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DESPITE THE EARLY hour, the market square was teeming with life. The coming of the merchants and their new goods had brought a new life to Lakeside.
The locals, decked out in festive clothes with happy faces and beaming eyes, strolled between the rows of market stalls.
The local guardsmen looked like cats that had just eaten a full saucer of cream. Despite the fact that the merchants had their own guards, I’d bet my right hand that they were also being generous to the local guardsmen.
“Where do we start?” asked Skinny, casting a superior gaze over the market rows.
That morning Badger had introduced us. Before I even shook Skinny’s sweaty hand, I could already tell why he was still friends with Badger. Mink... That was the true reason for this “friendship.”
I had seen Skinny stealing salacious glances so Badger wouldn’t notice, basically undressing her with his eyes. Mink saw it too but didn’t show it. She just tried to give him a wide berth. She had obviously learned to tolerate her brother’s only remaining friend.
Greasy whiskers, slobbery lips, cloudy closely set little eyes ― Skinny gave off a definite air of scuzziness. But that didn’t stop him from looking down on Badger both literally and figuratively ― Skinny was a full head taller. After watching him for a bit, I got the impression he thought he was doing Badger a favor by spending time with him.
If not for my overly firm handshake, which just about made his scarecrow eyes fly into orbit, he wouldn’t have noticed me in the least. I must give him his due though ― he didn’t make a scene over my innocent maneuver, hiding how offended he felt. There he’s secretly shooting me a nasty look, thinking I won’t notice. Now, now, creep...
“Let’s start with clothes,” Badger declared, sizing me up head to toe pompously.
“We should go straight to the ragmen then,” Skinny nodded, and his mouth stretched into a mocking smirk.
“Uh, no, buddy,” Badger stopped Skinny. “Highlander isn’t as basic as he looks. Let’s take him to Goose.”
“Badger, your brains scrambled?” Skinny’s brows shot upward. “Goose doesn’t sell stuff for...”
“Urchins?” I interrupted him.
Skinny couldn’t withstand my calm yet stubborn gaze. He lowered his cloudy little eyes. Where did Mink get the patience for this? Skinny’s tenacious stare was quite the “treat.”
“Goose won’t be going anywhere,” I turned to Badger. “But the travelling merchants will soon be on their way. Right?”
“That’s true,” he nodded. “I’m afraid you aren’t gonna like their prices, though.”
“We’ll see about that,” I smiled at him and stepped out first toward a wide stall in the middle row. There was a beefy man standing behind it in a long dark-green robe. I remembered him from yesterday when we were at the gates. He was one of the travelling merchants. I also got a good look at his longship. Based on its size, this trader was the richest of all the newcomers.
“Welp, you’re the boss,” Badger answered happily and went after me. I didn’t look back, but I could tell Skinny was behind us by his furious sniffling.
“Hey-ho! Badger! All rested up after the harrowing journey?”
The mocking exclamation from behind forced us to stop and turn. I recognized that bassy voice. It was the guardsman we met yesterday at the gates. Tomcat, I think... Yeah, Tomcat. I didn’t see his stocky partner anywhere though.
“Why loaf around the house?” Badger answered in a friendly tone.
“I see your new friend is with you!” he nodded at me. “Well, did you find your mother’s relative? What was her name again...? Remind me...”
“What’s to remind? You didn’t ask her name yesterday. You just shivered impatiently when you saw the merchants coming and let us through quickly so we wouldn’t get in the way. So, now you’ve decided to play the vigilant guardsman?”
“Jay,” I answered calmly and chuckled inside.
Tomcat frowned.
“Jay...” he repeated thoughtfully. “She live down by the river bend?”
“No idea,” I shrugged.
“Then why don’t you go check?” the guardsman asked in surprise.
“Well, that’s exactly what I’m doing now.” I kept my cool.
“Here?”
“Well, why not?” I answered with a question and pointed at all the merchant stalls and tents. “I mean, it’s a market. People will be here from all over.”
“That’s true,” Tomcat stroked his beard. “Then go along. Whenever you find something, let me know. Just so it looks like I’m doing my job...”
“Sure thing,” I nodded and headed to a previously unnoticed stall.
“You’re a crafty one,” Badger muttered when he’d caught up to me. “I was just lost for words all of a sudden. And you never did say much about your mom.”
I had basically gotten out of it but, by the tone of his voice, I could tell Badger no longer believed my tall tale about the mountains. The conversation I overheard with Mink yesterday had convinced him of that once and for all.
“I just said what came to mind,” I answered like nothing was going on. “Where better than the market to find the information I’m looking for?”
My stubborn, almost mocking gaze embarrassed him. He flashed a look at Skinny. He was lurking. Observing.
