Luke slept in most of his gear without thinking about it. He’d removed his socks, boots, gloves, and shoulders just before he settled into bed, but the rest stayed. He tore off his gear in the small bathroom, washed up as best he could, then put on the clothes he bought from Ulgar in the armorer store from Kelser.
The rest of his combat equipment went into Luke’s Inventory except for the jewelry, sentient artifacts, and boots. His socks had their last day, and he threw them in a waste bin in the hallway as he left his room.
Sooty looked at Luke in a dissatisfied fashion from his shoulder, giving him a side-eye. He laughed as he went down the stairs, “What? I took away your nice shoulder perch?”
Caw! Sooty didn’t hesitate to admit it.
Luke enjoyed that his bird was honest and straightforward with him. He kept the shoulders in his Inventory, however. He wanted a break from the durable but constricting gear.
“You’ll cheer up from breakfast,” Luke consoled Sooty.
He sat down at the same table as yesterday and greeted Sarama from afar. “Good morning, Sarama. What’s for breakfast?” He pointed to Sooty, “Is there anything Sooty can eat?”
Sarama looked at his companion, “A bird companion? I’ll add in a side of nuts for her.”
Sooty caught on. She emoted through Reaver’s Link to Luke: Fruit. Luke immediately went to bat for his bird, unsurprised by her request. “If you could add fruit for her, I’ll pay.”
Sarama nodded, “It’ll be five copper. There’s no need to pay it now; just remember when you check out.”
The corvid gave a rattle out in appreciation, startling the nearby patrons. The tora innkeeper brought out sausage, a food starch, greens, and one serving of eggs on one plate. Then, on another, smaller one, nuts and fruit for Sooty. She left the same setup of a water pitcher and cup as before.
“Dig in,” She said.
Luke didn’t need to be told twice. He took in the food, and Sooty finished even before he did. The bird liked the particular fruit, and the crunching contrast from the nuts invigorated her appetite. The two loaded up on water, more than they needed to.
He asked Sarama before he left the inn for the day, “Anywhere I can go buy, uh, ‘delicates’ nearby and get casual wear?”
The tora woman’s eyes looked up the far left corner. She tapped her foot as her hand covered her chin. A moment later, she said, “Down the street, take a turn to the right. You’ve got a tailor there who makes plenty of that sort.”
Luke nodded and thanked her as he left for the entrance, “Thanks, and I’ll be back later.”
____________________________________________________________
The tailor kept it professional to Luke’s request. A dozen silver later, Luke bought many underwear sets, spare shirts, pants, and socks. His new tailor convinced him to buy a dozen vials of recently developed wash spray held in a large potion bottle. The material within was hand-made by another transfer in his batch, some sort of magical crystal liquid bleach. Without the scent or the blotches it caused from overuse.
He balked at the cost, but the tailor convinced him the spray’s convenience and effectiveness were worth it. The Inventory took up a separate slot for all Luke’s regular clothes, with two additional slots taken up by combat equipment and Whispering Edge. Luke started to organize his Inventory without a choice in the matter. Items dropped by monsters but not used by him occupied a place on their own, and crafting materials only stacked if they were the same item.
Add in the two types of cloth he kept on him, namely the flame and wraith cloth, with the whetstone, quiver, and weapon oil, which made Luke run out of Inventory space. He placed both cloth types, rare quiver, uncommon ogre’s mallet, whetstone, weapon oil, and the Undead mana crystal into Sooty’s Spatial Feather. She still had the pond water, troll’s larder, scale pelts, and the trusty wooden cup in there. He decided to keep the rest.
Before he left the store, “I’ve learned recently that only farworlders have an Inventory from the Interface. How else does everyone carry things around? Their pockets or?”
With a few coughs, the aged tailor said, “Common folk use regular bags. You hunter types end up with costly dimensional bags. Before you ask, I don’t own or sell any. You’d have to go to an auction or trader’s organization to have any luck in finding one.”
“Understood. I’ll come by again if I ruin enough of these clothes,” Luke said.
Smelling a repeat customer, the tailor said, “Please do.”
As Luke stepped out into the cobbled road, he shielded his eyes from the sun’s glare. The city experienced a light rain by the look of things, as the streets were deary and wet. The clouds from last evening were nowhere to be seen.
The Reaver took out the parchment Hendel gave him during the monster pack indecent. He read it to himself.
Fasa House Of Commerce, located in West Sylen’s Pyrite Avenue.
Luke spotted a fast-moving guard, in no mood to run after him; Luke sent Sooty a look.
The bird soared off his shoulder and landed in front of the guard. She started to rattle at the startled man. The guard was trigger-happy as he brought out his polearm. Realizing his small joke may have gone too far, Luke grabbed the weapon’s shaft as the guard began to wave it around.
