disaster tier scales these impossible feats up to a level that would be… well, a disaster. A good example would be a simple sword.”
“For a Supernatural sword, it will probably allow the wielder to cut through stone or other mundane materials easily, or maybe allow them to send out ranged slashes with the weapon. Powerful, yes, but still possible to overcome if a dozen people work together to overwhelm the wielder.”
“I’m guessing that is no longer the case for the Disaster tier.” Alex intelligently inferred.
The older man gave him a look. “Wow, how did you figure that out? Your powers of deduction are impressive.”
“What’s that supposed to mean??” Alex questioned indignantly.
“Nothing at all.” Grenil moved on with a shake of his head. “As I was saying, a Disaster tier sword would be a completely different story. Instead of simply extending the range or enhancing the sharpness, it would do both, and to a ridiculous degree. There was an incident few years ago where someone used a disaster tier sword in the city, and in one blow they chopped several mansions in half. In one blow!”
“They are simply forces of nature capable of bringing disaster to any unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end of one. This is why even though Disaster tier artifacts are technically still just another manmade tool, they are considered a strategic resource. Only nobles trusted by the Acropolis are allowed to possess them, and even then, only in limited numbers.”
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“I see. So the Disaster tier is something like a tank during the first world war.” Alex nodded to himself. “That checks out. I’m guessing Divine artifacts are something like a nuke?”
“What are you talking about?” Grenil frowned at him. “What is a nuke?”
“Uh…” Alex froze. “Ignore me, I’m just talking to myself. I once read some texts that mentioned powerful weapons capable wiping entire cities off the map in one blow. I just realised that those must have been Divine Artifacts. So, above Disaster tier there is the Divine tier, weapons capable of citywide destruction made by the gods?”
“And the gods themselves are at that level too.” Grenil nodded. “Divine tier artifacts are wielded almost exclusively by gods, simply because of how powerful they are. If one of them falls into the wrong hands it could cause untold destruction before they are stopped.”
“I see…” Alex nodded thoughtfully before frowning. “If that’s the case, I don’t think I’m really strong or capable enough to be considered at the Disaster level. Sure, I’m strong, but I’m nowhere near “chop a building in half” strong.”
Grenil waved him away. “Kid, from what I was told you went toe to toe with two Disaster tier mages for over half an hour and got away with your life. If that doesn’t deserve a disaster rating, then I don’t know what does.”
Alex shut up.
“Now, what are we going to do about the village situation?” The old man continued. “We still need to get some supplies, and even if we skip this place, there’s no guarantee that the situation won’t be the same in the next, or the one after, or the one after that.”
Alex frowned at that.
“I think we should let Grenil go in and buy what we need.” Duran chimed in from the shadows.
“Jesus!” Alex jumped. “I forgot you were there!”
The ghoul studiously ignored him. “We need those supplies, you need real clothes, and the only one who can get them is Grenil. I’m sure that if we keep going far enough, we’ll eventually find someplace that doesn’t know us, but in the meantime, we’re stuck with this.”
“I see where you’re coming from.” Alex hesitantly agreed. “But what do we do about money? I don’t know about you, but I don’t think we have any lying around.”
“We sell the dagger.” The man shrugged. “It’s a fine weapon, but we don’t really need it; we can buy a cheaper replacement if it’s really necessary. I’d much rather have what we need than an unnecessarily ornate knife. It doesn’t even chop wood particularly well.”
“…Fine.” Alex reluctantly agreed. “I guess it’s our only choice. Grenil, you ok with going in the morning?”
“Of course.” The old man nodded. “I’d go now if they let me.”
“Ok then. I guess it’s decided. Grenil goes out shopping in the morning. I guess that means you should try to grab some shut eye for later.” Alex suggested, only to see the old shopkeeper already laid out across the floor, eyes screwed tight.
Grenil’s eyes blurred as a giant yawn stretched his mouth open. He tiredly rubbed his face as he made his way closer to the village gates, trying to wake up. His recent lack of sleep was beginning to affect him, compounded by the fact that the sleep he did get last night was plagued by bad dreams.
A small line of farmers and travellers waiting to enter the village was already forming by the time Grenil arrived at the gates. He joined the end of the queue, adjusting his clothes to better hide the dagger’s ornate handle.
