My right fist throbbed from the punch, and my wrist cramped up when I stretched my twitching fingers out, sending a dull pain up my arm.

Alator jumped up from the stair and hooted, punching the air.

“Well done, Troilos, I didn’t think you had it in you!”

“Troilos?”

“Talbot, sorry — bloody good hit! Right in the jaw, sent him packing, tail between his legs!”

He leapt up and ran over to me and grasped my shoulders, grinning. Again, his excitement was infectious, and we both broke hard and suddenly into an ugly and slightly crazy laughter. The surreality of the place, the dark shadows and hunched figures in the distance, the creepy pillars all around, dripping maybe-blood into the depths of the mountain below where ostensibly something called Kadesh subsists. . . . None of it mattered for a few short moments as in total abandon we roared merry.

“Haven’t laughed like that since I was a kid,” I said, wiping tears from my eyes.

“Then you’re leading a boring life!” Alator clapped my ribs.

He’s right — or, he was, until earlier that day.

By Jove, it’s only been one day! I feel like I’ve been here for weeks!

// SYS : Already feeling like a second home? Wouldn’t it be awful if something happened to it? Or if something . . . ate this World? //

Was I talking, thinking, to you?

// SYS : . . . //

“We’re well-fed, there’s warmth and laughter on every corner, and some other less savoury things, I’m sure — let’s get some rest.”

I nodded, still smiling dumbly. We found one of the main streets again and started ducking under thick linen curtains to find an inn or similar. The first few we went into were designed for . . . other activities.

“Look, Alator’s pretty and all, but he’s not my type,” I laughed to a red-dressed madam at the first establishment, thick dark red lipstick smeared over her lips and many too many sparkles in her eyes. Alator wasn’t similarly amused.

“Let’s move on,” he said, levelly.

Eventually we found lodgings — a sort of shared space with wooden bunks and lumpy mattresses. I tossed a copper coin to the doorman and fell heavily onto one of the beds, and Alator found another. Sleep came on quickly and comfortably, and I enjoyed a fine, dreamless rest.

A number of hours later, Alator shook me awake.

“Another few minutes, dad,” I murmured half-asleep, then woke bolt upright. “Uh, sorry, let’s get going.”

I asked after a place to sell my loot and found a few stalls, while Alator wandered the city. Without any clue of how much things are worth, I played three merchants against each other and ended up getting twenty-two copper coins for the Obsidian Dagger, which seemed to me too brittle to be used for combat, but no one was interested in the Ignis Fatuus, the little enchanting white orb that I’d taken from the skeleton’s skull.

“Come on, look how cool it is!” I urged each time, but even such convincing and powerful phrases as this didn’t help. Each merchant just shirked glances and shook their head.

Then, defeated, I put it back into my pouch and walked to find Alator again. Ur-Kadesh during the day had dwindled again to that surly and lifeless shrug of a cavernous hole, the dull sickly yellow glow suffused the dusty, heavy air and the only sound bar unsettling murmurs were the clanging of blacksmiths' hammers. Halfway down one of the main streets, a hand shot out of the darkness and caught my arm.

“Looking to sell that Ignis Fatuus?”

The voice was cracking and bleak, muffled behind heavy cloth. I chose to step forwards towards it, pushing the curtain aside. A figure stood there, more creature than woman, with long, spindly fingers and a shaded, grey face with a texture straight out of the Dust Bowl. Even severely hunched, near folded in two, she met my eyeline. She was one of the same folk as those that had been performing the ritual I was subjected to when I first arrived in Barbican.

I pulled my arm away, her strong grip broke and she yelped, and broke into a coughing fit. Dust spat out and she covered her veiled mouth with the sleeve of her dark robe.

“I can give you copper, or trade you.”

She stretched up a touch, towering over me, and through dark eyes wherein sparkled faint points of light, I saw a desperate need.

“What use is it to you? I haven’t had great experience with your kind,” I asked.

