I knew the word “Dross” had sounded familiar, like an obscure synonym I’d only seldom heard, and, after seeing the town that bore the name, I remembered that it meant something like “trash.”

The town was a step up from the slums that clung to the Eraztun walls, but not enough of a step to shake off the name, I supposed. If I were still on Earth, and you had shown me a picture of “Dross,” I’d have guessed it was located in the corner of some third-world country I couldn’t even place on a map.

The buildings looked like they had been built the day before we arrived, and yet also gave me the impression of the eternal junk piles that sprung up around the homes of psychotic hoarders - piles that had likely been collecting rat droppings since before I was born. If I was feeling generous, I would have called the buildings “log cabins.” But it wasn’t quite right to even call them “buildings,” plural. It was more like a massive log pillow-fort, impossible to tell where one building ended and another began. Was the architect a child? Coming from a dimension with building codes and HOAs, I had never really considered that you could just attach your house to your neighbor’s house, like a domestic leech. Why build all four walls when there was a perfectly good wall next door? Saves yourself twenty-five percent of the labor and materials. Well, minus the roof and such.

The town did not look like it was intended to be walled-in, but because of the haphazard design-philosophy, it was. The disgusting orgy of wood and nails had only a handful of entrances - or so Cadoc told me. We approached the one nearest us.

“Follow my lead,” Cadoc said, as we approached the guard who stood beside the entrance. There was no gate. Simply a gap in the buildings. It reminded me of the dungeon. The sun was setting by this time, and it was hard to see far inside the mess.

The guard sized us up as we approached, and apparently found us lacking, as he would not even look us in the eye by the time we reached him.

“Hail, and glory to the power of Eraztun!” Cadoc said.

“What do you want, traveler?” The guard managed to ask this question while keeping absolutely all curiosity out of his voice. I’d heard this sort of thing before. Someone says one thing, but what they really mean is “get out of my face.”

“We wish only to enter, my friend. As you say, we are travelers, looking for a place to lay our heads for the night.”

“Then you have money?” the guard asked, suddenly interested, looking at us again. I was suddenly aware of his armor, and his sword.

“Of course. We are not wealthy, but we would do business here.”

The guard stared at us, wheels clearly turning in his creaky, NPC brain. I could tell he wasn’t special. He was enjoying his petty authority too much for that. Anyone could see that the idea of turning us away absolutely thrilled him.

“Let’s see it,” he said, motioning with his chin. “Empty your pockets, and your bags.”

I gawked, and turned to Cadoc, but he only nodded to me, and began taking off his backpack. I could do nothing but follow suit. I assumed his nod to be a sign that it was fine.

I suppose it’s like a bag check at a concert or something. Although, what is he looking for, a bomb? I wish I had a bomb.

Cadoc and I emptied our belongings onto the ground. Everything I owned was there in the dirt, including our little pile of coins, and my five new watches.

The guard grabbed one.

“Hey!” I shouted, and made to grab it back, but Cadoc pulled me away. I looked at him again, and he shook his head.

The guard looked at the watch from every angle, gaping at it like a gorilla.

“What is this?”

“A watch,” Cadoc said. “It tells the time.” He explained it to the guard.

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Finally the guard nodded, like a decision had been made. “Gather up your belongings. You may enter.”

Cadoc packed up, but I stared at the guard, shaking in silent fury as the situation dawned on me. He still held the watch.

I’m not dumb. I understood what was going on. You want to enter? Pay the price. If Cadoc wasn’t fighting it, then this was just the way it was. If he thought we could get through without paying, I knew Cadoc well enough already to know he would have died fighting the guard. So it must have been truly hopeless. But I was furious all the same, watching that thief smile contentedly at my watch.

I wish I had my gun. I wish I could put a bullet right into the skull of this corrupt piece of human garbage. I wish I could snap my fingers and light him on fire, and watch as his skin melted off his body and his bones charred and his screams echoed into the night like sweet music.

The guard looked up at me, as if my thoughts had called out to him. “You got a problem?” he asked, clearly hoping I would say yes. One hand dropped to his sword.

I gritted my teeth like a coward. “No.”

“I thought so,” he said, grinning.

I’d like to say I died there, after having attempted to gouge the guard’s eyes out of their sockets with my bare hands. The vision played enticingly in my mind. But I just gathered my things and entered Dross.

The streets of Dross were narrow, feeling more like hallways someone forgot to cover with a roof. It was growing dark, which is why Cadoc was hurrying. We did not want to be in the streets of Dross at night, he said.

“I should have warned you,” Cadoc said after we were some distance away from the entrance. “I could have guessed by how you attacked the guard outside Eraztun that you would have reacted badly to the toll. I feel your anger, friend. But the eternal pillar of Eraztun is power. Even you must have been able to feel the power of that guard, and how far above us he is. And even if we could have killed him - which we couldn’t have - he represents a greater power, which would have crashed down on us like the waves crashing against the rocky coast of Ushante. And even the rocks break from such a force.”

