Gabbro eyed me suspiciously as he handed me five silver coins for the pile of lizard hides.

"And you say you just found them?" he asked yet again. "And these wounds that look exactly like knife wounds were caused by..."

"Sand sharks," I replied quickly. "The little bastards have teeth like daggers."

He grunted, nodding his head. He still wasn't convinced, but Gabbro was a practical man. He needed the leather and I needed the money.

"Do you know where I can get a puppy around here?" I asked him.

Gabbro frowned, scratching his chin. "Puppy? You can't afford a dog. Why not buy a rat or a cockroach?"

"It's not for me," I said, "I want one for my mother."

"You think a puppy would cheer her up?"

"Probably not," I said, "I want to train it to be a seeing eye dog. Help her get around town. Maybe make a few friends."

"Another one of your strange ideas?" he asked. "Is this like the time you tried to make a two wheeled wagon and ended up with a broken arm?"

I shrugged. "It was called a bicycle, and it was glorious, before it crashed and broke."

"And the time you tried to make medicine and infected half the village with a terrible cough?"

"A simple miscalculation," I said, shaking my head. "But that's not the point, I want a puppy, do you know where I can find one or not?"

"You might try Old Man Sump," he said. "He has a couple of dogs, maybe they've had a litter."

"Thanks," I said, placing the coins in my pouch.

***

After a quick shower, I changed into fresh clothes and headed out to my meeting with Flint and the card mages. I wasn't looking forward to the encounter. I had a constant fear of being found out. Call it paranoia or maybe just good sense, either way I couldn't shake the feeling that something bad would happen if others found out about my card.

It was late afternoon and the sun had begun to set, casting long shadows across the village.

As I walked, I saw golden lights glowing from people’s homes. Laughter and singing spilled into the streets, and children ran around playing games.

It was a beautiful night, a night for celebrating and getting drunk with friends. I felt giddy with excitement, my card had worked again, and I had come out of it uninjured with some essence and enough silver to buy a puppy and food for a week.

I'd thought of the seeing eye dog years ago, when my mother had first lost her eyesight, but dogs were expensive and food for them was scarce.

Now, with a bit of silver, and the hope that more was to come, I could have everything she needed and more.

A warm breeze blew through the town, carrying the scent of freshly baked bread and roasted meat. The smell of food reminded me that I hadn't eaten all day, and my stomach growled.

The sound of drunken laughter reached my ears, as I turned up the road to the Waystone Inn. A group of men staggered down the street, laughing and joking as they carried bottles in their hands.

A young woman stepped out of the inn, her brown hair tied back in a bun.

"Bas!" she called out as she ran to me, wrapping me in a hug.

I smiled, returning her embrace, "Hey, Sylvia."

She nudged my shoulder gently, "You coming in for a drink?"

I shrugged, "I'm meeting someone."

Sylvia frowned, "A girl?"

Sylvia had always been good to me, I was never sure why though. I suspected that if she had been on Earth she would have been the kind of girl to adopt stray cats.

I smiled, "I'm actually meeting Flint and the card mages."

Her face darkened, "What do they want with you?"

"I'm about to find out," I said.

She glanced over her shoulder quickly before whispering, "Watch out for those two. There's been some strange rumors about them."

My eyebrow raised, "Strange rumors?"

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Sylvia pursed her lips, "Did you hear about Markus Younghand?"

I shook my head, "What did he get up to now?"

"He's missing," she said, "Apparently he went hunting up near Murray's Cross yesterday and never returned."

I felt my stomach drop.

Another missing person. What the hell was going on?

"Thanks for the warning."

She nodded, "Just take care of yourself."

"Maybe we can grab a drink after my meeting?" I asked.

Sylvia smiled, "Sounds good."

***

The Waystone Inn was much like every other Inn I’d ever seen in fantasy movies. It had round wooden tables, flirtatious barmaids and a burly man with scars on his arms that was there to make sure nobody got too handsy with the serving girls.

What wasn't obvious from television was the smell. The stench of spilled ale, rotting straw, and piss filled the room. The only way to ignore it was to drown your senses in alcohol, and that was what I planned to do.

A fire flickered in the hearth, casting dancing shadows on the walls. The sounds of conversation echoed around the inn, accompanied by the clink-clank of tankards against mugs.

The village's only bard played haunting music on the lute. He sang all the local favorites. Songs about battles won and lost. Heroes fallen and risen again, and beautiful maidens waiting for their princes to come back home.