He said, “Sorry, that’s my companion; you were moving too fast for a slow-poke like me to catch up, so I sent her over,” Luke released the weapon and slid over a silver piece to smooth over the misunderstanding, “here, for your trouble.”
The guard grew agitated and then switched his attitude at the unexpected silver. He said, “What’s your purpose in stopping me, citizen?”
Luke felt like he’d met a more prim and proper type that still conveniently accepted money and adjusted his usual words, “Sir, I was in need of directions to the Fasa House Of Commerce. If an honest guard such as yourself could help me, I’d appreciate it and be out of your way sooner.”
Upon hearing the name drop, the guard stiffened. The wealthy had power in this city, just as any other. “Take Miel Street, straight through the center of Sylen, then come onto Wenly Road. You’ll see a gated community after a few minutes’ walk. That will be what you’re looking for.” The guard returned to his previous pace and left Luke without further consideration.
The Reaver crouched down and laid out his arm to Sooty. “Didn’t think he’d try to attack you, pal. My fault for not adjusting to how aggressive the combat types can get here.”
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Sooty didn’t show any signs of stress. Luke supposed a measly guard couldn’t hold a candle to the presence of the Spectral Lord to the bird. She hopped up his arm, stayed on his right shoulder, then pecked his neck once.
Luke rose and then followed the guard’s directions. He paused momentarily when he came near the black-silver tower on the way. His line of sight had two entrances; three grisly-looking individuals blockaded both. Even from a distance, Luke felt remnants of their aura. He couldn’t be sure, but he imagined those at a higher tier did this to others who could sense it.
The tower had nothing to do with him for now. As such, Luke went on his way, stopping only when he came before the gated community holding the Fasa House of Commerce within. The check to go inside was bare-bones, only being asked for his sigil stone and subtly scrutinized if he had the money to afford anything inside.
Once inside, Luke witnessed various buildings competing for the most opulent title. Each more outrageous than the last. Towers made of precious metal, crystal, or fine glass windows, with grand titles etched onto each. The buildings had private guards, floral decorations, attractive attendants, and well-manicured gardens. The herbal smell from the green areas invaded his sense of smell.
“They must be herbs for potions, medicines, or otherwise. What level of carelessness does it take to keep that out in the open?” He wondered aloud.
“It’s not carelessness, young man, but confidence.”
Luke spun in surprise, and Sooty flapped up from the speed before settling back down. An old elvish man with silver hair waited behind him. He had an easy-going smile, a black leather coat, a sword cane, and designed and tailored clothes accentuated by tasteful ring wear.
“Quite fast for a novice; tell me, farworlder, who gave you an invitation to this slice of Sylen?”
The Reaver felt uneasy around the man, but judging by the appearance of those around him, only the invited came here. He wondered why the guards hadn’t asked for it. Maybe it was an unsaid rule? He fished out the Fasa information parchment Hendel gave him.
As he showed the card, he said, “A merchant I guarded on my way to Sylen handed this card over to me and said his house of commerce would be happy to help me with a request.”
The wealthy elf scanned the card, placed his hands behind his back, the sword cane still in one hand, and poked out the side diagonally. “Fasa, is it? I do wonder how you caught a caravan leader’s eye. Take me as an elf who’s seen a few too many winters. The nobles here have fast tempers and a low tolerance for slights; try to keep your tongue in check. Good day to you.” The elf advised as he left.
He came off as genuine to Luke. The Reaver agreed keeping to himself in similar areas would save him from unneeded trouble. He matched the pace of the citizenry around him and came to the Fasa entrance: two crystal-clear fountains spout scented water, each with gem-lined stonework.
An attendant, a young human woman with black hair and high cheekbones in an amber and deep green outfit, greeted him with a fake smile, “Esteemed Lord, how may the Fasa house serve you today?”
The address immediately made Luke’s skin crawl. Lord? If Luke was a lord of anything, the apt title would be a slum lord. He was still near broke. He got down to business and handed her the card without a word.
With the card in hand, the attendant said, “You’ve been granted an invite by one of our caravan heads; come this way, please.” The attendant walked inside with poise. Luke followed, trying not to look too out of place, which didn’t go too well. The cheap clothes he wore with his combat gear in the Inventory made him stick out like a sore thumb.
“Please, sit.” The attendant gestured to a plush chair. Various drinks were available on the small table to its side. Once Luke took a seat, the woman said, “A purveyor will be with you shortly. Enjoy your stay, Lord Luke.”
Wayfinder muffled a laugh when the woman left. Luke didn’t bother to figure out how the woman knew his name. He went with it and waited patiently, sipping juice from the small table beside his chair. He shared the juice with Sooty after she poked him in the ear with her wing.
