Hunter's gaze was a hard, icy glare as he approached the guards at the boundary wall gates. One square jawed guard looked at him with a thin-lipped sneer. As Hunter presented Helio's permission token, the guard let loose a torrent of words.

"If you ask me, and folks usually don’t," the guard paused, his voice turning more gruff as he sneered, "that priest thinks he's above the law, sending young pups like you beyond the wall for some spiritual nonsense. What makes you so special? You think you won't end up as tower fodder?"

His comrade joined in, a wicked grin spreading across his face. "Yeah, and who's to say you ain't demon-touched? You've got that shifty look about ya."

Hunter knew their game. It all boiled down to greasing palms. He pulled out a corked bottle, its contents dark and mysterious. He tossed it their way. "This will set a fire in your belly, but don't you dare swig it on duty."

The guards exchanged a knowing look and cackled. The first guard grabbed the bottle and squinted at the label, passing it to his companion. "Here, you read it, I forgot my spectacles."

His companion grabbed it, eyes bulging as he read the label. He took a wary sniff of the cork. "You know brewing mourn berries is illegal here, right? How do we know this shite won't drop us dead?"

The first guard's jaw dropped. "That's Serpent’s Kiss Absinthe from Elysium Isle Distillery! They only leave a little poison behind to give it a nice kick. Rarer than hen's teeth, that is. Always wanted a taste, you know, just for the experience."

The second guard’s bushy brows snapped together.

Hunter shrugged. "Don’t look so worried. It wasn’t brewed here in Delphare. I'm older than I look, thanks to the gods' favor. Picked it up on my travels to the Isle of Spirits."

No chance in the underworld would he ever admit he’d brewed it himself on Death Island.

"If you’re too afraid to try it, I’ll drink some to show you it’s safe when taken in small doses. But I’ve heard it’s much more fun when drunk in good company."

Hunter sampled the bottle to allay their fears.

They whispered amongst themselves before the first guard flashed a savage grin and made the bottle of Serpent’s Kiss Absinthe disappear into his ring. "Off you go, run back to Helios like a good little boy."

They didn’t need to tell Hunter twice. He bowed and left them to their scheming.

The streets were bustling, though not as chaotic as during festival times. Many folk had retreated indoors to escape the scorching midday sun. Hunter kept his head low, avoiding any unwanted attention. Those guards could be in Vassilus' pocket for all he knew. Luckily, they were more interested in their bribes than keeping an eye out for him.

He was pushing his luck further and further each time.

Soon enough, he found himself outside a well-known merchant's store, associated with the carpenter's guild. Inside, a man wearing a frayed, brown robe was deep in conversation with another. His calloused hand rested on a broken wooden wheel.

The owner nodded at Hunter. "Be with you in a jiffy."

Hunter flashed a friendly grin and assured him there was no rush.

The two men resumed their conversation, speaking with greater urgency this time. "Leave it with me, Stavros. I'll shave off five silver from the price if you deliver a wooden chest to a rich noble in Pyronia Province as a favor to me."

Stavros relaxed. "You got yourself a deal. Can you have it fixed by morning? I've got a delivery due in Pyronia in less than a week and delays cost me."

The carpenter glanced over his shoulder at his backlog of work. He rubbed his thick neck and offered a sympathetic smile. "For you Stavros, you sly dog, I'll make it happen. But don't spread the word or everyone and their mother will think their shit don’t smell and expect the same special treatment."

Stavros shook the carpenter's hand gratefully. "Your secret's safe with me. Good fortunes to you and yours." His threadbare robes hung loosely on his thin frame as he turned away. Looking at Hunter with a grin plastered across his face, he tipped his head.

Hunter returned the gesture.

Taking a deep breath, Hunter stepped up to the counter, hoping this carpenter hadn't exhausted his quota of good deeds for the day.

The carpenter's rough hands gripped the counter as he leaned in. He wiped sweat off his brow with a cloth from his apron pocket. "Flaming fetlocks, it's hotter than a demon’s inflamed crotch today. What can I do you for, lad?"

