I activated my Analyze ability, scanning faces in the crowd.
-
Dalen of Maxton
Level 12 Axeman
Dwarf (Human)
Male
Age: 42
-
Kira of Swiftdale
Level 16 Rogue
Sapien (Human)
Female
Age: 23
-
Thorsam the Blackhearted
Level 35 Black Knight
Sapien (Human)
Male
Age: 51
I paused at that last one. The sapien towered over the crowd in black plate armor etched with crimson runes. His presence parted the flow of people like a shark through water.
More readings flashed through my mind as I walked. Level 15 Archer. Level 22 Spearman. Level 19 Swordsman. The sheer concentration of power was unsettling. In Remembrance, a combat class above level 10 had been rare.
A group of sellswords lounged against a wall, their eyes tracking my movement. One licked his lips, hand resting on his sword pommel. I tightened my grip on Kolin's blade, clutching the bundled weapon tighter to my chest.
-
Garn the Quick.
Level 26 Duelist
Sapien (Human)
Male
Age: 28
Their leader's gaze lingered too long on my sword. I quickened my pace, mechanical joints whirring softly beneath my dress. More eyes followed, some curious about the silent widow, others calculating the worth of my hidden weapon and clothes.
An armored woman shouldered past, nearly knocking me aside.
-
Petra of Steelwind
Level 22 Swordsman
Sapien (Human)
Female
Age: 32
She didn't even glance back, confident in her strength and status. The message was clear: here in Orengaad, power spoke louder than courtesy. I kept moving, maintaining my widow's shuffle while staying alert. Every street corner seemed to hold another cluster of armed adventurers, their levels far beyond what I'd expected in a port city.
This place was dangerous in a different way than Remembrance. There, I'd feared discovery. Here, I feared the hungry looks from those who saw only a lone woman with a valuable sword. I felt my combat chassis stored within Depository, ready to be assembled if needed. But using it out in the open would shatter my disguise forever.
I turned away from the port, my mechanical legs carrying me deeper into Orengaad. The crowds of armed and armored warriors thinned with each block, replaced by merchants haggling over prices and clerks rushing between buildings with stacks of papers.
A clerk bumped into me, his papers scattering across the cobblestones.
"My apologies, madam." He scrambled to gather his documents, not even checking my status. Just another civilian going about his day.
The change was stark. Near the docks, everyone had sized me up, calculated my worth. Here, I was just another face in the crowd. My shoulders relaxed a fraction.
A wooden sign hanging upon a nearby building caught my eye: "The Scholar's Rest." Below it, painted in bold red letters: "No Adventurers!"
I pushed open the door. The common room was clean, quiet. No weapons on display, no boasting of great deeds. Just simple wooden tables and chairs, a few merchants sharing quiet conversation over tea.
The innkeeper looked up from her ledger. She was a stout woman with graying hair tied back in a neat bun.
"Welcome to the Scholar's Rest." Her eyes flicked to the bundle at my side. "You're not an adventurer, are you?"
I shook my head.
"Good. Had enough of their type. Always breaking chairs, starting fights, tracking mud everywhere." She tapped her quill against the ledger. "Looking for a room?"
I nodded.
"Three silver a night. That's just the room. Food's extra if you want it."
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
Another nod. I reached into my cloak to shield my hand as I activated my Depository. I pulled out the coins from the dimensional inventory space, then let them clink onto her desk one by one. The sound drew no attention from the other patrons. No hungry stares, no calculating glances.
The innkeeper swept the coins into a drawer. "Room twelve, top of the stairs, end of the hall. Chamber pot's under the bed, fresh water in the pitcher each morning." She handed me a key. "Stay as long as you like, just keep quiet and don't cause trouble."
I nodded my thanks and went upstairs to see my room.
I ventured out an hour later, my mechanical legs carrying me down the inn's creaking stairs. The innkeeper glanced up from her ledger as I approached her desk. I pulled out paper and ink from my Depository, shielding the motion with my cloak.
Where might I go to sell rare materials? I wrote.
She adjusted her spectacles. "Ah, Madam Voss's Curiosities in the market district. She takes all sorts of strange things, no questions asked." She sketched quick directions on the paper. "Follow Temple Street east, turn right at the bronze statue, then three blocks north. Can't miss the purple awning."
The walk took me through winding neighborhoods where laundry stretched between buildings and children played in doorways. The homes grew more elaborate as I walked, with wooden structures giving way to stone facades containing colored glass windows.
A group of young nobles passed, their silk clothes a stark contrast to the worn cotton of dock workers I'd seen earlier. Analyzing them showed civilian classes: scholars, merchants, bookmen. No combat classes among them.
The market district announced itself with noise and color. Awnings in every shade stretched over stalls selling spices, cloth, pottery. The scents of fresh bread and roasting meat filled the air. Here the mix of people felt more balanced. There were merchants loudly haggling with adventurers over equipment prices while nobles examined exotic fruits beside dock workers buying daily bread.
The purple awning came into view, marking a narrow shop wedged between a bookstore and a clothier. Through the window I glimpsed shelves crammed with oddities: preserved creatures in jars, gems in every color, pieces of strange machinery.
The bell chimed as I entered. Behind a polished counter, a woman with steel-gray hair looked up from examining a crystal through a jeweler's loupe.
"Welcome to my humble shop." She set the crystal aside. "I am Madam Voss. How may I assist you today?"
Analyze allowed me to verify her claim.
-
Madam Voss
Level 18 Merchant
Sapien (Human)
Female
Age: 64
I pulled out paper and wrote: I have dragon parts to sell.
