Having money felt good!

I walked out of the weapons shop, tossing a small pouch of coins into the air and catching it. Inside were five gold and twenty silver coins. A true windfall for a homeless orphan like myself. The average miner makes less than fifty silver a year. One silver coin was worth a hundred bronze coins, and one gold coin was worth a hundred silver coins. So in a way I had more money than most peasants do at any one time.

[Where are we going now?]

Time to get us some medical supplies.

Unfortunately when it came to conventional earth-style healthcare, there were slim pickings. Luckily this was a fantasy world. While health potions were items of legends, apothecaries sold salves that served to disinfect and promote the bodies natural healing abilities. The problem came down to the prices for such items.

[You sure know your way around here.]

I smiled and stared at the properly maintained buildings. Unlike the slums in the south part of the city, the citizens of the western district were better off. Most of the residents were guards or merchants that sold goods the city regularly needed. This also made me stick out like a sore thumb. Thankfully, I only received cold stares, as street urchins sometimes offered their services as guides. If I tried to walk in the north district dressed as I am, I would be chased off by the guards. I have the bruises to prove it.

I did have a life before you came along.

[Yes, you were thriving before I came along.]

You don’t always need money to obtain knowledge.

The streets were crowded with pedestrians shopping around. Their clothing reminded me of the movies I used to watch. The fashion here had its own nuance, but the quality and general vibe still matched. They appeared to have been made from some sort of variation of cotton. Men wore long wheat colored shirts, and a vest with some embroidery. The fancier the embroidery, the higher the man’s status. As for women, their dresses had the same wheat color, and the embroidery was done on the skirt portion of the dress.

It’s strange how similar this world is to earth. Even their architecture and the way they dress are almost identical to Europe in the middle ages.

[The universe is vast. White likes to assign his fragments to worlds that they can best fit into. Imagine he sent you to a world where the inhabitants are sentient insects who eat their weak. You would never thrive in such an environment, unless you are secretly into the whole cannibal thing.]

Gross.

Armeria did raise an interesting point. Whoever White is, the scope of his operation was astounding. Regardless, it has little to do with me. As long as I obtained enough wealth and power to carve out a comfortable living for myself, I would be satisfied. I ignored the doubt if that would truly make me happy.

Lost in my thoughts, I soon found myself in front of a store. It had a sign with a bottle containing a bright blue liquid. The glitter used in the blue paint shined mesmerizingly when hit by the sun. Words I was unable to read were painted with large swirling patterns at the bottom of the sign. Being illiterate was a pain, but the sign made it clear what kind of establishment it was.

I opened the door to the store, and was hit with a burst of warm air carrying the scent of herbs and medicine. Candles shone brightly on elaborately crafted brass fixtures. Inside, the store had an open space concept. Counters lined the outer edges of the room. Glass cases containing various bottles and herbs.

A portly man with his long blond hair tied in a ponytail waved my way. “Welcome to the Bottled Miracle! How can I help you young man?”

Despite my shoddy attire and dirty skin, the man was warm and had a disarming smile. He seemed to be the laid back kind of sort.

“I have a friend who has been hurt. I’m looking to buy something for bruising and disinfecting cuts,” I replied and shook my money bag. “I can pay.”

“No worries lad. To me money is money, no matter who is willing to pay! The name is George, and this is my shop.”

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” I bowed my head slightly. He may be pretty accepting, but being courteous to the guy who sold life saving items seemed wise.

George let out a hearty laugh, the fat on his cheeks giggling. “Relax! Need I remind you that you are the customer here? No need to bow.”

[What a jolly fellow.]

“You said you needed something for bruising and disinfection?” George continued, “I have some paste made from beeswax and ground roots of the golo bush. Nothing fancy, but it will cover most of the mundane cuts and bruises. Does the patient have a fever?”

I shook my head. “They were fine the last time I checked this morning.”

George brought his hand to his chin. “Well it never hurts to have a bottle of mother’s touch. The stuff works wonders for common illnesses, and dispels fevers like water on fire.”

