In the m, the first thing I did was have a versation with Rue. It was essential to make sure he wasn’t sharing anything he shouldn’t. Rue’s eyes focused on me as he wagged his tail.

  “Rue, buddy, what did you discuss with the innkeeper?” I asked.

  “Yummy snakes and yummy smoked crabs,” Rue responded, his tail thumping against the floor.

  “Did you just talk about food?”

  “No. Rue told Horim about hockey,” he said, his ears perking up.

  “Just those two things?”

  “Yes!” Rue barked, his head noddihusiastically.

  “Excellent, buddy. You talk about those things. But please don’t mention the dungeon cores we have.”

  “Rue knows. Friend Lis say it’s a secret,” Rue assured me, his eyes wide and ear.

  “Good. Also, don’t talk about the house, the boat, and all the itech stuff we have.”

  “Rue knows.” His mental voice dropped to a whisper, as if the walls might be listening. “Mini boss Mahya say it’s a very secret secret,”

  “What else did she tell you?” I asked, trying to cover all the bases.

  “Not say about dungeon, not say about s, not say we Travelers,” Rue rattled off, sounding proud.

  “Yes. Excellent, buddy. Those are the topics you shouldn’t discuss, especially that we are Travelers.” I paused for a moment, sidering what else o be covered. “Also, don’t say we turn invisible or fly.”

  “Yes, boss. Rue promise,” he said with a firm nod.

  “Well done, I trust you,” I said, scratg his ears, and got a face lick.

  After the versation with Rue, we headed downstairs for breakfast. The smell of fresh bread and roasted meats filled the air as we ate. Once we finished, I turo Mr. Mossim, who was clearing some tables nearby.

  “Mr. Mossim,” I called, catg his attention. “Where I find the mayor?”

  He wiped his hands on a cloth and pointed eastward. “Follow the main road until you see a rge house with blue shutters. That’s the mayor’s pce.”

  I thanked him and made my way to the mayor’s house. When I arrived, a maid opehe door. She looked me up and down and said, “Please wait here.” She disappeared inside, leavianding on the doorstep.

  A few mier, the mayor appeared. He was a fat, balding man dressed in colorful clothes and greeted me with a shallow bow. “Esteemed healer,” he said, straightening up.

  “Mister mayor,” I replied with a nod.

  “Please, e in,” he offered, stepping aside auring for me to enter.

  I stepped inside, notig the shiny wood floors and stylish decorations. The house carried the warm st of baking bread, though the cloying perfume that g to the mayor nearly overpowered it. He led me to a sitting room aured for me to take a seat.

  As soon as we sat, I got straight to the point. “I’m the healer who treated the townspeople yesterday. Mrs. Britrice was supposed to give you a list of those I healed, but I brought my list as well. Here are the names of the people I healed.”

  He took the list from my hand, his eyes sing the rows of names. After a few moments, he looked up and said, “We will pay thirty silver s for each severe case you treated at the valest house and twenty silver s for those you treated at the inn.”

  I nodded in agreement. “That works for me.”

  He ted the names on the list and did some quick calcutions. “There were twenty-nine people at the valest house. That es to 8 gold s and 70 silver s. And thirty-six people at the inn, totaling seven gold and 20 silver s. The final amount is 15 gold and y silver s.”

  He reached into his poud handed me sixteen gold s. “The extra ten silver s express ratitude for ing to the town’s aid.”

  I took the s and gave him a nod. “Thank you, Mayor.”

  After a brief exge of farewells, I left the mayor’s house auro the inn. Not bad for a few hours’ work.

  When I returo the inn, I approached Mr. Mossim as he was wiping down the bar. “Mr. Mossim,” I asked, “are you ied in buying anything for the inn?”

  He paused, then shook his head. “That’s more my wife’s responsibility,” he replied. “Hold on, I’ll call her for you.” He stepped away and said, “Mary, could you e here for a moment?”

  A few moments ter, Mrs. Mossim appeared from the back, wiping her hands on her apron. “What I do for you?”

  I repeated my question to her. She sidered it for a moment. “I’m ied in dinnerware,” she said, “but they o be matg sets, not a mix of different dishes.”

  I mentally sifted through my ste, and my gaze nded oacks of por I had bought in Engnd from a pany that had gone bankrupt. “What exactly are you looking for?” I asked.

  “Ptes, soup bowls, and rge serving ptes and bowls.”