“I didn’t know you ever felt fear, Cadoc,” I said, bitterly. “But you are just as much a coward as the rest of us, when it suits you.”

Cadoc stopped, grabbing my shoulder and turning me to face him. His eyes pierced me.

“Apologize, friend.”

“Why?” I asked, still spiteful.

“Because we are allies.”

I stared at him, and he stared back. Eventually I had to look away, in shame. Tom wouldn’t have been so mean.

“I- I’m sorry I said that.”

Cadoc nodded. “Alright, then.” And we continued on. I’d never been in a shorter argument in my life.

Our first stop was the inn. Cadoc knew the layout of Dross, luckily, and brought us there quickly.

A merchant had set up shop next door, likely in order to capitalize on the money of travelers. No one else we passed in the streets looked to have any cash, unless there was a country that used misery as a currency. Or dirt.

I had felt eyes on us as we walked, but met few people on the streets. Those we did meet were almost all bald.

“Is there a lice problem here?” I asked later.

“They are made to keep no hair,” Cadoc responded. “In exchange for the protection of Eraztun. They are like you, Miles. Body mages, primarily. Mostly they use hair, and so Eraztun ensures that they are magicless. The ones you see who have hair, have lost other things.”

I had noticed the bandaged hands of some. I winced, imagining nails being ripped off of fingertips.

“These,” Cadoc continued. “Are true cowards. They do not do this out of deference for power. They do this out of fear - and fear so strong that they throw away any ounce of power they themselves possessed. They disarmed themselves.” Cadoc shook his head.

“Is hair magic that powerful?” I asked. It all seemed pretty unnecessary.

“Not particularly,” Cadoc said. “These aren’t Cho’l. Body mages are weak, as a rule. There are exceptions, but none here, surely. You could call it an overabundance of caution. Or symbolism.”

When we arrived at the inn, we paid a halfgold for a week’s stay in a room with two beds, as Cadoc had predicted. Or remembered. This wasn’t his first time in town. Then we went next door, eager to buy supplies before the merchant closed up for the day.

The door was closed when we arrived, but Cadoc knocked loudly. “Lazy merchant.”

There was one of those sliding peepholes in the door, like a speakeasy would have in a movie. After a time, it slid open, and a pair of green eyes peered out at us.

“Cadoc,” the voice said. It was a woman’s voice, filled with disdain.

“Susanna,” Cadoc said back, with the same intonation.

The eyes darted over to me. “Who is this?”

A muffled voice came from further in the shop, shouting. “Send them away, Susanna! I have no time for poor baldie runts to stink up my store.”

“They’re not bald!” the woman shouted back. “They’re travelers.”

“Well then let them in, you daft girl! Did I raise you without any common sense?”

She looked back at us for a moment, then shut the peephole. I heard the door unlock, but it didn’t open. Cadoc shook his head.

“Do you know these people?” I asked.

“I’ve known them for years,” he said.

I had imagined that a merchant would only live in a place like Dross as a temporary measure - and a desperate one, at that - but Cadoc seemed to be implying that this one had lived in Dross for years. Before I could ask more, Cadoc opened the door - which was now unlocked.

My eyes were assaulted. I struggled to understand the items around me, hung on walls, rotting in corners, stacked haphazardly in piles on the wooden floor. Those I recognized, I had only seen before in movies and video games. Polearms. Bucklers. Potions. Scrolls.

There was a wide counter made of light wood, and behind it stood a woman, who had to be in her early twenties. She was a head shorter than me, red-haired and freckled, and refused to look at us - instead, she polished a jagged knife.

Behind her was a doorway, and a similarly-short man emerged from it, smiling. He wore a messy beard that was matted in places, and long hair that looked like something had been nesting in it. His clothes were stained, and he looked vaguely manic.

“Welcome, Cadoc, welcome! It had been too long, too long! How is your mother? You work? Surviving, huh? Thriving? How is the knife I sold you? Still holding up? Needs a sharpen, perhaps? A polish? We have oil, whetstones, whatever you need! What do you need, Cadoc? Ah, but I am rude, so unbearably rude, who is your friend? I don’t believe we’ve met before. You don’t look wealthy, too dirty, if you don’t mind me saying, but your clothes are strange. Are you a traveler, then? Susanna said as much, didn’t she? Where are you from, sir? What are you looking for? Whatever it is, I am sure we have it, absolutely sure. Ah, but what is your name?”

I decided to answer the last question, since Cadoc hadn’t spoken yet. “Miles,” I said. “My name is Miles.”

“A strange name, sir, a very strange name indeed, and so I must be right, yes? A traveler, then. With money, do you think?” He asked this last question to himself, under his breath. “I am Dimitri, merchant of exceptional goods, seller of fine wares, purveyor of perfect product. And this is my daughter Susanna. Say hi, Susanna.”

She didn’t.

“So then, Miles, Cadoc,” Dimitri continued, “What are you interested in buying?”

“Weapons,” Cadoc said eagerly. “We need weapons.”