"It sure is," Hunter replied, his tone turning polite. "I wouldn't be out in it if I didn't have work to do. I was wondering if you might have any discarded wooden odds and ends you're eager to part with."

The carpenter's face hardened. "We don't waste shit here, lad. 'Waste not, want not,' that's the rule. You're new to these parts; timber’s scarce unless you're part of those fat-cat monopolies that have taken the feckin’ forests by the balls."

Hunter leaned casually on the counter. "Tell me about it. Those greedy toe-rags hoard resources like it's their last meal. Same damn story where I come from. But an old friend working on Death Island told me you send scraps their way, helping the infected live in better furnished hovels while that cockroach Dimus hogs all the city's cash to live large."

The carpenter straightened up, casting a towering shadow. His eyes narrowed, scrutinizing Hunter. "You look a little wet behind the ears to have ‘old friends’. Who's this bloke claiming to know me on Death Island?"

Hunter lowered his voice, leaning in. "Nicander…" He let the name hang there.

The carpenter's mouth tightened, his gaze softening.

He gestured to the mountain of work behind him. "This is just the tip of the iceberg, lad. Lady Serafina, she keeps me busy. The amount of bathhouse massage tables she goes through is fucking ridiculous. No matter how solid I make them, her staff and clients keep breaking 'em. She's also ordered a new serving counter, but she doesn't like the grain. Was gonna turn it into a handsome bookcase, a real shame considering Ironwood trees are tough as nails. But if you can put it to better use, it's yours."

Hunter wrung his hands together, a grin spreading across his face. "I'd be happy to take it off your hands. You can rest easy knowing it'll find a good home with me. I'm hard on my gear, and near-indestructible wood is just what I need for my tinkerer's table."

The carpenter clapped his hands. "That's what I like to hear, lad. A hell of a lot better than it ending up as some piece of crap."

Leaving the store in high spirits with the Ironwood slab, Hunter moved along the street. Staying under the shade of the awnings, he made his way to his next stop.

The last time he'd been there had been with his father. Orcus, the alchemist who took over from his sick father, had a reputation for being a prick. Hunter didn't remember much about his last visit. As a child, he'd been too distracted by all the potions and vibrant elixirs displayed in glass cabinets.

Stepping into the store, Hunter was struck by how little it had changed. The atmosphere was a curious blend of nostalgia and mystique, with walls dark and foreboding, shelves crammed with colorful elixirs of every shape and size, and the smell of some exotic incense stung his nostrils.

A small brass bell sat on the counter; he gave it a gentle ring.

Movement rustled behind the red velvet curtain near the serving counter. Above the curtain, a shrunken head banner dangled, serving as a peculiar warning. The man who emerged seemed vaguely familiar, with strands of gray amidst his dark hair and eyes the color of coal.

He placed his pale hands on the counter and intoned in a cold voice, "State your business, young sir."

Hunter maintained a respectful distance, feeling like the man's sharp gaze could cut him in two if he moved closer. "Master Orcus, I'm interested in purchasing your most reasonably priced healing elixirs."

Orcus released a bored sigh. "Healing elixirs. How mundane. It's a wonder I haven't died of boredom today. Everything here is reasonably priced. You get what you pay for." In a flash, he had a bottle on the counter. The glass was crystal clear, reflecting the light in a haunting dance. The label, adorned with intricate golden vines, bore the name Sylvan Bloom Revival. "Ten silver each, please. How many bottles do you need?"

Hunter's heart hammered in his chest, his eyes wide as saucers. He'd known finished products would cost a pretty penny and healing pills packed more punch, but he'd been banking on the elixirs being easier on his empty coin pouch.

His own concoctions weren’t good for anything more than a scratch or a bruise. He wasn't some alchemist who could whip up a potent healing potion good enough to drag his ass back from death's door in the Refiner Gate battles.

And then there was the minor detail of him being flat broke. His pockets were as empty as a Magistratus’ promise. But he had a trick up his sleeve. It might not be enough to coax elixirs from the alchemist's tight fist, though. His hesitation earned him a look from the alchemist that could curdle milk.