  I removed three samples from my Ste and pced them on the bar. “Here are a few options,” I said, showing her each. The first was a white pte with a bck geometric pattern, the sed a smooth cream-colored pte with dots in various shades of brown, and the third a light blue pte with a dark blue leaf pattern.

  Mrs. Mossim scrutinized each pte, her firag the patterns. “I like these,” she said, smiling. “But I o test their durability.”

  “Go ahead,” I enced, stepping back.

  She picked up oe and dropped it to the floor. The pte shattered into pieces, and her face fell. “It’s lovely,” she admitted, “but we need something more durable for the inn.”

  I scratched my , thinking. After a moment, I remembered the rune book I had studied that covered runes for daily use. “I might have a solution for you,” I told her, “But I o check my iory first to ensure I have what you’re looking for. Also, I o kly which pattern you want and hoieces each.”

  Mrs. Mossim sidered momentarily, then excused herself ao sult with her husband. Wheurned, she said, “We’d like the white pattern with the bck design. We need a hundred dies, a hundred soup bowls, and twenty rge serving botes.”

  “Got it,” I said, nodding. “I’ll ched let you know.” With that, I headed bay room to review my iory.

  I pulled out the book of runes again in my room and flipped through the pages, skimming the description. The description said it was for cy dishes, but I thought that por shouldn’t be that different.

  I shrugged and tried it. Carefully, I engraved the ruo a pte and charged it with mana. I even remembered to do it with my profile open to see how much mana it took. Five units—not bad. I let the pte drop from my hand onto the floor to test it. It nded with a solid thunk but remained intact.

  So far, so good.

  I threw it harder, the pte boung but still whole. Finally, I smmed the pte onto the floor with all my strength. It shattered into four pieces. “Hmm,” I mumbled, croug down to ihe fragments. “Not pletely immune, but not bad at all.”

  I took out ae, ready to engrave the one, when a knock sou the door. I ope to find Mr. Mossim standing there; looking ed.

  “Is everything alright?” he asked, peering past me into the room. “I heard a loud noise, like something fell.”

  “Everything’s fine, Mr. Mossim. I was testing the durability of these ptes for your wife.”

  He gave me a strange look. It had been a long time since I got one of those, but he didn’t push further. “Alright then,” he said with a nod. “I’m just cheg.” He turned and headed back downstairs.

  For the wo days, I was on a mission, engraving and charging all the ptes Mrs. Mossim asked for. During those two days, people occasionally came to the inn for me to heal them. Some had not e on the first day, while others had fresh burns. I kept a list, and by the end of the two days, I had 17 more names on the page.

  During all this time, Rue spent his days outside with the children, only ing ihree times a day to get food. After I finished my project, I discovered that the sneaky dog had asked for a meal from the innkeeper and then had the o e up to our room, asking for another meal from me. When I found out, all I could do was ugh and shake my head. I had no words.

  When I finally finished, I went downstairs and found Mr. Mossim.

  “Could you call your wife, please?” I asked. “I’ve got something to show her.”

  She arrived a few mier, her curiosity clear as she approached me. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

  “I did,” I replied, handing her one of the newly engraved ptes. “I found the stock with the stroes. Go ahead, test it.”

  She eyed me skeptically, but took the pte. With a quick motion, she dropped it on the floor. This time, the pte remained intact. Her eyes widened in surprise, and a huge smile spread across her face. “Now, this is what we need,” she said, sounding pleased.

  She examihe pte I handed her, her firag the rune. “How much mana does it take to charge these runes?” she asked, looking up at me.

  “Five units each.”

  She nodded and asked, “And how long does the charge st?”

  Feeling embarrassed, I rubbed my neck. “I’m not sure,” I admitted.

  Her expression tightened, and she frowned slightly. “You don’t know how long it sts?”

  I shook my head, not quite meeting her eyes. “No, I don’t. When I bought the stock, the mert told me the mana cost but not the duration. I was still this, so I didn’t know to ask.”

  She sighed, clearly not pleased with my response. “Well, durability is important, but so is knowing how long it sts,” she said, her tone more curt. “Especially for something that will be used regurly in an inn.”

  We moved to the bar, where Mr. Mossim joined us for the iation. After some bad-forth, we settled on a price: Ten gold s for the e. My Appraisal said it was worth almost double, but since I didn’t know how frequently they would o hire a mage to recharge the ruhey used it to their advaheir skills left my mert skills in the dust. But since he was Innkeeper Level 17, and she was Inn Steward Level 23, I didn’t feel too bad about it.

