John and Recia both stood in a circular chamber, it was the main intersection between the pavilions of the Shaded Glen company.

In order to access any of the pavilions, Recia needed to show the chamber guards her pass to enter that pavilion.

The first pavilion she wanted to enter was the reagent pavilion. As the name suggested it housed markets for different materials used in the creation of complex or unorthodox things.

Upon gaining entry the first thing that John noticed in the pavilion was the smell. It was like a mixture of every strong scent one could imagine in varying amounts. One moment, his nose was filled with a harsh minty scent, and the next it was replaced with an earthier tone of cut grass.

*Cough* *Sniff*

“Eh-hem, it’s quite pungent isn’t it?”

Recia nodded in silent agreement.

Thus, they began their trip through the large chamber. Stalls sold their wares like a bazaar and it looked like a food market for the most part. What appeared to be monster parts were being butchered in one stall, while the neighboring one held racks of dried herbs.

A surprising number of people clamored around the merchants. The black-market scene in Lumis was booming. It was most likely considered by the populace as a ‘well-known secret’.

‘There is no way city officials aren’t getting a cut of this. It's much too large to keep fully hidden. It only needs to be kept out of sight, so whispers are the only thing that need to be taken care of.’

Whether the pavilions were underground or not was up in the air to John’s senses. It mattered little to him though. He knew to keep his mouth shut in this place.

He understood one of the basic parts to these types of operations was secrecy and discretion to some degree. The types of individuals that frequented beds of illegal activity tended to be jumpy around things that seemed threatening in the slightest.

John’s bumpkin like demeanor in a new society would immediately ring alarm bells in the heads of their fellow market patrons. He decided it would be favorable to him to keep his mouth shut until he could get a better sense of the crime community.

Some may assume that being a criminal in one place meant you fit in with all other criminals no matter the location. John was well aware that it could be far more nuanced than that. Coupled with his fumbling manner of dealing with situations thus far, he held no confidence in faking his way through things. It would be better to let the stone-faced Recia deal with things. Her demeanor was suitable for the hardened head of a crime family, definitely not in line with her role as servant to Nifriden.

Recia was an enigma to the logic of John. She was cold, she calculated, and she didn’t act with all that much deference to anyone besides her Elven master. He couldn’t help but wonder why.

“I’ll take all of your jurud’s ear.”

John’s contemplation was interrupted by Recia’s order. He would be better off not getting distracted in a place like this.

The rest of their shopping went smoothly. Whenever there was an ingredient for sale, Recia would buy all of it no matter the price. By the end of their reagent buying spree, John was laden with baskets of materials, his old earth physique would have probably crumbled under the weight. Recia herself carried a few of the lighter items too.

In total, she had spent upwards of fifteen platinum. No small sum seeing as it was a twentieth of John’s total wealth.

“How does Nifriden afford to spend fifteen platinum a week?”

“Master is extremely wealthy, and many of his creations sell for more than thirty platinum.”

“Creations? What does he make?”

“Master is a very talented alchemist. His potions and flasks are prized across Tyrshal and further.”

The two had finished their business in the reagents pavilion and were making their way to the exit.

“What do potions and flasks do?”

Recia, becoming accustomed to his lack of common knowledge, responded in her standard tone.

“Potions are distillations and mixes of various ingredients that combine to have magical effects. Many monsters and plants have inherent magic, so parts of them are used in the process. Master specializes in selling resistance potions for elemental types of damage.”

“And flasks?”

“Flasks are larger and brewed specifically to last longer than normal potions that usually fit into vials. Most flasks are small jugs that must be consumed in full. Their effects last days or weeks unlike the few hours a potion lasts.”

“So what types of effects do they give? They sound pretty neat.”

“Generally, most potions are meant to heal or restore stamina and mana. Others improve some function of the body. A cat’s-eye potion improves night vision and general eyesight.

“Always be careful with potions though… alchemical poisons also exist.”

John took her pause as an emphasis on the seriousness of the topic. He treated it as such.

“That’s really incredible. And really terrifying. I could get stabbed in the gut, drink a potion, and heal right up?”

“Depending on the ability of the alchemist and ingredients used, probably. Master can tell you much more, he would be pleased to have someone around that is interested.”

