Spherical essences rolled out of place as Vidiger – Merchant of the Pink – scrambled to stop Alan from exiting his hut.

“Your attempt on my life will cost you,” Alan warned.

“I understand, fellow Merchant. I do.” Vidiger bowed. “Please, back to our negotiating table.” He held his hand out pleadingly. “I was wrong for tempting to steer you. You fooled me well with your lowly Title. I now see that you are experienced and great.”

He can see my Title? I thought only minions could do that unless I willed it.

Neesha went to speak, but Alan squeezed her arm – a subtle way to say, ‘I’ll explain later.’

Vidiger scooped many of his pink coins off the counter to clear some space, leaving three in particular that he spread equidistant from one another over the glass. Alan wondered what lay inside of each – and whether they’d be worth a trade for his elite Yero horns.

“What do you have for me?” Alan demanded, setting the base of the rotating horns on the glass once more – to entice the Merchant. They periodically glowed different colors, with translucent liquid floating about like a lava lamp.

“A shield cleansed of booby-traps and ripe to be wielded by a fine Warrior-Merchant, such as yourself.”

“Cut it out,” Alan scoffed.

“Please, good Merchant. Allow me to indulge in my craft. This shield can withstand temperatures as hot as the sun, but it would not be fair to trade it to you.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because the orange fog is not just about deflecting fire… it is about existing in it.” Vidiger smoothly moved on to the next coin. “Here, the Bubble of Vosh, molded by Jaeger’s Realm, allows for the wearer and its members to travel through perilous environments unscathed.”

“What’s the catch?” Alan asked.

“Timing, you see. The duration depends on the bonds of your party members. Forged by a powerful Black Saro wielder, who was sick and tired of coming close to death because his party refused to cooperate.”

Alan and Neesha side-eyed one another. If Vidiger wasn’t lying, Alan imagined he’d fair quite well with that item, especially after this selfless trade for Neesha’s goals. “And the third coin?”

Vidiger flashed a smile. “A living map… One that wields the ability to pinpoint all known coordinates of the Pegs of Fate. Do note, this will not locate warriors who already possess Pegs and are unwilling to trade, but it will show Merchants who are.”

Alan fought to hide his intrigue. Lucius would kill me if I didn’t obtain this. Especially after letting Farante get away.

“I will take all three,” Alan demanded.

Vidiger laughed nervously. “Alan, sir, you must be reasonable.”

“Before you took me for a fool, I may have been.” Alan swiped the horns and flipped them back into a golden coin. “Now the tables have turned. There are plenty of Merchants in the Pink with their own stashes, I’m sure. Sharas-da is a big city. Isn’t that right, Neesha?”

“Y—yes. It is.” She was still obviously confused as to what was transpiring between the two Merchants.

“Good.” Alan smiled and held his arm for Neesha to grab.

“Alan. I’m sure we can come to some sort of an agreement.” A bead of sweat trickled down Vidiger’s temple.

“We can. All. Three. Items. After I inspect them, of course,” Alan played hard. “Otherwise, it will be your competitors who will be crafting with the elite power of a Yero-losh.”

“Two. I will give you two.”

A jolt of excitement spread through Alan’s body. That’s exactly what he’d hoped Vidiger would say. He made a show of glancing over the three pink coins, holding Vidiger’s gaze until the man twitched, then rolled his own golden coin across his knuckles, one way, then the next.

“Perhaps that would meet both of our needs, wouldn’t it?”

“Oh yes, you are surely coming out ahead, with my deepest apologies.”

“And they shall be of my choosing.” That wasn’t a question.

“Done—”

“And.”

Vidiger stiffened.

“I want to know how to rent a hut here.”

“But—”

“That’s my final offer.” Alan slammed the glass table and stuck out his hand.

Vidiger’s face practically spasmed.

There was a long moment and more sweat accumulating on Vidiger’s forehead, dripping down to stain his collar. He likely wasn’t used to being on the losing side of a deal. But Alan knew that those horns would be crafted into powerful weaponry for an Archer. In the long-run, he assumed it might even out. Though the Bubble of Vosh sounded quite powerful.

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“Deal.” Vidiger extended his hand with an exhausted sigh. “My misstep really cost a fortune here, didn’t it, Alan?”

Alan smiled. “It did.”

xxx

Alan walked out of Vidiger’s hut with his head held high. Two new items in exchange for something he never meant to use. A map of the Pegs, protection against the orange fog, and a growing connection with the beautiful woman at his side. Not to mention hints of intel on getting his own shop one day. It was worth it.

Soon though, he realized he may have made a huge mistake in his negotiations – refusing to treat Vidiger as a friend.

The amount of pink smoke wafting around outside felt like a tornado with a side of the giggles. He and Neesha couldn’t contain themselves as it flew up their noses, and scratched at their skin.

“Uh.” Alan giggled. “I don’t remember the fog being this intense before.”

The threat of being sucked back to Strangey Town was all of a sudden apparent again.

“I – hah – still – hehe – want to know what the hell happened between you two.” Neesha held her belly as they trekked forward. “And… I won’t forget, Hm—” she forced her laughter to subside, “—what you did for me in there. You didn’t have to give up those Yero horns for me.”

Alan didn’t have time to blush, because amid the flapping winds, he noticed a flailing set of Egyptian style curtains whipping in every direction. What’s worse, they were connected to two half-wood, half-flesh legs staked in place. They extended upward for forty feet, easy.