“Young hunters!” a merchant’s assistant called out when we got close to his long wide stall. “Turn your attention to our swords. Honest-to-gods blue steel. And the scabbards! Won’t you a look at these scabbards? Why they’re true masterpieces! For example, there’s a scene from the battle in the Black Forest depicted on this one. And have a look at our beast fangs. Works of art, aren’t they? Such valiant and proud hunters as yourselves must need weapons of this caliber. Just imagine how the young girls will look when you show up wearing a blade like this on your belt.”
I cast a mocking gaze at my companions. Let’s move along. Although I found Badger’s face funny, Skinny’s vile expression made me want to get out of here with all my heart. I could see perfectly well how he pictured himself...
While the barker carried on for my companions, I paid no attention to his jabbering and started looking over the weapons out on display. Hm... Nothing special. Not a single item with level or statistics. For the record, some of them looked to be decent quality. Though I might have been wrong.
Looking over every item, I moved on to the next stall, then the next, and then another. Carried away, I made my way down all the rows. And just when I started to think my plan had failed, I saw the last tent and froze. It was an old one. Plain looking. Unlike the new colorful tents next to it, this one seemed to be an antique shop. Right in the midst of all the junk, I thought I saw a flicker of something familiar!
“There you are!”
Badger’s breathless voice behind me made me shiver.
“I told you we’d find him by the ragmen!” Skinny’s acrid voice was practically dripping with bile. “Why’d we have to waste all that time just to end up here? Was it worth it?”
I had already turned to respond when suddenly an angry creaky voice got out ahead of me.
“Who you calling a ragman, you pathetic creep?”
The man standing behind the stall looked to be about seventy. His old, rumpled leather shirt was dark brown. His wide gray pants and apron, which was dotted with dark spots, blended seamlessly with the tent. The junk seller’s look was capped off by an unkempt gray beard and a pockmarked beret that only half covered his bald head.
Like an old raven with his feathers ruffled, he was willing to go on the attack to defend the honor of his grimy old nest.
“Just get out of here! Before I call the guards!” he cawed. “Hey, I’ve got a group of street urchins loitering around my tent!”
Badger grabbed me by the arm.
“Let’s get out of here!” he nodded toward Skinny, who was quickly walking away.
“Why?” I asked in surprise.
“That’s Gravedigger!” Badger whispered furiously in my ear, pulling me by the arm the whole time. “He’s a real lowlife. We’d better just leave.”
“Why?” I repeated, not moving. I found it surprisingly easy to resist Badger. He by the way also noticed that. Seemingly, he had only just realized how much stronger than him I was physically.
“I’ll tell you later. Now we’d better get going.”
“No,” I was adamant. And I again slipped a gaze over the feisty old man’s stall.
He, by the way, had squinted his right eye and was watching us.
“Can we at least get out of here?” Badger asked.
I nodded and we took a few steps away from the stall. Badger stood with his back to the old man and started quickly whispering.
“Eric, please let’s get out of here. This man is dangerous.”
“Dangerous how?”
I didn’t care if he was triply dangerous. If his trash heap had just one lousy little crystal of mana, even if it was only five percent full, I was prepared to risk it!
Badger started quickly and quite disjointedly:
“There’s a reason they call him Gravedigger... He doesn’t generally come around here often... He’s always digging through ancient graveyards... It’s rumored that he has dealings with the altered... The ones I told you about... Remember? They also say he is altered himself...”
Hm... I glanced over Badger’s shoulder at the old man. No. He’s a normal man.
“Listen,” I placed a hand on Badger’s shoulder. “I appreciate the concern... But I’m gonna take my chances. Beyond that, remember where we are. We’re at the market. This place is crawling with guards...”
“Look, just listen to me!” Badger pleaded. “There could be consequences! You’d be putting me and Mink in jeopardy!”
“I don’t exactly understand how... But if you say so...”
Badger nodded quickly, having sensed that I was starting to crack. The rascal had found my weak spot.
“Just give me a second,” I started. “I’m just gonna see what he has for sale. Then we can go. Agreed?”
Badger breathed a heavy sigh. Looking me gloomily in the eyes, he finally said:
“Agreed. You can look, but then we leave.”
What’s wrong with you, kid? Just look how your little knees are trembling. For the record, Skinny was already long gone. Now that I could understand. Friendship! Thick as thieves these two!
We went back to the stall under the old man’s silent gaze. As if understanding what was going on, he didn’t say a word. His cloudy gray eyes were watching me continuously though.
For the record, not a single other buyer approached his stall the entire time. It was like there was a giant invisible soap bubble around his tent.