Flinching, she recoiled a little, “I assume you speak of the ritual-mad in the Chambers of the Dour Trachea. I am not like them. . . .” There was a silence and I just watched her through it, inviting her to continue. “It would sustain me. I am dying.”

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“What does it do?”

Her gaze shirked, shifting weight from foot to foot, and she growled under her breath.

Why didn’t I think of this before? I took out the Ignis Fatuus, held it in my palm, then touched the Analysis Card with the other.

Item :

Ignis Fatuus

Rarity :

Rare

Description :

Small glowing white orb

Effect :

Moderate healing

I tried to think about how much healing items are worth in various games, but didn’t settle on a good price. This woman certainly wouldn’t give me much, but I couldn’t in good conscience refuse . . .

“Ten copper and it’s yours.”

Her eyes widened with delight and her grey-black, wet tongue danced out of her lips. I shuddered as I extended my hands, and she counted out a half-handful of tiny coins into my palm and snatched the item with glee. She then pushed me with pretty considerable force back out onto the street.

I slapped my Linothorax free of dust and set back off on my way to find Alator. He was waiting at the first of the line of columns that led up the narrow path to the way out. After smiling and hailing me, he clapped me on the shoulders.

It has only been an hour or so since we last saw each other. . . .

“So, I learnt it was a few days to the next town, did you get some food for the journey?”

“Bollix,” I said, and jogged off in the opposite direction. At one of the stalls, they were selling Boar Jerky as rations, so I bought a net bag of them and stuffed my pouch full for two copper coins. I also bought a little bundle of Windbloom Herbs for one copper.

Item :

Windbloom Herbs

Rarity :

Common

Description :

Thin, nearly transparent stems with long white petals

Effect :

Minor healing

Back to Alator, he grinned and raised his hand again, like greeting an estranged friend.

This time it’d only been twenty minutes.

“Oh, I also meant to say,” he started, “Your spearhead will be blunted after that skeleton fight, do you have a sharpening stone?”

I peered at him with squinted eyes, then went back into the city to buy a Whetstone. Another two copper down. Also took the opportunity at the smithy to buy a new shield for four copper, and inspected them all, along with my weapon.

Item :

Whetstone

Rarity :

Common

Description :

Ingot-shaped quartz stone

Effect :

Sharpens edges through careful grinding and honing

Armour :

Wooden Shield

Rarity :

Common

Description :

Light wooden shield bound with hammered bronze

Defence :

Middling

Durability :

Poor

Weapon :

Bronze Spear

Rarity :

Common

Description :

Sturdy polearm of wood with a large, long bronze spearhead

Damage :

Stabs or cuts

Yeah. Not sure what I was expecting, but it seems I’m not always going to discover something ground-breaking.

Hey, SYS, my only plan is to go in the vague direction of ‘the rest of Barbican,’ as Kikiara put it. Should I be heading to a specific place? How best to fulfil my destiny, O, Knowing One?

// SYS : I actually quite like that nickname. . . . Anyway, you do not have a pre-set path. If this was a hero’s adventure — humour me — then I think at this stage you would be trying to understand your power, attain new heights of ability, and make some new allies along the way.

I ran back to Alator, he smiled and waved, then opened his mouth again. I cut across him:

“OKAY. We’re off.”

As we emerged from the darkness and gloom of the weird bipolar city, we saw from the vague filtered light above the clouds that it was already past noon.

“Best if we move quickly,” said my companion, an eye on the sky.

“I need to burn some of this frustration off,” I agreed, bouncing on my toes.

Without a further word, Alator launched himself a dozen yards down the foothills. There was a flash of gold and flowing smoke came from his eyes as he tapped into — I assume — his Level 10 [Vigour]. He landed with a skid on the snow, caught himself for a moment, then jumped again.

Stunned still for a moment, I made to run after him, throwing myself down the hill towards the wild savagery of Barbican.

Hopefully towards more fiends and more XP!