Yesterday I brought Ryn and Spathian to Deepscar.
I do not think either of them enjoyed it very much.
Which is unfortunate.
Personally, I thought it was a pleasant outing.
Though to be fair, the first time I visited Deepscar, I was terrified.
Now it feels considerably less dangerous.
Perhaps because OrangO knows everyone.
Or perhaps because everyone knows OrangO.
I am still uncertain which explanation is more reassuring.
Today we finally prepared to leave Dunskar.
Before departure, I officially asked permission to rejoin the caravan.
I also informed the Caravan Master that I remained disappointed with him.
Quite disappointed.
He apologized.
Seemingly sincerely.
Though he also claimed the incident was only thirty percent his fault.
According to him, the remaining seventy percent belonged to fate.
Whatever that means.
At this point I have decided arguing with the Caravan Master is often less productive than arguing with weather.
Our immediate destination is Vaultreach.
Specifically to return Old Shard home.
While the core crew prepared the wagons, Ryn, Spathian, and I sat together nearby.
Old Shard sat several meters away.
Happily stroking my Infinity Bag.
Again.
At this point I have accepted this as normal behavior.
I am not entirely certain that acceptance reflects well upon me.
Eventually the conversation drifted toward the auction.
More specifically—
Old Shard.
I admitted something.
"I still don't believe he's an Artifact Master."
Ryn agreed immediately.
Spathian agreed as well.
To be fair, Old Shard is unquestionably an excellent appraiser.
That part I fully accept.
But explorer?
Dungeon veteran?
Artifact Master?
The man regularly argues with furniture.
He carries a cooking pot everywhere.
And half the time he resembles a particularly determined homeless person.
The title felt difficult to reconcile with reality.
Unfortunately, we had forgotten someone was nearby.
The Caravan Master.
Apparently listening.
He looked toward us.
Then toward Old Shard.
Then smiled.
The kind of smile people wear immediately before causing problems.
"I can show you."
Those words should have worried me.
They did not.
This was a mistake.
Before any of us could react, the Caravan Master stood.
Drew his cutlass.
And attacked.
Not jokingly.
Not symbolically.
Not educationally.
Attacked.
He dashed forward with terrifying speed.
The blade aimed directly toward Old Shard.
No hesitation.
No warning.
No mercy.
I screamed.
I am reasonably certain Ryn screamed as well.
Perhaps Spathian too.
Unfortunately, none of us finished.
Because before our panic could fully arrive—
Old Shard moved.
Instantly.
One moment he was happily petting my bag.
The next he spun around.
Opened the Infinity Bag.
And lifted it directly into the path of the strike.
The cutlass vanished inside.
Gone.
Completely.
The attack stopped.
The world stopped.
And Old Shard immediately shouted:
"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING, IDIOT?!"
The Caravan Master shouted back without missing a beat.
"GIVE ME BACK MY CUTLASS, YOU DWARF!"
Neither sounded particularly concerned about the attempted stabbing.
Which somehow felt inappropriate.
Meanwhile—
Ryn.
Spathian.
And I.
Simply stared.
My heart was still trying to escape through my throat.
For one horrifying moment, I genuinely believed the Caravan Master had decided to murder Old Shard.
Instead they immediately transitioned into an argument.
A very loud argument.
Apparently this was normal.
The longer they shouted, the more another realization slowly settled into place.
Old Shard never saw the attack.
Not consciously.
The movement had been pure instinct.
Pure reflex.
The kind of reflex someone develops after surviving things repeatedly.
Things significantly worse than impatient merchants with sharp objects.
The realization was deeply unsettling.
Eventually the Caravan Master demanded his cutlass back.
Old Shard confidently agreed.
Then paused.
A longer pause followed.
Then another.
Finally he admitted:
"I don't know how."
Silence.
"What?"
"I don't know how to get it back out."
Apparently retrieving specific objects from an Infinity Bag is considerably harder than putting them in.
Especially somebody else's Infinity Bag.
Old Shard attempted anyway.
The first thing he retrieved was a sock.
Then a half-eaten piece of beef jerky.
Then several sheets of sketch paper.
Then an empty ink bottle.
Then—
A pair of laced pastel blue panties.
Time stopped.
Old Shard stared at the panties.
The panties stared back.
For one glorious second, he looked exactly like a man holding a live explosive.
Then he panicked.
And threw them into the air.
Unfortunately for everyone involved—
my body moved faster than my dignity.
I launched myself forward.
Genuinely.
To this day I remain uncertain how.
I am reasonably confident I moved faster than the Caravan Master's attack earlier.
The panties never touched the ground.
I caught them midair.
Snatched the Infinity Bag from Old Shard's hands.
And immediately secured both.
Then I stood.
Very still.
My face felt hot.
My ears felt hot.
My soul felt hot.
Nobody said anything.
Nobody laughed.
Nobody commented.
The Caravan Master looked elsewhere.
Ryn looked elsewhere.
Spathian looked elsewhere.
Several nearby crew members suddenly became extremely interested in clouds.
For this mercy, I remain grateful.
Eventually I cleared my throat.
Very professionally.
Then returned the Infinity Bag to my shoulder.
As though nothing had happened.
The Caravan Master waited several seconds.
Then quietly asked:
"Miss DeLuna."
A pause.
"Can you please get my cutlass back?"
I sighed.
Opened the bag.
Reached inside.
And immediately found it.
Old Shard looked offended.
Which I felt was unfair.
At least now I understand something.
The Caravan Master was right.
Old Shard truly is an Artifact Master.
Not because he says so.
Not because the guild says so.
But because when death arrived unexpectedly—
he responded before thought itself had time to catch up.
Unfortunately, he remains Old Shard.
Which means wisdom and complete nonsense continue to coexist inside the same person.
I suspect this will remain true forever.
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