Nym’s first impression of Shu-Ain was that there were a lot of people with much darker skin than him speaking in a language he didn’t know. Even on the outskirts of the main city, the streets were packed. A great number of people lived in the city, or at least were visiting it today.

The language barrier wouldn’t be a problem, Nym hoped. There was a spell he’d picked up specifically for the occasion, a third circle translation spell that worked by establishing a telepathic connection between himself and the person he was speaking to and altering what each of them heard into something they’d recognize. It wasn’t perfect, and its biggest flaw was that it worked best on an individual person, with the spell becoming significantly more expensive to maintain the more connections he included in it.

It would hopefully be enough to help him get directions to a money changer and find out the current exchange rate. He didn’t have much else he needed to do in Shu-Ain, but he thought he might explore the city a little bit anyway before he left. He’d never been in one that didn’t restrict the public usage of magic, and he was hoping to see a few interesting spells before he left.

Unlike most cities he’d visited, Shu-Ain didn’t have walls. Back in Delvros, most towns did, or at least those on the west side of the country did. Thrakus was the only city he’d ever seen without one, and even then it had been heavily garrisoned and patrolled. The only reason it lacked walls was all the farmland butting up against the city.

Nym supposed living on an island where humanity had thoroughly extinguished the competition meant that there was no need for walls. Most threats would presumably come from the air or, he supposed, from other people. People meant magic though, and walls were of limited use against mages. In the end, it always seemed to come down to money. It was cheaper not to build walls, and there was nothing for them to protect the city against, so they didn’t.

On the bright side, it did mean that Nym could just walk right in, or rather, that he could fly right in. There were hundreds of people flying through the air at different heights, some weaving through the buildings, which often got up to three or four floors in height, others taking to higher altitudes and skimming over the roofs.

Nym flew around for a bit, trying to get a feel for the layout of Shu-Ain, but he mostly just discovered that their culture wasn’t big on city planning. Buildings were rarely uniform in size or height, although he did find some districts that would have a distinctive style of construction or clothing. Sometimes the people living there would have markings or tattoos that seemed culturally important in some way. There were also a lot of piercings, often in places that looked extremely sensitive.

A lot of people wore a lot less clothing than he was used to, which was how he noticed some of those sensitive piercings. Shirts weren’t exactly uncommon, but not wearing them wasn’t uncommon either. Most everyone had something covering their loins, though he did fly over a group of four old men, all completely naked and… hanging out… around a pond outside the city proper while they fished.

Nym had had a lot on his mind over the last year, and he hadn’t really given a lot of thought to situations where he would see other people naked. It was definitely a bit of culture shock to see so much exposed flesh, and his rapidly aging body’s hormones had things to say about some of the prettier and more athletic people he saw. He did his best to keep from ogling anyone, but he wasn’t sure how well he succeeded.

Analia was a lot more relaxed now than she’d been when he’d met her, but she was going to have a fit when she saw the state of general undress the natives of Shu-Ain did their business in. Nym grinned at the thought. He’d have to make sure he stuck around to watch her reaction.

As distracting as it was to see so many people so exposed, Nym was as always more interested in the magic. He didn’t stumble across any great secrets, of course. There were a lot of people using magic in its most basic forms: as a tool to assist them in whatever they were trying to accomplish.

He spied a potter using telekinesis to form an extra set of invisible hands that helped him shape clay. Nearby was a girl who looked to be his own age using a sustained elemental air spell to create a strong breeze over a line of wet clothes. A new mother sang to her baby, and her voice had a soothing, almost hypnotic quality to it as arcana infused her words. Opposite her sat a man that Nym assumed was the father, smiling as he listened and deftly weaving cloth over and through a large, complicated looking wooden frame to form a collapsible canopy for his family to stay cool under.

There were little things like that everywhere, and while nothing was revolutionary to him, it was nice to see magic freely used. Nym had forgotten how restrictive it was to have to hide his magic use in every dinky little town he passed through. Honestly, as he’d gotten stronger, specifically after breaking into the third tier, he’d stopped really bothering.

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Most of those small towns didn’t care to check if he was licensed anyway. It was only if he encountered one with a mages guildhall that he even considered being circumspect. But down in Byramin they didn’t care about that. It was refreshing. Nym could get used to living in a place like that.

Then he flew over the slave auction, and saw people being herded up onto blocks, manacles on their wrists and ankles. Men and women were sold one at a time after the auctioneer gave an accounting of whatever crime they’d been accused of that had landed them in a slaver’s pen. Some of the crimes might even be true, but Nym doubted it.

