‘There are things that not even coin can buy’ is the mantra of the destitute.
- Unknown.
With renewed enthusiasm and a new skip to my step, I wandered through the Grand Bazaar, Zariyah at my side. Meandering past merchants peddling expensive, aromatic spices, she shared the names of those she recognized, detailing their origins and uses. However, I found my attention drifting. I was more captivated by the subtle smile curving her lips and the spark in her eyes than her shared knowledge. Despite this, her silent explanations brought the world around me to life as no lesson or lecture ever could.
Focused completely on her, I did not see the changing numbers at the corner of my vision. In those moments I could almost believe that I was not trapped in the hellish dimension of a game.
Could one truly have feelings for a character from a game? If countless girls could tumble head over heels for someone who existed solely within the pages of a book, then surely the same could be said for a digital creation. Troubling, but in a sort of good way. It might be just an illusion, but the feelings I held were real.
As she concluded another explanation, her gaze fell gently. Thank you, she seemed to murmur with her fingers sketching a rare gesture of gratitude.
"For what, exactly?" I queried, a touch of confusion in my voice.
For everything, she replied, her eyes diverting, avoiding mine. When Gelgor transferred my contract to you, I feared the worst. I anticipated harsh treatment, to be ravaged like a… She paused, the bloom of a blush coloring her face.
"I would never," I started to protest, but she continued over me.
Please, let me finish. This hasn't been an easy transition. Living in fear, only to find the reality so starkly different... It's like being adrift in a tiny boat amidst a tempest, at the mercy of the surging waves. You've looked upon me with almost open lust in your eyes, yet you've scarcely laid a hand on me. Despite having every right, given I was all but your property. Why? Surely, you find me attractive...
"Indeed, I could have claimed you. But that would have meant not truly having you, the real you," I responded. The words felt clichéd as they left my mouth, yet she seemed to take them to heart.
Her smile then, playful and teasing, lit up her eyes. You nearly convince me that I'm a noble lady from the tales of old, not a despised Hazagadam. Despite knowing what I am, you treat me with such kindness. We hardly know each other, yet you accord me respect as if I hold some great worth.
She paused, her lips pursed in thought before she carefully added, And... you're the first to ever defend me in such a manner… against a captain of the City Guard, no less. I can't fathom why.
"Maybe it's simply in my nature," I replied with a hint of playfulness, gently lifting her chin to meet her gaze.
You claim to be a man of your word, and thus I am a free woman. If I am to believe you, then please, do not touch me like that in public again, she stated firmly after she pushed me away. The moment of tenderness evaporated, and her thorny defensive side swiftly returned.
Where on earth did I go wrong there?
The Hazagadami woman led me next to a different part of the Bazaar. Here all manner of oddities and trinkets were being sold. Things like a magical bracelet that could help improve your insight could be found next to a tube of farseeing, a device I recognized to be some sort of telescope. Of the magical items, the greater majority of them were fraudulent, and the ones that I identified to have some modicum of magic were exorbitantly expensive. Most interesting of all was a wooden mask. Its seller advertised it as a good luck charm at the reasonable price of four gold, but my magic determined that it was really a cursed item.
Mask ‘Voice of the Flood’ [Magic][Cursed][Witchwood]
Durability 259/260
A rather ominous name, I thought to myself. Now that I knew it to be cursed, I could almost feel the malevolence being emanated by the mask. Either that, or I had a rather active imagination.
Curiosity tugged at me, tempting me to uncover the nature of the curse. However, prudence advised against such an inquiry, suggesting that some mysteries are better left unexplored.
I told the red-eyed girl of my findings, but she merely just shrugged her shoulders. All manners of things are sold here, was her simple and curt reply.
How could I fix the current tension? I much preferred the woman when she smiled.
“Zariyah, you know of a place where I can sell some rare alchemical materials?” I asked, breaking the silence.
Here of course, if we find a potion peddler. And perhaps also on Scholar’s Row. I have not been here for a long time so… Perhaps you can ask one of the merchants here? she answered, shrugging noncommittally.
It was a start at least.
Looking around, I saw a merchant at his stall selling what looked to be large umbrellas. Odd, I thought initially, for this region looked to be a dry area and the rains were said to be rare here. Telling Zariyah of my curiosity, she looked at me oddly but nonetheless followed me as I approached the stall.
Sitting on a small wooden stool, the merchant was a diminutive figure, his skin a deep, dark swarthy olive. Dressed in garish, tight pink attire, he was completely bald, lacking even the slightest hint of facial hair. His arms, bare from the shoulder down, were smooth and unblemished, mirroring the hairlessness of his face. Slender and lean, his physique suggested a lack of muscle. When he spoke to us, his voice carried a high tenor that was both effete and slightly off-putting.
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
“You wish to purchase a parasol for the lady,” he inquired, sidling up to us like a greedy crab.
“Yes, a red one. It will go well with the lady’s eyes,” I agreed with a fixed smile.
His expression froze for a moment, uncomfortably, before he recovered his professional mien. Zariyah looked away uncomfortably, her fingers trailing across a dark green colored bolt of cloth.
Please, I am sorry if I was short with you. Please, can we just move on? her fingers begged. I chose to pointedly ignore her.
“Of course, samasa, I have such a thing,” he said smoothly, producing an item for inspection. “A beautiful item, Qisnian silk and a wonderful shade of crimson… to… go well with the lady’s eyes, as you say.”
I accepted. “I’ll take it.”
“Excellent, sir. Now that will be…”
“A single silver piece,” was my monotone offer.
