The Mimic Becomes a Merchant King

A 'bird', as it turned out, was a small winged creature about the size of a cave bat. But in place of leathery wings it was covered in strange white growths that Illyana called 'feathers', which she had vigorously plucked from the creatures after shooting two down from the air with well-aimed crossbow bolts. And instead of a snout, the birds had sharp beaks protruding from their faces.

Those, fortunately, were not too alien to Coin. The sole cockatrice down in the temple, which had died a few years ago, had one roughly the same shape. But his had been far larger.

What was far more shocking to Coin, who had lived the entirety of his life in near-total darkness, was that the blazing ball of light overhead had vanished some hours into their journey, replaced by a pair of glowing ruby moons that radiated a much eerier light. Coin would have been worried about this baffling turn of events, certain that the blazing light would never return. But Illyana seemed not to notice, so he simply assumed that was the norm for surface dwellers.

As bonkers as that seemed.

"There we are," Illyana said, lifting a metal skewer of grilled bird meat from the fire. She had shed much of her armour and was now dressed in a dark shirt and trousers. She was still a rather tall and robust woman, and the thin scars on her arms stood out on her sculpted musculature.

Coin took the skewer as it was offered to him and sniffed it a few times. It smelled nicer than raw meat, admittedly, but he still wasn't sold on the whole thing. Eventually he worked up the nerve to have a bite, and groaned in delight at the hot juices that exploded onto his tongue. The heat was immense, admittedly, but he scarcely noted the sting from how good the taste was!

He felt bad for other mimics, who never even got the chance to grill their quarry like this.

He'd eaten his serving in a blur, earning a gust of laughter from Illyana who was barely starting hers. She leaned back against the trunk of a nearby tree, watching him carefully. "Take it you haven't eaten in a while?"

"That and I'm always hungry," he replied, licking some hot grease from his lips. You would be hard pressed to find a mimic that would ever turn down a meal. Or, for that matter, a mimic that would let you offer them a meal without biting your head off in the process.

But as he savoured the last traces of the cooked meat, Coin became aware of something strange. As delicious as the bird was, he couldn't reconstitute it into his biomass in the same way he could with raw flesh. Whenever he ate a living creature, all their muscles, bones, and sinews were things he could reforge and recreate as needed.

Usually for growth or regeneration, though now he was starting to become increasingly aware of what his shape changing abilities could do. Processed meat, however, seemed to lack that same potential. He got sustenance from it, at least, but he was certain it would just dissolve into waste to be expelled later.

It didn't matter too much, so long as he didn't need to regenerate anything particularly grievous. But it was disappointing.

The two lingered by the fire as it steadily dwindled. Illyana was seated on a bedroll, and gave Coin a loan of a spare she carted around 'just in case.' Coin stared into the dancing embers, a question bubbling up in his mind. "Say, Illyana, have you ever heard of a magical potion that can... make a person smarter?"

The blonde arched a brow at him. "Why? Were you looking for something like that in the temple?"

Coin pursed his lips, trying to think of a convincing lie. "I heard... a story about a potion that could do that. Guess I was curious to see if it was a real thing or not."

Illyanna hummed, drumming her fingers on the dirt. "I've never been all that familiar with magic. Much to my parents' shame," she snorted. "But I hear wizards and witches make all kinds of queer potions that can do just about anything. There's a witch living in Wheat Valley called Scylla, she might be able to tell you more about that kinda thing. Only... well, she's a pain to deal with. But you're a man so she might be sweet on you," she said.

"Sweet... on me?" Coin murmured under his breath. What was that supposed to mean? It didn't sound like a bad thing, the tone Illyana used, but it also sounded like this 'witch' would try to eat him.

Also, it was nice to know how 'whizz-ard' was meant to be pronounced.

"Guess I'll keep it in mind." Another thing he'd need to take care of whenever they got to the town.

"Still," Illyna glanced up to the twin moons. "A potion that can make you smarter. Yeah. That sounds like the sort of thing a wizard would brew. They always have to be the smartest in a room."

"And would a potion like that... have a permanent effect?" Coin asked.

"Dunno," Illyana said. "Magic. Alchemy. All that crap... tends to have a mind of its own at times." And that was essentially it for their conversation that night.