He rummaged behind his counter and pulled out a ceramic container and a glass bottle. He popped off the lid for the container and held it out towards me. “This is the paste. Apply it directly on any cuts or bruises twice a day. Once in the morning and again at night. If the wound looks angry, apply a third time at midday.”

George handed me the container and uncorked the bottle. A weird flowery scent hit me. It seemed to resemble perfume more than medicine. “This is mother’s touch. Sparingly add a few drops to a cup of water before giving it to the patient. This should be taken once before bed as it causes one to feel sleepy. Beware, giving too much will lead to terrible vomiting and possibly death.”

“Thanks,” I smiled. “How much for both?”

Instead of a response, George started another bout of laughter. Before he could answer, the door to the shop opened. Two tall men in rough clothing and black scarves covering the lower half of their faces, entered like they owned the place. They each had an aura of intimidation that tipped me off about their line of work. These two were unlike Dustin, who was a mere bully on a power trip. These men were actual gangsters, real gangsters. Gangs had the tendency to attract petty criminals and rabble rousers, expendable bodies. Yet the core members were experienced and had taken a fair amount of lives in cold blood. Something about the way they dressed bugged me.

“You better get going now boy,” George stopped laughing, and handed me the bottle as well.

“Um, what about payment?” I asked. Repositioning myself to look like I was eager to leave with a free product. This gave me a better vantage point of the pair of men.

“It’s on the house. Here, you also mentioned some bandages. Feel free to come me by again if you need something.” George forced a grin and tossed me a roll of bandages. He motioned to dismiss me and turned his attention back onto the newcomers. “Welcome! How can I help my friends from the Black Scarves today?”

Black Scarves.

I filed that name into my mind. I was familiar with the Red Hands gang, as they controlled the territory I lived in. It would seem the underworld for the city lacked a hegemon.

[Was it alright to leave the nice man with those slime balls?]

Looked like the typical shakedown. They’re probably there to collect some sort of protection fee.

[Are we going home yet? I’m getting tired of cloaking myself.]

Hold on a bit longer.

I stopped by a fruit stand and picked up a palm sized fruit with yellow skin and light green dots. The shape resembled a tear drop, and it sort of reminded me of a pear. For five copper a piece, I bought a bag of ten. The change of bronze coins was significant and made my coin bag bulge.

Since I was out, it was a good chance to stock up on some supplies. I could keep using the emergency rations, but I wanted to save those for, well, emergencies. Without having to spend a single coin on the medicine, splurging a bit couldn’t hurt. Besides, it would hardly be wise to keep popping food out of nowhere with Finley staying with me.

I continued to shop, buying more food and other daily necessities. As the amount kept increasing, I ended up buying a large backpack. Still, my thoughts kept doing backflips in my brain, using every chance to bring her to the forefront.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

Why was I assuming she was going to continue to stay with me? For all I know, she would be gone by the time I returned. She was still injured, but for people like us, that was a fairly normal occurrence. To be honest, I would be pretty bummed out to go back to being alone. While Armeria was nice and all, having some actual human contact was refreshing.

The crowd in front of me started to make a fuss. They parted as a kid sprinted past them. In their hands, they were holding a loaf of bread.

“Got’cha this time you brat!”

A hand shot out and grabbed the back of the kid’s shirt. It was attached to a city guard. Their smirk was just cocky enough for me to want to smack it off. An impulse I squashed real quick. One look was enough to tell what kind of man he was. A small man, that sought a cheap source of authority to inflate his own sense of superiority.

The poor kid was about my size, even thinner guessing by those sunken cheeks. Probably why he was caught. A couple of weeks ago, I was the same as him. Hungry and desperate were a combination that could make most humans do anything. We’d risk ourselves day after day for next to nothing. Seeing the dead look in the kid’s eyes, I knew he was done. Any resistance he made was on reflex. His heart had accepted that it was the end of the road for him. If he ever left the city dungeon alive, he’d be back to doing the same.

