Part 2. Iphrite.
The brothers have been thorough. They tried to expel the ghost before them, even more often than they say. The ghost, protected by the magic of armor, mockingly ignored all sorts of rituals, not forgetting to comment on what was happening. Attempts to destroy armor or separate a part of it did not lead to anything either: the one, like many artifacts, was indestructible. At least, in the ways available to them.
It was a trivial trick: Steve summoned a ghost to the fight, saying that he was a bad card player. The calculation worked, the pride took its toll, and the armor was accepted. The rest was a matter of technique, dexterity and psychology. Playing on the weaknesses of the ghost and succumbing, Steve managed to convince him of the fervor of excitement to play for his armor, and even to give an indestructible oath. Of course, he had no chance of winning. When he realized that he had been fooled, the spirit got furious, but he couldn't do anything: magic vows couldn't be broken.
But the brothers couldn't get rid of the smell, it had already become part of the armor. Even so, there were so many people who wanted to buy armor that they had to auction it off. Happy with their success, Steve and Forlie even came to terms with the fact that the ghost stayed with them, making noise at night and frightening visitors. So now there was a bass:
- Stupid boys, the book of white cold will devour your souls! And after that, this world will be covered in ice eye...
- That's enough! - Forlie snapped his fingers while driving out the ghost. - This book costs a lot of money. You just need to find a way to bypass the protection.
- And who are we going to sell it to? We haven't been able to find a single magician in a month who knows how to do ice magic," Steve besieged him. - Besides, we don't know what's inside there, it might as well be a regular diary.
He knew his brother very well. If he wasn't stopped, Forlie would try time and time again, despite his setbacks, to find increasingly perverse ways to stay warm. The quality is certainly useful if he could stop.
- The fair isn't for two weeks anyway, maybe I'll think of something," Forlie said uncertainly.
Steve did not argue, in the end, his brother was regularly overtaken by brilliant ideas, unfortunately, most often at the very last moment. Having thrown off his extra clothes, he took it to the second floor of his office. The room met him hanging in the air with dust and the smell of nonsense socks.
Sparingly holding the rug with his foot and trying to sneak away, he closed the door behind him. Most of the items they used in their homes were also of magical origin. When they started five years ago, they strictly forbade the use of artifacts in their needs. But the temptation was too great to take the same rug - once a luxurious airplane carpet, now his magic is almost gone, but he did not dust and tear, which, given the regular very destructive excesses, made it extremely useful. Little by little, they had no ordinary things left: something they used until they had a buyer, and something, the same carpet, was left for themselves.
Having landed on the chair (which was unusually comfortable, but had a bad fashion to run away before they sat on it), Steve looked at where he had left off. He was just counting his expenses. The experiments with the book had severely squandered their budget. Hope was for the upcoming fair - there were always a lot of buyers as well as those who wanted to sell illiquid.
It was already the element of Forliee - he had a quick glance and description to estimate whether the sheepskin is worth it. Some artifacts were dangerous to contact, others were simply useless and cost no more than a similar, non-magical thing. Steve was also good at this, but being a practical and lazy man, he could simply miss a thing with a hidden but curious effect.
At the bottom of the bell rang, notifying that in a minute and thirty seconds the buyer will come in.
- Please come down," Forlie shouted from his room.
Steve put down the pen and waited. There were two bells: one that worked in advance, but was wrong regularly, the other that was never wrong because it was the most common bell, and was just cleverly attached to the door. Waiting for the second bell, he quacked downstairs.
It wasn't that he didn't like to talk to customers, rather the opposite, but the sub who was waiting for him downstairs didn't want to talk. Wrapped in a raincoat to the point where he couldn't even see his face, he was standing by the counter, emitting a clear smell of burning.
"Another alchemist, a philosopher's stone to sell," thought Steve. The philosopher's stone, which gives immortality and turns tin into gold, they tried to sell it three times a month. Despite the fact that tin becomes gold, everybody assured that immortality gives the stone without fail.