I slowly walked around the old man’s table and looked through the junk lying on it. Old bits of fabric so washed out by the sun that their original color was hard to make out. Bone tools yellowed by time. Wooden figurines in bizarre shapes covered with colorful ornamentation. Iron and bronze weaponry of dubious quality. I didn’t understand what the point of it all was. Did this lunatic seriously think he would find people stupid enough to buy this trash? Or was there something else behind it?
Then my “bored look” finally stopped on a piece of dark gray material. The old man noticed and nimbly plucked it out of all the other junk. He said nothing, which seemed quite strange. And on top of that... His hands were shaking. It didn’t look like the way an old man normally shakes either. He was no less frightened than Badger. Curious...
The bit of material turned out to be a raincoat, the kind you pull over your head. The fabric was dense and similar to leather. The hood was deep. A simple, but very sound item. To be honest, it was all of little interest to me... I delved into the item’s description.
At first, I saw a now familiar message made up of a collection of unknown symbols. Then the Great System offered to activate a supplementary language of some group called the Moa. Only then was I able to read the description.
Marauder Questing Cloak
― Type: Camouflage.
― Rarity: Rare.
― Camouflage +30.
― Special effect:
― Increases defense against cold by 10 points.
― Requirements:
― Strength: 8.
― Endurance: 5.
― Durability: 11/20.
“I see the cloak has caught your eye?”
Pulling away from the description, I glanced at the trader. Where was that feisty old man now? Before me, as if by the wave of a magic wand, had appeared the very avatar of courtesy.
I did my best to muster a bored expression, added some squeamishness to my voice and said:
“Not the cloak itself, more the material it’s made of. Because the item on its own is very old and, as far as I can tell, quite worn. What do you say?”
I turned to Badger.
Poor thing. He was white as a sheet. Like he was about to have a stroke. Did he think Gravedigger was about to pounce and tear me to shreds? No, you see, he’s proven to be courteous and welcoming.
“You can’t imagine just how old it really is,” Gravedigger nodded.
Curious. Does he realize what he has on his counter? He is probably just guessing. Though he probably isn’t hauling all this junk from town to town just for fun. An antiquities dealer? No way. He clearly knows something. Just look how nicely he’s treating me. And after all, I don’t look the least bit like a rich antique collector.
“And how much you want for the raincoat?”
“Oh!” the old man threw his arms wide. “Nothing much! Fifty gold coins!”
I heard Badger give a loud hiccup. I turned again. My buddy’s pale face was quickly turning red. It was a wonder he didn’t launch into hysterics.
Fifty gold? For an item like this, that was basically free! I was scared to even imagine how much this cloak might cost in my world!
“Intriguing,” I shook my head. “Do you have any similar items?”
“Why of course!” the old man smiled and said: “Please come with me.”
With a slight bow, he pointed at the door into his tent.
I gave a polite bow in return and headed where he pointed.
“Wait for me here,” I tossed out to Badger, who hadn’t moved a muscle.
When the old man and I were inside the tent, a layer of thick fabric was separating us from the outside world.
“Ah, by the way,” I nodded at the cloak in the old trader’s hands. “Set that aside for me. We’ve got some negotiating to do.”
Beyond us two, there was another man in the tent. Tall. Powerful. Wide bulging fish-like eyes, thick meaty lips, a square jaw, and narrow brow ― based on his appearance, this guy’s Mind didn’t quite pass muster.
“As you prefer,” the trader gave another bow and took a step toward a wide chest on the far end of the tent.
Cracking open its massive lid, the old man beckoned.
“Come take a gander at my collection.”
I held my ambivalent look, but inside I was shivering in impatience as I walked up to the chest. Its interior was divided into several sections. It really was worth my while, too. Several dozen artifacts adorned with unfamiliar lettering. For the next two minutes, I was tied up just giving permission to activate new language packs.
I was especially intrigued by the middle section. There wasn’t a single item there with a description or level. Phials of dark liquid, bits of dried flesh. Claws and fangs of various shapes and sizes. Seemingly, I had found the old man’s true bread and butter.
While I dug through the contents of the chest, the big guy muttered something in surprise to the old man.
― Attention! Your Mind score is high enough to activate the “Desert Dweller Language!”
― Would you like to activate it?
“Master, who is this street urchin? And why have you allowed him to peruse the wares we set aside for the Chief? Now we’ll have to cut this scallywag’s throat.”
“Shut your trap, Bison!” Gravedigger hissed back. “If this is who I think it is, he could level this whole town with his little finger!”
Bison shot me a dumbfounded gaze. Then he turned his head to the old man and asked with suspicion:
“Master, have you been overindulging on pixy mushrooms again?”
“You should heed your wise master’s words,” I said calmly in their language, continuing to look through the artifacts.
A crypt-like silence fell over the tent. I slowly turned to Gravedigger, who was staring at me like a ghost.
“Well then? Shall we start the negotiation?”