“Excuse me, sir.”

Crap…

What was that!?

If I could rip my tongue out and throw it into a raging bonfire, I would. However, cooler heads prevail. Which is strange considering my malfunctioning brain thought it was such a good idea to inject myself in this shit show. This place was a far cry from Japanese society. No amount of gab would get a petty man on a power trip to walk away. Their temper was akin to a whirlpool. Get too close and you will get sucked in and smashed to pieces.

I could tell I painted a nice big target on myself. It would take a few seconds for him to chalk me up as an accomplice. Best case scenario: he writes me off as a nosy pedestrian. Although that seems unlikely.

“Sure enough, there is another one of you. Stay where you are!”

Unlucky.

The situation was escalating quickly, I needed to keep it from spiraling out of control. If he placed me under arrest, there was a fair chance he’d jail me simply to take my money. I have worked too hard to simply give it up! Well, it would be more of a hassle to do it all over again.

“Sir, I don't know that kid. I’m out shopping on orders of my mistress. Her son is hurt, and I shudder to think what she’ll do to me if I’m late.”

The guard scanned me. “Oh yeah? Which family do you serve?”

Nosy bastard! What’s it to you? Wait, he baited this reaction.

Maybe if I was quick witted enough, I’d have tossed out a random name and address to fool him. Unfortunately, I was illiterate, knowing only a few street names in passing. As for families that were wealthy enough to have a servant? Perhaps I should have stuck with my merchant's apprentice alias. This whole scenario was maddening.

“Nice try, you sly brat!”

The guard reached out and grabbed me with his other hand. His grip may as well have been shackles. Escaping with strength alone would be wishful thinking.

[Would you like some assistance?]

Before I could reply, a small projectile whizzed past my ear and lodged itself in the eye of the guard. Blood and bits of goopy matter popped out of the socket. The moment I felt the guard release his grip to reach for his eye, I broke free. My free hand gripping the arm of the boy and I ran like a bat out of hell. Thanking what ever non-White higher power that decided to intervene, I made my escape into the crowd. Leaving the screaming and swearing guard behind, before his brain registered that his two captives were missing.

Ten turns and two fence hops later, I felt we were in the clear. Letting go of the kid’s arm, I collapsed against a wall, struggling to catch my breath. It would appear I really needed to prioritize physical fitness. That encounter was too close for comfort.

“Thanks,” the kid gasped, still clutching the loaf of bread like it was a lifesaver. He tentatively ripped a chunk of the bread off and offered it to me. “Here.”

I blinked. “Why are you giving this to me?”

The kid looked me dead in the eye and puffed out his chest. “My Pa used to say that a man always repays his debts. And I, Roland Haze, am a real man.”

“A real man steals?” I asked with a raised brow.

Roland fished into his pocket and brought out a few folded sheets of parchment. He cleared his throat and read aloud, “Owe the baker with a horse’s face 10 copper for one loaf of stale bread. I make sure to keep track of every item I borrow. So I can pay them back!”

“You know how to read?” I asked, my jaw dropping. Where did a little shit like him learn that? Speaking of reading.

Hey Armeria, can you analyze the local language and teach me to read?

[what am I, a super computer? Of course not.]

I thought you said you were similar to Cortona!

[Did I?]

You suck.

“My Pa taught me! He prided himself as a self taught schoolier!” Roland beamed.

Schoolier?

“You mean scholar?” I corrected him.

“Yeah, a scholiar,” Haze retorted, his face deadpan and pushed the bread my way again. “Anyways, thanks for helping me out.”

I shook my head and unshouldered my backpack. With a flick of my wrist I flipped back the top, and watched as drool trickled down the side of Roland’s gaping mouth. An idea pieced itself together in the back of my mind. If I was actually going to implement my plan, his help could be instrumental.

“Would you like something a bit for substantial to eat?” I asked, closing the bag to dissuade Roland’s twitching hands.

