After a few hours Ander left his hiding spot. His cloak immediately got people staring and pointing, but he did his best to ignore those people as he went on his way. His first stop was the appraiser’s office. He needed to know how many contribution points he had, and that was where his items would have been turned in. It was easy to find, being in the main square along with a number of other important buildings. The room froze as he walked in, the roar of trade being replaced by furtive muttering. Ander kept his face passive, but he found it quite annoying. He couldn’t go anywhere without making a scene no matter what he wanted. He wondered if Aquilo’s Whisper could allow him to change his face. Probably. But he would have to experiment more to find out.

“Mr Nightshade?” Ander didn’t realise at first who the clerk was speaking to. But the clerk was looking directly at him.

“I think you have the wrong person.” Ander said.

“No, you are Ander Nightshade. The factionless individual who submitted that ungodly amount of materials.” The clerk said with a faint smile.

“My name is Ander, but I don’t remember having a surname.” It was ridiculous in any case. He might purchase a scythe, but there was a specific stance for it. He would procure a weapon for every one of his stances. Nightshade was way too on the nose. He would never have chosen such a useless piece of nomenclature.

“Well you will have to take that up with administration. For now, Nancer, the head appraiser has indicated he would like to have a conversation with you. I am sure he can explain anything you have questions about.” The clerk motioned him to a small seating area off to the side, and Ander sat. He looked completely out of place in his armour. It seemed that everyone else came here dressed more casually, and the chair Ander was sitting on was really quite small. He didn’t have the largest frame, but his armour made him quite bulky. He looked like an adult sitting at a child’s playset. It struck him then, that none of these people could make that connection. There were no kids in this world as far as he knew. The Exodar had made a concerted effort to wipe out the other races, and had succeeded.

Ander thought that was a shame. He would have loved to see elves and dwarves and dragons and such. But they were all extinct. For a long time now. Karsish explained it over dinner one day. The war of creation had broken the other races, and they had been hunted down over the next thousand years. But the final conclaves had been destroyed in a battle just under 2000 years ago, and that was the end of it. Apparently slaves had been kept for a long time in some cases, but they were all dead now. Some of the elven and dwarven women had been taken as wives. Exodar could breed with them, and the concept of children was reintroduced to the Exodar. However, Exodari blood always bred true, and the children inevitably grew up to be Exodar themselves. Exodari commoners, and a very few females.

Ander was brought out of his reverie when a door in the back of the room opened and a thin, gaunt man approached Ander.

“Ander Nightshade! It is good to finally meet you. Please come in, my office is right through here!” He led Ander through the door and down a hallway to where an office waited. It was well appointed and well decorated, and the other man went and perched on a chair behind the desk. “Please sit down. My name is Nancer, and I will be happy to help you today. Do you have more things you would like to turn in?”

Ander narrowed his eyes even as Nancer’s eyes widened with greed.

“No, Nancer, I do not have anything to sell at the moment. I was simply here to inquire about my Contribution point balance. Though coming here has certainly inspired other questions.”

“Ahh, a shame. Be sure to come to me if you ever find anything like that microscope again. I still find it odd that you managed to find something like that so deep into an elven ruin.” Nancer gave him a penetrating look, but Ander kept his face impassive. It did not seem to matter though. “Not in the elven ruins I see. Somewhere else then.”

Ander stood immediately causing his chair to skitter across the floor before clattering against the wall.

“Forgive me, but I believe you have the wrong person. I am a new hatchling, and simply got lucky.” Ander turned to leave the room.

“Wait! Please!” Ander turned back in Nancer’s direction. “I didn’t mean to offend, I simply wish to know if I might be able to find out where you got such a valuable item.

Such things have not been seen in these ruins before, and I want to know where to look.”

“I am sorry. The place where I found that item was completely cleared out. Afterward, there was a cave-in.” Ander turned back and grabbed the chair before sitting back down. “Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“No, I can't say it was.” Nancer sighed. “I had honestly been hoping that you would tell me that there was a huge treasure trove hidden somewhere in the pit. But I can see that you are not lying, though you aren’t telling the whole truth either.” Ander tensed again.

“My secrets are my own, merchant.”

“Please, call me Nancer. And I can respect that. We all have our secrets we wish to keep.” Nancer smiled pleasantly, as if completely unaware of how uncomfortable he was making Ander. “You said you wished to inquire about your Contribution points?”

“Yes, please.” Nancer consulted a large ledger.

“Your point balance is 72,280.”

“What?” Ander was surprised. “I didn’t expect my balance to be so high.”

