I didn’t have to walk long to reach the square.

The little garden path soon opened up to a wide, shady clearing. The right side was fenced in by dark, towering pines, the left was constrained by the glimmering lake, and while I couldn’t quite see the far end, I could just barely make out the tops of some shorter, bushier trees.

The buildings were made of mostly rough, unpainted and unsanded wooden boards, or even logs. Stone structures appeared here and there — chimneys, walls, foundations and the like — but they were invariably uncut, slotted together like a three dimensional jigsaw puzzle, without a brick in sight.

It was rustic.

As I continued forward, the crunchiness of the small gravel of the path transitioned to the smooth firmness of cobblestone.

Let’s see… a bakery cafe, a sporting goods rental, a tiny fish market — yes, this was definitely a small woodland tourist town.

Cozy, friendly, and undoubtedly overpriced.

Fortunately, I was entirely unconcerned by the expenses my little vacation would surely incur. Heroism was far from thankless work. Hell, even rescuing cats was devilishly lucrative, at least when grotesquely wealthy old ladies were involved.

I had made fifteen thousand credits off a single feline exactly a week prior, and the most difficult part of the whole ordeal had been kidnapping the damn animal in the first place.

As I continued towards the center of town — or at least the metaphorical center, as there was a strong sensation of building up to whatever was at the very far end — I noticed exactly one element which was sorely out of place.

Namely, the slick young gentleman in a pale yellow pinstripe suit smoking a cigarette next to a large wooden case reading Maurice’s Miraculous Elixirs in an elegant, flowing script.

I shook my head in disgust as I passed. Amateur. His act might sell half decently in other small towns, and I suppose he had a few successes and thought he could sell here too. Well I could do him a favor right now and assure him that he could sell all he wanted, no one here was buying.

They had their own act to sell, and he was making them look bad.

To my surprise, at one point I passed a bizarrely expansive public library. While these days town libraries were more common than not, it was hard not to note the scale of this particular one — especially relative to the small size of the rest of the town.

I would be sure to check it out at some point. Not only was reading fun, it was good inspiration and good research. And not just nonfiction — fantasy stories especially came in pretty handy for my… line of work.

Romance too, on occasion.

Finally, the main street — really the only street — opened up into a wide square space with a simple stone fountain in the center. Two large shops absolutely dominated the space — the one on the left simply reading The Emporium while the one on the right was only slightly more helpfully named The Apothecary.

Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

Curious, I made my way to the entrance to the emporium. I didn’t really have any particular plans for today, and just wandering around and casually exploring the town seemed as appealing as any.

The interior of the shop was surprisingly dark. As the door closed shut behind me, I had to actually let my eyes adjust for a moment to the soft warm light before the forms in front of me could properly resolve into a coherent image.

It was… cluttered.

Crates, pallets, standing shelves, and completely loose merchandise sprawled and clumped in no discernible pattern. I squinted. Was that an honest to god blacksmith’s anvil — next to a casino slot machine?

“Welcome!”

I nearly jumped at the greeting practically whispered into my ear. Whirling around, I came face to face with the dark haired, late-twenties to thirty-something woman whom I presumed was the shopkeeper on duty.

I mean that quite literally — we really were face to face.

“…Afternoon.”

She blinked. “Looking for something in particular?”

Seeing as she clearly had no concept of personal space, I decided to create it myself by stepping back and glancing around the room again. “Is that… is that a model naval canon?”

“Oh, that thing?” She stepped closer again. Too close. “No. It’s not a model.” She chewed her lip. “I keep trying to convince the mayor to let us fire it out over the lake, but he keeps finding new reasons to put it off.”

“I see.”

I began to pace. She can’t stay right up against me if I keep moving! I liked to think that I knew when a woman — or sometimes a man — was and wasn’t attracted to me, and I was pretty damn sure that this lady was just weird.

She didn’t feel malicious, at least.

“So uh, what all do you sell?”

She remained silent for a moment as I paced around in the darkness. Finally, she perked up. “Everything!”

“I see.” Glancing out the window, I gestured across the square at the apothecary. “So what do they sell over there, then?”

She tilted her head. “Everything else, of course.” She said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, and I was a total moron for even asking.

“…right.” On second thought, I decided I kind of liked her. “Let’s see… Do you have playing cards?”

She furrowed her brow in concentration. “Second drawer from the left of the green desk with the stuffed racoon on top, near the back under the illustrated erotic novella.”

…Right. Got it. Walking over, I pulled open the drawer, lifted up the questionable literature — after casually flipping through for the pictures — and there it was! A single, unopened box of cheap, standard issue playing cards.

“How much would these set me back?”

“Forty five cents.”

“Deal.” I had belatedly realized that I had left my old deck back on the train.

“Anything else?” She crossed her arms.

I grinned. “How much for the canon?”

“Two thousand.”

“Deal.” Reaching deep into my coat pocket, I brought out a folded wad of cash. The shopkeeper didn’t so much as blink.

What the hell was I going to do with an honest to god naval armament? I hadn’t the faintest clue, but you never knew when things like that would come in handy.

She caught the bills one handed. “You overpaid me by five hundred,” she said after a moment.

…How the fuck did she know that?

“Consider it gratuity. Oh, and don’t forget the cards.”

She blinked. “Right. Four hundred and ninety nine and fifty five cents, then.”

Tucking the cards into the same pocket that I took the cash from, I nodded to myself, looking around the room one last time. I realized I was hungry. “By the way, is there anywhere you’d recommend to get something to eat?”

She paused. “Do you want something edible, or do you want something cheap?”

“Cheap.” In all honesty, I was hankering for something deliciously terrible. Not some gourmet dining experience, no, what I wanted is something that would last one heavenly minute and leave me regretting my life choices several hours later.

She nodded approvingly. “Good choice.” Pointing past me, she indicated the store right across the square. “Apothecary then.”

After giving a nod and a double thumbs up, I was about halfway out of the door when she called out again. “I’m Tiffany by the way.”

“Tristan,” I replied. “Tristan Th— just Tristan.”

Twenty five hundred credits poorer and one pack of cards and one canon richer, I made my way over to the other side of the square.

I didn’t regret the expense. What was the point of all the bullshit I put myself through if I didn’t get to have a little fun?