"Excellence comes at a price. If you're not serious about making a purchase, please don't waste my time. Go buy Onyx the Snake Oil Salesman's watered-down potions. He'll sell to any fool that gives him the time of day."

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Hunter put on a confident smirk. "I'm a prosperous adventurer, just between jobs right now. All my coins are in a Pyronia Province Adventurer’s Treasury. Can't be too careful, given my line of work. I usually set up a running tab." He flashed Helio's permission token like it was the emperor’s decree and waggled his eyebrows.

The alchemist raised his chin and snorted. "That might work in some gutter towns. I hold myself to a higher standard. There are certain conditions that need to be met, including approval by the Pinnacle Alliance before I'd consider opening a tab for the likes of you. Good day, sir!"

Hunter opened his mouth to reply, but Orcus had already vanished through the red curtain.

"Looks like someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed, permanently," Hunter said to himself, shaking his head.

He shot a final glance at the shrunken heads, their empty eyes seeming to judge him. Things sure as hell changed since he'd last been here with his father.

Undeterred, Hunter strode out of the store, his resolve unbroken. He was going to get his hands on those elixirs before he stepped foot in that Refiner Gate again.

But first, one more errand...

***

Hunter bottled his disappointment and moved on to the next location, the blacksmith's forge. Passing the window, it appeared quiet inside. Upon entering, he was greeted by walls adorned with an impressive array of weapons and armor on display.

There was no one behind the counter, but as Hunter approached, a gray parrot swooped down from an unseen perch in the rafters and alighted on a long sword laid out on the counter.

It squawked loudly and flapped its wings, displaying an impressive wingspan that Hunter hadn't expected.

"Hey there." He bowed to the bird. "Is this your fine establishment?"

A hearty belly laugh echoed from somewhere in the back of the forge. Out of the smoky haze, a familiar face appeared. The fierce dragon tattoos snaking down his arms made Mercos instantly recognizable. He no longer wore a blood-red eye patch, instead, Mercos bore a rugged claw scar across the flesh. Despite the mark, his eye remained sharp and keen to his blacksmithing. He hadn't aged a day since Hunter last saw him at his childhood ceremony.

Mercos strolled right up to Hunter, bypassing the counter, and the parrot flew onto his shoulder. "That's the way to make friends and influence people. Some folks think talking to animals is as crazy as roasting figs in a hailstorm." The bird tugged at a loose strand of Mercos’ hair. "Monty here's a real piece of work. He'd peck your eyes out as soon as look at you if he felt ignored. Good thing you gave him some attention before I showed up." Mercos grinned, tilting his head toward his parrot.

Hunter shrugged. "I've been around all sorts of beasts. They're more honest and caring than most people I know, so I don't think twice about treating them like equals."

A big smile spread across Mercos’ soot-stained face. He glanced at his blackened hands and shook his head. "Forgive my manners, I'm Mercos. Best to skip the handshake for now.” He paused for a moment, his eyes narrowing. “Have we met before?”

Hunter shook his head. For now, the less Mercos knew about his real identity the better.

"I don’t think so. I’m Jakob, and I have a weapon in need of repair. Might be a bit challenging given it's not in the best condition to begin with. I’ve been living in Pyronia chasing bounties set by the Roaming Cultivator’s Guild, so it’s been a long time since I've been back in Delphare. I've been told this is the best forge in the city, and you know how to look after your customers."

Mercos raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Really? Whoever recommended me must not live in the city. You trying to butter me up?"

"No, not at all!" Hunter pulled out the shattered remains of his rusty dagger and placed it on the counter. "It might be an old recommendation, but it's from someone I trust with my life."

Mercos' other eyebrow shot up. "You're not telling me this piece of junk is your only weapon?"

"Of course not." Hunter laughed nervously. "I also have this mithril knife."