  As I pocketed the s, I couldn’t help but think:

  Sixteen gold for a few hours of healing, and ten gold for two days of engraving runes. Healing is definitely more profitable.

  Later that day, I went to check out the market that had sprung up iower. It was a “Breath” day, the day off they had once every ten days. Rue joined me for the market, and I suspected it was to get treats.

  The market acked with people trying to get the best deals before someone else did. There were many strange smells in the air, like sweat, food, and some mystery smell that might’ve e from one of those strange food stands. Over the noise, vendors yelled as they sold their goods from handcarts, wooden carts, and rickety tables that could barely hold their goods.

  The produce was again different. I already saw that on the isnd, but here it was more pronounced. On the isnd, they had many fruits that resembled pineapples, uts, and figs, so there was some thread of familiarity—here, nothing; it all looked weird.

  They had root vegetables in strange colors and shapes. A young man stood behind his cart, selling bright e vegetables that looked like misshapezels. Intrigued, I approached him and picked one up, examining its odd shape. After a moment, I handed over a few s, bought one, and began peeling it right there. Taking a bite, I found the texture dry and starchy, and the fvor almost ent.

  I looked up at the vendor. “What do you make with this?”

  He smiled, eager to expin. “You cook it in water and then mash it, or bake it in the oven with some sauce, or even fry it up with meat.”

  So, a sort of potato substitute.

  Reag into my ste, I pulled out a box. “I’ll take a full box,” I said, handing him the s.

  Someone else sold a big red vegetable like a tomato, but the vegetable had a tough exterior like a pumpkin, which the seller cleaved with an axe and scooped out the io bowls made of tough brown leaves.

  I bought one bowl and took a cautious bite. Immediately, my face torted—it was sourer than a lemon! The sharpness hit me like a punch to the tongue.

  The seller noticed my rea and burst out ughing.

  “What do you make with it?” I asked, wing. “It’s awfully sour!”

  He chuckled, shaking his head. “When y it to a boil, the sourness goes away,” he expined. “It’s used as a base for sauces and stews.”

  So, kind of like tomato.

  At least the atched. I bought all the ready bowls he had—I had a lot of experimentation to do. Someone else sold something that I initially thought was bright yellow onions, judging by their shape, but then I saw somebody peel one and bite into it. I bought one as well and discovered that it had yers like an onion, but the taste reminded me of a cucumber. When I asked the seller if they fry it, he looked at me like an alien.

  I am, buddy. I am.

  There were leafy greens with thick, waxy leaves that looked almost too tough to eat, and some other herbs with unfamiliar leaves. I didn’t buy the big leaves, too tough, but bought some herbs to experiment.

  Some sold Spiky fruits in shades of red and brown. Some fruits had tough, scaly skins, and others had a rich color that made me think of tastes I couldn’t quite pce. Someone sliced open a tiny e fruit and exposed pale meat. This smelled natural and sweet, making me want to know what it would taste like.

  I bought one of ead tasted everything. The scaly fruit was too sweet, but the rest was iing. I bought some of each.

  A woman nearby was selling smoked meats that looked remarkably simir to ba and ham. As we passed by her booth, Rue panted, his eyes fixed on the dispy. “Rue want treat,” he pleaded, his tail wagging eagerly, aually gave me puppy-dog eyes. It looked ridiculous; he was almost the size of a horse.

  I bought him a big pieeat, and he swallowed it in three bites, barely tasting it.

  The woman behind the booth chuckled. “How much does it cost you to feed him?” she asked, clearly amused.

  I sighed. “A lot,” I replied, shaking my head.

  She ughed again, nodding. “I see that.”

  As we talked, I noticed a cut running down her arm, already healing. Without thinking, I reached out and touched her hand, casting Healing Touch. Realizing what I’d done, I pulled back, suddenly feeling awkward for toug her without permission. But instead of being upset, she looked at me with admiration, her eyes wide.

  She bowed deeply. “Thank you, esteemed healer.”

  “You’re wele,” I replied, flustered.

  I turo leave, but she called after me, “Wait.” She handed me an enormous pieeat. “Thank you very much.”

  I accepted the meat with a nod. “Thank you.”

  Rue, who had been watg the exge ily, pleaded again. “Give Rue! Give Rue!”

  I sighed deeply, resigned. “Fine.”

  In no time, this piece was also gone in a few bites.