A man in his thirties with brown hair and glasses, in the same uniform as the woman attendant, respectfully greeted Luke a minute later. “Apologies for the wait, Lord Luke. The Fasa House has been strained with the coming monster surge as of late.”
“You could’ve taken longer,” Luke pointed at Sooty, “she likes the drinks your house serves. I’ll admit, I do, too.”
The man introduced himself, “The Fasa House takes pride in serving its guests. I’m the Purveyor given the gift of attending to you, Edric. To what do I owe the pleasure, Lord Luke?”
“Edric, if you don’t mind us dropping titles, no need to call me Lord either. If you’ve got to give an additional name, use Aspirant.”
“Hendel informed us you indeed wished to join the Defier’s guild. Very well then, Aspirant Luke.”
Luke gazed around the room, then said, “Hendel said you’d all assist with an item, but I’d rather ask for Information. Is that fine?”
Edric nodded, “The Fasa House would be happy to oblige, provided such information isn’t within the black restriction category.”
“I’ve got no idea what that means; I’ll ask what I’m after, and if it’s not feasible to say, just tell me,” Luke observed Edric when the man assented. He continued, “I’m looking for three things. If I’ve got a quota or something, focus it all on finding information about Paul Wallace. Anything else can go for me learning where I can grow as a level 22 before the monster surge and what the Defier’s guild minimum requirements are for a farworlder with an intent of declaration for them.”
Edric’s face twitched momentarily when Luke said his father’s name, “I’m afraid our capabilities in searching for the whereabouts of farworlders are limited. Regardless, the Fasa house would be happy to help in its best capacity.”
Luke stopped himself. The young man trusted his intuition greatly after the tomb. Edric twisted the truth. But the fact he did so was a tell regardless. Either transfers like Luke had protections in place.
Or something more complex was at play.
Whatever the case, his old man was alive, and he’d take whatever extra information he could get on him. Luke transitioned to his other objectives, “Tell me what you can, and what about the other two requests of mine?”
Edric straightened his spine and put a hand in front of his chest, performing a slight bow, “Your second request is considered common knowledge and, therefore, will be divulged without delay.” Edric pushed up his glasses, “At the 22nd level, you would be best served by the lowest mana density dungeon outside the city, Orlan’s Beast Divide.”
Luke tapped his foot, hunched over, and placed both hands under his chin as support, “Tell me the essential information on this Beast Divide, please.”
“It would be my pleasure,” Edric flattened his clothes, “Several floors section Orlan’s Beast Divide. A beast only dungeon with creatures starting at the tenth level, and reaching the maximum under the 1st tier, level 25. It is often advised to come prepared with a team, supplies, and the relevant map.”
“And where would I find it exactly? I’m unaware of the location of any of the three supporting dungeons to the silver-black tower.”
“Leave Sylen through the north gate, take the divided main road to the right, then follow the signage; you shall see an outpost that watches the dungeon in case too many novice hunters fail to clear it out.”
“Thanks, that should be straightforward from there for me.” Luke sucked in some air, “And the Defier’s guild?”
Edric adjusted his position and refilled the drink upon noticing Sooty trying to steal another one; the bird let out a soft click. “The Defiers are a proud group, the tip of their guild’s spear, with the hunters under them as the shaft. With your particular situation, they’d only provide a conditional and temporary acceptance should you reach the 25th level. Any less is unacceptable to them.”
Luke stood up, “That’ll be all then. Glad I came here first before making a fool of myself at the Defier’s guild.” He stopped himself, “Actually, could you do one more thing, if possible, Edric?”
The Purveyor said, “Of course, sir, do continue.”
“Would your Fasa group be interested in buying any items from me? I’ve got a few clothes and items I’m keen to get rid of.”
“During this material shortage due to the expected monster tide, we would happily acquire items of uncommon quality or higher. If your cloth is of fine grade, the same applies. I can do the appraisal myself, should you desire it, Aspirant Luke.” The Purveyor oriented toward the seat Luke had stood up from, “Please do return to your seat, and I shall bring an adequate holding table to prevent damage to your valuables.
“I’ll enjoy myself for a little longer then.” Luke reseated himself, and Edric left after a short reassurance he would return.
Luke scanned the room around him. Velvet drapes covered the grand glass windows. Gold lined the frames. The transparent ceiling above let sunlight shine in. Attendants, or Purveyors, Luke wasn’t sure which, made arrangements for wealthy clients and influential people. Sooty bugged him for more tasty drinks, and he acquiesced to her demands.
Edric returned with an exaggeratedly long floating table. With a purple crystal under each corner, an orb was installed into the table, glowing with white light. The table itself consisted of smooth black stone with white specks.
The table stopped in front of Luke without any command from Edric. Luke had seen enough odd sights in the past few days, so he took it in without batting an eye. He said to Sooty, “Lay it on ‘em.”