I moaned euphorically, tilting my head back, eyes closing in absolute bliss.

This was it.

Everything I’d fought for, struggled for, all the blood, sweat and tears of the last two months culminated in one glorious moment. At long last. My mind melted gleefully.

A hot bath.

The piping, scalding water sank into me, saturated me, filling my every pore, soothing overworked muscles and washing away what felt like a lifetime’s worth of sweat and grime. This bath was a far cry from the ones I’d had at the village. There, such a thing was an intensely laborious affair, a half a dozen or more trips to the well to draw water, and long hours spent waiting for that water to heat above the fire. Even once all was prepared, bathing itself had to be done quickly, lest the bath grow cold.

Not so, here.

Here, the liquid flowed in from a tap already heated, filling the vessel in mere moments. It was aromatic, sudsy, imbued somehow with both soap and fragrance. The tub itself was wrought of polished marble. It caressed my skin gently, a far cry from the wooden, splinter-ridden barrels of my youth. I could have died happy in this tub. I could have laid here for hours.

And indeed, I had.

I’d reached the inn that Hadrid recommended in the early afternoon. The Dappled Mare was hardly one of the posher places in the city, but that was precisely why he’d suggested it. The establishment wasn’t so blue-blooded that they’d doubt my pedigree or bankrupt me, yet still sported many of the modern comforts of city life.

I’d been startled by just how many of those conveniences there were, about just how much I’d missed living in the wilds.

There were no torches lighting the rooms themselves, no, all of the lights were Entropic in nature. They produced a calming white glow with just a hint of blue to it, and turned on and off with but a touch. The doors were sleek and silent, and the key I used to unlock mine was like none I’d ever seen before. It more resembled the tablet that held my chits than a conventional latchkey, if smaller. The furniture was smooth, ergonomic, and modern as well, no visible furs or animal skins anywhere, and the water that flowed from the taps of the room’s small kitchenette was clean and almost sweet to the taste.

The toilet had been a bit of a shock to me, at first.

Despite Mom’s stories filling many of the gaps in my knowledge, her fables had unsurprisingly never covered in great detail the intricacies of pre-Collapse sewage systems.

What had been my salvation, as it turned out, was my song’s reaction to the Entropic objects. It seemed to give me an almost instinctual knowledge of runic technology. And, even though I’d never flushed a single toilet before in my life, here I did so immediately and without difficulty, upon merely hearing it for a moment. I couldn’t explain how I knew to use the stuff. It just felt right.

And good thing, too. I wasn’t eager to have to beg the receptionist for instructions on how to use a Gods–damned toilet.

The room had been exorbitant indeed, costing over 400 chits a night. It was more wealth than I’d seen in my entire life, gone in a simple change of hands, a tap of my tablet upon that of the concierge. Resources that villagers like me would have dreamt about, exchanged in the blink of an eye. But then, I’d plenty to spare, and didn’t intend on staying here long.

And right now, it felt worth it.

As I leaned back in the bath, sighing contentedly, I considered my next move. I did plan on going to sign up for the Agoge tomorrow, but being so unfamiliar with an organization I’d potentially be joining put me somewhat ill at ease.

There were always going to be things I didn’t know, things I couldn’t plan for, but the events at the Emporium earlier today, no matter how well they’d turned out in the end, had set me distinctly on edge.

I was out of my depth here.

I’d never had a formal education, outside of the one my mother’d given me. She’d done well, too; taught me how to read, basic arithmetic, and even some of the arts and sciences. Where I lacked knowledge were the areas that she didn’t want to talk about. Namely, the topics that reminded her of Dad. Cells, Blessings, and Entropy.

In short, everything I needed to know right now.

I let out a frustrated huff. I didn’t blame her for it, but the fact remained that I needed to know more before tomorrow. I couldn’t risk exposing myself a second time. And besides, I was in dire need of a new wardrobe. The roughspun woolen tunic and breeches I’d been wearing for months now were in a considerably sorry state, and no doubt contributed heartily to Hadrid’s doubt of my Aristocratic status.

