Abe shook his head as he walked toward the rolling hills dotted by paddocks, with a small town nestled between farmsteads in the distance.

It was time he tested his disguise, but the swell in his stomach told him that it was a very bad idea.

“Calm down,” he muttered to himself. “It’s all going to be okay. I’ve been practicing my dreamer energy circulation for weeks now.”

He knew that wasn’t the issue, though. This place didn’t exactly look like some kind of sprawling metropolis. What were the chances they would be suspicious of a stranger just wandering into town? Ultimately, he preferred testing his exposure to these mushroom-people in a small village than the central town-city where the giant tree was. After all, the energy signals here were far weaker, and if he needed to escape, his chances of doing so successfully would be higher.

Soon, he spotted mushrooms sitting on rocking chairs at their porches—grass strands bobbing in their mouths. He awkwardly waved, and they waved back. None seemed too bothered by his presence, but he was pretty sure he saw suspicion in their eyes.

A voice entered his head as he reached the outskirts of town, almost startling him off his feet, and Abe was quickly reminded of his encounter with Mor’kel.

Hi there, stranger.

Hello, Abe replied. He had been practicing his disguise this entire time but not talking through telepathic waves, and he wasn’t completely sure what he was supposed to do.

Heading into Trip?

Abe glanced across to the village momentarily and then back to the sporeling at the side of the road. I am, yes.

Not often do we get visitors. You from Big Root?

No, Abe straightened. He wasn't sure what Big Root was, but he knew better than to try and pass himself off as a resident of a town or city he had never heard of. I'm from Lantern, actually. Came in on an Astral Ship.

Really? I never met anybody from outside the domain. Boy, oh boy, what an exciting day. Come, let me show you into town.

Abe nodded, but this was the opposite of what he had wanted. He just wanted to be left alone, figuring the more contact he had with these creatures, the more likely they would figure out who and what he was.

The mushroom skipped into town as she showed him through the narrow alleys of thatch roof hobbles and cobbled roads. Bright-faced shrooms waved and occasionally entered his mind to say hello, and the roads were lined with stalls selling pumpkins and squash.

Come, come, the shroom urged him on. You’ve got to meet Mayor Higgins.

They came to the biggest house in town, although it was still rather meek, no bigger than your average two-bedroom home.

The sporeling didn’t need to knock; he simply stood by the door and extended a hand, and within a short moment, another mushroom appeared.

The mayor was thicker than the others, crinkles lining his fibrous skin that resembled wrinkles.

What’s this?

Mayor Higgins, we have a visitor from Lantern. I thought you would want to know.

Abe’s expression twisted as his gaze swung between the two of them. Were they really having a conversation among multiple participants in their minds?

Really? In our little town? The Mayor said. What a joyous occasion, and just in time for Pumpkintam.

What’s Pumpkintam, Abe grimaced.

Why, it’s Trip’s greatest festival.

Abe internally groaned. He just wanted to get out of here, and now these annoying mushrooms were inviting him to a freaking festival?

But before he could beg his leave, dozens had gathered around, and even half-sized mushrooms he presumed to be children ran by, one of them handing him a pumpkin.

Oh, you’re going to love it. Everyone loves Pumpkintam; the mayor clasped his hands.

Abe did his best to keep his groans to himself as day turned to night and the streets filled with festivities. And he reluctantly enjoyed a pumpkin pie that was handed to him—but he couldn’t deny it was one of the better things he had tasted.

Wait, can I even eat normal food? Abe had eaten plenty of brains and blood since becoming a ghoul, but this was the first normal food he remembered eating or even wanting to eat. Still, he might have been able to enjoy the taste, but he felt no hunger for normal food.

The festival continued for a frustratingly long time, but soon, the sporelings were heading home, and Abe quietly escaped. And even though he hadn’t wanted to get dragged into the peculiar event, he was grateful for the opportunity to test his new skin, and it seemed these mushroom people were pretty trusting. However, he knew that these creatures also possessed some form of soldiers. He had seen them marching and reminded himself that they might not be so easy to fool.

The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

Leaving the town, he continued down the road toward the giant tree. The mushrooms didn’t appear to be nocturnal, and he figured it was best to blend in, so he found a patch of trees beside the road to hide in for the night, fearing guards might think it suspicious if they caught him entering the town in the middle of the night.

As morning crept over the hills in the distance, Abe awoke from his meditation. Ever since seeing Viara’s quick recovery during the battle against the dwarven skeletons, he had wanted to learn how to do it himself, and it was starting to come together.

Rising to his feet, he stretched and headed down the dew-covered fields toward the center of the domain, where the giant tree looked to climb straight into the heavens.

An hour went by as he walked. He could have run there in minutes, but again, he doubted a normal sporeling as he was trying to pass himself off as he would be capable of traveling at the speeds he could.

Soon, he reached the outskirts, huddled homes, and the last few farmsteads before the town's narrow, tightly packed streets took over from nature.

While it was no true city, there were probably over 10,000 inhabitants here, and the homes were quite large, forcing the town to sprawl over a rather wide area.

Most of the sporelings he spotted as he entered were busy, rolling barrels and carting goods. Just like ordinary people, Mushroom-people seemed to be hard at work in the early hours of the day, and none even bothered to stop and look at him. Then again, this seemed to be somewhat of a capital for this domain, so perhaps visitors coming into town wasn’t so unusual here.