Her eyebrows rose. "Dragon parts? How fascinating. What species?"
Snapper Dragon, I wrote.
"I see. What parts do you have?"
I listed them out: scales, teeth, claws, bone fragments.
"Most interesting." She drummed her fingers on the counter. "I'd need to examine the quality, of course. Would you be comfortable showing me here, or prefer a private viewing in the back room?"
I gestured toward the back room. Less chance of others seeing what I carried.
"Very sensible." She flipped the sign on her door to "Closed" and led me through a beaded curtain. "Now then, let's see what treasures you've brought."
I reached beneath my cloak, careful to keep my movements hidden as I pulled items from my Depository. Bones clattered onto the wooden table. Hide scraped across the surface. Claws clicked against each other. The pile grew, dragon parts spilling across the workspace.
Madam Voss's eyebrow arched, but she kept her thoughts to herself. Her wrinkled hands moved with practiced efficiency, lifting each piece to examine it under a brass magnifying glass. She weighed fragments on a small bronze scale, marking numbers in her ledger.
"Seven hundred silver for the lot." She set down her quill.
I tapped my fingers against the table. The amount seemed insufficient given the effort required to obtain these parts. The dragon's attacks had nearly destroyed my combat chassis. And the merchants in Weath had claimed that I could get at least a gold coin or two from the parts I had kept.
"Ah, you're wondering about the price." She adjusted her spectacles. "Snapper Dragons are quite common in the Hellzones, you see. Not like Flamebreaths or the Acidic varieties. Those would fetch a premium."
I pulled out paper to write: These came from far away. Surely they're worth more here?
"Actually, being in the Kingdom of Swords works against you." She gestured toward the window. "We get adventurers flooding in daily from the Hellzones, all carrying dragon parts to sell. The market's quite saturated." She traced a finger along a particularly large scale. "These would fetch double, perhaps triple the price in Remembrance or Arksaw. Different market entirely out there."
I wrote: You seem very knowledgeable about the trade.
"Thirty years in this business, dear. I've handled everything from basilisk eyes to kraken tentacles." She smiled. "Seven hundred is fair for what you have here. But I understand if you'd prefer to look elsewhere."
I nodded and wrote: Seven hundred it is.
"Excellent." Madam Voss pulled a heavy strongbox from beneath the counter. Keys jingled as she unlocked it. "Would you prefer coin or a bank note?"
I wrote: Coin.
She counted out stacks of silver pieces, arranging them in neat piles of fifty. The metal clinked against the wooden counter. "I assume you'll want a bag for these?"
I nodded again. She produced a sturdy leather pouch and transferred the coins inside.
"Always a pleasure doing business with a sensible person." She tied the pouch closed. "Though I must say, if you come across any rarer specimens in your travels, do keep me in mind. I pay quite well for unusual materials."
I took the pouch, its weight satisfying in my mechanical hand. Seven hundred silver would more than cover my expenses to Kaldos City. The sooner I left Orengaad, the better. Although Duke Redflight had been given word that I had run off back into the Lodrik Hellzone, he might not have been fooled completely.
Do you know where I can buy passage to Kaldos? I wrote.
"Let me think." She tapped her chin. "The Iron Trail Company runs weekly caravans. Their next one departs tomorrow at dawn from the north gate." She pulled out a fresh sheet of paper. "I can write you a reference, if you'd like. The caravan master is an old friend."
I shook my head. Better to keep things simple. Fewer connections meant fewer chances of my true nature being discovered.
Thank you for your help. I gathered my coins and made for the door.
"Safe travels, dear." The bell chimed as I stepped out into the busy street.
I needed to return to the Scholar's Rest, pack my few belongings, and be ready to move at first light. The coins clinked softly with each step, reminding me that at least one piece of my plan had fallen into place. I quickly stashed the leather pouch away into Depository for safe keeping. Now I just had to reach Kaldos City without Duke Redflight's men catching up to me.
I made my way back toward the Scholar's Rest, keeping to the busier streets. The crowd had thinned as afternoon stretched into evening, the market district's energy waning as shopkeepers began closing up their stalls.
Something caught my attention as I crossed an intersection. Three men, looking rough and dirty, were following me. They maintained a steady distance behind me, their footsteps echoing mine whenever I changed pace. I discretely scanned them with Analzye and saw that they were all below Level 10 and were of the Rogue class.
I almost laughed at the relief that flooded through me. Common criminals. Not the Duke's skilled hunters or his hand-picked mercenaries. Just ordinary thugs who'd spotted what they thought was a wealthy widow traveling alone.
The irony wasn't lost on me. A week ago, I'd been terrified of discovery, carefully maintaining my disguise on the Duke's Dagger. Now here I was, actually grateful to be targeted by street criminals instead of trained killers.
I spotted a narrow alley between a chandler's shop and a warehouse. Perfect. No sense dragging this out in public view. I turned sharply into the shadowed passage, my mechanical legs carrying me halfway down its length before I stopped.
The alley walls rose three stories on either side, the evening sun barely reaching down here. Crates and barrels lined the walls, and the cobblestones were slick with something I chose not to examine too closely. The stink of rotting vegetables wafted from a pile of discarded produce.
I heard their footsteps at the alley's mouth. They moved with the confidence of men who'd done this many times before. I kept my back to them, waiting.
"Evenin' miss," one called out. "Seems you took a wrong turn."
The other two spread out behind him. I could hear the soft scrape of weapons being drawn.