Greta, the barmaid, a heavyset woman who’d once been a soldier, sat behind the bar watching the bard. Her hands were folded across her ample bosom and her eyes glazed, lost in the world of poetry and song.

She caught sight of me as I entered the common room and broke from her reverie. "What will it be, ale, wine or mead?"

I glanced at Flint who was seated near the fire sipping on a tankard of ale, "Ale, please," I said.

I took a seat beside Flint.

"Where’ve you been all day?" he asked, looking up at me.

"Training," I said with a shrug.

He grinned, "Training alone, you're still upset that I beat you last time?"

I snorted, "That was a fluke, I tripped on a tuft of grass."

Flint laughed, patting me on the back, "Excuses, excuses, when will you admit that I’m just the better fighter."

"Your staff is five times longer than my dagger," I said, smiling. "It's not a fair fight."

Flint choked on his drink, spluttering with laughter. When he’d finished coughing and laughing, he leaned close and said, "It's not the size of the weapon, it's how you use it."

I shook my head, smiling at my friend.

A moment later, Greta was back, handing me a mug and placing a plate of sliced bread on the table, "A little something for my two favorite customers."

I leaned across the table, raising my voice, so Greta could hear me, "Have you seen those two strangers in here tonight?"

Greta shook her head, "Can't say I have. They've been in here most nights. Mostly keep to themselves." She smirked, "Folks are wary of them two."

"Why's that," I asked, taking a sip of the lukewarm ale.

Greta picked up her tray, "Did you hear about the carpenter's son?"

I frowned, "Heard he disappeared?"

"Not missing," she said, "Died while out hunting, heart attack or stroke," she leaned in close and lowered her voice, "Some say it was magic."

My eyes widened, but before I could say another word, Greta waved a hand at me and said, "You boys best be careful," she lent in close and whispered, "there's a killer in this village."

With those ominous words in my head, I placed three copper coins on the table.

"Thanks for the ale," I said, feeling a deep unease coming over me.

Greta slid the coins into her open palm and winked at me, "Any time love, if you want anything else, and I mean anything, just ask?"

Flint chuckled as Greta winked at me and sauntered off towards the bar.

"Be careful with that one," he said with a smile, "she'll eat you alive."

I raised an eyebrow, "She's old enough to be my grandma."

Flint grinned, "That means you've thought about it, then."

"Just drink your bloody ale," I said, elbowing him in the side.

***

Malachi adjusted the oracle glass that he wore over his left eye as he watched Bastion enter the Waystone Inn. The glass showed him things no other human could see, the hidden magic and the secrets people thought were theirs alone.

He'd learned many interesting things over the years, but none had piqued his curiosity more than the man he'd just seen enter the tavern.

Malachi tucked his ebony cane under his arm and turned to his female companion, "So, Nidalee," he said, "Is it him?"

Nidalee adjusted her dress, pulling the straps higher on her shoulders. She'd been his companion for years, ever since he’d arrived in her village, and had grown used to his moods.

"That's the boy who has haunted my dreams these last few weeks," she said, her voice husky and sweet, "But something is wrong, he is different, not quite what I was expecting."

"I know what you mean," he said, "It's hard to believe just looking at him. He’s still so young."

Nidalee remained silent for a while, lost in thought, "Did you see the dagger he carried?"

"A relic weapon," Malachi said, he tapped the monocle, "The oracle glass revealed that it contains an inferior speed glyph."

"Impressive," Nidalee muttered. "Not many warriors receive their relic weapons before the age of twenty, he must have trained every day for it."

Malachi nodded, "That's not all it revealed. It seems that he has a curse affinity foundation card and that he has reached Obsidian-1"

"So he has killed monsters, then?" Nidalee asked.

"Yes and recently," Malachi said, his eyes glittering with excitement, "the last time I appraised him he was still Porcelain-9."

Nidalee’s eyes narrowed, "Curse affinity and a relic wielder. He has led an interesting life indeed. I would love to walk his dreams again, see what he's hiding in there."

"Your curiosity can wait," Malachi said, "We need to get him away from this village before your visions come true."

Nidalee said nothing as she stared at the inn’s doors, trying to imagine how such an innocent looking child could bring about so much destruction.

"What will you do if he rejects our offer?" Malachi asked.

Nidalee’s eyes sparkled for a moment, and then she merely shrugged, "If it comes to it, I will kill him myself."

***