When his turn came, the guard looked up, noted his age and immediately lost interest. “Business?”
“Selling a few trinkets, buying supplies. The usual.”
The guard shrugged and waved him through. “Don’t cause any trouble.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Inside, the village was alive with movement. Market stalls crowded the main square, filled with everything from smoked meat to cheap tools. Grenil’s nose caught the familiar mix of smells—dust, sweat, and freshly baked bread—and for a moment, he almost felt at home.
He made his way to the nearest stall dealing in weapons and metal goods. It consisted of a medium sized tent and a table loaded with goods set out front. The blacksmith behind the counter was a heavyset man with burns on his arms and a perpetual scowl on his face.
“How can I help you, old-timer?” The man asked in a surprisingly jovial tone.
“I’m looking to sell something,” Grenil said, putting his hand to his side. “But I wonder if you have somewhere more private we can conduct this transaction.”
The man looked skeptical. “Usually, I would ignore a request like this, but…” The man looked around. “Sure, why not. Not like I’m very busy today anyway.”
Turning around, the man led Grenil into the tent, letting the flap close behind them. Once inside, the man turned expectantly to Grenil, though the skepticism in his eyes hadn’t faded.
Seeing no reason to dawdle, Grenil pulled the dagger out from his side. The instant the light hit the blade, it shimmered faintly, the runes carved along its edge glinting like veins of silver.
“Well I’ll be…” The blacksmith’s eyebrows shot up. “That’s… not a common piece.”
“I wouldn’t have suggested this if it were” Grenil said casually. “Figured someone like you might know what it’s worth.”
The man hesitated, then leaned closer to examine it. He turned it over, tapped the hilt, and finally whistled. “This is noble work. Relatively new, too. You sure you want to sell it?”
“Don’t need it anymore,” Grenil said, folding his arms. “Interested?”
“I might be. I’ll have to move it quietly, though. Could get me in trouble if anyone asks where I got it.”
“That’s your problem.”
The blacksmith grunted. “Fair enough. And since it’s my problem, I’m guessing you have no issues with me naming the price?”
Grenil hesitated a bit before agreeing. He knew that no one would be willing to buy something like this at a fair price with no questions asked.
Happy, the man named a figure.
“That’s… steep.”
“So’s the risk.” The blacksmith said evenly.
There was a long pause before Grenil sighed. “Fine. You’ve got a deal.”
Satisfied, the other man disappeared into the back, returning with a small leather pouch that clinked pleasantly when handed over.
Grenil weighed it in his palm, then tucked it away. “Pleasure doing business.”
“Likewise.” The smith muttered, already setting the dagger aside under a cloth.
The rest of the morning passed without issue.
Grenil stopped by a general goods shop and bought what they needed: durable travel clothes for Alex, a good axe, rope, flint and steel, a few waterskins, some rations and a couple of small pouches of seasoning. All that barely left a dent in what he got for the dagger.
He also ended up buying a real cart to replace the monstrosity that the two youngsters had created. He made sure that it was large enough to fit two people and had a fabric roof stretched overhead.
The cart actually used up most of the money he had left, but even then, the leftovers would make a good emergency stash.
By the time he left the market, the sun was climbing high. He took a quiet road out of the village, trying to draw as little attention as possible. As the gates faded from view behind him, Grenil adjusted his grip on the cart and started humming under his breath as he walked.
When he finally spotted the familiar tarp in the distance, he saw a pair of eyes twinkling under its edge, watching the road like a hawk.
“See?” Grenil called out as he approached. “Still in one piece.”
A muffled exhale of relief resounded from within. “About time.”
“I bought you some proper clothes.” The old man lowered the load, then gestured behind himself. “And a few other things you’ll thank me for.”
Alex peeked over his shoulder. “And the cart?”
“A thing
I’ll
thank me for.” Grenil grinned. “Nothing against your creation, but the number of bruises I have on my backside corresponds exactly to the number of bumps in the road.”
“Well
sorry
for not being able to add any suspension to a vehicle with nothing but my bare hands. My fault.” Alex mocked back. “Does that mean we have everything we need? Are we leaving this evening?”
“Yes.” Grenil confirmed. “We can leave tonight.”