“Well of course it was. You sent in quite a lot of artefacts and materials, not to mention that microscope.” Nancer fished around and pulled out a piece of paper which he handed to Ander. It turned out to be an itemised sheet of everything he had given Sir Argvald, with a price next to each item. “All in all the stuff you brought in besides the microscope came out to 42,800 points, and the microscope was 150,000 points. After paying your 119,520 point debt, you had 73,280 points remaining.”

“Then where did the final 1000 points go? You said that I only have 72,280 points.” Ander asked. He didn’t really care about a thousand points in comparison to the rest, but he had been taught to investigate any difference.

“Oh, give me a moment.” Nancer pulled over the ledger and started to flip pages. “Ahh, here. It was the fee for entering the championship.”

“What?” Ander asked dumbly.

“The championship! Do you not remember signing up? Of so little importance to the mighty nightshade that you would forget?” Nancer leaned back in his chair grinning.

“This is the first time I have heard of any championship, much less been in town to make any purchases.” Ander said, his confusion turning to anger.

“Oh my. I think I know what is going on here. You should go see Sir Argvald about this. I am sure he can explain.” Nancer said sympathetically. “Good thing is that you have a few weeks to prepare yourself.”

“Ok, umm. Could you recommend a good weaponsmith? Wait no, tell me what the deal is with this stupid name I suddenly have.” Nancer laughed.

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

“That was Sir Argvald’s doing as well. Before he gave you that name, the most popular name for you was Head Hatcher. You should thank the man.” Ander snickered when Nancer said the name.

“Head Hatcher would have been just fine. Sure, it is a bit ridiculous. But at least it doesn’t make me sound like I read Edgar Allen Poe and complain about everything.”

“Who is..”

“No one. He is no one. Just an obscure historical figure loved by those who think their lives are far more tragic than they really are.” Ander sighed. “He really should have stuck with Head Hatcher. Then at least I would make someone laugh.”

A silence fell between the two men as they each contended with the awkwardness of the situation.

“Did you still need that weaponsmith?” Nancer asked.

“Yes please.” Nancer then proceeded to recommend a shop not far away.

“You should stop by a clothier as well. You are still wearing the hatchling attire. It is good, but not the most practical for fighting in. There is one not too far from the weaponsmith.” Nancer paused. “But you really shouldn’t put off speaking to Sir Argvald as soon as you can. Today. Evening at the latest. People around here are pretty serious about the championship.”

“Thanks for the advice.” Ander replied. “I suppose I will see you later.”

“Of course! I will be here to see you personally. I am excited to see what you bring me!” And with that, Ander made a quick exit. Ander left the appraiser’s office grumbling under his breath. He didn’t know what to make of this. Nightshade wasn’t really his style, but he couldn’t argue that his inner edgelord was kinda into it. That, along with his scythe, would make him quite the character. Of course, he would have to add black clothes along with that. Maybe he could do a deep blue instead and make the ensemble go along with his legendary abilities a bit better. Dammnit, he had been starting to lean into the whole white cloak deal.

Ander made his way to the weaponsmith still muttering under his breath. When he got there, he threw open the door and stalked inside. He watched as the man behind the desk as well as the several patrons inside cringed back from him. Ander belatedly realised that in his anger, he had accidentally let his fear aura out. He immediately retracted it, and the other patrons immediately left.

“H-hello, c-can I help you s-sir?” The nervous shopkeep could barely hold his gaze.

“I need a war scythe. Can you make one?” Ander demanded.

“A w-war scythe? Th-that is an odd r-request.”

“Can you make one?”

“O-of course we can.” The man grew ever so slightly indignant at Ander’s words, and that seemed to help him get his stuttering under control. “It is an odd request, but we know how.”

“Very well. The pole should reach just above my head, and the blade should be canted upwards at a 30 degree angle.” Ander said.

“And how large should the blade be? And the curvature?” The shopkeep asked.

“Three and a half feet. And the curvature of the blade should be greater than two inches in the centre, but not more than three.”

“We have access to a hinge design that has been quite popular amongst users of polearms. It allows the blade to be turned and stored in such a way as to take up less space, and be safer while being carried. Would you like this feature?” The shopkeep stopped and waited for Ander’s response. For his part, he gave it careful consideration.

“That sounds good. How soon can it be made?” Ander asked.

“It will be about two weeks unless you pay the rush fee. Then it will only be one.”

“How much?”

“The blade will cost you 15,000 points, with another 1,000 points if you want it rushed.”

“So much?” Ander exclaimed.