“Who dares roam the Pink!” A set of vibrant, blue orbs loomed down like spotlights, scanning for the lifeforms it undoubtedly sensed.

Alan clutched his bag, thinking hard about whether to unleash his Borai.

No. This was something beyond his power. One glance at the sheer force emanating from this giant’s cane told the whole story. Alan’s trance was brief, telling of a history so blindingly bright he couldn’t even witness it. This was no mere Minion of Ojin. This was a god.

“Neesha.” He grasped her tight. “Tell me you’ve done this before.”

“He wouldn’t sense us. Our Titles are too small.”

Just as she said the words, the god’s gaze swept right past them, allowing Alan a giggly sigh of relief.

“You have other friends here, right? Let’s get to one of their huts,” Alan suggested.

“We can’t. The protection has already been activated.” Neesha pointed to Vidiger’s hut not far behind them, which was now blocked by a blue force field of effervescent light. In fact, all the huts within the foggy path were emanating the same glow. “Vidiger knew. He screwed us, and I’m sure he’ll be out to collect the pieces if that lord activates any sort of its Saro.”

“Lord?” Alan asked.

“Yes. Here to collect.”

They gasped when the lord’s interlocking joints began to twist as it bent down – its orb-like eyes brightening as it descended. The process happened hauntingly slow, making Alan feel the weight of the creature’s movements. Eventually, through the dissipating fog, the beak of a bird and headdress of a Pharaoh peeked through.

Thankfully those eyes weren’t boring down on them.

There, to the left, that same Archer they spied on earlier was here again. Did he really come all this way to seek audience with a god?

Alan was still in awe by the energy emitted by the entity. Pulsing waves of air radically blew them skidding backward, causing them to cover their faces to avoid inhaling too much of the fog. For seconds at a time, Alan felt giddy, then wanted to laugh uncontrollably, and finally, wanted to cry.

“I am here to serve you, Lord Osmi.” The Archer punched his own chest in salute.

Neesha and Alan exchanged a glance.

“Yes.” Osmi’s voice lingered in the air like the fog. “There is an attacker seeking to destroy the order we have created in the Pink. Bring him down and gain my favor.”

“Cleared fog. Access to the forbidden markets,” the Archer demanded.

“It will be granted. Where is your party?”

Neesha yelped and began dragging Alan by the hand. “Oh my god. Oh my god.”

“I am here alo—” The Archer began before the flailing Stone Chaser interfered.

“We will aid him, Lord Osmi.” Neesha saluted.

The Archer stood aghast. “I don’t work with others.”

“Today, it seems you do.” She winked.

“Neesha. The hell are you doing?” Alan spoke through gritted teeth.

“Forbidden markets have Answer Stones, Alan, and Pegs. Only elite warriors have access to those. The Merchants don’t even know about them.”

“You tell me this now?”

“You didn’t ask!”

Lord Osmi cleared his gigantic throat. “Where lies the confusion?”

“Just don’t get in my way,” the Archer hissed, before addressing the lord. “No confusion, lord. We will eradicate the threat.”

“Very good.”

“We have one more condition!” Alan blurted, and the other two looked at him in shock. “What? I’m not risking my life for nothing.”

“Speak!” Osmi growled.

“Engage in a trade with me if we succeed.”

“For what, foolish Merchant?”

“TBD!”

“Alan. What are you doing?” Neesha grabbed at his arm.

“Earning myself a new Title. And maybe a shot at a store in the future.”

A roar resounded in the distance, from far in the orange sky.

“Very well. Be quick in your actions!” Lord Osmi banged his cane hard on the ground, dispelling the pink smoke in a circumference like the aftershock of a bomb.

Alan couldn’t believe what was just revealed to him. Not only was the Pink blocking visibility, but apparently it was also distorting the entire mountaintop. An interlocking city of Merchant huts spanned for a mile in every direction. Streets were illuminated by dancing fiery sconces. Wooden arrow markers pointed to all types of stores down clearly defined rock-lined paths. It was well kept considering the winds.

“Whoa, it’s gorgeous.”

“Yeah, it really is.” Neesha gazed along in wonder.

“It is also under attack.” The Archer drew his bow. “Ready yourselves. The city of Sharas-da will not defend itself!”

“There’s a giant lord standing right there? Can’t he swat whatever’s coming out of the sky?” Alan asked, drawing Durger.

“Fool.” The Archer flipped his hair-thin arrow in his grasp. “The lord needs defenders. He cannot intervene, lest he forfeits the sanctity of the Pink. This whole city he allowed to be built in the middle of a Realm of War… will be upheaved and overrun by endless threats.”

Rrrraaaaarrrr!

A roar echoed from far above, sending goosebumps down Alan’s spine.

“What Saro do you have?” The Archer’s eyes pulsed electrical yellow.

Neesha cleared her throat. “I am Neesha, a Stone Chaser, and Alan here is a Colorless Merchant.”

“Moochers and snivel-wits. I should put an arrow in the both of you for harping on my hunt!” the Archer said.

“Don’t turn on us yet, sir. This Collector is actually a Healer in disguise.” Alan smiled wide. “Aren’t you, Neesha?”

She frowned angrily. “When I have to be, I guess. Green Saro.”

“Hm, that could be quite useful. Neesha, is it? I’m Gegorian the Sixth. Marksman in my Origin, marksman in my afterlife.”

“Let me guess your Title… Marksman?” Alan quipped.

“Quiet, you witless thug. Look to the sky.”

As Gregorian pointed, Alan nearly lost his breath.