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So, with great reluctance, and before it became too late at night to do so, I extricated myself from the heavenly bathtub, shrugged on my worn woolen vestments, and headed out to do some shopping.

~~~

Finding my way back to the merchant district wasn’t difficult. After conversing with the Dappled Mare’s kindly concierge, I realized that the ‘market’ of sorts was located precisely in the center of the metropolis, splayed out around Talos’s central spire like the spokes of a wheel. And the capital of Uther’s territory, though mammoth to me, was apparently quite a compact city overall, focusing more on height than breadth.

Though many of the shop signs remained confounding, I eventually managed to locate a lavish clothing store, the aptly named Synthread, and to procure a truly magnificent, truly ideal set of apparel.

The establishment itself, being one of the most advanced and expensive in the city, would in other circumstances have been likely to turn me away, given my own state of dress. And initially, they attempted to do just that. Hadrid’s kindness and even the indifference towards me displayed by the Mare’s concierge were apparently far from the norm in Talos. The guards, initially assuming me to be mundane, denied me access to the place.

To be precise, they told me to ‘Fuck off, mundy.’

Never mind the fact that they weren’t Blessed, themselves. Even amongst the mundane, there seemed to be something of a hierarchy in this city. A few surges of red lightning, though, worked wonders in cowing them into permitting my entry. As it turned out, Blessed really did get all the perks, and no mundane clerk wanted to piss off some noble’s heir.

Synthread’s claim to fame was their proprietary Entropic manufacturing process, by which they were able to weave runic microfilaments in complex patterns through the seams of their products, allowing the wares to display a broad range of esoteric effects.

I’d purchased a simple, smooth, comfortable black shirt and flexible pants of the same color that had, altogether, cost me no less than seventeen thousand chits. The price was astronomical, more than anything I’d seen hitherto, though doubtless far from the place’s most expensive options.

But the result was well worth it.

Before this, I’d ruminated at length upon the subject of armor. I was hesitant to invest in such wear, for a number of reasons.

No manner of mail or plate fit at all well with my fighting style. Not only did they universally hinder my movements and hamper my ability to hear the song, the weight I bore made Flash Step’s drawbacks scale exponentially, turning what was possibly my favorite (and most powerful) Blessing into something barely viable.

Removing heavier armor as an option left only leathers, my vestment of choice when last I delved. I felt lukewarm about them as well, though, for one simple reason; I was a regenerator. I fought aggressively, and my style, if I had any brains, would be built around taking favorable trades with my enemies, banking on the fact that I’d survive far worse than they would.

The fact that Draconic Blood naturally increased my toughness meant that whatever leather armor I purchased would have to be very good, and as such, very expensive, in order to actually net me any observable benefits. And therein lay the problem; I’d be forced to buy costly, high-quality gear, which would inevitably and repeatedly be heavily damaged, requiring me to spend even more on repairs or replacements.

Worse still, Draconic Blood actually increased in Attunement the more it healed me, strengthening and toughening my body in something of a crucible by fire and pain. Therefore, any investments I made into my own defense would essentially only serve to damage my growth in the long run.

That’s why these clothes were so amazing, and why I’d been amenable to spending so much on them. For, although nearly uniform in dark color, looking closely would yield to the beholder tiny lines of azure energy running in precise formation across the breadth of the fabric.

These were Entropic threads made specifically for regenerators. I hadn’t even known such clothing existed, and it’d only been upon explaining my situation to one of the staff that they’d recommended it.

This shirt and these pants would never grow dirty, or rank, or old. They’d never succumb to wear or tear. They were self-cleaning, extremely comfortable, and even designed to resize automatically to those with mutative Blessings. But, most importantly to me, they could regenerate too.

Just like me.

Upon the simple addition of my own Entropy, similar to runic weaponry or talismans, as long as some bit or morsel of their fabric remained, they could be regrown entirely. Runic armor that regenerated wasn’t too uncommon, but objects that could be restored from almost nothing, according to the store’s clerk at least, certainly were.

My boots were still mundane, though. For whatever reason, whichever Blessed was behind the arcane apparel’s invention hadn’t managed to transfer their magic to footwear.

Adorned happily in my novel attire, I made my way meanderingly to my second destination, where I hoped some true answers might lie.

A bookstore.

Much in the same manner as before, I didn’t bother searching for a humble one.

I was now clad in runic clothing and armed with an Aristocrat’s tablet. I was Blessed and ready to say absolutely nothing about my origins, or as little as necessary. And I wanted the best possible chance at getting the information I needed to survive. I intended to visit the swankiest-looking library in all of Talos.

And soon enough, I found it.

Athenaeum of the West

National Ancillary of the Vault of Glass