“Heaven’s forfend, samasa. The lowest I can part with such a piece of art would be three!” he shrieked almost girlishly. If he was acting, then it was a good performance for a few idle passersby who turned to look in our direction.
“Then two silver it is,” I countered, gauging his reaction. He was difficult to read, but I could tell I could probably get away with this price.
I waited a moment, looking for telltale fractures of weakness, and found none. Perhaps three silver was a reasonable price. Also, there was something that I valued more than just saving a single silver piece.
“Very well, three then, if you can tell me of an Alchemist willing to buy rare herbs for a good price,” I offered, placing some notes on his counter.
“Very well, then,” he sighed as if he was doing me a great favor. “I know of such a man. Vincenzio of Scholar’s Row is always in need of plants for his experiments. You will find his place of business in the basement of the Adventurer’s Guild,” he sniffed, counting out the money.
Once he was certain of the amount, he offered the parasol to Zariyah with a bright smile. Sheepishly she accepted, unfolding the parasol.
It was a truly beautiful piece, a deep crimson with gold floral motifs that ran along the edges. Around the tip were the petals of a different flower, a flower I recognized now to be almost synonymous with the city. The Asixum, the flower and source of the Dust. I found it fitting, in a way.
The purchase must have agreed with Zariyah, for a hesitant smile played about her features and lit up her eyes. She twirled her new present about, the patterns on the parasol lost in a blur as we walked on.
“I am glad that you like it, but you might hit someone with that,” I gently chided.
She paused for a moment, stilling. Zariyah looked confused, as if undecided as to what to say next. Robbed of her voice, her mouth uttered a quiet, no.. silent, thank you to me. Then she smiled, and for me, that was thanks enough. Internally, I shook my head. The woman’s, or girl’s, rather, mood was as changeable as the weather in autumn.
“You are, of course, very welcome. Next, we must be off to this Scholar’s Row, on our quest to find this Vincenzio!” I exclaimed, touching her elbow lightly. I could not help that she shivered at my touch, almost as if recoiling from me.
That moment stung perhaps a bit more than it should have.
Creating some distance from me, she gave a fixed and polite smile. That is an interesting way of bargaining, she commented with her hands. Was it me, or was I becoming adept enough at sign language to notice a hint of sarcasm in her motions?
“It is the only way to bargain when one does not have any true leverage. First, you must find their limit. Then you see what more you can get without costing the other side anything, without compromising your position,” I replied none too proudly.
Funny. To me it looked like something else. A form of clumsy extortion without actually extorting anything from the other side. Or, a way to save face from a bargain poorly struck, she replied with a shrug.
I was beginning to reach my limit. Even communicating with her was slowly becoming a waste of good Mana.
“Must you always be so combative? Can I do no right in your eyes? You saw how that merchant reacted, do you in all honesty think you could have gotten a better price? You being, what you are and all,” I added sarcastically, regretting my words almost as quickly as they came out of my mouth.
Her eyes flashed fire at me. Me being what I am. Thank you for reminding me. For a moment I thought you were different.
“I… I apologize if I have offended,” I offered cautiously, attempting a retreat.
How could you have caused offense? You were only saying the truth as you saw it. A truth I see every day, and that others have commented on nearly every day of my life, was her sharp response.
Looking around, I was glad that she had no voice to cause me embarrassment. It made displays such as these at least vaguely tolerable. There was no point arguing here, I had to just take my lumps and grin and bear it.
“Look, I’m sorry, alright. There, I am sorry. Let’s leave it at that and just try to enjoy the rest of… whatever this is,” I suggested, trying not to grit my teeth.
She sighed a long sigh, no doubt blaming me for all the ills in the world.
Leaving the Grand Bazaar behind, she guided me towards Scholar’s Row. Entering the quarter was almost like entering a different country. Paved streets transitioned to cobblestones, while the architectural uniformity of the buildings dissolved into an eclectic mix of designs and sizes. Squat, gray structures neighbored slender, yellow towers. At one juncture, an arch spanned the street, serving as a bridge that linked two residences. To me, Scholar’s Row presented itself as carefully orchestrated architectural chaos.
Zariyah paused and leaned down to communicate with someone I initially mistook for a small ugly child. However, upon closer inspection, it became clear they possessed distinctly adult features. The individual had bushy orange eyebrows and a beard. He had a face that appeared unusually compact as if the clay of his features had been squeezed roughly together by an overenthusiastic potter.
Her words were very formal and she used the honorifics at all times. From what I could gather through their conversation this area of the city had seen quite a lot of change. The Adventurer’s Guild was one of the victims of an urban redevelopment policy and had moved to a larger site. Almost apologetically, she asked the little man thing for directions to the Adventurer’s Guild. Tersely, he gave a quick reply, his expression one of someone who had just been forced to do an unpleasant chore. With a huff he excused himself, once he answered her question, stomping off to whatever business we had interrupted. Zariyah remained bowing until he was out of sight.
Noticing my somewhat incredulous look, she decided to explain.
He was of the Giants, as they call themselves. They do not speak with their voices with others not of their kind.
I could not help giving a flippant reply, “Giants, you say? There was nothing particularly giant about him.’
Not for their stature are they so named, but for their creations. In the times before the Cataclysm, the wise say they built the Green Road. In the modern age, they made the walls that protect the city and the deep wells that sustain us. That is why they are known as Giants. They are worthy of deep and great respect and you should be careful how you address them, she warned.
She pursed her lips in thought, It is good that you know the language of the flowing hands… The Giant told me that the Guild has moved to a different building. This way.