Mercos frowned. "It's ogre-grade. Be careful about showing that weapon to any other blacksmiths or merchants in Delphare. They’re banned here. It could get you a night in jail."

Hunter ignored Mercos’ expectant look. "Thanks for the friendly warning." He quickly stowed the knife without offering more information about how he had acquired it.

Mercos moved towards the counter, examining the rusty dagger pieces Hunter had deposited there. He rubbed his jaw, lines forming on his forehead. "Why do you want to fix this shambles of a rust-bitten dagger? Wouldn't it be better to upgrade that mithril knife?"

Hunter tapped the well-worn hilt of the dagger. "It's been with me a long time. We've been through a lot together, and it's gotten me out of many nasty scrapes."

Mercos scowled. "Nothing involving innocent folk, I hope. I've no time for thieves, you know."

Hunter quickly shook his head. "I'm no thief. I borrowed some items from some shady rich folks to help those less fortunate than me, and it got me into trouble more times than I'd like to admit. Plus, I grew up in a place where you have to fend for yourself to survive, so..."

Mercos nodded, a grim understanding in his eyes. "Just remember, kid, a good liar needs a good memory." He picked up a steel tray from under the counter and began to carefully place the dagger shards onto it. "I don't think you're giving me the whole story, but I can tell this piece of junk means something to you. And since Monty hasn't tried to peck your eyes out, I guess you're not all bad. Since it’s a basic weapon with no enchantments, there’ll be no cost, I’ll fix it for free. It'll be ready in three hours."

Hunter took a healthy step back, eyeing the bird with newfound respect mixed with an overabundance of caution. "That's a relief to know, and I appreciate the favor and the quick turnaround time. If I can return the favor, let me know." He nodded toward the bird. "I bet you're glad you have Monty around."

Mercos barked out a laugh, rough as gravel. "You'd think so. He’s a great judge of character. But that feathery bastard doesn't give two shits about me. We humans love to see ourselves in all kinds of critters, but they'll remind you they're wild and untamed when they take a chunk outta your ass."

Hunter blinked, at a loss for words. He fished some seeds from his ring, and the parrot snapped them up, its beak clicking greedily.

Mercos carried on, clearly relishing having an ear to bend. "Bit my ass, he did. Just the other day, I bent over to pick up some loose coins and the bastard got me right in the cheek. Stubborn bird won't go in his cage." He pointed up to the rafters. "Does as he pleases, always has to be the center of attention. And he shits wherever he likes. I've paid a local kid to clean up his messes."

"Seems like a handful, but at least your goods are safe."

"Yeah, if only I could sell the damn things! Business is slow since I ticked off Xuthos."

"That's rough." Hunter nodded, crossing his arms. "He’s more crooked than a three-legged dog. Bet his past will come back to bite him in the ass soon enough." Without uttering another word he flashed Helio's permission token. Recognition flickered in Mercos' eyes and an unspoken understanding passed between them.

"If the gods are just, that should be the case. Hope that day comes before my beard turns gray."

Hunter studied Mercos, his face as ageless as stone, but his eyes...those were old. His aura was so well-controlled it was almost nonexistent. It took a hell of a lot of effort and skill to hide one's cultivation affinity and rank so well.

Mercos was strong, no doubt about it. But he'd made a powerful enemy in Xuthos. If Hunter could do anything to repay the man who'd saved his life as a child, he wouldn't hesitate.

For now, all he could do was thank Mercos and promise to return.

As he left the forge, Mercos called after him, "If you're looking to replace those sandals with some decent boots befitting an adventurer, I recommend Tyche’s Tannery, the next street over. He's no friend of the port manager either, and he might cobble something together if you've got some almond bark he can use for his tanning process."

Hunter gave him a martial salute. "Thank you, Mercos. I appreciate the tip. That will be my next stop." His spirits lifted. In a city like Delphare, it was good to know not everyone could be bought by Xuthos.

Following Mercos' directions, Hunter turned the corner and witnessed a curious sight. At the far end of the street, a young man was dragging a massive rooster behind him on a leash. It was Pheres, berating the poor creature as he marched in Hunter's direction.