It wasn’t long before he spotted a couple of mushroom guards holding spears at their sides, but even they didn’t bother him with anything more than a cursory glance.

Okay, maybe I was worried about nothing.

Still, entering the town was only step one. He still needed to figure out how he would get into the tree and, from there, how he would find a ship to leave this place without getting himself killed.

The buildings here were different, with rounded windows and doors, and even the shapes of the buildings themselves were mostly round. Every other street contained a water feature that would put great cities to shame and giant, and in some streets, damp logs sat where houses had in others, and he could see the mushroom caps pressed together, sheltering in the damp recesses of the giant logs.

“Make sense,” he mumbled to himself, glancing at the mushrooms beneath the logs as he passed.

What else should I have expected from a sentient mushroom domain? What else does the Vale have? P&O would have a field day if they discovered this place. I can just imagine the adverts.

He had planned on walking straight up to the giant tree and searching for a way up to the ships, but slowed now. As long as his disguise held up, it wouldn’t hurt to have a peek around at this strange place.

Hello there, a mushroom shopkeeper waved as they leaned against a building to his right. Not looking for anything, are you?

Umm, maybe?

One for words, I see. Outsider, are ye?

Abe nodded, From Lantern.

Really, well, you ought to check out the living armor in this shop over ‘er. The mushroom tilted its head to a building at its right with a sign plastered across its front as it eyed the sword and pistol holstered to Abe’s side. You’re the adventuring type, I take it?

I am, Abe nodded. He saw no point in hiding it. Dreamers explored and exploited the Vale just as the living dead did, and denying it while carrying weapons would only look suspicious.

Hard to find good living armor outside of Treeking domains, and they’re usually far more expensive. And you aren’t going to find anything better to protect your hide when adventuring the Vale.

Abe nodded as he eyed the shop. He hadn’t come here looking to go shopping, but how could he pass up the opportunity to get better gear?

Thank you, Abe nodded and passed into the store.

A bell rang as he entered the little shop and his lines of lightly darker mushroom fibers that acted as brows rose.

Delicate-looking wood carvings shaped like plate mail armor sat across benchtops, hung from the wall, and dressed manikins.

What is all this?

Living armor, a voice entered his thoughts.

What exactly is living armor?

You are a Sporeling, aren’t you?

Sorry, I’m from out of town. Lantern, to be precise.

Oh, a traveler and an adventurer, the shopkeeper nodded enthusiastically and ran out from the counter at the far end of the shop. Not often, I get your kind. Exciting. It rubbed its hands together and picked up one of the suits.

Doesn’t look particularly hardy, Abe commented, noticing the intricate patterns carved into the armor that, at some points, made it appear as thin as paper.

Deceptive, isn’t it? It depends on this piece, but this armor is often stronger than the rarest and most valuable metal armor found within the entire Vale. This piece, in particular, is quite superb.

How?

Well, living armor consumes energy from its wearer, infusing that armor and nurturing its growth. As the wearer gets stronger, so does the armor.

Interestingly, Abe ran his hand across a nearby suit of the living armor.

Yes, it is. These pieces have been grown from acorns from the giant Treeking, which is art at the heart of this domain—one of only three ancients capable of birthing acorns of this quality. But, if you want truly valuable living armor, you’ll want to get your hands on an acorn.

An acorn?

Yes. The armor you see here has already grown with their hosts. They will never truly bond with a new owner, although that doesn’t mean they’re not powerful pieces of armor, just not comparable to growing one from an acorn.

I see, so why would I want one of these and not an acorn? Why bother selling them?

Well, they’re kind of expensive, came the sporelings voice, sounding almost nervous in his head. These pieces range from 40,000 to 200,000 ducats. In contrast, a seed will put you back at least a million.

A million ducats? You can’t be serious.

It’s well worth it, young sporeling. There’s a reason these armors are found so rarely within the Vale. Only true masters and the most powerful and wealthy dreamers ever get their hands on them. If you raise an acorn into a piece of armor, I promise you you’ll never find another piece of armor that is comparable to it.

I’ll bet. Abe grimaced at the thought of the ridiculous price. If he hadn’t been stuck in the middle of a dreamer world with no obvious way to escape, he might have entertained stealing one, but making enemies before he knew how he was getting off this world seemed like a terrible idea.

So, can I get you something?

I wish, but unfortunately, your prices are way out of my league.

What a pity, well, we’re not going anywhere. If you manage to get your hands on some wealth, you know where to find us. And might I recommend the Slayer’s Association if you haven’t already visited it? Our branch is on the smaller side, but I believe they still have some sizable contracts occasionally. It might be worthwhile checking them out if you’re low on coin.

Really, thanks, Abe forced a smile as he made his way out. He didn’t really want to go back to fighting for contracts, but at least it was an idea.

Returning to the street, he glanced around as the town came to life, and mushrooms filled the streets as the day brightened.

He had hoped to make short work of his stay here, but that might not be possible after all. And besides, if the Slayers were anything like the Reavers, he might be able to get a ride off this domain without making himself an enemy of every living creature.

Before he headed off, he glanced back at the living armor store. It had perked his interest, and he didn’t want to leave this world without getting his hands on one.