Chapter 111: A Dangerous Transaction
Abel made his way down Oak Street, the narrowing path bathed in the amber glow of the setting sun. Shadows stretched long across the cobblestones, creating an air of quiet anticipation. He was aware of what a zealot's blue eye was, a Blue Zealot was a strange bipedal creature that roamed in the dark in a particular part of Bask near Reinhart. Although elusive and evasive, their strange scorpion-like tail can leave a person paralyzed fo hours. Some say that the eyes of the creature can be used to create magical potions, or as important ingredients in rituals.
Walking down the street Abel slowed his steps as the tailor’s shop stood modestly, its sign creaking softly in the breeze. Pushing the door open, Abel was met with the comforting scent of wool and cotton. The interior was tidy, with fabrics neatly folded and garments hung on polished wooden racks.
An elderly woman behind the counter greeted him warmly, her eyes bright with curiosity. “Ah, a new face!” she exclaimed, her voice kind. “What can I help you with, young man?”
Abel offered a polite smile, feigning casual interest as he browsed the selection. “I’m looking for a mask... something warm for winter,” he said lightly. “I’m new here, and I don’t have the right clothes for the season yet.”
Her eyes twinkled knowingly. “Practical choice. Let me show you a few.” She gestured to a nearby rack, her hands deftly selecting various masks. “Any particular color in mind?”
“Dark would be best,” Abel replied, keeping his tone relaxed.
“Ah, say no more!” the tailor chirped, bustling toward a shelf behind the counter. She returned with an assortment of masks, each with distinct patterns—delicate vines, geometric designs, and others adorned with floral motifs.
Abel’s eyes settled on a dark, unadorned mask with a rugged design. The mask covered his mouth and nose, as it reached back and wrapped around his ears, perfect for wearing under a hood. “This one,” he said, his voice steady. “And a dark blue robe.”
She smiled, pulling out a finely crafted robe with subtle embroidery near the hem. “This should suit you perfectly,” she said, folding it neatly.
“Perfect, thank you,” Abel replied, handing over the payment in coins he had received before leaving the tower. After exchanging pleasantries, he left the shop, thinking of how to approach this upcoming investigation.
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Meanwhile, Outside of Town...
Lena stepped through the rolling fields just beyond Reinhart, her heart racing with anticipation. The flower fields stretched out like a colorful carpet beneath the evening sky, the scent of blossoms thick in the air. She wasn’t a native of the town but had heard whispers about its burgeoning market for magical artifacts and the potential that the town possessed in mirroring those in the Central Region. A town that had been affected by magic so much that it becomes a norm, and rather than collapsing to these magical strangenesses, it adapts and grows.
After months of scrounging and trading, she’d finally amassed enough savings to make a proper exchange. Tonight, she would trade a rare zealot's blue eye for a magical artifact—a transaction that could open doors to unimaginable power for her and a come-up in her life.
Stolen story; please report.
As she moved out of the field and into the dense forest, Lena’s nerves spiked. The path was dark, lined with ancient trees that creaked under the weight of thick, trailing moss. She gripped her leather bag tightly, reassured by the small stick inside. Stopping at a clearing, she crouched and placed the stick upright on the ground nearby, she murmured in a pattern and proceeded to walk a few steps away from the stick, facing the center of the clearing. She glanced at the stick with a small sense of security knowing it could protect her if things went awry. She took a deep breath, her heart pounding in her chest as she waited.
The silence didn’t last long. Three robed figures emerged from the shadows, their movements slow and calculated. One of the men—The only one without a mask stepped forward with a malicious smirk.
"Julius?" she called, her voice steady but laced with caution. "This was supposed to be between you and me. Why bring… guests?”
The masked man chuckled darkly. “You’re quite the optimist, aren’t you?” He sneered. “The world isn’t fair. You really thought you’d walk away from this with an artifact? People like you aren’t worthy of magic.”
Lena’s eyes narrowed as two of the masked men stepped forward, each brandishing thick wooden clubs. The leader took out a small red flag, planting it firmly into the ground. A pulse of red energy surged outward, casting an ominous hue over the clearing. The smell of Iron filled the air as Lena took a step back and raised her arm to cover her nose, feeling her nostrils sting. Her eyes watered as she looked towards the red flag with amazement and frustration. A magical artifact, something she longed so much for was right in front of her, but in the hand of an enemy.
“This flag keeps things… private,” he said smoothly. “We don’t want any interruptions, and no one will hear you scream.”
Panic rose within Lena, but she masked it with anger. “You think you can cheat me and get away with it?”
“Think? I know,” he taunted, his voice dripping with cruelty. “Magical artifacts are not for the weak, and you’re far too naive. Think about it, these things are capable of some incredible feats, and today Ill let you die witnessing some of those miracles.”
The two thugs raised their clubs, stepping closer, their faces twisted in amusement.
Lena took a sharp breath, she bit down on her thumb, drawing blood, then in a fluid motion took a side step and crouched whilst simultaneously pressing her bloodied thumb onto the withered stick she had placed on the ground earlier. The stick twitched, glowing faintly, and to the men’s surprise, the stick began to grow, as if a timelapse of its life cycle had begun.
As the faint greenish-brown glow brightened, the stick transformed, twisting upward into a slender, humanoid form. A woody, earthy aroma filled the air as the stick solidified into a narrow warrior, its body woven from rough, bark-like textures. The figure stood protectively in front of Lena, its wooden limbs creaking as it took a defensive stance.
The stick was the only connection to the magical world she possessed apart from the strange eye she intended on trading. As Julius had stated, this was indeed a single-use item. These types of items were usually old broken magical artifacts on their last legs, or magical trinkets meant to be used as a trump card.
The leader’s grin faded, replaced with a hint of wariness and curiosity. “Well, look at that,” he sneered. “Didn’t think you had it in you, is that a single use?.”
Lena’s confidence returned, a cold smile spreading across her face. “I didn’t come here unprepared. If you think you can scare me, think again.” Her voice was steely, defiant.
The leader glanced at his companions. “Enough games. Let’s end this.”
The two men lunged forward, their clubs raised high. The wooden warrior moved to intercept, its movements swift and fluid. It parried the first club with a loud crack, the impact sending splinters flying. Lena held her ground, watching as her protector faced off against the thugs.
“Like I said,” she hissed, “I’m not leaving empty-handed.”