“I think I will.”

The doors to the central chamber opened and the guards leered in the imposing way a bouncer would.

‘Minus points for unprofessional muscle. Good help can be hard to come by 17 million years in the future too it seems. That front desk attendant was good though.’

Recia led John to the next door, where after the pass being checked, the Human and Wolfkin were let inside.

There was no smell of herbs and monster parts in this pavilion. The air here only held the musty scent of an antique shop.

Indeed, this place looked like an open-air antique market, despite being indoors. Stalls of all shapes and sizes stretched forward in neat rows. Sellers called out to passing market patrons.

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

In comparison to the reagent one, the curio pavilion was only lightly populated. The types of shoppers were a bit more varied though. Nearly every one of them looked like they had an interesting story.

This time, Recia went from stall to stall a bit more aimlessly. There was no goal nor objective to be pursued. Just a casual look over the stalls. There was no reason to make a hasty purchase.

It was probably five or so stalls into her search that she even took a second glance at an item.

It was a pitcher, average looking enough, but not to John’s gaze. In his vision, John could see some runes mingled in with its structure. Its seller was far more interested in possible customers.

“Hello most valued customers, I see you are interested in this piece of mine!”

The man who had introduced himself was a race John had never seen before.

‘Identify’

Meliurg

Draconian

Level:

2

The bronze-skinned Draconian only looked vaguely reptilian. Scales peeked out from his exposed neck and around his chin, but aside from that, the most identifying feature was the horns on his forehead. They were perhaps the width of two thumbs with a length of one thumb.

John wasn’t too shocked.

‘Weird, but I’ve seen better. That dude in hell, now he was intimidating.’

“Yes, what can you tell me about it. I sense that it is somewhat enchanted.”

“Of course, of course. A patron as discerning as yourself would know that at once! It is one of the nicer pieces I’ve come across in the last month. It was found in the dungeon towards the south of the kingdom, Phorieses I believe it’s called.

“Anyway, its finder discovered that it was actually capable of holding double its volume! Surely it would be a perfect feature at the parties of those as refined as yourself!”

‘Geez, dude! Laying it on a little thick, are we?’

Recia was unmoved by his flattery. John had been pleased that she treated everyone with the same indifference and borderline rudeness. It let him recover some of his lost ego.

“I will offer no more than nine gold pieces for it, no negotiations.”

The merchant went to protest before Recia raises her hand.

“No. Negotiations.”

She gave him her steely glare, and the merchant crumbled underneath it.

“Y-yes of course mistress. A magnanimous offer from you. nine gold it is…”

With a nod, she exchanged the gold for the pitcher. John only stared at her.

“Yes, Mr. Cribb? Is there an issue?”

“You’re a frigid bitch.”

She nodded sharply.

“I have been told so before. You lend credence to their claims.”

“You don’t even react to it! Who the hell are you? You sure as hell don’t act or look like a servant!”

The Draconian owner of the stall looked back and forth between them. He didn’t want to get involved, but this was the most interesting thing to happen all day. In his own thoughts, he wished for a snack. Specifically, dried yelaid chips, they were a favorite among his people.

“I have told you before, but your intelligence rank seems to be overestimated. I am Recia, the servant of master Thalith. I have been employed by him for the past four years. I am an orphan raised by my aunt. I have three cousins. I have no complaints with my job. Does any of that information sound familiar to you, Mr. Cribb?”

“You told me that before, but I think you’re full of shit!”

John’s annoyance had boiled over. He had his suspicions until now, but the reiteration of her past was the clincher.

Cons develop their sense of deceit by intuition and feel. John wasn’t any different, but he’d had some real training in the technical aspect of things as his foundation. It wasn’t perfect, but his extended time around Recia had allowed him to identify enough cues to tell nearly for certain she was being dishonest. It really came down to micro-expressions, the ones that can’t be controlled, and how a story is repeated. One can never be one-hundred percent certain, but John was at least ninety.

“Look, I know you’re lying about something. The mechanical façade you put up, the stiff telling of you’re past, and the smallest of reaction you can’t prevent! Never lie to someone trained to spot a liar.”

John’s accusation culminated in what he wanted, the person behind the rigid armor showed herself.