"Look at you!” Pheres tugged the leash. “The biggest, baddest rooster in the cockfighting pit, but you acted like a little baby chicken wimp! You’re an embarrassment, not just to me but to your entire species."

The poor rooster struggled to keep up, its feathers ruffled and eyes bulging.

"If you hadn't cost me a pretty penny, I'd punt you into the sewers right now. I'm taking you back to Old Man Winters and getting my money back. If he won't take you, you'll be Sunday's roast. Then I'll pick my teeth with your bones."

The rooster let out a terrified crow, looking like it was ready to defy its male anatomy and lay an egg right there on the street.

A few pebbles scattered beneath Hunter's bare feet. He couldn't help but feel sorry for the rooster, but he paused, sensing a change in energy. A familiarity, much like he’d experienced with the rats he'd met in the alleyway. His Refiner core hummed, and a subtle sensation of the beast’s aura surged within him. He inhaled, surprised by the sudden, unexpected connection. The rooster tilted its head, beak poised to crow until its golden eye met Hunter's.

Hunter's gaze shifted from the beast to Pheres. There was no way he could let the rooster remain in that asshole's hands. If Pheres was as ruthless as he was in childhood, he wouldn't care if the rooster were mangled by a fox.

Clearing his throat, Hunter stepped out of the shadowed alleyway and reached a hand toward the rooster. "I thought you were leaving for the Stallion Martial Academy?"

In a sharp turn of his head, Pheres' jaw jutted out in disgust. "Keep your hands off my cock!"

The rooster leapt, and Hunter grabbed its body, but its neck and head lunged away from him as Pheres yanked its leash. Feathers flew and the rooster crowed, but Hunter held firm, pulling the beast back.

A solid punch to his cheekbone made Hunter stumble back, and the leash snapped, freeing the beast from his grasp. In a flurry of crows, the rooster dashed away, eluding Pheres' final lunging attempts.

Hunter smiled as the rooster scrambled free and headed across another alleyway toward a green space. "You’re better off without that cocksucker." Hunter chuckled. He knew better than to provoke Pheres, who had likely reached at least the Founder stage, making him physically stronger, but Hunter knew he could rely on his speed if necessary.

Groaning, Pheres turned, his eyes narrowed on Hunter, fists clenched. "You can wipe that smirk off your face, Vassilus is looking for you. It's best if you stay out of town, or you won't see daylight again."

Hunter raised a brow. "Are you threatening me, or will you sic your city guards on me again?"

Pheres threw another punch, his body lunging like a hammer to an anvil.

Hunter dodged left and turned down the alleyway. "Hope you’re as fast as your rooster!" He smiled as Pheres cursed, sprinting after him, but the distancing of boots slapping the cobblestone meant he was falling further behind.

With his recent familiarity of the network of alleyways gained during the brawl with the gang earlier, and his knack for staying low in the city, losing sight of Pheres would be easy. Even if Pheres or Vassilus were trying to track him down, he had no intention of leaving town without his sister.

Hunter sprinted into an intersection of the alleyways and turned, emerging on the street-side. A weather-beaten wooden facade, polished by sea salt and time, greeted him. Chains rattled above, and he looked up to see a sign depicting a mermaid ensnared in seaweed swaying in the breeze.

"The Tangled Mermaid." His stomach growled at the sudden scent of brine mingled with the aroma of roasted meats and coastal spices.

He glanced over his shoulder down the alleyway before returning his gaze to the tavern. There’d be no time to backtrack the other direction.

If Dimus could enter and survive the tavern, then he, a lone adventurer, should be fine. Besides, he needed a place to stay low, figuring Pheres might call for more city guards to search the area.

The cool metal handle pressed against his sweaty palm. Hunter grasped tight and heaved the wooden door open. Its base scraped against the uneven stone entry, making the tavern seem even more neglected, but the scents invited him further. As his vision adjusted to the dim light, his eyes widened in wonder.

It was not at all what he had expected.