“The scythe you have asked for is very expensive. The wood you need is difficult to obtain without having it shipped in. Additionally, the blade requires a lot of metal. Swords of that length are half the price when speaking of only the blade. Scythes have significantly broader blades. Then you have the hinge, which costs 5,000 points on its own. It has to be made just so to deploy correctly and to stay locked in position.” The shopkeep started to put away the notes he had made. “I wish you wouldn’t waste people’s time if you cannot pay. I could have been helping paying customers.”

Ander growled a bit at the shopkeep's attitude. Had the man forgotten his fear so quickly? Ander was tempted to pulse his fear aura, but held back.

“I can pay. I was simply surprised is all.” He then pulled out a stack of blank bank notes Nancer had given him and started to fill one out for 16,000 contribution points. “There, 15,000 for the weapon and 1,000 for the rush job.”

“Are you sure you can afford this? You still need to be able to eat when you are done.” Ander glared at the shopkeep but let it go.

“I’ll be fine.” And he left the shop. Ander went onward toward the clothier. Nancer had been right. His current clothes were in a rather horrible state, and he needed new ones. He had managed to avoid them being completely ripped apart, but fighting in the same change of clothes for a week wasn’t good for the clothes. Or him if he had to be honest. And apparently the clothier agreed.

“The baths! Now!” The man shrieked. Ander was swept along without the opportunity to reply. Apparently a bathhouse was attached to the back of the clothier’s shop, but Ander realized that it was actually shared by a number of businesses. There was a tavern, along with several other shops that seemed to be higher end. Ander was shoved into a room with a tub of hot water. He decided to go along and removed his clothing and armour and got in the tub. He found soap and various brushes laid out, and he got to work removing a week’s worth of filth. Before long, the tub’s water was brown and dirty, and an attendant came in tutting over it. He was given a robe and led to another room with another hot bath. He got inside and relaxed for what it seemed was the first time since coming to The Pit.

It couldn’t last forever though. Eventually an attendant came and dressed him in another robe, with sandals this time. He was confused when he was led back to the clothier.

“Much better!” The clothier declared. “I am sure you feel much better than before.”

“Um, yes, but where are my clothes and armour?”

“Your armour is still being cleaned. As for your clothes, I took the liberty of having them burned.” Ander gritted his teeth. He had liked those clothes, they were quite comfortable. The clothier saw his expression however, and wasn’t going to have any of it.

“If you liked your clothes you should have taken better care of them. They were all ruined.” The clothier paused for a moment. “Either way, you came here for new clothes. I can make more of the kind you were wearing as sleepwear if you would like.”

“Sleepwear?” Ander asked.

“Yes of course. Hatchling’s skin is quite delicate, and so the fabric had to be very soft. Makes it quite comfortable, but not durable for a fighting man like yourself.” Ander couldn’t fault the man’s logic, but he was still miffed that he hadn’t been consulted on the subject.

“Very well. It seems that I need a whole new wardrobe then. Did you at least keep the boots?”

“Yes, you do, and no I didn’t. They were falling apart. They weren’t made for use beyond a few days.” Ander knew that was complete bull, but it was too late now. Still he could make the man pay for taking liberties.l

“I liked those boots!” He said, feigning utter outrage as he let the smallest bit of his fear aura escape. “You had no right to destroy my property without my permission!”

The man was taken aback, obviously not expecting this. He quickly gathered himself however, and started to argue back. However Ander pulsed his fear aura, causing the clothier to fall over his words and come to a stop.

“I can’t believe this.” Ander said, still playing up his outrage. “People come to you for clothing, but then you have to steal their clothes and destroy them to get those people to actually buy anything.” His voice was loud enough for the other patrons to hear. The clothier started to look panicked as people started to leave the shop with a disgusted look on their faces.

“No, stop, please!” The clothier was at least talking to Ander and not the other people. Hey at least had some decency. “Look, I am sorry for taking liberties. How about I give you a discount on a new set to replace them?”

“A discount. You stole my clothes, and now you give a discount in return?” Ander raised his eyebrows.

“Fine, I will replace them entirely. New boots, pants, shirt, cloak, and underclothes. A whole outfit, just the same as what it was.” the clothier said.

“A single outfit?!” Ander exclaimed in disbelief. “You just deprived me of my sleeping clothes, my house clothes, and my fighting clothes. That is three outfits.” Ander hardly kept himself from laughing as the man’s mouth dropped open. He felt a little guilty playing the karen, but this was far too much fun. Eventually he got the man to provide several sets of clothes completely free