When it came time to divide the loot from Antoine's treasure vault, it turned out that the most eye-catching suits of armor were, as expected, purely decorative works of art.
According to the Shadow Assassin, these things could be sold directly alongside the jewelry, they were pretty to look at but useless in battle. It was precisely these ornamental armors that had misled the assassin into overestimating the quality of Antoine's hoard.
Among the remaining items, most were trivial collectibles once owned by nobles like a unicorn sculpture carved from coral and polished until it gleamed smooth as glass. Strangely enough, it was actually a magical item. Aside from giving off light and warmth, it released a strong fragrance, though no one knew what practical purpose it served.
Aldric simply tossed it into the pile of trinkets, planning to sell it later for cash.
Vittoria, meanwhile, discovered something that caught her fancy. A curious item similar to the [Captain Emmus Rockfell's Rum Flask] that Aldric had once obtained. That flask had eventually been gifted to his Witcher mentor.
[Dionysus's Gift]: It is said that the god of wine, Dionysus, would bestow upon his most devoted believers an endless supply of fine liquor. This is a treasure many drunkards can only dream of.
A certain wine-loving mage, inspired by the legend, painstakingly crafted this artifact. By filling it with enough water, one can brew an entire flask of fine wine after twenty-four hours. The type of wine produced changes randomly each time.
—"Next time, you'd better make it the wine I like, or I'll use you as a chamber pot."
Aldric gave the warrior a complicated look as she burst out laughing and took a hearty drink right on the spot. Though the flask's inscription seemed to be written in jest, he silently made up his mind never to share any alcoholic beverage with her again.
While counting the silver coins, Aldric found a piece of cloth pressed flat beneath the pile. When he shook it out, he discovered it was a form-fitting soft armor.
After a quick glance at its size, he skipped over Vittoria entirely and slipped it on himself completely ignoring the Shadow Assassin, whose build would have been a better fit.
[Silver-Scaled Chestguard]
Though named a chestguard, it is actually a soft armor. It is worth a fortune, woven with mithril threads using the mysterious magical silk-spinning technique of the Cerysian people.
No one knows who made it, but the craftsmanship is exquisite, combining excellent defense with unmatched flexibility. It's as light and thin as ordinary clothing.
Usage Requirements: None
Materials: Mithril
Craftsmanship: Mithril thread weaving
Defense: Sturdy
Traits:
Lightness: treated as cloth armor.
Magic Resistance: grants additional defense against magic.
"Silver-Scaled Chestguard: Not for sale, at any price."
The most remarkable feature of this armor was how it didn't hinder movement at all. Whether it was Aldric's own fighting style or the Pirouette Blade taught to him by his Witcher mentor, both required agile footwork and wide-ranging motion.
Heavy armor was out of the question; even standard metal armor could hinder his speed. Yet this silver-scaled chestguard not only preserved his mobility—it provided "sturdy" grade defense on par with his old [Elven Ranger's Leather Armor], which had been destroyed in battle. And it weighed barely a third as much.
Judging from Antoine's size, Aldric guessed that the only reason the treasure's owner hadn't used it himself was simply because he couldn't fit into it.
The Shadow Assassin Colin, being skilled at appraisal, handled the valuation. Excluding the items taken by Aldric and Vittoria, the remaining jewelry and precious metals were worth roughly fifteen thousand gold coins.
However, if they tried to sell them quickly, they wouldn't even get half that price. After Port Anthony was in a state of panic because of the previous count's disappearance, and rumors of the new lord Antoine being robbed had already spread throughout the city. Almost no one dared to buy such obvious stolen goods.
Now heavily injured and unable to move, the Shadow Assassin had resigned himself to his fate. After giving his appraisal, he said nothing more about the distribution of profits, sitting there like the most professional appraiser imaginable, silent and expressionless.
He had no leverage left only the hope that this Witcher apprentice before him would keep his word as faithfully as his teacher once did.
Aldric redressed the assassin's wounds. If treated openly in a temple, injuries of this severity would cost between 1,500 and 2,000 gold coins to fully heal.
To hire a high-level priest capable of casting divine spells like Flesh Regeneration or Bone Restoration, one had to not only make a hefty donation to the temple but also offer private gifts to the caster, usually diamonds that could refine divine spells, or precious metals used for crafting holy symbols.
Most priests refused to accept money outright due to their faith but that didn't apply to followers of Waukeen, the goddess of wealth and trade. In fact, it was the Waukeen clergy who first set the current healing rates, which priests of other gods eventually copied.
In this world, the vast majority of wealth was controlled by nobles and extraordinary beings. The average commoner's annual earnings were around 50 gold coins, a modest sum earned through hard labor.
By contrast, novice adventurers clearing out minor threats like goblins or kobolds could easily earn 30 gold coins a week. But their expenses were equally massive.
Take Aldric for example, currently a Level 3 low-tier professional. For someone at his level, acquiring a proper set of gear would cost roughly 800 gold coins, the primary business of dwarven craftsmen like Gloin.
After rigorous training, a professional who reached Level 5 could barely be considered mid-tier. But from that point onward, the gap between individuals widened sharply. Most people never progressed further, halted by death, injury, or lack of talent.
Those who managed to reach that level typically accumulated a few thousand gold coins, enough to live comfortably if they ever retired from adventuring.
At this stage, their main pursuit became enchanted equipment, rare and expensive gear forged by only the most skilled master blacksmiths, who risked everything to surpass their limits.
A lucky few, through countless life-and-death adventures, eventually surpassed Level 10, entering the ranks of high-tier professionals—the backbone of the transcendent class.
Most native transcendents who achieved this level often abandoned the path toward becoming paragons, instead taking high-ranking positions in bustling towns—commanders, instructors, or officials with lucrative pay. Others became leaders of underground organizations or the personal protectors of nobles, basking in luxury and influence.
And for those still young and ambitious, marrying into nobility—a wealthy widow or a beautiful lady of status—offered a fast track to becoming a newly-minted noble, enjoying a life of decadence and splendor.
Many young talents who had once risen to fame among the extraordinary fell not to powerful foes or death itself, but to the sweet temptations of comfort and desire.
Only those with iron will, those who could endure loneliness and resist temptation, had a chance to set foot upon the exalted and perilous path of Legend—to stand above all others and truly become one of the mighty.
(End of Chapter)