  There was also a booth selling dried herbs and spices. The smells of these ingredients mixed as I walked by, creating an almost to cloud. I bought a small sampling of ead got out of there as fast as possible. I loved my Perception stat, but sometimes it was too much.

  We moved to the general goods area, and the first were the clothes and fabric sellers. Some sold tunid cloaks made h yarn ihy colors. Others sold clothes that were much more colorful and matched what the people around were wearing. I felt some fabrics, and they felt like rough, durable cotton, but not as durable as jeans.

  After the clothes were the ons sellers. They sold swords with heavy, straight bdes and knives with worher grips on the hahat looked more useful thay.

  Kids ran bad forth between the booths. Their yells and ughter added to the noise as they pyed games ged vendors for sweets. Rue immediately zeroed on the children ao make friends.

  Well, if he’s busy, he won’t beg for food.

  I walked through stalls that sold household goods, leather backpacks and saddle bags, furniture, and toys. Finally, I reached the end of the stalls and took out my stall. I sold more por dishes, eager to clear some spa my Ste, and by the end of the day, earned six gold.

  Maybe engraving runes isn’t such a bad idea after all.

  But the thought of stantly calg value and profit was exhausting. I didn’t want to spend my time managing iments—I wao travel ahe worlds.

  As the market was winding down, orader approached me, his eyes on my sales stand. “Are you willing to sell that stall?” he asked, catg me off guard.

  I blinked in surprise. “Sell the stall?” I echoed. The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind.

  “Yeah,” he nodded. “I never saw anything like it and it looks very good. I like the roof for rainy days.”

  I appraised my stall, shocked to discover it was worth 60 gold. “I didn’t expect that,” I muttered. Then, turning to the trader, I said, “I’ve got aand I’m willing to sell. It’s just as good as this one.”

  “How much?”

  “Sixty gold.”

  After some iatioruck a deal for fifty-five. Befoing to sleep that evening, I opehe Archive and wrote a message to Mahya and Al.

  Tr. JR

  “Clueless, Versailles, Prince”

  If you find a good deal, buy more stalls.

  You won’t believe it, but one is worth sixty gold.

  In the m, I noticed three unfamiliar faces in the inn, dressed in armor. When Mr. Mossim brought me breakfast, I asked. “Who are those three?” Nodding towards the armored trio.

  He gnced over and replied, “They’re adventurers.”

  I looked at them occasionally while I ate, expeg rowdy behavior—shouting, drinking, the works—but they just sat quietly, eating their breakfast and chatting amongst themselves.

  It wasn’t what I expected, which just goes to show that stories don’t always match reality.

  As I was finishing up breakfast, Mr. Mossim approached me with a thoughtful look. “You know,” he began, “you might want to talk to those adventurers. Offer your services as a healer when they go to clear the caves.”

  I shook my head. “I’m a traveling mert and healer, not the adventuring type. The dangers of the road are enough adventuring for me.”

  He nodded in agreement, a small smile on his face. “True enough. It’s much healthier and safer that way.”

  The trio of adventurers made me realize that my time was running out. I o decide about the dungeon. I’d never fully cleared one alone before, but I’d handled a good sixty pert of the silver dungeon by myself with just my lightning, and I fried all the sharks in the sed dungeon. Those experiences gave me the fideo tackle this one as well. Finally, I decided that Rue and I would ehe dungeon. If it seemed manageable, we’d push forward. If it was too much, we’d retreat. From what Lis and Mahya had told me, leaving the dungeon wouldn’t be a problem. The only problem was getting ba before it regeed. I also khat if I quered the dungeon and took the core, I wouldn’t want ao know about it. So my leaving would o be publid visible.

  I approached Mr. Mossim, who was busy arranging some gsses behind the bar. “Mr. Mossim,” I began, catg his attention, “we’re leaving. Now that the adventurers have arrived, the tow really need a healer anymore. Besides, I won’t stay for ten days until the market.”

  “You know,” he said, turning to face me, “you could stay a bit longer ao the adventurers. They might be ied in what you have.”

  I shook my head with a smile. “I appreciate the suggestion, but I sell household goods, not ons and armor.”

  He nodded, uanding. “Fair enough. Safe travels, then.”

  “Thank you, and please pass on my thanks to Mrs. Mossim as well,” I replied with a nod, before turning to leave.

  I visited the mayor to collect payment for the st batch of people I’d healed, and then Rue and I left the town, taking the same visible route we’d arrived by.