The two fell asleep on opposite sides of the burnt out campfire soon after. And Coin, for the first time, experienced a dream more complex than what a wild animal would go through. In his dream he found himself surrounded by mountains of gold and meat, the sight and scent of which made his heart do somersaults in excitement.

Meat and gold, the two things he wanted most in life. And with the brain of a human, he'd have the means to have all the meat and gold his heart desired. In time, at least.

But mimics could be light sleepers, and evolution had not changed that for Coin. Ears that could hear a pin drop were roused by a scream in the distance, causing Coin to spring upright. He moved to stand, his eyes quickly adjusting to the darkness. Illyana was still asleep. Perhaps those big pointy ears were just for show? Or she just had a natural ability to sleep like a log.

Coin left her to it, quietly creeping from their campsite as another scream rose in the distance. Eventually he reached the crest of the nearby hill, giving him a vantage to the road below. An orange glow cut through the blackness, a lantern hitched to the side of a wooden wagon. The creature pulling the wagon, a red-shelled beetle the size of an ox, stood idle and seemed unconcerned by the group of armed men surrounding it.

The same could not be said for the old man trembling at the side of the wagon with his hands raised, unwilling to move in the presence of a pike aimed at his throat. Another man, a short distance from the back of the wagon, was lying dead on the road. His left arm had been lopped off at the elbow, the severed length a few meters from his corpse, while the killing blow had cleaved his clavicle.

Coin stood silently on the hill to watch, stroking his chin in thought. One of the armed men was rummaging through the rear of the wagon, pulling crates open and tossing their contents onto the road. It was only when the stranger tore open a box and exposed its glittering golden contents to the moonlight that Coin's interest was truly piqued.

An entire box laden with gold coins. The mimic was damn near drooling at the sight.

He spied at least seven men holding the old man to ransom. Seven adorned in boiled leather or chainmail. Nothing Coin couldn't handle. More than once his disguise had been rumbled by parties much better equipped than ragged bandits carrying pikes and scimitars.

He spared a glance to Illyana, still out cold in her bedroll, before quickly making his way downhill. The muscles in his limbs tensed and broadened, drawing upon the strength of his past meals. That kind of trick was common among mimics, who passively grew stronger the more they ate. Now, however, Coin had more granular control of his own body.

He could overpower this lot without much issue. And any damage they inflicted, he told himself, they had more than enough meat to help mend him.

One of the bandits heard his approach, turning toward the noise of rustling grass. He raised his oil lantern, the glow illuminating Coin. The mimic did not slow his approach.

"Who in blazes are you?!" the man barked, his pockmarked face contorting into a sneer.

"Doesn't matter," another of the men said, emerging from the shadow. He raised his crossbow and took aim, his gaze harsh behind the visor of his metal helmet.

The old man, a stooping dark-skinned figure in an expensive-looking duster and waistcoat, peered at Coin from the gloom. His rheumy eyes widened in surprise, the twitches of his facial muscles rustling the hairs of his fluffy white moustache. He saw an opportunity to move while his attackers were distracted, and turned to run as fast as his legs would carry him.

But the large man before him was far faster than his broad frame would imply, clocking him with a punch that sent him sprawling into the dirt. Out cold. "Damn old fool," he spat, glowering down with his piggy eyes. "We'll tie him up when we're done with this one."

The man with the lantern approached, clutching his scimitar in his other hand. "Empty out your pockets, an' we might just let you go." He flashed a smirk that all but said 'yeah, right.'

"Empty my pockets?" Coin bluntly replied.

"Yeah. Cough up your coin if you value your life more."

Coin balked. Hand over money?! Certainly not! "You'll get nothing out of me!"

"Have it your way, shrimp!" The bandit flicked his scimitar upward, the air whistling from the speed of his blade. Coin reeled back, raising an arm to defend himself. Metal bit into flesh sturdier than leather, slicing open Coin's sleeve and the forearm beneath.

The mimic hissed, his jaws growing larger and his teeth sharpening in his anger. He stepped forth, ducking under another slash and punching the bandit in the chest. The leather of his armour absorbed much of the impact, but several of his ribs still cracked from the force of Coin's fist. He yowled, launched off his feet by the blow, and was sent tumbling a few paces from the mimic.

The other bandits fell silent, clutching their weapons with newfound attention. "You can have money if you take it by force. That's the rule on the surface, is it?" Coin nodded, a pale golden gleam forming in his pupils. "Good to know."