It served as a stark reminder that Shu-Ain was not necessarily a safe place, and Bildar’s warning that slavers liked to target foreigners echoed in his head. Nym flew away in a hurry, lest he tempt fate. It did seem that trouble found him in new cities more often than not, and he wasn’t interested in dealing with that again.

Eventually, he found something that looked like a market and landed on the street. He put the translation spell into effect, felt it connect to a nearby merchant, and said, “Excuse me, can you point me to the money changers?”

“I change money at you,” the merchant told him. “What coin value want you change much?

It took him a second to unravel that. He could only assume he’d done something wrong when casting the spell, but through some fluke had gotten it close enough to correct that it was still functioning. He wondered what the merchant was hearing on his end.

“I just need to know the exchange rate,” Nym said, brandishing a silver shield.

“Daksuun for Delvrovian shield,” the merchant said.

Nym had no clue what a daksuun was, or even if they’d understood each other right. “Oh, okay. Thank you.”

He broke the translation spell’s connection and walked away. Immediately the merchant started speaking to him in rapid-fire native Shu-Ainese. Nym could cast the translation spell again, but he figured he should also make an effort to actually learn the language. Whatever the merchant was saying, he sounded upset. Nym decided to practice with someone else.

He did eventually find a money changer’s stall a few streets over. It was open air, but was guarded by three large men with bulging muscles and thick, sturdy clubs hanging from leather straps around their wrists. The money changer himself was a thin, reedy man with skin that was far lighter than almost anyone else around them, though still darker than Nym’s. He had a wispy beard poking out of his chin and, unlike the men around him, was wearing both pants and a shirt.

“Oooh, what’s this? A foreigner from the northlands,” the money changer said.

“Oh, you speak my language? That’s good. My translation spell doesn’t seem to be working right.”

“They never do,” the money changer told him. “Even the third circle versions cause problems. They’re better than nothing, but not as good as learning the language yourself. But! That’s not what you’re here for. You want some daksuun? Or maybe just dakvol?”

“Dakars, actually. What’s the rate now?”

“Five and a quarter for a Delvrovian crest, minus a tenth for my fee,” the money changer said.

“Uh…”

“You give me four crests, I give you twenty-one dakars, minus two and a single daksuun as the fee.”

“I’m not familiar with the local currency,” Nym admitted. “Which I realize is probably not a great thing to admit to a money changer, but… daksuun and dakvol?”

“One dakar is ten daksuun. One daksuun is ten dakvol. Simple enough.”

“Oh good. That’ll make things easier. It steps up the same way as the currency I’m used to.”

“Yes, it’s a good system. Very easy to do the math. That’s why Delvros stole it from us and modeled their own currency off ours.”

Nym laughed. “Well if it’s not broke…”

“Indeed. So, my young friend, how many dakars are you needing today.”

“Let’s just say one crest’s worth today,” Nym said, fishing the coin out of his pack as he spoke. The money pouch was buried at the bottom, but thanks to a bit of telekinesis, he had worked the coin up to the top while they spoke. He handed it over and the money changer gave it a cursory inspection.

“Solid gold all the way through, edges haven’t been shaved. Very well.”

He reached into his shirt and pulled out his own money pouch, which hung from a string around his neck. Nym made a mental note to get one of those, as it seemed convenient and difficult to steal from. The money changer pulled out a handful of strange coins. They were all gold, to start, and all significantly smaller than the crest Nym had handed over.

The largest one was slightly fatter than a crest, but not even a quarter its size. The money changer separated four of those, followed by seven more that were maybe a tenth the size of a crest and half as thick, and finally two more that were barely the size of Nym’s pinky nail and so thin that he thought they might bend if he squeezed them.

“Here you are, my friend. Four dakar, seven daksuun, two dakvol. Or five and a quarter, minus my tenth as a fee.”

“Ah, thank you. Before I go, could you perhaps point me in the direction of a good meal?”

“If you are eager to give money right back into my hands, I would recommend my brother’s restaurant two streets over and a little bit south. It is called the Saecharou. He does not speak your language so well as me, but if you tell him I sent you, he will treat you very well.”

“Oh, thanks! I’ll give it a try. Um… I did not get your name.”

The money changer laughed again. “It is Taiduuk. Now get on out of here, young man. Go, and fill your belly while you empty your purse!”

Nym found himself laughing with the money changer. “Thank you, Taiduuk, I think I will.”

It was easy enough to find the Saecharou, and Nym treated himself to a dish he’d never heard of, made with ingredients he had no words for, but which nonetheless were quite tasty. Taiduuk’s brother told him what it was called multiple times, but by the time he left, Nym was forced to admit he still couldn’t remember it.

His business concluded, Nym pulled in arcana and teleported out of the city.