Recia’s eyes flared, nose inhaled, and mouth opened ever so slightly. She whispered her next words.

“We’ll talk when we are back in the house John. I have my reasons.”

***

After finishing her business in the Shaded Glen company’s market, the return trip to the house was made at a quicker pace than they used to get there, even as laden with purchased items as they were. Neither wanted to break the silence.

‘She has done a freaking 180! If we were on earth, she would have made a killer actress!’

The thoughts of John were solely focused on the conundrum that was Recia. He couldn’t fathom why she would use such a lie to hide the truth. From a certain standpoint, he saw merits to her approach though. Lies are primarily discovered via mistakes in conversation. The more one speaks, the higher the odds are that the ruse will be discovered. By coming off as hard to talk to, Recia could avoid most conversations.

The downside to her strategy was the rigor it offered to the liar. Keeping one’s emotions under control can be terribly exhausting. Often to the point of breaking while in the role.

Now, of course, John just wanted to know what was worth running such an elaborate act. Why would the beautiful wolf-eared servant of a rich and influential Elf have anything to hide?

‘Ok, that question is a little stupid, even for my wisdom rank.’

He could only wait to return to the house. The streets stretched and folded, weaving in ways a city has no right to. It was quite an organic design for an artificial environment.

The familiar house greeted his vision again from a distance. A more apt description is that it offended his vision judging from the grimace he had as he looked upon it.

The Human and Wolfkin quickened their already fast walk into something just before a jog. They closed the distance soon after that.

Reaching the house, Recia instructed him on where to place their bought materials before they did anything else. The woman’s tone was not the same one he had heard before. This time she spoke normally.

“The basement is the third door on the left. Quietly place the materials on the table at the base of the stairs and stay down there. I’d suggest not disrupting the master unless you want to see what happens when he makes a real mistake.

I’ll be down just a little bit after you. Master will need to be present to tell you my story.”

John only nodded.

He did as he was told with their reagents and loitered around the table, careful not to disturb the focused Elf over what appeared to be his alchemy tools.

Nifriden wasn’t really doing anything physically, but his face was held in a tense position and his eyes were firmly shut. If one were to be capable of sensing mana, then the flow of the energy would be clearly sensed as going into the cauldron full of bubbling liquid. If one was further gifted like John, then they would be able to see specific runes go from the Elf’s body to the liquid. They were rather complex statements of runes.

John couldn’t understand what their meaning was, but he could see them fit seamlessly with the already complex ‘soup’ of magical script. It was much easier to see runes when higher amounts of mana coursed by or through them. It ‘lit’ them up in John’s mind.

He’d noticed dormant looking runes within the materials he and Recia bought. They were there, but it was like they were severely faded text. A challenge to make out for his senses.

Another odd thing he noted was the absence of the ‘execution blocks’ that would go on each end of the statements within the cauldron. It looked like as long as Nifriden was manipulating magic in the liquid, the blocks didn’t need to be added yet. Like John writing runes in hell, they seemed to know that the statement was still being made in that time and didn’t unravel.

He was so engrossed in his study of the Elf that he didn’t even notice Recia descend the stairs behind him.

“We’ll wait for him to finish; this is a critical step in the process. It’ll stabilize when he finishes and won’t distract him from the conversation we need to have.”

At the moment she whispered that the Elf cut his mana off from the liquid. Without any other actions, a pair of execution blocks appeared on the ends of the now stable rune script.

‘So they don’t even need to worry about that sort of thing. Seems like the mana just does it for them. Odd…’

The Elf picked his head up.

“So, you found out Recia. You are more perceptive than most John. I guess I have my own secret to share with you then. Fitting since I already know yours."

John froze momentarily.

‘Figures, everyone seems to have some ‘big secret’ when I show up! Maybe Vulgad was right when he said destiny had plans for me. I certainly don’t have a better way to explain the crap I end up in!’

“Oh hell no! I need a drink if I’m going to hear another world-shaking secret this week!”

Nifriden swallowed the words he was going to say next. John’s exclamation took the wind out of his sails.

“I hate to disappoint you then, but it looks like we’re going to need to get you that drink, John. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure it’s a strong one.”

‘Damnit, it had better be…’

*Sigh*