“Yeah,” Roland nodded, wiping the drool away from his chin. “Was that jerky? It’s been years since I had meat.”

A smile wormed its way onto my face. “Fresh from the smokehouse. There is a strip with your name on it if you do a job for me.”

“What kind of job?” Roland asked, with none of the warriness from living on the streets. His eyes glued to my bag.

I smirked. “Nothing too terribly difficult. Are you familiar with the abandoned warehouses by the docks?

***

Tired and sweaty, I returned to the dock, seeing home sweet home I jogged the rest of the distance. I’d visited a few more stalls to procure a few more items. All of which were now stored in the pot I was carrying. This was in a separate market area of course. I’d have to keep an eye out for any one-eyed guards in the future. Something told me the man was far from the forgiving type.

“Hello?”I knocked before opening the warehouse door, not wanting to startle Finley.

When I received no response, I let out the sigh that I had been holding in my chest. Sure enough, the inside of the warehouse was empty. I guess my bad feeling turned out to be true. Someone like Finley was a loner whether she wanted it or not. Whatever she has lived through, the emotional scars she was doubtlessly carrying will always make her skeptical. Trust was a luxury she could scarcely afford to give away.

“Ow.” I said, reaching for the back of my head. Looking down at the sound of something bouncing off the ground. It was a pebble.

“What’re ya standing around for?” Behind me, tossing a pebble in the air, was Finley. She was eyeing me up and down, her gaze lingering on my recent purchases. “Yikes, ya rob a house or something?”

I waved my hand. “Nope. This is thanks to the fruits of my hard earned labor. Sweet sweet capitalism.”

“Capitalism?”

“Never mind,” I grinned. My attention on the pebbles she was juggling with one hand. “I take it you were the one who saved my skin back in the market? You have some impressive aim.”

Finley nodded. She stopped with the circus act and stared at her bare feet.

“Were you following me?” I asked, afraid of the answer. Wondering if she happened to see me summoning those daggers. I was discreet, unless you were paying attention. It was easy to miss the blanket rising as the daggers were summoned with its fold. Unless you were looking.

“No, I merely came across ya.” Finley raised her hands in mock surrender. “I was out in the market when I heard the guard yelling at ya and the other boy.”

“So, why are you out and about? You’re still pretty banged up.”

“I-I can go wherever I want,” Finley sputtered, her shoulders bunched up.

“What made you decide to come back?”

A faint blush painted Finley’s cheeks a bright red. “Well, ya had all that food. It would have been rude to up an vanish if ya’re buying all that food.”

So that’s the reason. She was following me.

[Master, it is strange. The girl should be struggling to move, but she seems fine.]

That was a solid observation. Bruises covered her exposed skin, they were dark purple and made me wince just looking at them. Yet, she was shrugging it off like a paper cut. Either she was one hell of an actress, or she was a whole lot tougher than I gave her credit for. As I inspected her, a loud gurgle came from Finley’s stomach. It straight up sounded like a toad croaking into a megaphone.

I can always figure it out later.

“Did you finish all the food I left you?” I asked.

Finley nodded her head enthusiastically. “Yes! I have never tasted anything like it. Do you have more?”

I guess coconut wouldn’t be common here.

“Unfortunately I am all out,” I said, smiling at the disappointed pout I received. I pulled out a piece of jerky from my backpack. “No worries, I did some shopping, and if everything goes well, we might have company for dinner.”

Finley snatched the jerky from my grip and gobbled it down while staring at my backpack. Her gluttonous intentions on full display, she extended her hand for another. “Company?”

“Bossman!”

I turned to see Roland walking towards us along with eight or nine other boys. Each as emaciated and short as the last.

Not a bad turnout.

“What’s all this?” Finley asked, frowning at the sudden flood of people.

“For now, nothing, but hopefully with a little TLC, the foundation towards a better life. For all of us.” I whispered and unpacked the items I had in the pot.